The First Interview

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"Then, I have one last question for you, Luka."

"Ah, yes."

"It might be a bit of a difficult question for you."

"Ah... Yes, well."

My first interview in this life.

Although it was my first, I had done countless interviews and even quite a few EyeTube shoots in my past life, so I wasn't particularly nervous.

However, hearing that it was a difficult question made me instinctively look around.

Whose reaction was I checking?

My father's and the club manager's.

After that social media incident, my father had banned me from doing interviews and had made a request to the club as well.

It was agreed that whenever a necessary written interview took place, a club manager would accompany me to prevent me from saying anything provocative.

And since I was still a minor, the club respected my father's wishes.

Honestly, I wanted to reject my father's restrictions and do as I pleased, but with Luna's situation, I had no choice but to endure it until I became an adult.

"So, Luka, for the final question. During the Super Cup victory ceremony, the broadcast cut away right when you were about to lift the trophy, which has caused quite a stir online. Are you aware of this? And if so, what are your thoughts on it?"

Of course I knew.

I had tried my best not to look at the internet, but we had won, and I had played quite well, so I couldn't resist the drug-like urge to check the public reaction.

But every site I visited to see praise for my performance—not just in Korea or Japan, but even in the UK!—was burning up with talk about that incident rather than my play.

It was impossible for me not to know.

"I mean, it's obvious just looking at it. Anyone can see it's racis—"

"Hold on."

But the moment I tried to speak my mind, the club manager cut me off.

"Luka, just a moment."

"Yes?"

He then whispered in my ear so the reporter couldn't hear.

"Just in case you didn't know, the newspaper we are interviewing with right now is a progressive one."

"So what?"

I didn't know much about politics, but I knew Arsenal wasn't exactly a right-wing club either.

The same went for the fanbase in the UK.

So why was that a problem?

"Well, they lean heavily to the left. What were you planning to say?"

Assuming the manager had a good reason for stopping me, I whispered back in a low voice.

"I was just going to say what I think. Those bastards care so much about Black lives and gay rights, yet they constantly discriminate against Asians."

'Asian passing' was a chronic disease in the football world that remained uncured even twenty years later.

Of course, only Asians cared about it, and even though they knew this issue came up at the end of every season, those bastards had no intention of changing.

"Ahem. Given the newspaper's stance, it would be best to give a standard, diplomatic answer here. It's not a confirmed fact, and if it really was discrimination, UEFA will investigate it strictly. It's not good to stir up unnecessary controversy."

Wow. Now I couldn't even speak my own mind.

But looking at my father's stern expression, it seemed best to back down and follow the manager's advice for now.

Besides, it was an undeniable fact that Europe was full of racist bigots.

And since those bastards existed, speaking the truth as I always did wouldn't make them think, 'Ah, Luka is right. I should stop being racist.'

If anything, my words might end up causing trouble for Luna, who was currently living in the UK.

Right, I can't bring trouble to Luna and my family again.

"Um, is your meeting over? We just want to hear Luka's opinion."

Seeing the reporter's subtle smile, I felt a bit uneasy, just as the manager had warned.

Throughout my life, I had spoken out many times to tell people the truth, but I had never dabbled in politics.

I realized my words could easily be politically exploited, just as the manager suggested.

Fortunately, I knew how to break through this shitty European football culture.

If you play incredibly well, they can't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ignore you even if they want to.

In fact, when I won the Portuguese Primeira Liga in my past life, I stood proudly at the center of the team and lifted the trophy, and that scene was broadcast worldwide.

...Well, maybe not worldwide. The Primeira Liga wasn't exactly that popular.

Anyway, if I could bang in 50 goals in the league like I did in my prime, this problem would solve itself naturally.

"Well, to continue, whether it's true or not, I don't really care. I just play my football. I don't play football just to show myself lifting a trophy on TV, do I? Winning comes first, the fans come second, and everything else is just noise. You should keep an eye out in the future, reporter. Let's see if the broadcasters film me when I lift the next trophy. Does that answer your question?"

"Well, I would have preferred your initial answer, but I don't want to pressure such a young player. I'll keep an eye out as you said, both as a reporter and as a football fan."

"Yes, sir."

With that, I shook hands with the reporter, bringing my first interview to a close.

"Well done, Luka."

My father offered a word of praise, seemingly satisfied with my final answer.

"In that case, could you stop watching over me every time I do an interview?"

"We'll see how you behave, kiddo."

...It seemed it would take some time to fully regain my father's trust.