Devil’s Music

The match was intense. As someone in the audience put it, it was as if the teams had taken performance enhancers, with a series of super plays rarely seen in a single season. The excitement of a Champions League round of 16 match was already thrilling, and the brilliant plays from the players added to the audience's excitement, reaching a climax.

For Arsenal, whenever a favorable situation occurred, the moment they crossed the halfway line, the audience stood up, and groans of frustration followed any missed opportunities.

Geon, Kevin, and Byeong-jun were already merged with the crowd, shouting at the top of their lungs, while Shizuka, unfamiliar with the atmosphere, struggled to adapt. About ten minutes into the first half, however, she joined in, screaming her support until her throat was sore.

With her face flushed from excitement, Shizuka spread her hands and shouted.

"Kyaaa! I didn't know soccer could be this exciting!"

Geon turned to Shizuka with a bright smile.

"This is soccer, Shizuka! Ahhh!!!"

Kevin, having received a cheer towel earlier, was spinning it around wildly, shaking his hips.

"Arsenal! Arsenal! Arsenal! Arsenal! Oooh, ooohoooh!!!!"

Shocked by Kevin's loud cheer, Shizuka and Geon turned their gaze to the field. Sergio Busquets, playing as a midfielder, launched a long pass that penetrated the space to connect with FC Barcelona's captain, Andres Iniesta.

Though just past the halfway line, Andres Iniesta, completely unmarked, took a short dribble, dominating the right side of the field.

Arsenal FC players hurriedly caught up, but Andres Iniesta, advancing with his dribble, had already gained momentum.

Suddenly reaching the 30m zone of the central penalty area, Mertesacker and Laurent Koscielny stepped up to block him. Faced with a sudden crisis, Mathieu Debuchy also blocked the center as Andres Iniesta quickly pushed the ball to the left.

The three defenders all turned their heads towards the space where Andres Iniesta had pushed the ball, as a small, swift shadow trapped the ball and whisked past them.

Startled, Laurent Koscielny stretched out his hand to grab the jersey of the swift shadow, but he could do nothing more than shout as the shadow broke through.

"Lionel Messi!!!"

Lionel Messi, having trapped the ball a bit too long, slid and shot, keeping his eyes on the goal even as he fell.

"Great save!!!!"

The crowd sighed in relief as Messi's shot was just deflected by Petr Cech's toes, but since the ball hadn't gone out of bounds, the fans couldn't unclench their fists.

"Gerard Deulofeu!!!"

Gerard Deulofeu, squeezing through the defenders with body contact, headed the deflected ball. The ball, drawing a perfect curve, bounced into the net, watched by Arsenal fans who clasped their heads.

"Aaaaahhhhh!!!!!"

Peep!!!!

The referee's whistle signaling a goal sounded, and the Emirates Stadium was enveloped in silence. Approaching the corner, Gerard Deulofeu, finger on his lips, was almost forgotten by the fans who weakly sat down, hands on their foreheads. A beautiful female fan with the Arsenal FC logo painted on her face slumped down, murmuring disappointedly.

"As expected, we can't beat Barcelona?"

The Black man next to her, drinking beer, smirked.

"See, you have to hope for the realistic. I'm an Arsenal fan too, but there's no team that can beat Barcelona."

The beauty glared at the Black man as she crossed her arms.

"How can you say that and still call yourself an Arsenal fan?"

The Black man, holding his beer, replied.

"I enjoy the game itself. It'd be great if Arsenal won, but cheering in a hopeless fight is just a waste of energy. I'm here to also watch the Barcelona players."

"Hmph! It's because of people like you that those who really want to cheer can't get tickets."

"Hehe, in a capitalist society, it's natural for those who seize the opportunity first to win."

"Ugh! Even if you can't speak up!"

Similar exchanges occurred everywhere. As Shizuka watched the discontented crowd, she looked worried.

"Are we going to lose like this?"

Kevin looked disappointed but soon regained his spirits.

"We're up against Barcelona. Even if we lose, we have to lose magnificently! Do your best, Arsenal!!"

Geon nodded in agreement. As the four of them sat side by side in the VIP seats, the opposing camera director kept focusing on Geon, pleased to see his own shots appearing on the stadium's large TV screen, but then he tilted his head.

"Huh? What's that..."

Removing his headphones, he scrutinized the camera monitor.

Geon, Kevin

, Byeong-jun, and Shizuka were sitting in the VIP seats, but five rows behind them, three seats appeared empty. He rubbed his eyes and looked across with the naked eye.

"It looks like there are three people sitting there... Why don't they show up on the angle?"

He squinted and scrutinized the distant seats.

"It definitely looks like three people are sitting there..."

In his view, there appeared to be a man with long black hair in a black suit, a man with brown hair in a gray suit, and a blond-haired man in an Arsenal jersey with a headband.

He checked the camera angle again, zooming in on the seats behind Geon, but only empty seats appeared.

Doubting whether he was focusing on the wrong seats, he panned the camera across various sections of the audience when a yell burst through his earphones.

"Camera 8!! What are you filming! Can't you film properly? If you're going to shoot the audience, you need to capture their expressions properly before panning around like that. Are you a rookie?"

The camera director jumped and placed his hand on the walkie-talkie button.

"Ah, sorry. There's something strange going on."

The main PD inquired through the earphones.

"Strange? What is it? Are there suspected terrorists or something?"

"No, no. It's just that I can clearly see people sitting there with the naked eye, but they don't appear on the camera."

"You must have aimed at the wrong spot! There are 60,000 spectators here; capturing one in the crowd is tough enough. Stop talking nonsense and shoot properly!"

"Ah, yes! So, sorry."

After turning off the radio, the camera director still looked suspiciously at the three men but, scared by the fierce shouting of the PD, he turned the camera back to the field.

The brown-haired man in the seats behind Geon, arms crossed and a displeased expression on his face, spoke to the blond youth waving a flag and shouting next to him.

"Do we really have to do this? Painting faces in suits, what kind of fashion terrorist act is this?"

The blond youth, contrasting sharply with the neatly combed brown hair and crisp gray suit, had the Arsenal emblem painted on his cheeks and was puffing them out.

"What's the big deal? This is the kind of outfit that doesn't stand out at a soccer stadium."

The brown-haired man frowned and looked the blond youth up and down. Dressed in a red Arsenal jersey with white sleeves, white shorts, and soccer shoes, the youth had an Arsenal towel tied around his head and was vigorously waving a flag.

"Lord Paimon, do you find these human acts amusing?"

Paimon grinned, waving the flag playfully.

"Hehe, doesn't this make me seem like a human too? Hehe."

"Yes, so human-like I want to kill you."

"Phahaha, try it, Amdusias, it's fun."

Amdusias, still with a discontented look, glanced at the man in black sitting at the end.

The man in a black suit and sunglasses, his hands in black leather gloves clasped together, was focused on the field.

"Lord Gamigin, do you really need to watch soccer?"

Gamigin glanced at Amdusias wearing sunglasses. After giving him a brief look, he turned back to the front.

"Isn't it better than secretly going to a museum where a child is researching, like someone?"

"Huh! That, that's—!"

As Amdusias's eyes widened in panic, Paimon sat down abruptly, jesting playfully.

"Thought you wouldn’t know?"

Amdusias, sweating profusely, frantically waved his hands.

"That, that was—!"

Paimon's expression remained playful, although his eyes, befitting the count who governs the western side of Hell, shone a bright blue. As Amdusias stiffened, Paimon opened his still-smiling mouth.

"Do that again, and you’re dead. I'll erase you so thoroughly that no trace of your existence will be found anywhere in the world."

"That, that, that—"

Amdusias, unable to meet Paimon's gaze, looked away, flailing his hands as he made excuses.

"That was just because I was curious about what the child was learning there. I definitely did not have any other intentions."

Paimon’s face, which had been the only smiling part of him, now hardened. As his expression changed, the spectators seated around felt a sudden cold draft, shivering as they looked around. Paimon, now completely expressionless, grabbed Amdusias by the ear.

"Ouch!"

Dragging him by the ear to his mouth, Paimon whispered quietly.

"Who do you think I am? Do you think such petty lies would work on me? Do I look that gullible?"

The pain in his ear made Amdusias grimace, unable to retaliate, merely waving his hands in distress.

"No, no! I'm sorry, Lord Paimon!"

Paimon twisted his ear a bit longer, then glanced at Gamigin, who slightly nodded. At Gamigin's signal, Paimon let go of Amdusias’s ear and wiped his hands on the latter's trousers.

"That’s your final warning. Do that again, and you’re dead, especially since I know exactly why you went."

Holding his ear, Amdusias didn’t dare respond but simply bowed his head. Gamigin then tapped him on the shoulder and said.

"Enough. Thanks to Amdusias, we’ve at least figured out who one of the angels is."

Amdusias, finding a glimmer of reprieve, exclaimed.

"See! That's all thanks to me!"

Paimon, with an impassive face, handed him an Arsenal flag. Unwittingly taking the flag with the Arsenal emblem, Amdusias looked at Paimon, whose expression was still severe.

"Cheer."

Moments later, as the camera director, unable to contain his curiosity, once again turned his gaze toward the stands, he caught sight of a tall gentleman in a tight gray suit with neatly combed hair standing on a chair, passionately waving the Arsenal flag and cheering.

>

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