Chapter 16

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Translator: Silver Dragon

Chapter: 16

Chapter Title: Derbi Madrileño - (1)

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Atlético Madrid's home stadium, Cívitas Metropolitano.

Our Nazi fanboy Los Colchoneros started booing as soon as they spotted Los Blancos.

"Iker Bravo! You washed-up old timer who lost your ace spot to some kid! When are you retiring?!"

"Sergio Pepe, I heard your wife ran off because of your disgusting jock itch!"

But the one who got the most boos was me.

"Jesus, I'm gonna rip your filthy mouth apart!"

I mean, yeah. I was too cowardly. Hitting them only with facts.

I should've fought fair and square with incitement and lies.

"Boooooooo! Get lost, you inferior Korean punk worse than a Jap!"

Fuck. Isn't that crossing the line?

Luckily, the game hadn't started yet.

I immediately went to the ref and snitched.

"Hey, there's a spectator over there cheering racism and Nazism."

The ref's face hardened at my words. He said he'd take care of it and walked off.

A little later, the fan in question was dragged out by Atlético Madrid's security.

Seeing that fan get hauled away made the Atlético Madrid fans even more riled up.

"Boooooooo-!! You disgusting Korean bastard! Try getting me kicked out too!"

Damn. Their legend they worshipped turned out to be a racist.

And their fans are racists too.

Oh right. That legend even betrayed the club and bolted to Barcelona.

Tsk tsk. Rootless clubs are something else.

The stadium atmosphere wouldn't calm down no matter what. Announcements blared dozens of times, but kickoff only happened after all the rowdy hardcore Los Colchoneros were booted out.

"Idiots. Paying money and they can't even watch the game."

15th minute of the first half.

Atlético Madrid 0: 0 Real Madrid.

Wilfried Singo barreled into empty space with a rough foul on Iker Bravo, who was breaking through.

Iker Bravo clutched his ankle in pain. Taking advantage of the ref stopping play, I headed to the touchline. A banana and cola came flying.

"Wow—they're even giving me carbs and a drink so I don't choke."

I carefully picked up the banana and cola tossed onto the touchline.

Took a bite of the banana first. Popped open the cola, and a fizzy sound rang out.

Hiss—

I stared at the fan who'd thrown me the cola, took a sip,

Gulp—

let out a refreshing belch,

Buuuurp—

and gave them a thumbs up in thanks.

Damn, that's killer.

"Puta!!!!!! Kill that white punk!!!"

The Los Colchoneros' voices are killer too.

I effortlessly dodged Minamino Hideyoshi's rough tackle and fired a low, quick pass toward Pedro breaking into the space behind.

"Gaaargh!"

Pretending it was an accident,

I stomped deep on Hideyoshi's ankle and went down.

Squelch—!

Meanwhile, Pedro took my pass and finished with a shot that just missed wide. He gave me a thumbs up with a disappointed look—then froze.

"Hnnngh—"

Yeah, it'd be shocking to see a grown man bawling like a baby. Just from getting his foot stepped on—what a crybaby.

Not long after play resumed, the ref stopped the game again.

Team doctors from Real Madrid and Atlético Madrid benches rushed out.

"Jesus, you okay?"

"Yeah. Luckily it just grazed me."

Unlike me, who'd dodged the tackle unscathed, Hideyoshi couldn't get up and was stretchered off the pitch.

'Self-inflicted.'

As a bonus, he got a yellow for the rough tackle on his way out.

I shook my head watching the scene.

"Man, the ref's got balls. Handing out cheese to a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠guy getting carried off in this atmosphere."

And as expected, Atlético Madrid fans lost it at the sight of the ref yellowing Hideyoshi.

"Bribed by Real Madrid, you pig fuck?!"

"Puta! You cursed bald bastard!"

Anyway, this proves it.

If you suck at soccer, at least have a good heart.

Don't go throwing dirty tackles like you wanna die.

Lying on the grass after the foul, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Heh heh heh—this is fucking hilarious."

"Puta! Let go! Don't hold me back! I'm gonna kill that motherfucker!"

Sudden commotion. Still on the ground, I turned my head slightly. Sergio Pepe, a buddy of mine, was fuming and trying to go at the downed Stefan Savić, but Luka Savić was blocking him.

"Look at that punk acting."

How's a 170cm twig like Luka stopping a 190cm beast like Sergio Pepe?

"Why's it gotta be Luka holding him back, of all people."

As I muttered to myself, I exchanged greetings with the team doc—his third time on the pitch today already.

"Good evening."

"...Jesus, you okay?"

"Yeah. Feeling better than ever."

With that, I brushed off and stood up.

The players stared at me like they'd seen a ghost.

"Heh heh heh—"

Ah. Soccer's the best. Gotta let them feel this joy too.

The team doc left the pitch again. The ref approached cautiously.

"...You really okay?"

I nodded to the ref and checked the clock on the scoreboard.

Let's see, time...

Only 30 minutes in.

Perfect. Plenty of time. Ninety minutes of regulation ahead. Let's play for keeps, you ATMs.

Our Madridistas want to crush you too.

I sidestepped a sliding tackle from the no-name subbing for Minamino Hideyoshi, passed to Luka, and leaped over the downed scrub's body to burst forward.

"Luka!"

Calling his name to demand the ball, he fired a pass into the space I was exploiting at the perfect speed. The quick one-two shredded Atlético Madrid's defense.

The center backs and keeper looked tense.

I faked a shot to fool them, then chipped a light pass to the late-arriving Pedro Martínez breaking through.

All eyes instantly went to Pedro. Pressure off me in that split second.

Pedro sent the ball back as I surged into the box.

Suddenly one-on-one—the Atlético Madrid keeper's face went white. I smashed it right over his head.

Thwack—!

The powerful shot ripped the net. Instead of celebrating with the onrushing Los Blancos, I grabbed the ball from the goal and sprinted to the center circle, hand outstretched.

"What are you doing! Satisfied with just one? Hurry up!"

Sergio Pepe, hyped, threw an uppercut shout.

"¡Vamos! The prophet of the East foretold it! One more goal!"

Then the Madridistas' chant echoed.

"Madrid, Madrid, Madrid"

"¡Hala Madrid!"

"Y nada más, Y nada más"

"¡Hala Madrid!"