Chapter 15

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Translator: Silver Dragon

Chapter: 15

Chapter Title: Atlético Madrid Has No Roots

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Atlético Madrid has no roots.

Lately, the winter transfer window's been blazing thanks to Luis García's unhappiness. But that doesn't matter to me at all. What truly matters is that today is payday.

I'm not pulling in Messi's prime wages yet, but Real's taken good care of me anyway. It's worlds apart from those rootless Barsha bastards who tried to snag me for a measly 100 million because they were broke.

I signed for a whopping 400 million. As expected from Real Madrid, overflowing with roots.

Patriotic pride swelling in my chest, I threw open the window and shouted.

"Hala Madrid!"

My yell got a strolling Madridista roaring back.

"Hala Madrid!"

Where else in the world is there a club that feels like family?

I opened the window, and there was the Madrid president out for a walk.

Eh, that's not the point.

Anyway, to celebrate payday, I decided to get up to some mischief with Brother Doo-sik.

Heading out to the terrace, I spotted him striking a pose with his shiny bald head, sipping coffee.

"Hyung, you busy?"

"Huh? Nah, what's up?"

"Hyung, you ever wonder what a women's prison looks like?"

"Cut the crap."

Too bad he wasn't curious about the women's prison, so I switched to the locker room angle.

"Yu-na noona! It's all a joke! You're the only one for me!"

This crazy hyung snitched to Yu-na noona.

Ah, wearing designer clothes is for rootless punks. Maybe I should anyway.

"Yeah! Love you too, noona!"

For now, time to run the soccer academy like I do every loop.

I saved one kid last loop too.

Lately, old memories keep popping up. Back then, hating the "rootless punk" label, I hid myself and lived quietly—every day was stress.

Compared to that, I'm happy every day now. Madridistas whispering as they see me, their eyes full of affection.

"Oh! It's Jesus! But what's with the outfit?"

"Oh, traditional Korean royal garb?"

As I waved to the citizens, far off, lifelong Blancos Sergio Pepe spotted me and approached with a surprised look.

"Whoa! Jesus, what's with the clothes?!"

"It's called a Gonryongpo."

Without much explanation, I started bragging, and Kim Doo-sik, my attendant, sighed softly before explaining to Sergio Pepe.

"Sigh... It's what Korean kings wore in the old days."

"Whoa, damn, that's badass. Got one for me?"

FYI, Brother Doo-sik recommended this since I hated rootless clothes.

"Hmm, I like your attitude. Next time off, I'll grab one from home."

Sergio Pepe glanced at Doo-sik, unsure how to respond.

"Whoa! Uh, what do I say?"

"'Your grace humbles me' will do."

"Your grace... humbles me!"

I nodded at Sergio Pepe's words and strolled toward Valdebebas training ground.

"Oh, Pepe! Jesus! Can I get an autograph?"

Seeing us together, fans swarmed for signatures.

Overflowing with roots, I didn't turn any down.

"Grant us your signature, sire!"

While signing, a Korean tourist recognized the Gonryongpo, bowed playfully, and took her autograph.

Madridistas, amused, knelt for theirs too.

"Grant us your signature, sire!"

"Kuhahaha."

Very satisfied, I signed and posed for photos.

"Everyone's thrilled—makes me happy!"

As I laughed heartily, Doo-sik in attendant garb grumbled.

"Crazy bastard."

I ignored him.

Once Jesus Joo, beaming, finished signing and entered the training ground.

The local Madridistas and tourists who'd gotten autographs rushed to upload pics and signatures to Instagram.

[Real Madrid, Valdebebas with El Ángel del Madrid]

[Spain, Valdebebas with Jesus Joo in Gonryongpo]

Journalists turned them into articles, spreading to the masses.

At Real Madrid's Valdebebas training ground, we prepped for the Derbi Madrileño derby against Atlético Madrid.

Honestly, no clue what the other Real players think. But me? I figure this:

Rootless punks waving war crime flags aren't fit to lick Real Madrid royalty's toenails.

Anyway, ahead of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the match, the manager briefed us on tactics.

"Jesus!"

"Sí."

"You've got one job."

"What's that?"

"Like we agreed last time—score five."

"If I bag five, can I clock out?"

"...Deal! You're on!"

I nodded at the manager.

Crazy, but a good guy.

Jesus Joo's take on the articles? Simple.

"I'm just minding my business—why poke me? Do I look like an easy mark?"

He rarely checks Stargram except for Song Yu-na's, but logged in and posted.