Allianz Arena (1)
Once the first leg of Arsenal's Champions League quarterfinal against Bayern Munich was over, the players were given time off while the fixture list stayed empty. Everyone recovered in their own way. I spent mine with Jia.
"Noona, did you tell me to go out there and fight hard?"
"No?"
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Haha. All right. I'll believe you."
We traded silly banter, and I took a little scolding too.
"Don't push yourself too hard. If you get hurt, none of it means anything."
"I'll be careful."
It was the overhead kick, and the sheer amount of running. Even as a striker, I'd put in more work than most midfielders. That earned me an excess of Jia's kindness.
"Aaah~"
"…Noona?"
"I'll feed you."
"…"
It wasn't as if I couldn't move my arms, and yet she insisted on feeding me fruit and handling every little thing for me.
"You're not going to eat?"
"…Ah."
When she smiled and insisted, there was no refusing. I spent a sweet, ordinary day like that, then lay back on the bed for a while and pulled up the articles. It was the first time I'd checked since the final whistle, so I opened them with more than a little anticipation.
The first article was a mention from Cristiano Ronaldo — a legend of the previous generation. The comments were a little heavy on the creative insults, though.
…What is this. Some kind of bug?
I tilted my head and kept scrolling.
"…"
It wasn't just Ronaldo. Football legends across the board were talking about the player who'd carried the match to victory, and the praise kept coming. There had always been some of that, but the volume had jumped overnight in a way that was hard to ignore.
And then someone I truly hadn't expected mentioned me.
The man my father and I loved most. The man who made me start my life in football.
Dennis Bergkamp.
He had talked about me.
"…Whoa."
People say that when you're truly stunned, the words just don't come. That was exactly where I was. Hearing Bergkamp mention my name set my heart racing — not as a professional, but as a fan of the game.
"Yujin?"
"Yeah, noona."
"You look happy."
"Yeah. Really happy."
Honestly, it might have been the best I'd felt since the new year began.
"Hehe. Should we turn in early tonight?"
"Let's hang out a little longer first."
"Yeah? All right."
There was far too much dopamine running through me to sleep. I spent the time with Jia — small touches, soft and sweet — and only drifted off two hours later.
Once the rest period ended, we ran a practice match ahead of the second-leg away fixture against Bayern Munich. Remembering how our performance had been outmatched even at home in the first leg, the sessions focused heavily on defensive work.
"Yujin. You and Seoin — take the attack however you want and run it."
"Yes, sir."
On Alexandro's instruction, I attacked against Arsenal's own defenders. Drawing inspiration from Bayern Munich, I took the initiative, circulating the ball and carving out chances. Playing that way did mean my style overlapped with Hong Seoin's — but we were running a system with two playmakers this time. Both of us knew how to adjust to each other, and that made it work.
Tap, tap.
Seoin nudged the ball, sold a body feint, then split the pitch with a cross-field pass and took the return to create the chance. Watching him, I felt a deep, quiet satisfaction.
Nice.
At this level, maybe we really could beat Bayern Munich away. Holding onto that modest hope, we finished training and headed for Munich.
…But isn't racism pretty bad in Germany?
Even in London it still showed up now and then if you strayed too far from the Arsenal grounds. The Bundesliga was supposed to be worse, wasn't it? A small knot of unease settled in my chest.
The moment we landed in Germany, I realized how stupid that thought had been.
"Korean!"
"The player from Kim's country!"
"Yujin! Seoin!"
"We welcome you!"
People who weren't even Bayern Munich fans greeted us in a mix of German and English, warm and loud.
Right. The Bundesliga has had more than a few legendary Korean players.
Just recently there had been that monster of a defender, and if you went further back, the legendary striker who'd carved open the path into Europe for everyone who came after. Racism, in a league with that history? It would be spitting on the Bundesliga's own name.
After an uneventful arrival, match day came.
Carrying Jia's encouragement with me, I stepped into the Allianz Arena and met the roar of roughly seventy thousand voices.
Quieter than the Camp Nou, at least.
If the match against Barcelona had been hell, this was more like the road to the afterlife. Manageable enough.
"FC Bayern, the champion of Germany — that is the name of my club."
That was before the anthem started. Just like before, the chant poured from the stands, and the Munich fans already carried themselves like victors.
"As it was in the past, as it is now, and as it will be forever!"
With no Arsenal supporters in sight, a few of our players started shrinking before the whistle had even blown. Not long after, the anthem ended and the Champions League theme rolled out across the stadium. I shook hands with the opposing players a second time and took my position.
A lineup thick with tension. Then—
Peeep—!
The referee's whistle cut through the air, and the match began.
Before the second leg of Arsenal's Champions League quarterfinal against Bayern Munich kicked off, Lee Jia sat alone at home and found herself bored.
A little lonely.
Without Yujin here, the feeling hit harder.
And there's no one to call.
Her friends back in Korea would all be asleep at this hour. No one was awake. Watching the match by herself felt hollow.
Come to think of it, Yujin streams a lot.
Not every free second, but often enough — whenever he had the time, he'd hop on and talk with the fans.
Maybe I should try it once?
Talking to people was something she'd grown used to through the business. It wasn't hard. Streaming might not be as difficult as it looked.
Let's see… Yujin set something up for whenever he got the chance.
Not an SNS live — a real streaming broadcast. If she was going to promote the brand while she was at it, better to play on the big stage, right?
With that in mind, Lee Jia logged into the account she'd already registered and went live. She kept the name simple: Jia.
It'll be quiet at first, right?
There might not even be a single viewer.
But that broadcast led somewhere she never saw coming.