Let's Go, to Europe (2)
“Spain, huh?”
She'd been about to discuss it over the phone but ended up coming straight to the house instead. It felt like the right call.
“It'll be tough, but I want to give it a shot. Get some experience in advanced European soccer, and if I fail as a player, maybe I'll study or become a coach... or an agent, whatever.”
It was all empty talk. He wasn't even considering failure as he headed off to Europe. Still, laying out these backups would ease his parents' worries a bit.
“Hmm...”
Mom's expression hadn't been great since earlier. Not since she'd heard about the release, or maybe even from the moment he'd shown up unannounced. It wasn't irritation or disapproval—just the endless worry born from boundless love for her only son, gradually cooling her demeanor.
“I heard the gist from your aunt. She said you've been studying Spanish nonstop. She was pretty shocked.”
“Foreign languages are... pretty important, right? Haha.”
He laughed awkwardly, and Mom looked at him cautiously.
“Have you thought this through carefully?”
Dad, on the other hand, said nothing. He was always stoic, but today his eyes held something unreadable.
“I've been thinking about it all season. It wasn't an easy decision.”
Lies came easily now. If the goblin's soccer skills vanished overnight, maybe he'd try acting.
“Adapting to a foreign country won't be easy, and starting from the bottom is brutally hard. That's what I think.”
“I'm prepared for that.”
At his words, Mom finally offered a faint smile.
“I've always told you—your life is yours to live. No one can live it for you, so make your own decisions and bear the responsibility. Parents just cheer from behind.”
She gently placed her hand over his.
“I believe you can succeed at anything.”
Her eyes still brimmed with worry, but she'd backed his choice. Madrid, Spain, where his aunt lived, probably eased her mind a little.
“But promise me one thing.”
“Of course, Mom. What is it?”
“Call me once a day, no matter how busy you are. I don't want to hear about you through your aunt. Even if it's short—just call. Got it?”
He wrapped her hand softly and nodded.
“I will. Don't worry too much.”
Her once-soft hands, tender from his childhood, were now rough and callused, marked by years of life. The feel of them tugged at his heart.
Swallowing the surge of emotion, he vowed silently, over and over: I'll succeed. Make the rest of her life a bed of roses.
“Call your aunt tomorrow. Once I give the okay, she'll tell you what to do next, what to prepare.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She chuckled softly.
“Save the thanks for her.”
“I'll give her plenty in person, haha.”
Dad still said nothing. He was the head of the house, but Mom held the real reins—and he seemed fine with that.
“Stay for dinner?”
“Yeah. Been craving your cooking.”
“What do you want?”
He'd eaten heartily the home-cooked meal Kim Hyo-jin prepared, kimchi jjigae and all, but burning it off in fiery sex had left him hungry again.
“Hmm... meat?”
“Braised short ribs?”
“Ooh, yes! That sounds amazing.”
“Alright, I'll make them.”
Mom stood, grabbed her wallet and a shopping basket.
“Heading to the market?”
“Yeah. Relax at home.”
“No, I'll come. I can carry the bags.”
“It's fine—not buying much. Keep your dad company.”
He glanced at Dad, who had already settled on the sofa, conversation over in his mind. Their relationship wasn't bad, but being alone together felt awkward.
...Which was exactly why he'd wanted to tag along to the market.
“Sure. Be careful out there. Call if anything happens, okay?”
“Nothing will. Don't worry.”
Her face brighter now, Mom smiled and headed out.
He slipped onto the sofa beside Dad, who kept his eyes glued to the TV, ignoring him.
Europe meant even fewer talks with Dad—not that there were many to begin with. But he wouldn't waste this chance Mom had set up.
“Dad...”
Dad didn't respond, just flicked his gaze over briefly.
“You feeling okay? No health issues?”
No topics came to mind, so he started with pleasantries. Dad shook his head slightly and returned to the TV.
It was baffling. How did Mom date, marry, and live with someone this quiet? It must be so boring.
“Sorry... I finally made pro, got kicked out after a year, and now suddenly off to study abroad. Just causing worry...”
Dad turned to him again, lips parting slowly in a deep, gravelly voice.
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
“...”
“...”
That was it, but Dad didn't look away this time—like he was waiting for more.
“I'll make you proud in Spain. Be one of those players on TV when you're bored.”
“Good.”
Short as ever.
“I should be giving you pocket money by now... Sorry I can't. My friends are already spoiling their parents...”
He wasn't talentless at soccer—enough for pro entry. But mediocre: promising in amateurs, useless in pros. That was his limit.
Some friends at his level had shone in pro leagues. One even started immediately after freshman year, transferred to a top-tier club last summer with a nine-figure salary, bought his dad a car with the bonus—face beaming in memory.
“Pocket money?”
Dad stood abruptly, walked to the bedroom with heavy steps, returned with a white envelope.
“Take it.”
Obviously cash.
“Dad... I can't...”
“Take it.”
“Yes, sir!”
One refusal max. He accepted politely with both hands. Yellow peeked through—felt heavy, a few hundred thousand won at least.
“Not much.”
Coolly, then softly: “Do well there.”
Emotions welled up. Eyes stinging, he looked away, mumbling hoarsely.
“...Yes, Dad. Th-thank you.”
Dad had known about the release. Mom's call yesterday wasn't confirmation—it was comfort. Hence the money, and Mom stepping out.
Wrapped in their fierce love, he kept his head down, vow hardening: Succeed. Must succeed. I will succeed.
First, enroll in language school.
After getting parental approval, he had a more detailed talk with Aunt Han Mi-ju.
“Language school?”
“Yeah. For soccer study abroad in Spain, you need better conversational skills, right? Your pronunciation's good, and you seem to have a knack for languages—you'll pick it up fast.”
Not really needed, but it would explain his fluency. Not a bad idea.
“Main reason is the visa. Tourist visas don't last long, and changing them means coming back to Korea to process.”
He listened quietly.
“Work visa's tough. Best for quick entry: long-term student visa.”
“Can I work on that?”
“Yes. Up to 20 hours a week. I'll cover your expenses—you'll do what others can't.”
“What others can't?”
“Yup. Touting customers.”
Ah, no such thing as free lunch.
“So... lure in customers?”
“No, just stand there. I'll handle promo. They'll come for your face. We're doing brunch and cafe at lunch too—you're perfect. It'll work here for sure.”
Better than expected.
“School's run by my husband's friend—pass a simple test, no issue. One-year course, I'll pay.”
“Even the cost? No, that's too much...”
“Loan. I'll collect when you're rich.”
“That's reassuring. Thanks.”
“Anyway, do what I say in Korea. Visit the Spanish embassy too. Might take a month.”
Ugh. Wanted to go ASAP—bummer.
“Got it.”
“Can't wait to see you, nephew. My husband's dying to too. Five years?”
“Since middle school trip—over five.”
“Right! Prep well. See you.”
“Thanks, Aunt.”
“Yeah. Bye! Adiós!”
He set the phone on the bed. Visa stuff piled up, but half the journey to Spain was done—starting is half the battle.
“Gotta find a short-term gym...”
Lots to do.
A week since deciding on Spain soccer study abroad.
He'd joined a short-term gym, kept in shape, handled aunt's tasks, aced the language school test.
Thud! Thud! Squish! Squish!
“Haa... Cum... Hngh...!”
“Cumming...!”
Sex with Kim Hyo-jin almost daily. Morning run, hot round, eat together, lock eyes—another go. Their chemistry was perfect, no pretenses as sex partners. Pure enjoyment.
But no contact after lunch—she studied, he had errands. Hadn't told her about Spain yet. Would when dates firmed up.
Everything smooth—until a sudden message.
From the chief coach of his old team—the one that released him.