Chapter 3
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Park Si-hyun Style?
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Friday evening.
Jo Mi-young finished work and hurried home.
With her husband working in Germany due to circumstances, she was raising their child alone. Her workplace considered her situation and never made her stay late.
As she opened the front door and stepped inside, the sound of her son studying—something she'd been hearing nonstop lately—rang in her ears again.
"Ich bin Park Si-hyun. Na und?"
(I'm Park Si-hyun. So what?)
"Ich bin Park Si-hyun. Stört dich das?"
(I'm Park Si-hyun. Does that bother you?)
Jo Mi-young's footsteps halted.
'What on earth is this kid memorizing?'
Her husband worked in Germany, so she knew some German herself.
But the sentences her son was diligently memorizing sounded like provocative taunts, as if picking a fight with someone.
"Ich habe keine Zeit für deine Zweifel."
(I don't have time to waste on your doubts.)
"Das Problem liegt nicht bei mir, sondern bei euch."
(The problem isn't with me—it's with you guys.)
What could he possibly be planning to do in Germany that required memorizing lines like these?
But at the same time, it was intriguing.
Si-hyun had always been the type who, unlike other kids, followed others blindly rather than asserting himself.
He'd even joined the soccer team in elementary school without a second thought when the coach spotted his physical potential and asked.
So Jo Mi-young had always worried.
What if he just nodded along with a forced smile even when treated unfairly?
What if he brushed off things he didn't want to do with a casual "It's fine"?
That had been her son.
Always watching others' reactions, shrinking back, intimidated before he even spoke.
But a few days ago, the story she'd heard had stopped those worries in their tracks.
He'd stood up to the coach's unreasonable demands and stormed out of the soccer team.
Not slinking away with his lips sealed, but unloading everything he wanted to say right in the coach's face, head held high.
'My son... made that kind of stand?'
Where had that boldness come from? Honestly, she could hardly believe it.
"Park Si-hyun Style," or something like that?
Ever since those words stuck in his mouth, Si-hyun had been repeating them all day, coating himself in the phrase.
While eating, while watching TV, even in his mutterings to himself.
"This isn't Park Si-hyun Style."
"Park Si-hyun wouldn't do something like this."
He'd changed. Definitely. Si-hyun had become a bit arrogant somewhere.
But to Jo Mi-young, that arrogance was a comfort.
'At least now... he won't bow his head no matter what anyone says.'
Then, a low, firm voice echoed from the room again.
"Ich bin Park Si-hyun. So ist mein Stil."
(I'm Park Si-hyun. That's my style.)
Jo Mi-young chuckled and shook her head.
The memorized lines were all perfectly provocative, fight-starting material, but at least there was sincerity in them.
That was all. It was enough for her.
'At least... his desire to go to Germany is genuine.'
Jo Mi-young gently knocked on the door.
"Si-hyun, Mom's home."
"Mom? Hold on."
The sound of a book closing was followed by footsteps approaching. Moments later, the door opened.
A 193cm giant filled the doorframe.
"What, you're already back?"
"Yeah. But... what are you memorizing right now?"
Park Si-hyun shrugged.
"Practical German, I guess?"
"Is that practical?"
"Yeah. If I run into racists there, won't they freak out and run if I look down at them and hit 'em with these lines?"
Park Si-hyun said, tilting his chin up.
Seeing that, Jo Mi-young could easily picture it.
Her son, towering at 193cm, glaring down at someone while hurling provocative German.
'Hmm, he does take after his dad's rough looks... yeah, it'd probably work.'
Days passed with me memorizing German in my routine, and I could visibly see my skills improving.
Provocative sentences or not, they were definitely helping me grasp German structure.
Then a thought suddenly struck me.
'Wait, if I've regressed, can't I make a fortune too?'
I'd never been into stocks or coins, but investing in a few companies my future self knew about would make me rich.
Amazon, Apple, Tesla... and Bitcoin starting in 2009.
All of them sparkled gold in my mind.
Hundreds of millions—no, billions—beckoning me.
'Do I even need to play soccer?'
A sweet temptation flashed by.
Did I really need to dive into the brutal pro soccer world? I could rake in near-chaebol-level wealth with what I knew. Money could solve everything, right?
That delicious temptation flitted through my head.
But I shook it off vigorously.
"What nonsense. That's not Park Si-hyun Style!"
Living easy off money? That's not Zlatan's way. Not Park Si-hyun's either.
Proving everything on the pitch, conquering the world with skill. That's the real Park Si-hyun Style.
Establishing your identity like this is crucial in life.
But the problem was, this happened to be during class.
"Haha, alright. Shall we slowly hear what our Park Si-hyun Style is?"
The eyes of the twenty students in class locked onto me, and the homeroom teacher's lips curled slyly.
The class buzzed with whispers and giggles.
'Ah, total disaster.'
No.
The more this happens, the more I have to show them. I'm Park Si-hyun—boldly.
The old me would've turned beet red, head down, stammering "Sorry" nonstop.
But Park Si-hyun Style now is different.
I stood up slowly.
My chair scraped back, drawing even more attention.
The 193cm giant rose, dominating the classroom.
"I'll tell you what Park Si-hyun Style is."
I shrugged and said.
"Our Si-hyun's style is great too, but how about solving this one?"
The math teacher pointed to a complex problem on the board I'd never seen before.
I glanced at it and answered confidently.
"3."
"Ugh, kid. How is this 3? Just apply what we learned, and the answer comes right out."
I shouted even more boldly.
"No, the answer is 3. Because I said 3."
'This has to be right, yeah?'
As a pre-regression Zlatan fan, I knew all his memes cold.
The tragedy was, my 38-year-old middle-aged mind didn't fully get memes, so I couldn't tell if this was real Zlatan or fan fiction—and I believed it was legit.
The classroom froze.
The teacher's eyes bulged, and the kids gaped at the 193cm giant.
Like they'd seen an alien.
"Park Si-hyun, are you... serious right now?"
The teacher's voice dropped low.
But Si-hyun had already crossed the point of no return.
Having declared Park Si-hyun Style, he had to go all the way.
"Yes, dead serious. If Park Si-hyun says 3, it's 3. Das ist mein Stil."
(That's my style.)
Mixing in German, he declared it proudly. The classroom air turned to ice.
Silence so deep you could hear a pen drop.
"Puhahaha! What was that, Park Si-hyun Style? First time I've seen the math teacher flustered like that!"
Kim Tae-min clutched his stomach laughing from behind.
"Right? 'Because I said 3.' Who says that normally?"
Lee Jun-hyeok mimicked my voice from the side.
The kids were going nuts.
As first-years, the disruption mattered less than how hilarious it was—unlike third-years.
"So I'm normal, and you're not?"
"You told the math teacher the answer's 3 because you said 3, and that's normal?"
Ahem. It stung a bit, but times like this called for maximum confidence.
Zlatan would've too.
Probably...
"That's Park Si-hyun Style."
"Puhaha! Yeah, so what's with that? Why keep going on about it?"
"Is your style like, 'Bring your parents'? Park Si-hyun to the homeroom teacher."
"Keke, how about this? 'Give me rice cake, and I won't eat you.' Park Si-hyun to the tiger."
The kids started improvising parodies on the spot.
A chill ran down my spine; I quickly shut them down.
'These guys regress too? How do they know Zlatan's lines so perfectly?'
Almost lost my ammo there.
"Hey, hey, cut it out. That's not Park Si-hyun Style."
"Then what is it?"
"Park Si-hyun Style is... turning the impossible into possible. Making it happen when everyone says no."
The kids burst out laughing again.
"So you made the math answer 3 too?"
"You're insane, for real."
Then Kim Tae-min, pondering from the back, spoke up.
"Hey, Si-hyun, wanna play soccer at lunch later?"
Our school had been holding class-vs-class soccer tournaments during lunch lately.
And our Class 3 was seen as the weaklings.
Even with me, they called us weaklings because soccer team members usually skipped these.
"Dude, how can I play?"
"You're not on the team anymore, right?"
'True. I'm not on the soccer team anymore.'
No team meant no reason to sit out.
I wanted real game action anyway.
"Okay, I'm in."
"Nice! We're winning now! Class 2 dissed us hard, pissed me off!"
Kim Tae-min pumped his fist.
"Si-hyun plays, game's over!"
"193cm physique plus ex-soccer team... duh."
The kids already had victory in their eyes.
As expected.
A giant had entered their playground.