The leisurely peninsula life of a max-level striker

In June 2013, the rain in Seoul was relentless, pounding on the glass curtain walls of Gangnam District and also into the back alley of Itaewon, a place few people wanted to look at.

The alley is narrow, the brick walls are old, and rainwater flows down the cracks in the walls, washing a few wild vines until they shine. The end seems to be blocked, but it actually hides a distressed oak door. There is no sign, no light, and not even a doorbell.

Those who knew the person behind the door, or who had been there before, dared not speak carelessly; those who didn't know the person would simply treat it as an abandoned warehouse and continue to wander into more lively areas.

Behind the door is a quiet bar called Leon's.

Although it's called a bar, it's not a legitimate business. It doesn't accept walk-ins, doesn't hand out flyers, and has no minimum spend. Most people who come in aren't there to drink; they're just looking for the atmosphere. (Of course, we can't rule out the possibility that they're drawn in by the owner's good looks.)

The shop was dimly lit, with brass wall lamps illuminating the bar, like a warm glow spreading throughout the room.

The gramophone played old jazz, the drumbeats and saxophone playing lazily, perfectly matching the sound of rain outside the window.

The TV on the wall was on silent, showing the Champions League final from two weeks ago. Bayern Munich lifted the trophy, a sea of ​​red swept across Wembley, Ribery hugged Robben, and Lahm held the Champions League trophy high. When the camera panned to the edge of the substitutes' bench, a young man wearing the number 27 jersey could be seen.

He was standing behind the bar.

Lee Ji-hoon, whose English name is Leon, is 20 years old and is a substitute winger for Bayern Munich's first team. He just won the treble with the team. His statistics are not bad: seven games, one goal, and one start. In Asian football, this is enough for many people to brag about for ten years.

But he's not in the mood right now.

He held a white cloth in his hand, slowly wiping a crystal glass with a serious demeanor, as if he were dealing with something expensive and not worth the rush. His dark gray turtleneck cashmere sweater clung to his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He wore a logo-free outfit, yet the price of it could buy an ordinary person half a year's worth of peace and quiet.

This person has everything that others desperately want.

Money, background, looks, physical condition, tutors from prestigious schools, a surname that can sit at the head of the table for tycoons, and a life path that seems to be edged with gold.

This is precisely what Li Chixun finds most annoying, because he is a time traveler.

In his previous life, he had spent too long in the world of fame and fortune, witnessing how a room full of smiling faces could turn into biting people, and how a single contract could twist a person into something else. After waking up, he became a mixed-race young master, and should have followed his family's wishes to go to Wall Street to learn how to prey on people, or returned to Seoul to learn how to be respected.

He didn't choose anything, just packed his bags and went to Germany to play football, train, be a substitute, sit on the bench—that was better than acting in those brightly lit banquet halls.

Bayern Munich was still celebrating on TV, and the wine glasses in real life were almost wiped clean. Lee Ji-hoon glanced at his own face, which wasn't very clear in the corner of the screen, and slid his hand across the rim of the glass without much expression.

A substitute is a substitute.

The triple crown is great, and the trophy is great, but that greatness usually belongs only to the person standing in the center. You can laugh along with those who raise their glasses, but after you've laughed, you still have to figure out where you really stand.

He put the glass back, poured himself half a finger's worth of whiskey without adding ice, and just as he picked it up, a muffled thud came from outside the door.

It sounded like someone was banging on the door, which made him wonder.

Li Chixun turned his head to the side and looked at the wooden door. Soon after, there were two more urgent and chaotic knocks outside the door, which sounded like a cry for help. He hoped it was just his imagination.

He didn't go over immediately; he just put the cup down, took out the remote control from under the bar, and pressed the unlock button.

With a click, the lock popped open.

The door was pushed open the next second, and a cold wind carrying rain rushed in, making the candle lamp by the door flicker. A slender figure stumbled into the room, slammed the door shut behind him, and leaned against the door, panting heavily.

She was soaking wet, her black hooded sweatshirt clung to her body, a baseball cap covered her eyes, and a mask covered most of her face, leaving only her red eyes with water-drenched eyelashes, as if she had just been pulled out of a river.

Rain dripped down the brim of the hat and onto the carpet, quickly spreading out a dark patch.

Li Chixun, standing behind the bar, wasn't too surprised by the situation. After all, in his memory, his predecessor had never seen anything more bizarre in this bar.

The girl's eyes were probably covered by her hood, so it took her a while to realize there was someone else in the room. She quickly looked up at Li Chixun. Her previously relaxed body tensed up again.

"Feel sorry."

Her voice was muffled by her mask, and she spoke in a disordered tone, "I'm just getting out of the rain, I'll leave right away."

That sounds like a lie. If they were just trying to avoid the rain, they wouldn't have slammed the door shut so tightly, and they certainly wouldn't be standing so close to the door like that, as if some shady thing was following them.

Li Chixun glanced at her a few times, then turned around and went to the temperature-controlled cabinet to get a hot towel and a glass of room temperature water. He walked around the bar, stopped two steps away from her, and handed the items to her.

"Wipe yourself off first." He said with a faint smile, "It's cold in the shop, you'll easily get sick if you're like this."

The girl was clearly taken aback by his actions. She paused for a moment before reaching out to take the cup. Her hands looked extremely cold, and they were trembling as she touched the cup.

"Thanks."

She finished speaking in a low voice, pressed the towel to her face as if she had finally caught a breath of warmth, and her shoulders relaxed and slumped down. Then she raised her hand and took off her mask.

The moment the light fell on her face, her identity became impossible to hide.

With fair skin, delicate and beautiful features, and a small beauty mark at the corner of her eye, even without makeup and with a shockingly bad complexion, she is still easily recognizable.

Choi Sulli.

One of the names that has been most frequently mentioned in Korean entertainment news lately.

She became famous, her group became famous, and the topics surrounding her became famous. She became so famous that even malice grew legs and chased after her, never stopping online or offline. Today they criticize her outfits, tomorrow they criticize her expressions, and the day after tomorrow they can even edit her breathing into eight hundred headlines.

Lee Ji-hoon recognized it, but that was all.

Whether she's a popular actress or a chaebol heiress, behind this door, she's ultimately just someone who's been through the rain.

He turned and went back to the bar, casually moving the glass of whiskey on the table aside. "Need a ride?"

Shirley shook her head almost immediately, "No, please don't."

As soon as she said it, she was stunned for a moment, and could only add, "Please, don't call me, I'll leave in a little while."

Lee Chi-hoon glanced at her. "Someone's pursuing you."

Shirley pursed her lips, two fingers interlaced underneath her mouth. She seemed unsure how to answer the question.

However, for Lee Chi-hoon, not answering meant tacit agreement.

Choi Sulli held her water glass, glancing at the door every now and then, as if afraid someone would break down the door at any moment.

Seeing how nervous she was, Li Chixun thought he should calm her down first, and they could talk about the rest later. He told her, "This door is remote-controlled. Don't look at it, you can't come in without my permission." After saying that, he smiled and gestured for her to take a sip of his glass.

Upon hearing this, Choi Sulli immediately breathed a sigh of relief, her serious expression softening. She apologetically raised her glass and took a sip. According to her memories from her past life, she quite enjoyed drinking. Even with the influence of other events from her later life, Choi Sulli was definitely a connoisseur of fine wine. She only took a sip, which, frankly, was due to the pressure she was under.

However, Lee Chi-hoon felt that since they had just met, it was already good enough that he could help her out; doing anything else would be crossing a line. So, he simply focused on managing his bar.

Shirley stared at him for a while, then couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you going to ask who I am, or what happened to me?"

"I recognized Choi Sulli a long time ago."

Li Chixun didn't even look up as he poured the wine into the container. "As for what happened, with the current internet speed, it's not hard to guess."

Shirley held her water glass and stopped talking.

His reaction was so indifferent that she couldn't tell whether it was contempt or that he simply didn't care about those things. But it was precisely this attitude that made her feel at ease.

Many people looked at her with excitement, pity, or even more calculation in their eyes; few looked at her like they would an ordinary person.

She lowered her head slightly, her throat feeling a little dry.

The wine glasses on the bar clinked against the ice ball, making a soft sound.

"This place isn't open to the public?"

She looked up, glanced around, and finally realized what was strange about this place: there was no wine list, no waiters, no guests, and it was unusually quiet.

Lee Chi-hoon hummed in agreement, then nodded slightly in affirmation, "You're lucky today."

Shirley looked at him, her brows slowly furrowing. "That doesn't sound like a compliment."

"It's not a bad thing." He pushed a glass of beautifully colored liquor to the bar, his tone languid. "At least I'm kind enough to open the door for you."

Shirley choked for a moment, and couldn't help but let out a very soft laugh through her nose. She quickly stopped laughing, as if she herself was not used to being able to laugh at a time like this.

Just as she was about to say something more, a series of hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the door, treading through the puddles, getting closer and closer.

The slight relaxation on Shirley's face suddenly disappeared.

Immediately afterwards, a beam of white light from a flashlight swept in through the crack in the door, flashing quickly across the wall and stinging people's eyes. Someone outside cursed loudly in the rain.

"The person clearly turned into this alley, find them."

Another voice chimed in excitedly, "If we can get a picture of her today, the front page is ours!"

Shirley's water glass wobbled, splashing water onto the back of her hand. She seemed oblivious, staring blankly at the door, her breathing becoming more and more rapid.

Here they come again, those persistent paparazzi, no different from sharks that smell blood.

She instinctively took a half step back, her shoes scraping against the carpet with a soft sound, her whole body in a state of self-preservation, the panic in her eyes finally showing.

Seeing this situation behind the bar, Lee Chi-hoon casually put down the bottle and looked up towards the door.