The Greatest Carbon-Based Organism in History, the GOAT (1)

Before leaving the hotel for the match, I pulled out my phone to kill some time.

"What is this crazy bastard..."

Faced with a DM that felt more insulting than any family insult I had ever heard, I muttered a curse under my breath—a genuine Korean curse deeply embedded in my soul.

"What's wrong?"

Hearing me suddenly speak in Korean, Walcott, who was packing his bags, looked over. Despite a minor clash on our first day in America, my relationship with Walcott wasn't actually that bad. The reason, of course, wasn't because of my kind personality...

...It was, without a doubt, thanks to Vieira and Bergkamp.

Bergkamp, who jogged with me every morning, would drop a word or two of advice whenever we met or trained. And ever since I completed the shuttle run on the first day, our captain, Vieira, had also been praising me during training, showing that he thought highly of me.

Getting closer to Vieira, a key figure in the team's hierarchy, meant that Walcott and I could at least exchange a few words like this.

Well, putting that aside, my performance during training and matches had probably earned Walcott's respect as well.

"Ah, it's just a DM."

"Did you get a hate comment? You sounded like you were swearing. Was that Japanese just now? We have a match soon, so don't let it get to you. It's better to focus."

If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't have been so nice to a rival who made a bad first impression. But as Saka had mentioned, Walcott either had a decent personality or simply didn't view me as a threat. He even offered some advice.

"Yeah."

I gave a half-hearted reply and checked the DM again. The message still contained an insult worse than a family insult.

Seriously, these Penaldo fanboys are something else.

They were obviously trying to shake me up before the match against Real Madrid by using such offensive terms.

How dare they insult me by calling me a "CR7 disciple"? I switched my keyboard from English to Korean, determined to teach this punk a lesson, but then I realized something. In this life, I had absolutely no connection to Korea.

It would be weird if I replied in Korean here. Lucky bastard. If he had said that to my face, I would've knocked all his teeth out.

Besides, it would be strange if I could somehow translate and understand a slang term like "CR7 disciple." The only logical reaction for someone who didn't know Korean was simple.

I just sent him a heart, just like I did with the weird DMs written in Arabic.

Sending a heart to someone who insulted me by calling me a CR7 disciple... Had there ever been a more humiliating moment in my life?

But I decided to think of it as early training. Since I would eventually play alongside Ronaldo in the Portuguese national team, I might as well get used to it now.

My resolve didn't last long, though. The DM inbox suddenly exploded with messages in Korean, and I quickly turned off my phone.

Seriously, fuck. Penaldo fanboys are the same even in this world. Why are they spamming DMs for a friendly match?

Like idol, like fans. It wasn't surprising that Ronaldo's fans would spam an opponent before a match, but I hadn't expected them to go this far for a mere friendly. It was absurd.

Well, I guess they have to drag down the opponent's condition just so he can stand in the same conversation as Messi.

This was the sheer majesty of God Messi, whom Ronaldo could never hope to match.

Even when I tried not to praise him, his greatness would slip into my thoughts. After spending some time silently bashing Ronaldo, we arrived at the stadium, and it was soon time to warm up.

Since I was starting, I needed to warm up thoroughly to be ready to play immediately.

As I jogged at a moderate pace, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the opposing players began to trickle onto the pitch to warm up as well.

Ronaldo, Zidane, Carlos, Casillas, Ramos, Figo... Even though they were from a couple of generations ago, they were superstars whose names I knew well. Seeing players who had played in the Champions League final just a few months ago step onto the pitch made the atmosphere tense, even if it was just a friendly.

And then, in the distance, I saw the guy who had stolen a portion of God Messi's glory.

"Oh, it's Ronaldo!"

"What are you doing?"

"Huh? Why? It's Ronaldo."

"He's on the opposing team, but you look like you're about to ask for his autograph. Why? Want me to go get it for you?"

"M-Me? No way."

I lightly shut down Saka, who I suspected of being a closet Penaldo fanboy, and continued warming up.

Even so, my eyes remained fixed on Ronaldo. As a self-proclaimed disciple of God Messi—though we had never spoken, I had learned football by watching his videos, which basically made me his disciple—I couldn't lose to Ronaldo, even in a friendly.

As I stared at him, burning with competitive fire, Figo pointed at me, said something to Ronaldo, and the two of them began walking toward me.

What? Did I mutter a curse out loud?

While I was panicking, Figo approached and extended his hand.

"Hey there, Tachibana? I heard you're from Portugal. I watched your clips. They were good."

It seemed he wanted to greet me because he knew I was of Portuguese descent.

"Ah, please call me Luka."

There was no reason to make an enemy of Figo, who was a future national team teammate and the current captain of the Portuguese national team, so I shook his hand and replied. At the same time, Ronaldo also reached out.

"Luka? Nice name. I watched your clips too."

He offered the perfect white smile I had seen so many times in photos.

"I hope to see you in the national team. Let's play together sometime. Rui watched your videos too, and he's excited that you might be his successor."

Meeting Ronaldo for the first time, he was surprisingly nice, contrary to my expectations.

"So, do you want an autograph? Should I get a marker?"

...Though he was still a bit cocky.