Chapter 77
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 77
Chapter Title: Overwhelmingly Handsome Park Si-hyun
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Overwhelmingly handsome Park Si-hyun.
Originally, the match against Italy had gone into extra time, only clinched by Ahn Jung-hwan's golden goal.
But the Korea of today was different.
Park Si-hyun was there.
Just the addition of that one player had Italy realizing who the winner would be before the first half was even over.
Even with Cannavaro on the pitch, they'd barely held on. Trying to stop Park Si-hyun with their now-fractured defense?
Impossible from the start.
It had been less than ten minutes since his opening header goal.
From the left flank, Lee Young-pyo drove deep into enemy territory, halted his short, choppy dribble, and lifted his head.
His gaze locked onto Park Si-hyun.
"Here it comes."
The Korean players had absolute faith in Park Si-hyun.
No matter how impossible it seemed, no matter how tough it looked, even if the pass wasn't perfect—he always made goals happen.
They could feel it.
Having Park Si-hyun on the team wasn't just adding another forward.
It was like implanting an extra, rock-solid heart into the entire squad—one that could produce a goal at any moment, in any situation.
Lee Young-pyo's left foot curved gracefully, sending a long diagonal cross soaring through the air.
Buffon rushed forward as the ball looked set to drop near the penalty box.
But that was a mistake.
The ball dropped shorter than expected. The rattled Buffon tried to head it clear, but it just looped up higher.
"Damn..."
Buffon spun and sprinted back.
It was a big blunder, but he didn't think it fatal.
Two defenders were already blocking the goalmouth, and he'd be back soon enough.
That is, if the player charging toward the ball was just a normal striker.
Park Si-hyun didn't slow down.
He didn't even prepare to control it.
He simply barreled toward the ball and, without a second's hesitation, twisted his body mid-stride—carrying all that momentum into a full arch backward.
His back toward the grass, legs slicing the sky.
BAM—
An overhead kick.
The move Park Si-hyun had nailed countless times in Germany.
But this was its World Cup debut.
No one—no one—could have imagined that timing, that motion.
His right foot whipped through as he fell backward.
The ball kissed the toe and traced a perfect arc—sailing over Buffon's head before he could recover, ripping into the net.
And here, Park Si-hyun showed his difference from other strikers once more.
A normal player would turn to check if it went in, then explode into celebration.
Not Park Si-hyun.
Still lying sideways on the grass, back to the goal, he simply raised two fingers and wagged them slowly.
It went in.
I'm perfect.
I never miss.
As if he knew it better than anyone.
Like a man lost in his work—even if plain-faced, his intense focus makes him the handsomest in the world.
In that split second, sweat-matted hair clinging to his forehead, grass stains on his face, Park Si-hyun was more overwhelmingly handsome than any pretty boy alive.
"Park Si-hyun!!!! GOAL!!! Korea leads by two at the 40th minute of the first half thanks to Park Si-hyun's strike!"
"Unbelievable scene! A fantasy overhead kick! From a whopping 30 meters out—no normal striker would even attempt it, but that ball split the net! Park Si-hyun, the ultimate goal poacher. He scores in any situation!"
"This match will etch Park Si-hyun's name into every mind around the world."
"And right now—Italy attacks! But Park Ji-sung steals it!"
"Park Ji-sung isn't just filling a role today. Hiddink gave him total tactical freedom—like a free-roaming midfielder dropping back to defense, completely shutting down Italy's key threat, Christian Vieri!"
"Do you realize how insane this is? Vieri scored four in qualifiers alone. Bigger physique than Park Ji-sung, dominates top European defenders—and now Park's marking him solo, perfectly."
"Park Ji-sung feeds Park Si-hyun!"
"Park Si-hyun takes it and dribbles! Threads it between Tommasi's legs! Perfect! He's got speed now! Too fast! Blasts through midfield in a flash! Italy's double-teams mean nothing!"
"Whoa... this isn't human. That 190cm frame with such fluid, agile moves! He's past the defense! Just one left—the world's best keeper, Gianluigi Buffon!"
"Park Si-hyun closes in... Buffon rushes out! Aaaand he nutmegs him! So smooth! Right into the empty net—POWER SHOT!!!"
"IT'S IN!!! Park Si-hyun!!! Third goal of the match!!! Hat-trick against Italy!"
"An unreal one-man show! But true to form, Park Si-hyun stays cool. Raises three fingers, jogs casually toward the Red Devils fans."
"That's Park Si-hyun. Other players would go wild, but he acts like it's routine. Makes us more excited than him. A god who never wavers."
"Park Si-hyun heads to the stands. Picks something up... a crown! Slowly places it on his head."
"Love it—an attacker like this earns a spot anywhere! Daejeon World Cup Stadium is in total frenzy! That one uncle in the crowd wept himself to exhaustion, nearly collapsed!"
The clock hit 45 minutes of the first half, plus stoppage time.
Park Si-hyun's hat-trick had already tilted the game irreversibly.
Italy looked visibly drained, movements sluggish. Fouls dropped off.
All but one.
"Snap out of it! It's only 3-0—Italy can still turn this around!"
"We can't lose to these clowns!"
"Why let a ugly bastard's goals get to you?!"
This fucking prick mouthing off with his face again?
The only Italian who'd provoked Korea pre-match.
Francesco Totti.
Italy's heart, Prince of Rome, the last Panther (emperor) of the Eternal City.
More than a player—he was the symbol of Italian soccer.
His pride was immense.
Damn... if we lose like this, how pathetic will I look...
Totti's mind twisted inward.
In Italy, he was the perfect man.
Physique, skill, star power, looks—all of it.
Yet that perfection crumbling on the World Cup stage against easy prey Korea...
Damn it, it's... all because of that snake.
Last night, Totti had seen a snake stretching long near the team hotel.
Just a snake? Not to Italy.
An ancient Roman curse lingered:
[If a snake appears in camp, defeat is certain.]
The words resurfaced, twisting everything into doom.
Then—vision narrowed.
Park Si-hyun was there. The ball arcing perfectly toward him.
Mine.
Totti sprinted full tilt.
The ball dropped low and fast.
Park Si-hyun headed that way too.
Quick calc: legs too late.
So he jumped—for a header.
Can't miss.
But Park Si-hyun's leg was already extended hard.
The instant he went for the ball—head met foot, same spot.
CRACK—!
"Aaaargh!!"
Totti crumpled to the grass, screaming.
Spike marks stamped right on his face.
Park Si-hyun stopped, shaking his head in disbelief.
What the fuck is this guy doing? Why shove his head under my leg?
Ref's whistle blew.
He charged over, hand into his chest pocket.
Just as the card emerged, Park Si-hyun protested.
"That bastard jammed his head into my already-extended leg!"
But the ref didn't stop.
Park Si-hyun, fuming, nearly smacked the back of the ref's head—
Yellow...?
"Hahaha, I clocked it right away, ref. Your eyes weren't fooled."
Forced grin, waved it off.
Close call.
Almost actually got sent off for decking the ref.
The match ended 3-0, Korea's total victory.
The final whistle unleashed chaos from both sides.
Italy erupted in rage.
"The ref was biased!"
"This wasn't soccer—it was rigged!"
Headlines blanketed the press for days; players and fans vented injustice.
Korea? The opposite.
"You fouled all game and didn't get a single card—explain that."
"We won fair and square. No excuses."
Taegeukgi flags whipped through streets; the red wave roared all night.
One thing certain:
Korea—not Italy—advanced to the quarterfinals.