Devil’s Music

The first half was over.

At the Emirates Stadium, only a quiet murmur remained, and the scoreboard marked a 2:0 result, leaving fans to only sigh in pity as they watched the players weakly enter the locker room.

The game, which had been balanced at 1:0, tipped at the 40th minute of the first half when Luis Suarez got a clear chance and Mathieu Debuchy, a defender, committed a dangerous tackle, resulting in a penalty kick and changing the score to 2:0.

Fortunately avoiding a red card, Mathieu Debuchy vehemently protested to the referee, and just as the referee was about to pull out a card, the experienced Mertesacker quickly intervened to calm the situation.

During halftime, people heading to the restroom stood up with either lifeless expressions or faces filled with dissatisfaction.

Geon, watching them, also bowed his head with pity, but soon lifted it at the sound of an unfamiliar voice calling him.

"Excuse me…"

Geon's eyes met a young-looking woman with a box of hotdogs slung over her shoulder. The woman offered a hotdog wrapped in paper and held out a cup of beer with her other hand.

"A fan paid for you to have this."

"Oh, really? Where are they?"

Looking around to wave in gratitude, Geon saw the hotdog girl pointing behind him and then tilting her head in confusion.

"Over there, behind… Oh? Where did they go?"

As Geon stood to look behind him, he noticed three empty seats among the crowded spectators. The girl seemed slightly flustered and said,

"Just until now, there were three men. One with long black hair and sunglasses said he was a fan of Kay and had given money for everyone in his group to have hotdogs and beer."

Geon looked around the empty seats but only saw other fans looking at him admiringly. Shrugging, he sat down and extended his hand.

"They must have gone to the restroom. Anyway, thanks. If you see them later, please tell them I said thanks for the food."

The girl handed Geon the beer and hotdog, her face flushing as she hurried to distribute hotdogs and beer to the rest of her group.

As she walked away, she kept turning back to steal glances at Geon's face, her cheeks reddening further.

"Wow… He's really handsome up close…"

Byungjun, who had taken Geon's hotdog, offered his own hotdog in return and said,

"You're just going to eat without knowing what's in it? I'll eat this one, and you eat mine. Wait, let me check if it's fine first."

Taking an excessively big bite to check, Byungjun's eyes rolled as he savored the warm hotdog rolling in his mouth, then swapped his beer for Geon's and gulped it down.

"Ah! Delicious! It's fine, go ahead and eat."

As Kevin and Shizuka began drinking their beers, the large screen at the top of the stadium lit up with text. The murmuring crowd pointed and said,

"A new chant?"

"Oh, a new one? Not enough with just seven?"

"Ha, let's cheer with all we have then."

The stadium's speakers started playing a slow piano tune, prompting discussions about the game or trips to the restroom to pause as heads turned toward the sound.

The bass lines climbing over piano sounds brought to mind the superb plays of Arsenal players from the first half, despite the loss.

As people quietly listened, the tempo of the electronic guitar quickened, and the lyrics of the new chant appeared on the big screen, gradually enticing the crowd to sing along.

The simplicity of the melody made it easy to follow, and soon Kevin looked back at Geon, smiling.

"It's catchy because it's your music, right?"

Geon, smiling silently, observed the crowd's reaction. After the tutorial song ended, the large screen displayed "All Together with Energy!", and the music started again from the beginning, prompting the 60,000 spectators to sing along in unison.

Even when you are wounded and wandering and failing,

We always cheer for you,

So you and we will not be afraid,

Do not be frustrated if you fall!

If you fall, you can happen again,

The only thing that can happen is someone around you,

I am by your side, stand up and look at me.

Women in the crowd waved flags and shed tears, hoping their voices would reach the players in the locker room, their voices blending with men who clenched their fists and sang with reddened eyes.

We love you Arsenal, we do?!

One nil, to the Arsenal.

Forty-nine, forty-nine undefeated!

We're by far the greatest team

And it's Arsenal.

Arsenal FC!

In the locker room, Coach Arsène Wenger, usually animated during halftime of a losing game—shouting and kicking trash bins, or hitting the locker room walls

 to motivate his players—stood silently, hands in his pockets.

He watched the coaches distributing chocolate bars and drinks to rejuvenate the tired players.

As the players breathed heavily to relieve their fatigue or chewed on chocolate bars, awaiting instructions from the coach who remained silent, they gradually turned their eyes towards Arsène Wenger.

Catching their gaze, Arsène Wenger began to speak in a faint voice.

"I'm… sorry. My strategy wasn't enough…"

As he spoke, the locker room TV suddenly turned on. Wenger's attention, along with the players', turned to the TV, which displayed the crowd of spectators.

They saw fans arm-in-arm, crying as they sang the chants. A woman's face was so covered in tears it washed away her face paint.

Do not be frustrated if you fall!

If you fall, you can happen again,

The only thing that can happen is someone around you,

I am by your side, stand up and look at me.

Captain Mertesacker stopped chewing his chocolate bar and stared deeply at the screen, then slowly put down his chocolate bar and focused intently.

A senior man climbed onto a chair, waving a homemade flag that seemed not to be an official fan flag. The flag, white with the Arsenal emblem and red text, caught the eyes of the players and coaches.

'Arsenal is the strongest team until I die!'

Despite nearly falling several times, the old man continued waving the flag, and eventually, young men around him steadied his legs as he pointed and waved at the screen.

Aaron Ramsey, looking teary-eyed at the old man, set aside his sports drink and said,

"What… is he saying?"

Petr Cech, who had briefly removed his headgear during halftime, stared at the screen then put his headgear back on and tightened the straps.

"Don't give up. That's what he's saying."

Petr Cech, the eldest, smacked his head with both hands, making thumping sounds, then locked eyes with Captain Mertesacker.

Their intense gaze seemed to light up as Mertesacker turned to each player sitting in the locker room.

Some players still couldn't tear their eyes away from the tears of the fans on the TV, and others seemed ready to rush back to the field, twitching their thigh muscles in anticipation.

While the coaches massaged the players' legs but kept their eyes fixed on the TV, their eyelids reddened, and even Arsène Wenger watched in a sad daze.

Mertesacker stood up and approached Wenger.

As the towering figure neared, Wenger turned and looked up at Mertesacker, who simply nodded towards the TV without a word.

Wenger's expression shifted, regaining its usual sharpness as he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Mertesacker, satisfied, exchanged a smile with a seated Petr Cech.

Moments later, Wenger shouted,

"Bring the strategy board! Everyone gather around!"

The heated players quickly huddled around Wenger, standing close enough for a pre-game huddle, all eyes on the strategy board he held.

"We play the second half with speed. Walcott, Welbeck, Sanchez! How about it? Can we do it?"

Theo Walcott, looking agile, grinned, showing his teeth, and smacked his thick thighs.

"Absolutely!"

A playful-looking Alexis Sanchez raised his head to look at the TV.

"How can you say we can't after seeing that? Can't you hear this chant?"

The eleven players and the coach all lifted their faces to watch the TV screen again.

Still tear-streaked faces continued to sing the anthem loudly.

"Alright! Go out there and play a game that these fans won't be ashamed of!"

Captain Mertesacker shouted loudly, his voice resonating deeply.

"One nil!!!"

The players, arm-in-arm, chorused together robustly.

"To the Arsenal, WOW!!"

With that spirited shout, the players, not wasting a moment, dashed out of the locker room. As they ran through the long, dark corridor, the voices of the 60,000 spectators, who had been supporting them unwaveringly for over a century, filled their ears.

We love you Arsenal, we do?!

One nil, to the Arsenal.

Forty-nine, forty-nine undefeated!

We're by far the greatest team

And it's Arsenal,

Arsenal FC!

At the end of the long, dark tunnel, the players saw a space filled with light, where their fans awaited them eagerly.

To regulate their heartbeats, the FC Barcelona players appeared on the pitch slowly, unlike the Arsenal players who sprinted out energetically to the cheers of the audience, still shouting loudly in support.

As the whistle for the start of the second half sounded, the music that had been playing in the stadium was turned off, but the fans continued to repeatedly chant, "We always cheer for you."

Seeing the fervently supportive fans, FC Barcelona's captain, Andrés Iniesta, stood in the middle of the field and looked up at the stands.

Women crying, an elderly man shouting and waving a flag, men raising their arms amidst white smoke from fireworks.

Feeling an inexplicable pressure, Iniesta's legs stiffened. Lionel Messi, noticing the change in him, approached him at the center circle and tapped him on the back.

"What's wrong?"

Iniesta glanced at the stands, then pointed towards the Arsenal players on the opposite side.

"Look at their eyes—they've changed."

Seeing the Arsenal side, Messi's expression hardened. He saw eleven players glaring at the ball with fierce eyes, and he placed his hand on his waist.

"What happened during halftime?"

Iniesta whispered to him, placing his hand on his shoulder.

"Be tense for the second half. In football, momentum is half the battle."

Messi chuckled.

"Momentum can be overcome by skill."

Confidently, he sprinted back to his position. Iniesta watched him, his expression complex.

"Yes, but there are times when willpower, driven by momentum, can surpass skill."

Facing each other at the center circle for kickoff, Danny Welbeck glanced at Alexis Sánchez.

He too was staring intently at the ball. The team captain, Per Mertesacker, approached Mesut Özil from behind and put his arm around his neck.

"Welbeck, Walcott, use Sánchez."

Özil nodded slightly without taking his eyes off the opponents.

Seeing his thigh muscles twitch as if they might burst at any moment, it was clear Özil was eager to start playing.

With the experience of having played in the World Cup for the German national team, Özil remained calm amid the excitement, focusing intently on the ball.

And finally, the whistle sounded to begin the fateful second half.

Squeak!!

The second half started with Barcelona's kickoff but contrary to expectations, it didn't progress quickly. For some reason, the Barcelona players, feeling intimidated, passed the ball around in their defensive half to kill time.

However, with the game just having restarted, they couldn't afford to waste time until the end.

As three forwards pressed the midfielders passing the ball, and Arsenal's midfielders pushed up, Barcelona's defenders, unable to withstand the pressure, sent a long pass to a midfielder past the center circle.

Ivan Rakitić crouched to trap the long pass coming his way. As he jumped to trap the ball with his chest, he found himself engulfed in a huge shadow.

Startled by the sudden shadow obscuring his view, Rakitić saw the owner of the head rising behind him.

Mertesacker, with his eyes wide open as if seeing nothing but the ball, headed the ball away. Losing balance upon landing, Rakitić watched as Mertesacker, who had just jumped, was falling.

"Defense!!!!!"

As Mertesacker's ball connected with Aaron Ramsey, Barcelona's midfielders turned to retreat to their defensive half.

However, Ramsey, without a single trap, slipped a through pass forward with a non-stop pass. The pass was too long, threading through the space between the defenders and barely reaching Mesut Özil, who had sprinted from afar.

Özil, a step faster than the approaching defenders, trapped the ball once before immediately passing it forward.

The Barcelona defenders, startled by a pass flying over their heads, watched as three small shadows darted forward. Gerard Piqué shouted to the defenders.

"The line is broken! Stick with them!"

One of the smaller and quicker defenders, Javier Mascherano, trapped the ball with his left foot and rushed forward to stick with Danny Welbeck. However, Welbeck, not intending to duel, delivered the ball with a diagonal pass near the penalty area, and Theo Walcott, missed by Piqué, shot non-stop.

Bang!!!

As the sound of the ball tearing through the air resounded in the stadium, 60,000 spectators rose at once.

"Goal!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The scorer, Theo Walcott, spread his arms and shook his fists as he ran towards Danny Welbeck. While Walcott approached with a joyful expression, Welbeck stared fiercely at the Barcelona players.

After reaching Walcott, he stopped the planned celebration and stood together, staring at the opposition.

Piqué shook his head in disappointment and returned to his position as Walcott, with the ball rolling behind the goalkeeper, sprinted to the center circle.

The Arsenal players raised their arms in greeting, but no one approached

 Walcott; each held their position.

Seeing the Arsenal players eager to restart the game, the Barcelona players, feeling intimidated, avoided eye contact and talked among themselves.

"What's going on?"

A defender shrugged, glancing at the Arsenal players, while the players turned their eyes away from the fiercely staring opponents, shouting incomprehensibly at their defenders.

Ernesto Valverde, the coach, continuously gestured and gave tactical instructions from the sidelines, equally bewildered.

It wasn't just a single goal; the atmosphere of the game itself had changed. Moreover, with the goal coming just 11 minutes into the second half, there was no telling when another might be scored.

As the goal was scored, the fans seated next to each other hugged and shared their joy, but as the players prepared to restart without celebrating, the fans too looked back at the field with solemn faces.

As a flag-waving old man dropped his flag and raised his arms at the moment the goal was scored, his mouth opened.

Even when you are wounded and wandering and failing.

The fans around him, hearing his raspy voice, joined in singing.

We always cheer for you.

So you and we will not be afraid.

The song that started in one corner of the stadium soon filled the entire venue. No one was shouting or yelling; they simply stood singing solemnly, letting the players feel their hearts.

Noticing the change in the stadium, Kevin looked back at Geon with a stunned face. Astonished by Geon's ability to create such a supportive song, Kevin whispered quietly while watching the stands.

"Look at Geon."

Before Kevin spoke, Shizuka, already observing Geon, nodded slightly, and Kevin continued to whisper without taking his eyes off Geon.

"What kind of music experiment is this with 60,000 people? Isn't he increasingly moving away from the human realm?"

Shizuka also leaned toward Kevin and whispered.

"Since the opportunity arose, he's never once waved his arms or shouted, just quietly observing the movements of the audience and players."

Unlike Kevin, who was watching the game, Shizuka was primarily observing Geon's reactions. Hearing Shizuka's words, Kevin stroked his chin and nodded.

"Damn, a genius is beyond understanding."

At Emirates Stadium, even though it was a daytime game, all the lights were on to prevent any part of the field from being shadowed.

Three men sat under the bright lights on the roof, lifting their beers. Blond Pyemon raised his beer high and shouted.

"Ahahaha!! That's our boy!"

Cross-legged and arms folded, Amducias looked at Pyemon with dissatisfaction but, having some guilt, swallowed his words.

'He's Lord Gamagin's child, not yours! And this is my ability!'

Despite swallowing his complaints, Amducias clinked his beer glass with Pyemon. Taking a sip, he turned his gaze toward Gamagin, who was sitting quietly watching Geon.

"Is this piece still not beyond the limits?"

When Gamagin mentioned limits, Amducias realized he knew even the words he had followed Geon with, and sweat ran down his back.

"Ah... yes, not yet."

Gamagin rested his elbow on his thigh and propped his chin.

"Four emotions—that's the human limit, right?"

Amducias turned his head to the field and replied.

"Yes, that's right. According to human standards, historical musicians and artists, even painters, leave one unfinished work before they die, whether they die old or young. Their last work surpasses human limits, so it remains incomplete. Not just us demons, but even angels keep it in check."

Pyemon burped quietly after drinking his beer and asked.

"What happens when you surpass the limits?"

Amducias's eyes precisely found Geon among the 60,000 spectators. Seeing Geon's serious expression as he observed the crowd, Amducias watched Gamagin and Pyemon's reactions and sighed softly.

"He'll be dealt with, by an angel or a demon."

Pyemon slapped his face with a smack and stared at the sky.

"Demons can cover it... but we'll have to stop the angels. Heh, bring it on."