Chapter 17
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Park Si-hyun is a Foul
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Park Si-hyun is a foul.
'As expected, even if it's the third division, this is Germany.'
The training I could experience in Korea in 2001 was on a completely different level.
I dominated every test, taking first place across the board, proving I wasn't just some loudmouth with a big mouth.
But that wouldn't be enough for Werner and Michael.
I glanced at the two of them watching me with sharp eyes from afar.
'Yeah, I figured guys like you wouldn't be satisfied with this much.'
Werner Klein.
Until I arrived, he was Essen's sole goal scorer.
He netted at least eight goals per season—a solid striker in the third division.
Michael Waltz was no different.
With his nimble movements and precise crosses, he'd formed the team's front two with Werner, shouldering the attack.
'But now, I'm the center. It's your turn to match my speed.'
During training, my gaze shifted to a lone figure sitting by one of the goals.
Christoph Bauer.
A 21-year-old midfielder who'd only been registered as a sub last season and never set foot on the pitch.
An unknown player not even worth calling a prospect.
In the future, he'd probably retire quietly in the third division.
Yet the passing ability I'd seen from Christoph was overwhelmingly dominant—impossible to believe for a third-division benchwarmer.
'How is this guy not a starter in the third division? His passes alone could work in the first division...'
But as I kept watching, I understood why.
A passive personality, lack of confidence, extreme timidity around the team.
All of it was crushing his talent.
He couldn't even make eye contact with teammates, and when he received the ball, he'd hesitate, opting only for safe passes to avoid mistakes.
Even so, the creative passes that occasionally burst from his feet truly shone.
But there was no one to receive them.
What's the point of a pass if no one sees the path?
'But now, I'm here.'
There was something I'd always wondered when playing defense.
Why do strikers ignore easy paths and take the hard ones? Why do midfielders pass backward when obvious lanes are open?
But as I kept playing soccer, I realized: not everyone can see those paths.
I immediately approached Christoph.
"Christoph."
"Y-Yeah...? W-Why are you calling me...?"
He lowered his head slightly, his eyes dartingly.
"You're a bit arrogant."
"Uh... uh, s-sorry... I... um..."
He shrank back, his small voice unable to hide his panic.
"You're acting like no one else can see the paths you see. That's ridiculous arrogance. But hey, there's me—Park Si-hyun. The striker who can take your passes. So in the scrimmage, send it down those paths. No need to worry I can't handle it."
"T-That... um..."
As he stammered, unable to continue, I flashed a playful smile.
"What, don't want to?"
I placed a hand on his shoulder, teasing.
"Eek!"
Christoph trembled and shrank away.
'Approaching someone this timid with a smile is the way to go. Look at him shaking like a leaf.'
"Do the paaaass, got it?"
I deliberately dragged out the "paaaass" for extra playfulness.
"G-Got it!"
Perfect—getting that firm commitment feels great.
I chuckled and patted his back.
"Ack!"
Of course, it was a gesture of camaraderie from my side, but it didn't look that way to others.
"That guy's hitting Christoph."
"Tch, sly bastard. Using his palm instead of a fist so the coach doesn't notice."
"Already making underlings? Worth every penny of his transfer fee. Probably bullied kids at school too."
The scrimmage began, and Werner approached me.
"Think acing a few drills makes you the best player? Real games are different, rookie."
"We'll see when we clash—who's the real rookie."
"Fine, I'll win anyway... but how do you expect to beat us with those scrubs?"
As Werner said, Essen's starters and subs had a huge gap.
Not just Essen—third-division teams lacked capital, so the skill disparity between starters and bench was inevitable.
Even if I scored three, conceding four meant a loss.
'But those three were solo efforts...'
I glanced down, and sure enough, Christoph had the ball and was looking my way.
'Yeah, just put the ball where you see the path. I'll turn it into a goal.'
Werner sneered and continued.
"You can't be counting on Christoph, right? That coward only does back passes."
"You should've grabbed my jersey before trash-talking."
"What? What do you—"
I bolted forward.
'You'll see it too, Christoph.'
"Where do you think—"
Werner rushed to block me, but the moment he touched me...
"Ugh!"
He bounced off.
At that instant, Christoph's eyes flashed.
Bam!
The ball arced perfectly from Christoph's foot.
Defenders naturally shifted right, assuming that's where I'd gone—and where the ball was headed.
But mid-stride, I slammed the brakes and twisted left.
The path I'd seen wasn't right.
"Wha... what the...?"
"How does he move like that...?"
As the defenders panicked, I found myself unmarked on the open left.
I chested down the dropping ball, and as it bounced, rifled a right-footed volley.
Crack!
The keeper stretched, but too late.
The ball ripped into the net.
Thud.
The training ground fell silent as everyone stared blankly at me.
"H-How did he see that angle from Christoph's pass...?"
"Forget the pass—how does he sprint full speed, stop dead, and change direction? His knees should've buckled."
"That shot's power—the sound hit before the ball was even in the net."
The other players started murmuring.
I gave Christoph, staring dazedly, a thumbs-up.
"This is Park Si-hyun. Trust me and pass like that."
Then—
"Foul! That's a foul, Coach!"
Werner shouted loudly.
"He pushed me! Clear foul!"
Werner's face was flushed red, fists clenched, glaring at me.
I shrugged.
"You're right, it is a foul. Park Si-hyun is like a foul in soccer."
"What the hell...?"
As Werner looked bewildered, I continued calmly.
"So cut the bullshit and get back to your position. We're just getting started."
Werner's face burned even redder.
"What did you say? You little—"
"Werner."
Coach Frank Kurt's cold voice echoed across the field.
"No foul. It was a fair shoulder challenge."
Before long, the score was 4-2.
Despite conceding two due to the team gap, after the volley, I took Christoph's pass for a no-angle shot, beat two with my left foot for another, and headed in a pass from some unnamed sub.
I'd single-handedly smashed in four goals, dominating the game.
But Werner? Zero goals.
Reason? Whenever he got the ball, I'd race back like this.
Whack!
"Argh!"
'I'm the ultimate attacker now, but pre-regression, I was a defensive legend.'
"Why do you keep coming all the way back here?!"
Werner yelled in fury.
"That's the Park Si-hyun style."
I shrugged leisurely.
"Arrrgh!"
Werner clutched his head and screamed.
Every time I'd score, sidle over, and say "Park Si-hyun style," now he freaked at just the "Park" part.
"Werner, calm down!"
Michael rushed over to restrain him.
"Why don't you go easy a bit?"
Werner dropped his hands, glaring murderously.
"What did you say, you punk?"
"Won't it be embarrassing if you keep this up? The strong protect the weak. Park Si-hyun's strong, so I'll look out for you."
Werner's face went crimson.
"Shut your damn mouth, punk! I'll catch up soon!"
Hmm, even now he doesn't quit...
Maybe a better player than I thought?
If he wants to keep fighting, I should respect that will.
'Then there's only one option left.'
Break him so bad he can't even talk.
The game resumed, and I received the ball from the keeper.
I slowly placed it at my feet in front of goal and eyed Werner.
He gritted his teeth and charged.
"Not falling for it this time!"
His legs powered forward, closing the gap.
But I didn't dodge—I charged straight at him.
As he lunged for the tackle, I feinted hard left with my upper body.
Werner bought it and leaned left; I nudged the ball right and burst the opposite way.
"Damn it!"
As Werner flailed at air, two more players rushed me.
But I was done running.
Mid-stride, I whipped my right foot.
Boom!!!
The ball exploded off my laces, rocketing into the top left corner.
Thud.
"N-No... impossible..."
Werner dropped to his knees on the grass.
'That's why you should've taken the mercy when I offered.'