Chapter 13
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Where Park Si-hyun Is, That's Number One
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Where Park Si-hyun is, that's number one.
But just because I'd signed the contract didn't mean I could step onto the pitch right away.
First, there was the visa issue to sort out, and it was early May. The league was sprinting toward its final stretch.
Registering a new player at this stage was impossible from the start.
In the end, I'd join full training in mid-June, after the season wrapped up and everyone caught their breath.
Luckily, my dad worked at the Essen city hall's culture and services department, so getting the family accompaniment visa took barely two weeks.
And along with the visa, I got one more thing in hand.
An enrollment permit for Goethe-Gymnasium, the school affiliated with Rot-Weiss Essen.
It was your standard Gymnasium, but they adjusted schedules for the club's promising youngsters to balance school and soccer, and provided extra academic support.
In other words, it was a school with "special considerations" for future pros.
And today was my first day heading there.
As the morning sun lit up Essen's gray streets, I stood at the front door in my new uniform.
'Ha... I could've skipped school altogether.'
When the club first suggested I attend, I'd flat-out refused.
I'd already decided soccer was my life—what did I need school for?
But Jang Do-yoon just shook his head.
"Si-hyun, if you're gonna live in Germany, you need at least the basic education. Plus, the club wants it."
"Ha."
"Nowhere better for adapting to local life than school. Just give it a shot."
Even with all that from Jang Do-yoon, I was still leaning toward skipping it.
'It's not mandatory education, and I don't have to go.'
German Gymnasiums weren't required after age 16.
I was exactly 16, so legally, no problem.
Besides, with a pro contract already signed, why bother?
Then my mom called the next day.
"Si-hyun, if you don't want to come back to Korea, shut up and go to school."
That settled it.
I dragged my feet toward school.
'Ha... How old do they think I am? Making me go to school—in Germany, no less.'
Mentally, I was pushing forty.
Sitting with a bunch of 16-year-old kids solving math problems? The thought alone was suffocating.
A few Germans glanced my way as I walked, but I ignored them. Soon enough, the whole city would know my face—not as some curiosity, but as a hero.
"Here we are."
Goethe-Gymnasium's red-brick building loomed ahead.
It was a grand 19th-century structure, with a statue of Goethe himself out front.
'Hmm... A Park Si-hyun statue here someday wouldn't look bad.'
Honestly, if I took a third-division team to the Bundesliga in three years, they'd build one.
Essen had never even touched the top flight. My mere presence was already history in the making.
A few students lingered by the main gate in clusters, their eyes snapping to me.
'Asian guy—must be a novelty.'
I strode through the gate without a care.
The hallway had that stern German vibe.
High ceilings, long corridors, walls lined with portraits of historical giants.
Bismarck, Frederick the Great, Goethe. Titans who'd shaped Germany.
'My picture'll hang here soon. Park Si-hyun, Goethe-Gymnasium's first Bundesliga star.'
Heading to the staff room, I caught whispers from students.
"See that Asian guy? He's huge."
"Looks like a soccer player."
"Idiot, that's basketball height."
'Soccer player, kids.'
I smirked inwardly, checked the staff room sign, and knocked twice.
"Come in."
A balding guy in his mid-50s sat at the desk. Round glasses, sorting papers, looked up at me.
"Si-hyun?"
"Hello."
"Oh, your German's better than expected. And you're tall. I'm Klaus Freier."
Freier pulled a stack of papers from his desk and handed them over.
"Rot-Weiss Essen called ahead—you're in the special class. Think of it as the flexible track where the school accommodates you. Classes shift around your training schedule."
He adjusted his glasses and went on.
"You'll need to complete the basics, but no eight-hour days like regular students. Exams are mandatory, though, and core subjects for graduation."
'Not bad.'
"Here's your timetable."
The sheet showed just 15 hours a week.
"Alright, follow me. I'm your homeroom teacher for the special class, so call if you miss or need anything. I'll introduce you to the others."
"I placed third at Bayern Munich's youth tennis camp this time. Eh, just pretty good."
"Whoa, really? I got third at Dortmund's ballet concours!"
"I set a new national junior record in freestyle 200m."
Everyone was busy one-upping each other.
In the corner, a girl quietly turned pages.
Her name was Lisa Schmidt.
Daughter of a pro singer, she'd dropped her debut album at 15 and conquered not just Germany but the Billboard charts.
'Childish.'
Lisa thought, flipping another page.
Seeing them compete over who was greater was pathetic.
"Lisa, new single dropping soon? When?"
A boy asked, but she didn't look up.
"Next month."
Short answer, back to her book.
'You wouldn't get my music anyway.'
Her songs were praised as too deep and philosophical for a 15-year-old.
Love, breakup, life's futility—lyrics that wowed adults.
Of course, Lisa hadn't lived them.
Tagging along with her dad to studios since childhood, she'd eavesdropped on producers and songwriters sharing tangled romances and bitter life stories over drinks in dim lights.
Lisa, who loved imagining, wove those tales into her own delicate sensibilities as songs.
Unlived emotions, but her imagined stories felt vividly raw.
And when those tracks stormed German charts and hit Billboard, seeing millions worldwide moved by her mind's creations gave her chills.
'No one my age is as special as me.'
Lisa smiled with conviction.
How many 15-year-olds chart on Billboard?
She was one of a kind.
That attitude didn't make school easy, though.
"Lisa Schmidt's so weird. Acts like she's the only special one."
"Yeah, one hit album and she struts like that..."
"And that fake-cute act... Hate looking at her."
Whispers followed her in the halls.
But Lisa just thought:
'Kids who can't grasp my music. Whatever.'
She ignored the jealous stares prickling her back.
'Someday they'll see how great an artist I am.'
She trusted her talent.
Billboard at 15 wasn't luck.
"Kids, meet your new classmate."
Then Mr. Freier opened the door.
Lisa glanced up casually.
New kid? Another self-proclaimed genius?
"Park Si-hyun."
A boy stepped through the gap.
Tall—at least 193 cm—black hair, sharp eyes.
Marco, the swimmer, raised a hand.
"What do you do?"
"Soccer player."
"Where?"
"Rot-Weiss Essen."
"Rot-Weiss Essen? Isn't that third division?"
Marco's tone dripped sarcasm.
"Yeah."
Park Si-hyun shrugged it off.
"Not that impressive then. Me—"
As Marco continued, Si-hyun cut in.
"Why do you get to judge?"
"What?"
"Sure, third division now, 13th place this season."
Si-hyun's eyes turned icy.
"But Rot-Weiss Essen has me, Park Si-hyun—so it's number one. Whatever you do, can it top making a third-division team Germany's best?"
The room went dead silent. Lisa fully looked up from her book.
'He can say that?'
She thought she was the best too, but showed it through actions, not words.
She knew how it sounded to others.
This guy didn't care.
'Interesting.'
For the first time, Lisa took real interest in a peer.