[Football] I Transmigrated to Chelsea and Became the Top Must-Eat Pick

[Love and Shevchenko, the Love Triangle Edition] [The World Is One Giant Love Triangle]

Shevchenko woke up one day to find the whole world had changed!

The night before, he'd just won the FIFA World Player of the Year and enjoyed an extravagant evening of wine and revelry. The next moment, he woke to the cold realization of London's miserable weather.

He'd gone to bed on December 13, 2004, but woke up on July 13, 2006.

The World Cup was over, and Ukraine had made it to the quarterfinals. Shevchenko had finally scored a World Cup goal, set a new record for never missing a penalty in the World Cup, and experienced the novel sensation of being eliminated from the tournament by his former Italian teammates.

Of course, none of that was the most important thing right now. The most important thing was that he'd just transferred from AC Milan to Chelsea?

Was something wrong with him? Did he hate good weather or something?

Who could understand waking up and getting caught in someone else's "relationship crisis"?

What a terrible dream. He'd have to tell his teammates all about it at training tomorrow!

Shevchenko flopped back onto the bed in a London hotel and decided to go back to sleep!

*

At nearly thirty, Shevchenko was at the most suave and maturely sensual age a man could be. The years had given him a unique air of mystery and reserve. So understated, yet impossible to ignore, he was utterly captivating.

But this wasn't the thirty-year-old Shevchenko. This was the twenty-eight-year-old Shevchenko, standing onstage and receiving applause. The Shevchenko who still had boundless command over his own strength. The Shevchenko who could break through every physical and emotional defense like a sword simply by standing there. The Shevchenko who controlled himself, and could just as easily send his fans into ecstasy.

Inside the thirty-year-old Shevchenko's body was the twenty-eight-year-old Ballon d'Or winner who could do anything. Could the spirit outlast the body? He didn't know. But time was a river that never flowed backward, and everything was destined to drift downstream.

Football, alcohol, and sex were destined to run through his entire life.

He was silent frost and snow, a flame burning on a frozen wasteland. Wrapped in rusty gray dust, he ran with all his might. The absurd years were scorched by fiery liquor that burned on the way down. In the silent depths of night, a cigarette butt became a solitary lamp, consuming his energy.

The times were like this, and so was fate. A howling blizzard swept past with the metallic tang of rust. He stood in the biting cold ahead, openhearted and burning bright.

If he was destined to drift downstream,

he would live with a clear conscience and die in triumph.

Note: This came from a passing idea, a pure self-indulgent fic born from craving Xiao Ying late at night. There probably won't be much focus on competitive matches; the main point is enjoying all sorts of Xiao Ying. Our Xiao Ying is delicious both as a top and a bottom. A short-to-medium-length story.

Set after his move to Chelsea, but Milan is a must, and will be featured heavily.

Impart, not one-to-many. A polyamorous mix. None of the relationships are exclusive.

Unrelated to reality. Everyone is heavily reimagined.

I've already turned Shevchenko into a love-interest game, so a harem and a battle royale for his affections are only natural.

Just kidding, it's actually many-to-many.

Open ending.

Rough synopsis, April 8, 2025

Theme: Helping everyone realize their fantasies