Chapter 6
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Couldn't Bear His Presence
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Couldn't withstand Park Si-hyun's presence.
"If you sign with me."
Jang Do-yoon set down his paper cup and continued.
The cheap paper cup from the cafe clinked softly against the worn table.
"I'll send the footage I took of your play to the clubs I have connections with."
"Which teams?"
"Greuther Fürth, Rot-Weiss Ahlen. Both teams have thin forward lines right now. Especially Greuther Fürth—they barely avoided relegation last season due to lack of scoring punch. They're desperately looking for a striker who can score right away. With your talent? You'll stand out fast, and securing a spot will just be a matter of time."
Greuther Fürth, Rot-Weiss Ahlen.
Honestly, they were clubs I'd never heard of.
'Doesn't matter. Wherever I go, it'll become the league's powerhouse.'
One of Zlatan's greatest strengths was that no matter how the leagues changed, his dominance never wavered.
Starting in the Netherlands, then Italy, Spain, France, England—he always ended with trophies.
And yet, Park Si-hyun failing to win the German second division, even on a lower-table team?
'That'd be too embarrassing to even call Park Si-hyun Style. At first, everyone might see me as a nobody, but the top spot will be mine in the end.'
Right? Like this place I was sitting in now.
Right after school ended, I'd called the number on the business card he'd given me.
And now, here I was, face-to-face with Jang Do-yoon in this rundown cafe.
The wallpaper was yellowed and faded, the chairs creaked with every sit, and the lighting was dim and hazy.
But that's exactly why it felt good.
'Legends always start in places like this—worn out and quiet.'
The Silicon Valley myths were the same.
Steve Jobs built Apple in his parents' garage, Jeff Bezos packed Amazon's first orders in his basement, Bill Gates wrote Microsoft's first code in a Harvard dorm.
The only thing bugging me here was that the footage Jang had shot was from the school field.
'Judging me on lunchtime soccer? And barely a warmup-level performance at that?'
"I think sending that footage to clubs would be a really bad move."
Jang Do-yoon tilted his head at my words.
"Honestly, it's more than enough. Strong physique shrugging off pressure, reading the game's flow as a target man. That's rare talent for German second- or third-division clubs."
I furrowed my brow slightly.
"That's exactly the problem."
Target man striker.
Once the centerpiece of attacking tactics worldwide.
Standing firm in front of goal, heading it down, holding up play as the classic 'pillar.'
But that type was fading away.
From the mid-2000s, European soccer entered the era of speed and fluidity.
High press, front-foot pressure, transition-focused tactics. Strikers couldn't just park themselves by the goal anymore.
They had to move.
Pass and receive, carve open paths themselves.
"I'm..."
I paused, locking eyes with Jang Do-yoon.
"Not a striker who waits for the ball. I drag it to me. Instead of blocking, I take it, create space, shake defenders, rip the net."
Jang Do-yoon fell silent for a moment.
Some might call it arrogant.
I hadn't proven a thing yet—not someone he'd scout as a prospect otherwise.
But Jang Do-yoon wouldn't just brush this off.
If he did, he wouldn't be called the 'Hunter' in the future.
"So... what style do you think you are, Park Si-hyun?"
Just as I expected.
Jang Do-yoon was taking my words seriously, as a fellow soccer player.
I leaned back slowly.
Creak.
The chair groaned, but I ignored it.
Couldn't ruin the vibe now.
This was real swagger. The kind born from confidence.
Like an emperor on his throne, I opened my mouth leisurely.
"When I run, defenders part ways. When I shoot, the ball goes in. The goal lives only with my permission. That's... Park. Si. Hyun. Sty~"
Crack.
A ominous sound rang out.
'Wait, that sound...'
Crash!
No time to think—the chair shattered completely, and I toppled backward.
"Argh!"
Thud!
My back slamming the floor echoed through the cafe.
Silence.
Everything in the cafe froze.
Someone stopped sucking their straw mid-sip; a 'plink' from a cup.
Jang Do-yoon's mouth hung open, stunned.
'Ah... fuck, I want to die.'
Five seconds ago, I was soccer's emperor, an absolute being.
Now?
Just a high schooler who'd swaggered too hard, wrecked a chair, and sprawled on the floor like a starfish.
Jang Do-yoon jumped up in a hurry.
"You okay? Hurt anywhere...?"
I lay there sprawled for a moment, unmoving.
'Can't just get up like this.'
I'm Park Si-hyun.
Everyone stumbles chasing dreams. What matters is how you rise.
'Later... if my team hits rock bottom, this is practice for rallying them.'
Already picturing it in my head.
Champions League final, down 0-2, players in despair. Then captain Park Si-hyun stands.
'Park Si-hyun never gives up. He falls cooler, rises cooler.'
Slowly sitting up, I flashed a relaxed smile, like it was all planned performance.
"...Even the chair couldn't handle my presence."
Jang Do-yoon clutched his stomach laughing, like he didn't care about face at all.
"I've seen tons of players, but you're a first."
Park Si-hyun had notified the cafe staff about the broken chair first, gotten a new one, sat down carefully, and replied.
"There couldn't be another like me."
The funny part was how Park Si-hyun sat ramrod straight to avoid breaking another—knees together, arms lightly on them, super cautious.
Jang Do-yoon glanced at it, chuckled, and said.
"Alright, here's the deal. Sign with me, and we'll shoot proper training footage. Send it to Greuther Fürth, Rot-Weiss Ahlen, and a few third-division teams too. They'll bite for sure."
Park Si-hyun hesitated a bit, tapping his fingers, then spoke.
"But... there's one issue."
"What?"
"Mom says if I go to Germany, master German first. And even if I go, she'll send me where Dad is."
Jang Do-yoon raised an eyebrow.
"Dad works in Germany?"
"Yeah. He's on the Korean cultural exchange project team at the Essen Municipal Cultural Center."
Essen was a city in Germany's North Rhine-Westphalia, heart of the Ruhr industrial region.
Once called 'Germany's coal capital' and a heavy industry hub, it was transforming into a cultural city now.
Jang Do-yoon stroked his chin, muttering.
"Essen Municipal Cultural Center... Korean cultural exchange project sounds stable long-term. Coal's declining, but they're pumping culture."
He nodded and continued.
"Actually, perfect. Dad in Germany is a huge plus for you."
"A plus?"
"FIFA rules ban under-18 transfers abroad in principle—for youth protection. But exceptions exist."
Jang Do-yoon counted on his fingers.
"One: EU citizen moving in EU. Two: Parents relocate for non-soccer reasons. Three: Within 50km of border."
"So I'm..."
"Number two. Your dad's there for cultural work—zero soccer ties. Totally legal route."
Jang Do-yoon slapped the table.
"And Essen's even better. Pro teams everywhere nearby. Home club Rot-Weiss Essen is a third-division powerhouse—could hit second division anytime."
Park Si-hyun tilted his head.
"So no footage to those second-division teams?"
"Nah, send it more to them."
Jang Do-yoon's eyes gleamed slyly.
"Think about it. Second-division teams like Greuther Fürth or Rot-Weiss Ahlen show interest? Rot-Weiss Essen thinks, 'Oh, second division's after him. We gotta grab him quick.'"
Jang Do-yoon was already simulating it in his head.
Club officials eyeing each other competitively over Park Si-hyun's footage, frantic voices on the phone, his cell buzzing nonstop.
"Haha, I can see it now."
He leaned back, grinning contentedly.
"See what?"
"Club guys checking each other, scrambling 'We gotta sign first!' Especially knowing your visa's clean thanks to Dad... Ah, feels good just thinking."
How often German club staff had ignored him.
Treated like a worthless Asian agent, barely picking up calls. Now they'd come crawling.
Crack.
"Huh...?"
Crash.
The cafe owner in the corner whipped his head around with a sigh.
"Aigoo, another one broken."