Chapter 40
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: The Person Who Will Become Park Si-hyun's Right-Hand Man?
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Philipp Lahm was led by the medical staff to sit beside the bench during a brief stoppage in play.
The cold sweat cooling on his skin mingled with the touch of the medical staff examining his ankle.
But his gaze never left one spot.
Park Si-hyun.
The momentum of victory had clearly tilted toward Bayern Munich.
For the first 30 minutes, he had completely shut down Park Si-hyun.
No—or rather, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he had choked the life out of the monster known as Park Si-hyun.
Yet the scoreboard read 1-1.
As if the sense of "perfection" was his alone, reality cruelly maintained its balance.
'Did I get complacent?'
He asked himself, but soon shook his head.
Philipp Lahm knew better than anyone.
Complacency was the starting point of defeat.
So he never relaxed, not even for a moment.
When he judged he couldn't handle it alone, he immediately called for double-team defense.
Quick acknowledgment and precise choices. Those were Philipp Lahm's weapons.
The situation just moments ago was no different.
Blocking Park Si-hyun's speed once he'd accelerated was impossible alone.
So he brought in support defense, and when even that failed, he went for the last resort: a tackle.
Of course, in that instant, he had made a mistake.
Underestimating Park Si-hyun's top speed, his outstretched leg had gone straight for the opponent's body.
'Damn...'
The moment the tackle connected, regret surged in Philipp Lahm first.
No matter how badly he wanted to win, he had never desired victory at the cost of ruining an opponent's career.
But the outcome was ironic.
The one injured wasn't Park Si-hyun, but himself.
The medical staff pressed his ankle and diagnosed it.
"No major issue. Seems like you just got rattled for a moment."
Philipp Lahm let out a short breath and nodded.
"Good."
As he returned to the pitch, he saw Park Si-hyun laughing lightly with his teammates.
Unlike himself, Park acted as if the collision had been nothing at all.
The sight of that serene face sent an inexplicable chill through Philipp Lahm.
Then, a phrase suddenly flashed in his mind.
'If your body's weak, use your head. But mine's strong, so I don't need to bother with brains.'
Philipp Lahm gritted his teeth.
He couldn't deny it. The words rang true.
His physicality was weak.
So he had fought with his mind—predicting movements, reading space, utilizing teammates, making optimal choices to endure.
That was the weapon that had forged Philipp Lahm up to now.
But Park Si-hyun was different.
He didn't calculate. He overwhelmed with sheer power, speed, and boundless confidence.
And that alone was enough.
Philipp Lahm's vision shook.
'If you can't beat him, join Park Si-hyun...'
The thought burrowed into his mind relentlessly.
Like a warning from instinct itself.
'No.'
Philipp Lahm shook his head fiercely.
'The game's not over yet.'
No matter that they'd conceded a goal—it was just one.
Thinking it was a 1-1 draw already was poison.
What mattered now was winning the match.
Why do people get so obsessed with soccer?
Is it the brutal physical clashes of muscular men over 90 minutes?
Or the dazzling individual skills that toy with defenses, gliding across the pitch like dancers?
Ask anyone, and you'll get different answers.
Some will praise the tactical intricacies on display, others the star player's fantastical goals.
But gather all those answers, and they lead to one truth.
The moment people feel the deepest, most instinctive catharsis is always the same.
The moment of 'reversal.'
Humans crave dramatic narratives by nature.
A dominant win from start to finish is fun, sure.
But it lacks that hot thrill.
Mechanically stacked victories offer no stories worth sharing over drinks.
What truly sets hearts racing is the cliff's edge.
Sinking into the mire, then a single, unforeseen strike.
In that instant, the fallen stands erupt like an explosion, fans embracing and shouting without thinking.
"This is soccer!"
Sweat dripping on the pitch, the glint in the eyes of those on the brink of defeat, the drama of one moment flipping it all.
In those short yet endless 90 minutes, hope and despair compressed like life itself, and miracles.
And right now, Park Si-hyun's play at Potsipalais Stadium was that dramatic scene, that miracle.
Goal! Goal! Goal! Park Si-hyun! He sensually chips Christoph's pass, loops around, and unleashes a powerful shot that rattles Bayern Munich's net! 2-1! Rot-Weiss Essen takes the lead with a reversal goal!
What a beautiful goal! The flair of the first touch lifting the ball, the finish slotting it precisely into the top corner! This is the magic of soccer!
The crowd leaped from their seats in unison, roaring.
"Park Si-hyun! Park Si-hyun!"
"I told you! Si-hyun would deliver!"
"Someone didn't believe? Who was the doubter? Not me!"
Amid the fiery cheers and praise, Park Si-hyun looked toward the stands.
His expression was astonishingly calm.
As if it were all predestined, a relaxed smile hung on his lips, like greeting an expected outcome.
And he shouted loudly.
"I am the god of soccer! Who can stop me? No one can!"
In the end, the second half passed without further twists, and I added one more goal to finish 3-1.
Beyond the match, I watched departing Philipp Lahm with meaningful intent.
'He's really shaken. Could he actually...?'
Lahm's final expression as he left seemed lost in thought.
My words must still be swirling in that guy's head.
"Si-hyun! They want you for the MOM interview!"
Christoph approached me. MOM was now taken for granted.
A hat-trick in this game—who else but me?
I nodded that I knew.
Heading to the interview spot, a new woman sat there, one I hadn't seen before.
"Hello, I'm Karina, reporter for Kicker, Essen's local sports specialist."
A blonde with blue eyes, a female reporter.
She looked late 20s, stunning in her suit.
The type players probably confessed to often.
"Park Si-hyun."
I greeted simply.
"What an impressive match today. You scored three against Bayern Munich's second team. Your thoughts?"
Karina turned on her recorder and asked.
"The natural result."
Her eyes widened slightly at my answer.
First-timer, startled even by light jokes.
She'd adapt soon enough.
"Natural result... Such confidence. Any special reason?"
"Soccer is a game where the strong win. And I was the strongest on the pitch today."
Karina seemed momentarily speechless.
Then she continued.
"Some experts predicted your scoring pace would drop in the second half. But you notched another hat-trick."
"Experts were wrong. Soon they'll call it a slump every time I score just one."
I shrugged.
"Haha... Confidence overflows. What's your goal moving forward?"
"Promoting to the first division. And scoring there just the same."
Karina nodded, jotting notes.
"Last question. You were contained by Philipp Lahm for the first 30 minutes. Your thoughts?"
"A smart player."
I opened slowly.
First time praising an opponent from my lips—everyone listening looked shocked.
"Like a mosquito. Kept buzzing around annoyingly. Of course, a mosquito can't stop a god."
"To annoy you... means he did well."
"Sure. But I scored three, so the result's clear."
"Questions done. Any final words for the soccer world or fans?"
I thought briefly.
Philipp Lahm's shaken face came to mind.
More players would face the same crossroads ahead.
Join Park Si-hyun or oppose him.
"If you can't beat Park Si-hyun, join him."
I spoke slowly, voice full of conviction.
"Don't regret it later—join now if you will. Early joiners in successful companies make the most money. Soccer's the same."
Karina paused her pen, staring.
Her blue eyes mixed bewilderment and curiosity.
"Join... do you mean transfer?"
"Sharp. Yes. Talented prospects overflow in soccer, more than me even. But they're unlucky. Born in my era."
I stood confidently, extending my right arm.
"So if you can't be king, become the right-hand man. Players like Philipp Lahm qualify."