One Shot, One Kill (3)
As Jose Bravo slipped his phone back into his pocket with a grin, Camilla Bravo, sitting beside him, tilted her head slightly and asked, “Who's got you smiling like that?”
The two of them were at an unexpected venue: AD Alcorcon's home ground, Estadio Municipal de Santo Domingo. Naturally, they'd come to this opening match to watch Cha Tae-oh tearing it up on the pitch right now.
“The guy Theo's been waiting for finally got in touch. Faster than I expected, haha.”
“Waiting for?”
Jose Bravo gently clasped his wife's slender hand as she repeated the question.
“You know Borja Navas, right?”
At the mention of the name, Camilla's puzzled look vanished from her eyes.
“He really meant it. Came straight at us, huh?”
“Yeah. Didn't expect a text from him, though. And get this—he's here watching the match right now.”
“Oh ho? So what'd you tell him?”
“Said I'd introduce him to Theo. A guy like Navas should be an agent Theo can be happy with.”
Camilla Bravo nodded slowly in agreement.
“He's a devil to clubs, but the best agent out there for players.”
“Hm? You ever dealt with him? Weren't you two strangers until that social event?”
“That's why it's a good thing. If I'd crossed paths with him, it might've been a headache in all sorts of ways.”
Jose Bravo chuckled softly at his wife, remembering her relentless, ruthless side as a lawyer.
“Anyway, looks like Theo's name is spreading far and wide now. Even a big shot like Navas is making a move.”
“Can't blame him. Even I can see Theo's the standout in this game today, right?”
Camilla shifted her gaze subtly to the pitch and nodded right away. Just as her husband said, the most overwhelmingly dominant player in this match was undoubtedly Cha Tae-oh. He hadn't lost possession to the opposition even once. Even while dropping deep to link up play, he boasted a perfect 100% pass completion rate. On top of that, both of his shots on target were goals, making him the only scorer as the first half neared its end.
“Oh yeah! Weren't there other agents asking you to introduce them to Theo?”
“Yeah, there were.”
“Tough luck for them, then...”
Jose Bravo flashed a bright smile.
“No need to feel bad for them.”
“Huh?”
“They never even got to meet Theo.”
“...Why not?”
“Like I said earlier. He was waiting for this guy.”
Camilla's eyes widened slightly.
“Ah... So he was holding out for Navas from the start?”
“Not exactly. He wasn't waiting for any specific agent.”
With the agent selection issue, Cha Tae-oh had asked Jose Bravo for help. After all, Bravo's connections as a true “man about town” far outstripped his own info network. Jose had collected all the business cards and names from agents approaching Cha Tae-oh, then quickly vetted them using his resources. His conclusion? These agents were small-time for someone like Theo.
Since appointing an agent wasn't urgent, Cha Tae-oh had decided to wait quietly until a top-tier talent reached out. And now, at this very opening match, the hottest agent in the game—Borja Navas—had finally made contact.
“So that's why you called him the one Theo's been waiting for?”
“Yep. I doubt Theo'll turn down a contract with Navas.”
“Makes sense. Like I said, he's the best for players.”
That was when it happened.
Rooooaaar—!
A volcanic roar erupted from the stadium. In the dying moments of the first half, Cha Tae-oh had intercepted a ball from FC Barcelona Atletic as they pushed forward, shook off two defenders, and sparked a counterattack. His bulldozing run—exploding past the center circle into the final third in one burst of speed—captivated every eye in the stadium. Like a runaway train with busted brakes, he showed no signs of slowing, even bulldozing the last retreating defender.
Facing the keeper one-on-one, Cha Tae-oh didn't ease up. He just added ankle power to his momentum and unleashed a shot toward goal.
Thwuuung—!
At that instant, AD Alcorcon fans leaped from their seats in unison, arms outstretched, before even seeing the result. They knew he wouldn't miss.
Thud—!
Hattrick. This mad striker had somehow notched three goals before halftime. Even after scoring, he kept his speed, sprinting straight toward the home supporters. Only then did he slam on the brakes, sliding on his knees to sweep the grass.
“Wooooaaah!”
“Theo! Theo! Theo!”
“Cha! Cha! Cha! Cha! Cha!”
“¡Vamoooos!!!”
The AD Alcorcon fans couldn't help but go wild for him. The Bravo couple stood too, clapping in celebration of his hattrick.
As Cha Tae-oh returned from his celebration, Jose Bravo shot him a sly smile. Somewhere out there, he could almost hear Borja Navas shouting, “That player's mine!”
Beep—Breeeep—! The ref's whistle signaled halftime. I caught my breath lightly and glanced at the scoreboard.
3 - 0 glowed proudly.
A small smile tugged at my lips. All three goals were mine.
Part of me felt thrilled. My first official pro-league goal—and a hattrick in my La Liga 2 debut, no less. But strangely, the emotion didn't overwhelm me.
The old me—before the lucid dream and the goblin—might've shed hot tears over this. But now my standards were sky-high. Even after a hattrick, my only thought was, This is what I'd expect from myself.
Maybe that's why my mind settled so quickly.
But my teammates? Totally different story.
“Awesome! This feels too good!”
“Keep it up like this!”
“No goals against. Don't ruin Theo's hattrick!”
“Smash Barca Atletic and grab that opening win!”
“¡Vamos!”
Heading into the locker room, they were buzzing. Contrary to expectations of a tough game, we'd dominated the first half, and they looked plenty satisfied.
“Theo! Don't ever forget—I assisted your debut goal. Got it?”
Miguel Amaro was no exception, proudly harping on his assist for my first like it was his achievement.
Truth be told, that first-goal combo was routine from last season's B-team days. Jordi Calavera giving Miguel a starting spot was probably to unlock our chemistry.
“Alright, everyone, hydrate and catch your breath.”
Right on cue, Jordi Calavera entered. I figured he'd be thrilled with our performance.
But his face wasn't bright. He looked... disappointed.
“...In this situation, Maurinho, you need to drop deeper. Make their defenders hesitate on who to mark—that's key. Standing there like this? He can mark you easy and still cover. Pull him in, drag their defense with you.”
While we rested, the coach used magnetic player markers on the tactics board to nitpick every movement. I was impressed inside—focusing on individuals like that. How does he remember every detail so perfectly? Photographic memory?
“We can play better. Look at them—they're broken. This is our chance to unleash all that practice. Remember: no complacency. I see anyone slacking, you're out, no mercy.”
Leading made him unusually stern—something new. The players looked startled but refocused, tension snapping back.
He was softer with the B-team; maybe the senior squad needed the tough love.
“Give everything until the final whistle. That's pro mentality. We're doing great—so let's do even better. We can. Let's go! ¡Vamos!”
“¡Vamos!”
Fire returned to their eyes. Heading back out, he grabbed players for personal feedback. Mine came too.
“Just keep doing what you're doing. Flawless. Perfect.”
...The gentlest tone imaginable. I nodded awkwardly and jogged onto the pitch, mulling his words.
Just like now, huh...
So... three more in the second half?
- 9th minute of second half.
- AD Alcorcon 4 - 0 FC Barcelona Atletic