Chapter 89
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Park Si-hyun Grows
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Park Si-hyun was evolving.
Oliver Kahn narrowed his eyes at the charging Park Si-hyun.
Any other goalkeeper would have been intimidated by a player with that physique barreling toward them like a raging bull.
But Oliver Kahn was different. He felt no fear. He had conviction.
His calculated certainty that he could block it from this distance, this angle.
"Push him wide! To the side!"
Oliver Kahn barked orders at his defenders, rearranging the line with a mere gesture like moving pieces on a chessboard.
No matter how monstrous Park Si-hyun was, he was still human once the space tightened.
Narrow the field of vision, restrict the angles, and only one choice remained.
No way he'd try to break through the center with four defenders packed there. He'd have to go wide.
That's what Kahn thought.
'I know how well you shoot. But in this situation, you'll have to go wide. And once the angle tightens, I'll stop it.'
To a goalkeeper, reflexes and height weren't the most important things.
For Oliver Kahn, what truly mattered was his brain—the intelligence to process data during the match and apply it on the fly.
Opponent habits, shot angles, eye flickers, timing. He remembered it all, combined it, and calculated it instinctively.
That was Kahn's soccer, the reason he was called the "perfect guardian."
And he knew.
Park Si-hyun wasn't the type to pass.
He always broke straight through the front.
'Good. I've read where it's coming. Blocking it will be like breathing.'
But against expectations, Park Si-hyun charged straight down the center.
As if those four defenders posed no threat at all. Straight ahead.
'...What? Is he really going through the middle?'
Thomas Linke and Christoph Metzelder reacted first.
They closed off the right, forcing him left.
But then,
Tuk. Ta-tak.
The tip of Park Si-hyun's boot flashed.
Explosive acceleration in an instant, followed by a phantom dribble. Metzelder lost his balance, Linke's tackle whiffed.
"Damn it, from there?!"
At that moment, Ramelow and Frings lunged in together.
Two shadows overlapped, completely blocking Park Si-hyun's path.
But in that instant.
A single left-footed flip-flap,
followed by two Marseille turns.
The two moves erupted in a flash—Ramelow's foot sliced air, Frings lost his center.
In just 3 seconds.
In that brief moment, Park Si-hyun shook off all four defenders inside the box.
The crowd leaped from their seats regardless of nationality, screaming.
"No way!"
"That's possible in that tight space?"
"The defenders got shredded too easily—what the hell?!"
"No, look! That guy's insane! He's not human!!"
Some clutched their heads, others covered their mouths.
Seats shook, announcers fell silent.
No one could describe what had just happened.
Yet amid the chaos—Oliver Kahn kept his cool, eyes wide but steady.
His heart raced wildly, but his breathing never faltered.
His vision locked on one person.
Park Si-hyun.
'Fine... I admit it. You're a monster like me. One who could define an era. But you're not complete yet.'
He was certain.
The right fullback had perfect overlapping timing.
A pass now, and even he couldn't stop it.
But still, Park Si-hyun wouldn't pass.
He was a man who always created and finished everything himself.
Always the protagonist. Never a supporting role.
'Even a monster in a side role remains the star. But you haven't realized that yet. In the end, your play—your perfect stubbornness—is your limit, Park Si-hyun.'
To become a true monster, one must acknowledge weaknesses and accept teammates' help.
That's the mark of a complete monster in soccer, the ultimate team sport.
Park Si-hyun hadn't reached that level yet.
'That's why I win this time.'
Oliver Kahn stepped forward, narrowing the angle, spreading his arms wide.
Only one thing left.
Read the ball's trajectory and erase it with his fingertips.
'Come on... bring it, Park Si-hyun. Hm?'
Something felt off.
Park Si-hyun's expression.
It wasn't the face of a striker moments from scoring—the one he'd seen countless times.
It was the expression Kahn himself wore when staring down attackers.
One of ridicule.
As if he had everything in the palm of his hand.
'I know what you're planning. But is that all?'
Those eyes seemed to say.
A chill ran down Kahn's spine.
"...Wait, no way—!!!"
Too late when he realized.
Park Si-hyun's body twisted slightly left, and with the motion—not a shot, a pass flew out.
"Damn it, block it some—What?"
Yes, definitely a pass. Perfect speed, direction, timing for the fullback's overlap.
But something was wrong. The ball had excessive spin.
No, this wasn't a pass. It was a shot.
The ball traced a perfect horizontal arc, slipping gently into the net.
If he'd trusted it was a shot to the end, he might have blocked it...
But Park Si-hyun's posture was too naturally a passing motion.
So he shifted.
Never doubting his judgment.
"But it was a shot after all..."
Oliver Kahn let out a hollow chuckle, sprawled on the pitch.
The faint vibration of the net before his eyes felt like mockery.
Then Park Si-hyun approached slowly.
"To fool your opponent, you have to fool yourself first."
"What...? What the hell does that even mean?!"
Park Si-hyun shrugged, tilting his head slightly.
"I clearly passed. But my foot chose a shot."
"What?"
"Good game."
Park Si-hyun said that, flashed a smile, and turned away.
Lying on the grass, Oliver Kahn stared at the sky and muttered.
"What the hell does that even mean..."
3 minutes of added time!
After Park Si-hyun's hat-trick, no more goals, but both teams stay focused to the end!
Germany's shots on target, Korea's counters—but super saves from Lee Woon-jae and Oliver Kahn keep it scoreless!
But don't relax yet! Germany can flip it in 3 minutes! Extension means no stamina left for Brazil!
Time ticks, the ball moves, the final moments arrive.
And—
Beep! Beep! Beeeeeeep!!
South Korea... beats Germany!!!
2002 World Cup—South Korea breaks the semifinal wall and reaches the final!!!
Coach Cha Bum-kun, we're in the final...!
I can't believe it either! No one imagined Korea in the final—not other countries, not even us!
Nation, open your eyes wide! South Korea's true heroes are on the pitch right now!
After the match, Oliver Kahn approached and offered his jersey.
Truth be told, I'd never exchanged jerseys before.
'To deserve mine, you need the stature.'
But Oliver Kahn qualified.
He symbolized an era as a goalkeeper.
"Get to the Bundesliga quick. I'll teach you what defeat feels like."
I smirked.
Defeat for Park Si-hyun? Would that day ever come?
But I also thought,
'If I really lose someday, that'd be fun.'
It'd mean there's still room to grow.
"Defeat... If there's a player who can beat me, they're welcome."
"Hahaha! Cockier and more confident than me."
Oliver Kahn clapped my shoulder, laughing.
"Honestly, before you, I'd lost interest in soccer. After this World Cup, I might not quit, but I wouldn't train like before. You woke me up. I realized I can still improve."
I smirked and nodded.
"Then wait for it. The moment you beat me—though it won't come."
"Kukuku..."
Oliver Kahn chuckled deeply.
"Fun. You're the first to say that to me."
He gave me one last look and turned.
"Don't lose. To Brazil."
I exhaled shortly, smiling.
"Of course."
But inside, no smile.
'That was close.'
That final hat-trick goal? A fluke play.
What I told Kahn—to fool the opponent, fool yourself first.
Ironically, my foot fooled me.
My head aimed a pass to Cha Du-ri.
Kahn arrogantly ignored it, fixated on me alone.
So I struck for the pass, but the ball curved weirdly.
Beautifully, into the goal.
And it became the winner.
'Whew... Need to train passing. Another fluke like that, and Park Si-hyun's image crumbles.'
Before the thought finished—
"Si-hyun!!"
"I love you, you bastard!"
My teammates engulfed me.
Then I burst out laughing.
Yeah, for this moment—forget mistakes, calculations, pride.
After that, I just laughed, shouted, danced with the team.
The Korean national team roared, waving to fans as they circled the pitch.
That day's cheers would echo in my head forever.
"Oliver Kahn, you've faced Park Si-hyun and Ronaldo directly. Who's stronger?"
Kahn paused at the reporters' question.
"Among all the forwards I've faced, only one had unreadable movements."
He chose his words, then chuckled low.
"Ronaldo."
Cameras flashed wildly.
"...And now there are two. Korea's Park Si-hyun. If you ask who wins between them, my answer is..."
Oliver Kahn smiled at the camera.
"Park Si-hyun."