Chapter 48
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Park Si-hyun and the Madman Get Along
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Park Si-hyun and lunatics got along just fine.
As I walked down the hotel corridor, I spun the room key around my finger.
302. My assigned room.
'Wonder who my roommate is.'
Click.
The moment I opened the door, a whiff of the hotel's sophisticated air freshener hit my nose.
But before that subtle scent could fully spread, what caught my eye first was the bed.
A pair of underwear tossed carelessly on top.
And workout clothes scattered everywhere, reeking of sweat.
I let out a chuckle.
"Knew it had to be you."
No need to check the name.
There was only one guy on the national team who could trash a room like this.
The hyung I'd been practically friends with even before my regression.
The one dubbed the team's 'official lunatic,' always stirring up trouble.
The corner of my mouth twitched up.
Screeech—
Right then, the door swung open, and a familiar face poked in.
"Hey, maknae, you finish unpacking?"
Playful grin and all.
Just as I figured.
Lee Chun-soo.
The second I saw him, I recalled a private chat from before my regression.
Coach Hiddink had used Chun-soo hyung like a wildcard to break down walls between seniors and juniors.
The biggest impact was that 'Hey Myung-bo hyung, wanna grab food?' moment,
But apparently, because he caused so much chaos, they hesitated to pair him with anyone else, worried others might copy him.
Back then, I'd brushed it off as a joke, but facing it now in reality, it seemed true enough.
'But... why'd they stick me with him?'
Did Coach Hiddink figure I wouldn't get corrupted by Chun-soo hyung?
Or maybe he'd already scouted my personality from Germany and figured 'crazy pairs with crazy'...
'...Well, at least no pointless friction.'
I tossed my bag onto the bed with a smirk.
"Figured the guy who turns a room into a disaster zone was you, Chun-soo hyung."
Normally, that might rub someone the wrong way as a first greeting.
But the Chun-soo hyung I knew wasn't like that.
He actually preferred straight talk like this.
Sure enough, Chun-soo hyung burst out laughing and plopped down next to me.
"Damn, kid, you got a mouth on you. I like it. These days' juniors are all too polite. Stifling and boring. We need guys like you to liven up the team."
I shot back with a grin.
"Chun-soo hyung, weren't you the maknae before I showed up? Which junior was so polite?"
"...Puhaha! That's why I'm welcoming our new maknae like this. Freed you from maknae duty, and your personality fits me perfect."
Chun-soo hyung playfully slapped my shoulder, then eyed my height.
"Man, you really are tall. How much?"
"193."
"Whoa, striker, huh? Dong-guk hyung's in trouble. Just park you in front of the goal, shake your head around, and it'll go in."
He laughed it off like a joke, but his eyes were serious.
Then, he smirked and lowered his voice.
"But hey... Myung-bo hyung doesn't seem to like you much. Said you didn't greet him properly earlier. Give him a proper hello at tomorrow's training. Don't wanna get on his bad side."
I shrugged it off.
"Doesn't matter who dislikes me. Better to focus on playing soccer well."
For a beat, Chun-soo hyung stared straight at me.
His lips twitched, then he roared with laughter.
"Hahaha! Kid, you're hilarious. Finally, Korea's got my kind of player. Right—soccer players just need to play soccer well. Manners won't score goals. Goals don't go in from politeness. You kick the ball with your feet, not your mouth."
Unfiltered words.
More like a European player's philosophy than a Korean one.
"So, you really that good? 45 goals, they say... Honestly, I don't know much about Germany. Not exaggerated, is it?"
I met his gaze head-on and answered firmly.
"I play soccer fucking amazingly."
Short and to the point.
What better way to sum up Park Si-hyun?
Chun-soo hyung chuckled and nodded.
"Alright then, you must be good. But is Germany different from Korea? If I do well at this World Cup, I'm heading to Europe. You're the senior there—spill some tips."
I gave Chun-soo hyung the essential advice.
"Just don't pull an interview like 'I'll succeed at Real Sociedad and go to Real Madrid.'"
"Puhaha! Who's that madman? Kinda wanna be friends."
'That's you, hyung.'
I swallowed a laugh, keeping it internal.
"Alright, since you like me, here's a real gem."
Chun-soo hyung leaned in close to my ear, voice dropping.
"Watch out for Coach Raymond at training tomorrow. He's the fitness guy... total devil, devil."
"How am I supposed to know who that is?"
"Look for the shiny bald head. Only one like that."
And so the chat with Chun-soo hyung flowed on—
Until dawn crept in, the room filled with laughter and banter nonstop.
"Attention, everyone. We're going all the way today. You have to run till the end. Otherwise, all our data so far means nothing."
Coach Hiddink's firm instructions echoed across the training ground through the interpreter coach.
On the grass, players lined up, stretching and jogging lightly to warm up.
In that space mixed with sweat and grass scents, a subtle tension hung thick.
But Hong Myung-bo's gaze was fixed elsewhere.
On Park Si-hyun.
'Chun-soo must've talked to him... What's with that? Just a nod? That's it?'
His narrowed eyes grew icier.
The more he thought, the angrier he got.
Sun-hong hyung's words from yesterday resurfaced.
'You're the captain. Understand and uphold the coach's philosophy first and foremost. You have to hold the team's center.'
Hiddink's 'horizontal competition,' evaluated purely on merit.
Hong Myung-bo got it, and thought he'd upheld it more than anyone.
But—
'Doesn't mean basic manners go out the window.'
This was still the Korean national team.
Horizontal competition worked on the training pitch, but outside, senior-junior respect had to hold.
Especially for the maknae—a proper greeting to the captain was basic.
'Some 18-year-old who played a bit in Germany thinks this is his playground?'
His fist clenched unconsciously.
Truth was, he'd disliked him from the start.
This outsider hyped up with all the Germany talk, not even from the domestic league.
From the moment he heard of the call-up, a corner of Hong Myung-bo's heart had slammed shut.
His gaze on Park Si-hyun turned cold and sunken.
'Fine. I'll see how good you are myself. But if you're nothing special... I'll teach you in the captain's name. The national team isn't a place you can just waltz into.'
Hong Myung-bo let out a long breath and bowed his head.
Deep down, his resolve was set.
He'd find cause to naturally push out this newbie from an unfamiliar background.
Beep—!
A sharp whistle pierced the training ground.
Shuttle run.
That monotonous tune any Korean's heard at least once blared from the speakers.
Steady beat, tempo ramping up steeper and steeper.
Familiar rhythm to me.
Standard fitness drill in my era.
But in 2002, to this Korean national team, it was still alien and grueling.
Players lined up on the grass and bolted off together.
Feet pounding back and forth to the signals.
Panting breaths, spikes scraping turf.
All crashing together, shaking the field.
'Yeah... They're all still adapting to this.'
I glanced sideways.
The symbolic figure of this drill, my roommate Chun-soo hyung.
In 2002, he always took first in shuttle runs.
'Not from now on, though.'
I'd played almost every game in Germany.
Minus five from suspension and load management, full-time in the rest.
Germany's not like Korea with short trips—constant long hauls, brutal schedules.
Endless road trips, murderous pace.
Yet I'd endured nearly full slate, meaning my stamina was freakishly good.
Past 80 reps, breaths grew ragged, legs weakening.
Around 100, stragglers started dropping out.
Heading to 110, gaps widened, line fraying.
That's when it hit.
Zing—
'...What.'
A chill stare crawling down my spine.
I turned—Captain Hong Myung-bo was glaring like he wanted me dead.
'Ha... Been ages since I felt eyes like this.'
Early days in Germany, I got them nonstop.
No, fiercer hostility and rejection than now.
But after a few games, they flipped.
Sneers vanished, replaced by awed respect.
'In the end, do well and they all scatter.'
I caught my breath, scanning around.
Only a handful left.
Chun-soo hyung.
Du-ri hyung.
Ji-sung hyung.
And Hong Myung-bo still boring into me.
'Oh yeah, Du-ri hyung was still a winger back then...'
A few years later, Friedel Funkel at Frankfurt shifted him to fullback, transforming his career.
Through Mainz, Freiburg, his stamina-fueled overlaps became his trademark, locking him in as national team fullback.
'If he'd gone fullback now, it'd be better... but not my place to meddle yet.'
I faced forward again.
Or rather, toward Hong Myung-bo still stabbing me with killer eyes.
'I'm not nice enough to respect even those who hate me.'
His face flushed red, breathing heavy.
I smirked and mouthed where he could see.
—Tired already?