Second Half Chapter 16

So Jerim adjusted his mental age to match his opponent’s. Aiming the pointed nozzle of the water bottle at Aaron’s face, he squeezed the body of the bottle hard. The bottle, designed with a structure similar to a push-pop, shot out a cool stream of water the moment it received force—Sploosh!

Right into Aaron’s face.

“Ha, fuck…”

The guy, who had been doused with water without warning, wiped his dripping chin with the back of his hand and let out a hollow laugh. The profanity lingering in Jerim’s ears was sweet beyond measure. Feeling an inexplicable sense of pride, Jerim wrapped his arm affectionately around Aaron’s shoulder.

“Oops, my mistake. Want me to wipe it off for you?”

“I won’t say no. Wipe it off nicely for me.”

But at the sight of him rubbing his water-soaked face against Jerim’s shoulder, Jerim quickly recoiled in a shudder. His clothes were already damp with sweat, so the addition of water made the unpleasantness indescribable.

The spirit of self-sacrifice Aaron displayed—willingly enduring his own discomfort just to screw over someone else—was truly appalling. To think of wiping his face on a piece of clothing stained with someone else’s sweat; it was an idea Jerim could never have come up with.

Seeing Jerim looking genuinely disgusted, Aaron seemingly decided this was his chance and pulled Jerim’s hand over to rub it against his wet face. Jerim, forgetting that he was the one who sprayed the water, was horrified by the squelching texture combined with the hot body temperature—Splat!

“You crazy bastard!”

Just like the filming that ended leaving a salty aftertaste, he had fallen into his own trap. Jerim, who couldn’t stand losing to anyone, expressed his resentment plainly. Aaron let go of Jerim’s hand and snickered.

“In the eyes of others, you’re the crazy one for spraying water in a teammate’s face, Jerim.”

So what. He made the most obnoxious expression he could manage and shrugged his shoulders. Unaware of a future where this devious expression would add a fancy modifier to his nickname “The Rat,” Jerim kept a sharp lookout for a chance at revenge until the end of open training.

✲✲✲

The friendly match against the K-League ended in great success. Aaron was substituted out after playing only the first half under the pretext of an adjustment period. However, during the first half where Sefton exploded with four goals, he scored two on his own. He would have scored more if he hadn’t been subbed. Looking at the way he played, it seemed he wouldn’t suffer the slump that players often experience when switching leagues.

“That guy’s a monster… Ban Jerim, should I congratulate you on the Champions League win in advance?”

After the match, Song Yeo-bin, the captain of the Korean national team, pouted his lips and offered words that were hard to distinguish as either congratulations or sarcasm. Even if the national team starters were missing from the friendly, losing by an overwhelming score of 7 to 3 was enough to make anyone resentful. Jerim patted and pinched his same-aged friend’s beak-like protruding lips.

“We don’t know that yet. The ball is round, didn’t you know? Tuck that mouth in.”

“Ah, shit, with those filthy, sweat-stained hands!”

He looks easygoing, but unlike his appearance, he is sensitive and picky about cleanliness. Yeo-bin, who had received a water bottle to wash his face, rinsed his hands with the remaining water and asked.

“Are you free today? We’re having a team dinner, join us.”

“Today? I can’t. I have a team dinner too.”

“What. You didn’t do it on the first day you arrived?”

“Everyone said they were tired that day, so we pushed it back.”

“Ah, well, true. The flight time from the UK to here alone… You take good care of your body.”

Along with the word “you,” Jerim felt a gaze looking down toward his knees. It was only the season before last that Yeo-bin, who used to play in the Bundesliga, had his form drop due to cumulative fatigue from frequent A-match call-ups and was forced to return to Korea.

Jerim could still vividly remember how all kinds of media outlets had swarmed and torn Yeo-bin apart instead of comforting him on that painful journey home.

The Premature Fall of a Still-Young Captain. Seeing articles that splashed such headlines across the front page, starting with analyzing Yeo-bin’s future moves and blathering about his private life, made Jerim so disillusioned that he didn’t even go on the internet for a while.

But even so, Yeo-bin did not quit football. Even now, after being carved up by attention full of low-brow curiosity and receiving less than half the weekly wages he used to get in Germany, he is still playing hard. In the face of his same-aged friend’s bittersweet worry, Jerim couldn’t even add a joke as usual and smiled bitterly.

“Yeah, thanks.”

If I were in the same situation as Yeo-bin… would I be able to quit football with a sense of relief then? Leaving behind his restless heart and the grass of the Seoul World Cup Stadium, which he hadn’t stepped on in a long time, he returned to the hotel. Since a dinner party was scheduled for a later time than usual, everyone’s footsteps were busy.

After roughly dropping his luggage in his room and heading to the banquet hall, colleagues who arrived early were gathered in small groups, drinking carbonated water poured into champagne glasses. It seemed they were desperately struggling to create an atmosphere despite being unable to drink alcohol.

“Jeri, over here!”

He went and sat next to the guy sitting on the right of the center-back duo—that is, next to William. As soon as he sat down, that bushy beard tempted him to pull it again. Unable to resist the temptation, Jerim gave William’s beard a long tug.

“Seriously, what’s with the beard. Didn’t your daughter cry when she saw you? Doesn’t she say she hates a dad like this?”

“Don’t pull it! Bella recommended I grow it out! Don’t pull it!”

“Bella sure has unique taste.”

“Did you just insult my wife?”

“What’s wrong? Why do you take everything I say as an insult?”

Seriously, this guy; has that quick-tempered personality that had softened a bit after marriage come back? Jerim put strength into his hand clutching the beard with a truly aggrieved heart.

“Argh!”

Simultaneously with William’s shrill scream, several strands of hair were left on Jerim’s palm. He quickly shook his hand before anyone could see and put on a hurt expression, while the other center-back, Robin, who had been just watching and snickering, calmed Jerim down.

“Jeri, bear with him. This guy is just stressed because he gained weight.”

“Ah, definitely. Your thighs got thick.”

Jerim slowly scanned William in his seated position. He hadn’t noticed while standing, but the area of the thighs pressed against the chair was significantly wider than before. Hearing the sharp evaluation that sounded like he was judging meat, William flopped onto the table and muttered pathetically.

“I’ll lose it… it automatically drops once the season starts…”

“Just how delicious was the food you ate during the holiday?”

“Bella started home-baking…”

“If it’s that, you should eat it without a word.”

Robin, who had married young and built a happy home—unlike Jerim, who has no intention of starting a family yet—sympathized with a sincere voice. For Jerim, it didn’t make sense to eat lumps of sugar and butter without a word even if the wife made it, but he kept his mouth shut tactfully.

To help his friend’s diet, Jerim filled a glass with carbonated water, his own endorsement product. It had zero calories and no taste, but when poured into a transparent champagne glass, the bubbles rose up, making it look quite like alcohol. He then filled his own glass with carbonated water and raised it.

“A toast to Will’s gold thread and shitty beard.”

It was the moment Robin laughed and raised his glass instead of the discouraged William. A familiar hand was suddenly placed on William’s shoulder, and a relaxed voice descended from above.

“What’s wrong. It looks pretty good to me.”

“As expected of a top striker! You know what’s… huh?”

William, who had been receiving nothing but shitty evaluations of his beard and was excited to receive a compliment for the first time, let out a confused sound after his shout. It was the same for Robin next to William. Robin, his eyes wide, stammered.

“You said you couldn’t speak English…”

“Specifically, I said I wasn’t confident. I can understand.”

If the world were full of guys as shameless as that, fraud would never cease! The dumbfounded Jerim just silently listened to the excuse Aaron produced with a nonchalant face.

Lehmann didn’t have a clinging personality and was young, so it passed quietly, but that seasoned center-back duo was different. Like guys who stand reliably at the very back and cling to opposing strikers to interfere with scoring, an onslaught of questions toward Aaron began.

“No, you’re speaking just fine right now.”

“It’s because I’m not confident in my pronunciation.”

“It’s just a little bit of a Spanish accent mixed in? It’s not at a level to be unconfident about?”

“Thanks. I’ve gained a bit of courage thanks to you. Now, shall we toast? To your magnificent beard.”