Lukash, holding the camera on the stand, had his lips protruding in a sulky pout.
"I'm fine, so please focus on writing articles about my teammates."
Park Ji-hoon had repeatedly emphasized that it would benefit the company.
A noble decision, indeed.
"But without you, there's nothing to write about."
Cambridge University is a powerhouse even among elite institutions.
Their strength was on an entirely different level compared to first-year students.
And as if to prove that, the game was completely one-sided.
The opposing team dominated the offense with professional-level kicking strategies.
Their defense wasn't lacking either—whenever the royal school got possession of the ball, they skillfully induced scrums through well-timed fouls.
They say in basketball, whoever controls the rebounds controls the game.
"Is rugby's equivalent the scrum?"
Even when they managed to secure the ball, they kept losing possession through scrums.
What could one possibly do in such a situation?
Even so,
"Lower your stance!"
Ji-hoon, veins bulging on his neck, was shouting encouragement.
'Seriously, if he doesn't want us to write about him, then what kind of article am I supposed to write?'
"Ugh."
Speaking of which, there were other baffling requests.
Lately, as the magazine had been gaining traction, they were exploring multiple proposals to keep the momentum going.
But what had the boss said?
—I have no intention of making money off the magazine.
'Honestly, I have to admit, it sounded pretty cool!'
—Instead of sensational articles, focus on sharing the history, attire, culture, and rules of rugby. The goal is for readers to understand what rugby is just by looking at the magazine.
As a result, the magazine covers featured unknown rugby players instead of famous models.
"Hm."
The captain's watch must have been synced with the Ultimate X Gucci collaboration.
Which meant he was focusing on fostering a rugby boom rather than chasing short-term profits.
Fair enough!
'I get the big picture and totally agree with the vision.'
But still,
"Today, there's really nothing to write about besides the captain, you know?"
Even so, he couldn't just sit there whining forever.
"Go Royal School! Fightiiiiiiing!"
Lukash cheered his lungs out, supporting the first-years.
***
One minute before the end.
"Park Ji-hoon!"
Thud.
The ball Leo handed to me.
This could very well be our last attack of the day.
No matter how professional the opponent, still—
"I didn't think we wouldn't score even once."
Damn it, I can't let it end like this.
Without a shred of hesitation, I bolted toward the opponent's territory.
The first obstacle was, without a doubt, Bob.
He advanced toward me, his massive traps rippling with each movement.
When I shifted toward the flank—
Whoosh! Thud!
Bob followed, his trademark long strides closing the gap.
I could see it.
His focus was locked on my feet.
He was waiting for the perfect moment to launch a tackle.
If there's one thing I excel at, it's evading tackles.
Sure enough—
Swish!
The moment he dove for my lower body—
Thunk!
I leaned back, pressing down on his shoulder to counterbalance.
As I scanned for a teammate to pass to—
Flash!
Bob, recovering from his missed tackle, instantly got back on his feet.
A second clash.
Realizing a tackle wouldn't come easy, he charged at me shoulder-first.
Crash!
What the hell—
'Are you trying to hammer me down?'
If we collide one more time, I might actually fall—
Crash!
That moment, my vision blurred, and I lost my balance.
A grin spread across his face.
The curve of his mouth, raised in triumph, was impossible to miss.
Thud.
I dropped the ball.
But that wasn't the end.
I immediately stretched out my foot toward the ball as it bounced lightly.
Thwack!
The ball, caught on the inside of my right foot—
"…!"
—sped through the gap between Bob's legs in an instant.
The ball I had sent forward connected perfectly between Jack and the defenders.
As Jack sprang forward as if he had been waiting for this moment—
Tweet!
Devon blew the whistle.
"Offside!"
Ha!
A kick slipping through the opponent's legs—
I had mimicked Steve's pass.
Just when I thought it had worked, it turned out I'd copied the offside as well!
"Scrum for each team!"
Damn it, another scrum.
Again, again, and again.
Every single one we've entered today has crumbled.
But what choice do we have?
We can't give up.
We just have to keep pushing forward until the end.
As I bent over to prepare—
"Move aside. I'll do it."
A voice called out from behind me.
It was Tennessee.
He strode over confidently to take Gary's place beside me.
"You're… going to do it?"
"Why? Can't I?"
This was the same Tennessee who'd stubbornly refused to scrum, claiming that nobles shouldn't roll around on the ground.
So why now?
Just then, Tennessee asked me,
"You okay?"
"About what?"
"Your neck."
"My neck? What about it?"
"Never mind, then."
He placed an arm over my back and bent his waist.
Tight.
It was my first time scrumming with Tennessee.
With Jack on my left and Tennessee on my right, it felt solid—perhaps because we were the same group that trained after school.
"Ready!"
Another tense standoff, like a sumo match, began.
Tweet!
The whistle sounded again.
Tennessee's inclusion didn't bring about any dramatic changes, of course.
Thud.
Even though we gave it our all, to the point where sweat drenched our faces—
"..."
Overcoming the overwhelming weight class difference wasn't easy.
Damn it.
This was a battle that had no bearing on the outcome of the match anyway.
No one would blame us if we gave up here.
But then why—
"Uaaaaagh!"
—were we pushing ourselves to the limit like maniacs?
A feeling I'd never experienced, not even once in my previous life…
Tight.
Uncontainable energy—
Tight.
—best described as youth.
"Agyagyagya!"
We charged forward recklessly.
Even if we lost strength along the way and ended up on our knees, until that moment, we would fight tooth and nail to move forward.
Soon—
"Lower your stance!"
A booming voice erupted.
Tight.
Jack and Tennessee grabbed onto my jersey.
"Hold on!"
I could feel it.
We'd already hit our limit long ago.
But once again, I shouted—
"Now!"
And the three of us took a giant step forward together.
The seemingly invincible opponent—
"...!"
—wavered for the first time.
It worked.
"Push harder!"
Agyagyagya! Uaaaagh!
Just as we advanced about 30 centimeters—
Damn it all.
With every ounce of strength drained, we collapsed, as if in unison, without anyone leading the way.
Thud.
"Heoooh. Heoooh."
Under a dazzlingly blue sky, we finally exhaled the breath we had been holding back.
Moments later—
Tweet! Tweet! Tweeeet!
The whistle blew as if it had been waiting for the right moment.
Maybe because he was standing right next to me, Devon leaned in and said,
"Time was up ages ago. But it looked fun, so I let it go a bit longer."
"...?"
Too drained to respond, I simply blinked, prompting him to add,
"The scrum, I mean. You held up better than I expected."
So…
The match was already over, but he let us keep scrumming because it seemed fun?
Seriously?
If he weren't the coach…!
Anyway—
"Hoo. Hoooo."
We lost in the end.
Without scoring a single point, we were thoroughly defeated.
I thought it wouldn't bother me since it was just a practice game.
Sigh.
But it left a bitter taste.
As I quietly ran a hand through my hair—
"You okay?"
It wasn't Devon.
When I looked up, Steve was holding out a hand toward me.
I grabbed his hand and pulled myself up.
Then Steve asked again,
"The back of your neck is red. Just wanted to check if you're alright."
I reached for my neck.
It must've gotten scraped from all the scrumming during the game.
It stung a little, but thankfully, there wasn't any bleeding.
'It was worse during wrestling, so no big deal.'
That said—
—You okay?
—About what?
—Your neck.
—What about it?
—Never mind then.
Tennessee had asked me the same thing, hadn't he?
I'd wondered why he suddenly volunteered for the scrum when he usually avoided it.
Was it because my neck had turned red from the effort?
Did he feel bad seeing me struggle so much?
By the time I turned to confirm, he was already far away.
'Honestly, his sense of timing is…'
While I was lost in thought—
"You were good," Steve said, pulling me back to reality.
"You're better than I was at your age."
"What?"
"Your rugby skills."
I hadn't noticed during the game, but Steve had a deep, resonant voice.
It gave off a distinctly masculine vibe.
"Which university are you aiming for?"
Hmm.
Considering I'd barely managed to get into a science high school, thinking about university seemed a bit much…
"Oxford, right?"
"Well, I'm not sure."
"As you know, I'm affiliated with Cambridge."
Judging by his tone, it seemed this man wanted to recruit me.
"These days, good talent keeps heading to Oxford."
Apparently, Oxford and Cambridge hold an annual rugby match.
But recently, outstanding rookies have been scarce, and it's becoming a concern.
'Wouldn't you have graduated by the time I'm in college?'
I decided not to voice the thought that had risen to the tip of my tongue.
I figured the bond between rugby players in England must be as tight-knit as the Korean Marines.
Maybe everyone had their own personal recruiter assigned to them?
The massive Bob was already whispering with Jack.
Heh.
On the field, they were so fierce, but after the game, they just seemed like regular college students.
Thanks to that, I was able to crack a small smile.
"Sorry, but can we postpone the conversation for a bit?"
"...?"
"I think I should say something to my teammates first."
"Ah, of course."
I bowed slightly and shouted toward the other side of the field.
"Tennessee!"
Startled, he turned around.
"Hurry up and come over!"
"...?"
"We need to wrap this up before we go!"
The seven players who had been on the field, plus the three substitutes, formed a circle of ten.
Maybe because Tennessee was staring at me, it seemed like I had to say something again.
And with Lukash and the other cameras surrounding us, my teammates were waiting for my words with slightly nervous faces.
"I heard that accepting the result and respecting your opponent are the basics of rugby. So with that in mind—"
"...?"
"Let's first express our gratitude to the Cambridge rugby seniors who came all this way."
We soon lined up in front of the Cambridge team and bowed deeply with utmost respect.
"Thank you for the hard work!"
This kind of moment must have been rare.
Steve seemed slightly surprised.
He even remarked to Devon,
"This is the first time I've seen something like this."
"Like what?"
"I came here last year, too."
"Really?"
"I heard there was a standout player worth seeing. Phew, but what a sour personality they had."
"I think I know who you're talking about," Devon said with a laugh, and the others joined in.
We also thanked our coach.
He not only arranged the team but also refereed for us.
Honestly, where else would you find such a dedicated mentor?
"Thank you!"
"Good work, sir!"
We'd been utterly crushed, but the atmosphere was heartwarming.
Perhaps because of that, Devon immediately suggested a team dinner.
"Let's go eat. What do you want? Since there are so many of us, should I just pick what I want?"
And so, the menu was settled on pizza again.
With this many people, I wondered if we should pool our money or if I should treat everyone.
"Do I look like I'm here to mooch off you guys?"
Devon somehow knew what I was thinking and shut it down with a warning.
Alright, let's go! Let's eat!
As we moved together in high spirits, I noticed someone looking at me from afar like a puppy that needed to pee.
It was Lukash.
—If it's not about the captain, there's nothing to write about.
He couldn't say it aloud, so he fiddled with his camera in frustration.
What could I do?
"Just write about it."
At my subtle nod,
"Ohhhhh!"
Lukash flashed a radiant smile of pure joy.
TL/n -
You can read the complete novel (Ch500) at ko-fi.com/inkbound