Chapter 31
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Park Si-hyun in Extreme Rage
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"Si-hyun jerseys are already sold out?"
"Yes, we're sorry. All Park Si-hyun player jerseys have already sold out."
"Ha... none again this time."
"We're sorry."
December 4th, league round 17. The fan store inside Potsipalais Stadium was filled with disappointment.
Park Si-hyun's jerseys had sold out too quickly, just like always.
The staff kept bowing their heads in explanation, but the fans couldn't hide their frustration.
"Ha... gotta cheer without a Si-hyun jersey again."
"Argh, what the hell is our club doing? They said they'd stock them, so why are there none?!"
Even from Rot-Weiss Essen's perspective, the reaction felt unfair.
No one could have predicted this level of explosive demand.
Last season, they'd been grateful for just 1,000 fans. Now, 3,000 was the baseline.
It was the explosive change brought by one name: Park Si-hyun.
Naturally, the prepared stock fell woefully short.
So now, Park Si-hyun jerseys had become 'rare items' that couldn't be bought even at ten times the price.
Just as the fans let out sighs tinged with regret...
A strange vibe flowed in front of the stadium's main entrance.
A procession of black luxury sedans pulled up in a line, and the gleaming doors of Benzes and BMWs opened simultaneously.
Men in sharp suits stepped out one by one.
They carried heavy boxes, and inexplicable smiles played on their faces.
"Who are those guys?"
"No idea... but they don't look ordinary at a glance."
"Come to think of it, the Red Cult said they were doing something today."
"Red... Cult?"
The murmurs around them quieted for a moment.
The Red Cult.
Officially called a fan club, but in reality, something else entirely.
An unofficial group formed by local elites and businessmen in Essen, armed with money and power.
Their fanatical obsession had long surpassed what could be described as mere 'fandom.'
"Whoa... it's really the Red Cult. Look at those cars—all Benzes and BMWs."
"But what's in those boxes..."
"Dunno... but it feels ominous."
At that moment, the suited men began setting up a large tent off to one side of the stadium entrance.
As the tent went up, the whispers grew louder.
"Still kinda curious though...?"
"Screw it, let's go check it out!"
Curiosity overrode any unease, and the fans swarmed over.
And soon, they doubted their own eyes.
"W-what the hell is that..."
"This can't be real...?"
People's eyes widened round.
The suited men started shrugging off their jackets one by one, revealing Essen jerseys emblazoned with Park Si-hyun's face underneath.
But these weren't just printed knockoffs.
They were masterpieces, embroidered stitch by stitch with golden thread—luxury items in their own right.
At that instant, the man at the front bellowed in a booming voice.
"Hello! We're the staff hired by the Red Cult! Today is special! To every ticket holder for this match, we're giving away the 'Holy Relic Uniforms' made for Park Si-hyun himself—completely free!"
"Woooaaah!"
The crowd erupted.
The man grinned contentedly and opened another box.
The moment an object emerged from it, people held their breath.
It was a figurine.
A perfect recreation of the scene where Park Si-hyun stripped off his jersey in the pouring rain to shield a child from the downpour.
"Gasp... it's exactly the same..."
"Whoa, damn... insane..."
Every muscle line, every glint in the child's teary eyes—it was flawlessly detailed.
It felt like a living Park Si-hyun had been shrunk down and placed right there.
"This isn't just merchandise! It's one from the Red Cult's three-piece Park Si-hyun Holy Relic Figurine Set, painstakingly crafted with all our devotion! Titled 'God Loves the Child'! Only for those who predict this match's exact score!"
The fans' eyes changed.
From spectators here for the game, to faces of the faithful.
The Red Cult was creepy?
No—in this moment, they were saints.
Saints bridging God and his devotees.
"Alright then! Show your tickets and claim your holy relics!"
"Uwaaaah!"
Madness exploded outside the stadium.
The fans were already dancing in the palms of the cult's hands.
From the start of the day, everything felt weirdly perfect.
I woke up before the alarm, and the shower water was at the ideal temperature.
Even on the drive to the stadium in Do-yoon hyung's car, we didn't hit a single red light.
The radio?
It just kept playing my favorite songs back-to-back.
At this point, I was convinced.
'Yeah, today's my day. The day to cap off the first half of the season—Park Si-hyun's day.'
My spirits weren't lifting for no reason.
It really felt like the world was pushing me forward.
But when we arrived at the stadium, something was off.
Or rather...
Nothing was there.
Normally, fans would be swarming with signboards, thrusting jerseys for autographs, or just screaming to get a glimpse of my face.
But today... nothing.
Not a single one.
I figured we were just late.
On this perfect day, all I had to do was dominate the pitch.
I'd already forgotten about the Red Cult.
We entered the stadium.
'Huh? Are my eyes messed up?'
But no matter how much I rubbed them, it didn't change.
'Fuck... what the hell is this?'
Why was every single spectator wearing a jersey with my face on it? Why?!
[Ah, what in the world is this? Even the Essen players are standing there stunned. In my entire soccer career, I've never seen a sight like this.]
[Puhaha, I'm just finding it hilarious. Over three thousand fans, all decked out in Park Si-hyun jerseys, chanting what sounds like hymns. This isn't a soccer stadium—it's clearly a religious rally, right?]
'Hoo... Red Cult, you crazy bastards.'
If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed it.
Normally, to cheer a specific player, you'd wrap a scarf or wave a banner with their name. But this...
Look left—Park Si-hyun.
Look front—Park Si-hyun.
Turn around—still Park Si-hyun.
Potsipalais Stadium was dyed entirely in my image.
Honestly, it was hard to look at.
"Puhahaha! Jealous much? For real."
Andreas collapsed onto the pitch, clutching his stomach and rolling around.
The vice-captain was usually playful, but now he was laughing like a madman.
"Kkh... kuku..."
Even Matthias, whose face never changed, was shaking with suppressed laughter.
He never cracked a smile during interviews or even after monster performances.
But today, he couldn't hold it—his lips were twitching.
'Ha... I really wanna see the face of whoever planned this crap.'
If I met the guy, I'd grab his collar and demand answers.
What kind of twisted idea turned this madness into reality?
"Hoo... stop laughing and focus. The game's about to start."
I muttered low, and Andreas, still giggling, replied.
"Right, right. Ah, but what do we do? Look over there. Our god of Essen, Park Si-hyun, is watching us. Oh man, no matter where I look, my eyes meet Si-hyun's. Scary for real."
"...Andreas."
My voice dropped, and the air shifted.
Andreas flinched and turned to face me straight.
"Uh... huh? Yo Si-hyun, why lower your tone like that? It's creepy..."
"Do it one more time, and the thing flying around the pitch today won't be the ball... it'll be Andreas's head."
Silence.
"H-hey! Why make a joke so menacing?!"
"..."
"Si-hyun, you're kidding, right?"
"..."
"Yo, Si-hyun! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!"
"..."
"C'mon, no way... Park Si-hyun wouldn't get sulky over something this trivial, right?"
"..."
"Spare me, Si-hyun... I don't wanna die yet..."
I let out a hollow chuckle and nodded.
Even the vice-captain who got flak for not acting his age had decades of street smarts you couldn't beat.
His split-second read had just bought him some lifespan.
I turned my gaze back to the stands.
Three thousand.
All wearing my face, chanting my name, praising my existence alone.
'Don't mind it. Just focus on the game. Yeah... better they love me this obsessively than hate me.'
I muttered to myself.
I wanted titles like Zlatan's—the world's best man, the pinnacle of confidence...
Somehow, I was turning into a cult leader instead.
Matthias stepped up beside me and said quietly.
"Si-hyun, don't let it get to you. What we do stays the same. Kick the ball."
"Never bothered me. For Park Si-hyun, only one thing matters: how many goals I score. But Matthias."
"Yeah?"
"How do you make that rising smirk go away?"
"Ahem... sorry."
Matthias hurriedly schooled his face, but traces of the smile lingered.
Ah, seriously pissing me off.
If this was meant to rile me up, mission accomplished.
And my outlet? Today's opponents, KFC Uerdingen 05.
Why take it out on them when the fans are at fault?
'Can't exactly score an own goal.'
KFC Uerdingen 05 is screwed—chant it as extreme-rage Park Si-hyun charges in.