The Last Test — Shooting
"Alright, now for the final test. Shooting."
As several balls were lined up in front of the penalty arc, a fierce confidence settled over Kim Hanbin's face.
Section Chief Park swallowed dryly as he watched him.
Prove to me that what you showed in that match wasn't a fluke.
"You said shooting was what you were most confident in, Hanbin? So let's see it from a variety of angles, whatever feels natural. Let's start with shooting from a standstill."
The coaches gathered alongside them all held their breath, waiting for Hanbin's first shot.
Kim Hanbin moved toward the first ball. A right-footed inside curler.
Thwack—!
With a crisp sound, the ball arced through the air in a beautiful trajectory and buried itself precisely in the upper right corner of the goal.
"Ohh..."
"Not bad."
A quiet murmur of admiration rippled through the coaches.
Clean.
It was, quite literally, a shot without a single flaw. But then again, anyone who had ever kicked a ball around could manage something at this level.
The very next shot made Section Chief Park retract that thought immediately.
The second, the third... all the way to the tenth and final ball — machine-identical trajectories, each one hammered into the same upper right corner, one after another.
Ten shots, every single one flawless.
"......"
He stared at the scene, dumbfounded. The coaches were no different.
They strained to keep their poker faces, but the same thought was plainly legible in each of their eyes.
What are the odds of hitting ten curling shots into the exact same spot?... That's hard to believe.
Section Chief Park wrote in his report.
Accuracy: top class. Consistency: excellent. Curled shots: considerable level. Dominant foot: right.
When the ten perfect right-footed shots were finished, he addressed Kim Hanbin.
"Excellent. I don't think we need to see any more of your right foot."
Section Chief Park paused for a moment before continuing.
"This time, I'd like to see your left. Are you confident with it too?"
It was a natural request for a scout. A striker comfortable on both feet carries an enormous advantage.
With the right foot at that level, they had to find out what the left could do.
It probably wouldn't match the right — but hopes ran high that it would at least be above average.
At Park's words, Kim Hanbin silently nodded.
Ten balls were set out just as before.
Standing before the ball, Hanbin took a short deep breath and curled it with his left inside.
Thwack—!
The ball flew in exactly the same beautiful arc as the ones his right foot had just produced — and this time it struck precisely into the upper left corner of the goal.
"......?!"
"His left is... also good?"
Exclamations of astonishment rose from all around.
Don't tell me he's going to sink all ten again?
And so it went — the second, the third... all the way through the tenth, every left-footed shot perfectly executed.
A hushed silence settled over the training ground. Park and the coaches simply watched, wordless, as Hanbin's final shot split the net.
Twenty perfect curled shots, ten on each foot.
Section Chief Park stared at Kim Hanbin for a long, blank moment, then lifted his report.
He erased the part that read dominant foot: right. Then he added his assessment of the left-footed shooting.
Left foot: equal to right. Accuracy: top class. Both feet fully usable.
"Ha... the kid can strike a ball. He really can strike a ball."
The attacking coach, who had been watching the test, let out a bewildered laugh along with his admiration. The other coaches nodded as if in agreement.
Section Chief Park walked over to Kim Hanbin.
"Static shooting... I don't think we need to see any more of that. This time, let's look at some different kinds of shots."
He shot the coaches a look asking for their help. One set up cones to build a dribbling course, while two more took positions out on the flanks.
"First, dribble about ten meters and then shoot. After that, the coaches will deliver crosses from the sides. Take both the low crosses and the high ones and finish them with shots."
Kim Hanbin nodded and stepped up to the dribbling course.
How's his shooting accuracy after dribbling? Can he time his runs to meet a cross?
However impressive the static shooting had been, in actual matches a player far more often has to shoot while on the move.
Kim Hanbin nudged the ball forward with light touches and began his run. Threaded through the cones with the same silky dribbling he'd shown in the earlier tests, then — without a moment's hesitation from the top of the arc — a right-footed strike.
KWAANG—!
Not a curler this time, but a ferocious instep drive.
The ball flew like a bullet and smashed into the upper left of the goal.
"Oh...!" The attacking coach let out a short gasp.
Next came a left-footed shot after the dribble. Equally powerful, equally precise.
Then, the crossing drill. A coach waiting out wide whipped in a low, fast cross.
Meeting the skidding ball with a right-footed inside strike, Hanbin clinically slashed it into the corner of the net.
Clean. That's a tough ball with a slight bounce on it, and he finished it perfectly with the inside of his foot.
This time a high cross came in from the opposite flank. Hanbin met the incoming ball at full speed with a left-footed first-time volley.
KWAANG—!
It flew into the upper corner with such vicious precision that even a goalkeeper standing between the posts could never have reached it.
And volleys too...!
Even the coaches assisting with the test were marvelling now, and they kept feeding him balls for a long while.
The final test was shooting after combination play. Two coaches and Hanbin would move forward exchanging passes, the final ball played to Hanbin, and he would finish the move.
"Normally we'd have the players taking the test build this rhythm with each other... but since we're evaluating Hanbin alone today, our coaches are putting in special effort on his behalf. Be grateful, now. Hahaha."
At Section Chief Park's offhand remark, Hanbin bowed his head toward the coaches.
"Thank you!"
The combination play test began. The coaches' passes were as fast and precise as their crosses had been.
Kim Hanbin received, laid the ball off, and sprinted forward. After several passes circulated, the ball came back to him again.
He collected the rolling ball and, without wasting a second, struck it first-time with a light, effortless touch.
Once again, a clean goal.
His movement in the passing exchange isn't bad either. I thought combination play would be his weakness... but he has the fundamental instincts.
There was, of course, still plenty left to polish.
But with shooting ability and physicality this overwhelmingly dominant, Park felt certain the rest could be developed in time.
All the shooting-related tests were over. Kim Hanbin was breathing a little hard, but his expression remained perfectly calm.
He glanced back at the coaches beside him.
The doubt and curiosity that had been in their eyes was gone — replaced, in full, by conviction.
It seemed today's testing had gone far enough.
Section Chief Park approached Kim Hanbin.
"We'll end today's test here."
"Yes. Thank you."
"What you showed us today was truly impressive."
At those words, Kim Hanbin's eyes went wide. Excitement flickered visibly across his face.
"For now, I'll recommend you strongly to the manager and the club. We'll let you know the result as soon as we can."
"Yes... yes! Thank you, Chief."
Kim Hanbin answered, his voice thick with emotion.
Patting Hanbin on the shoulder once more, Park left the ground first with the coaches in tow.
On the way back to the clubhouse, the coaches kept marveling about Kim Hanbin's abilities.
"Wow, I've honestly never seen shooting like that. Both feet, just like that..."
"The finishing after dribbles and off crosses was spotless, and his volleys were quality too."
"The combination play was better than I expected. With development, he could be something special."
"And don't even get me started on the physique. You've hooked a monster of a catch, Chief."
Section Chief Park agreed with them — but part of his mind was uneasy.
Discovering a talent like that is a stroke of luck... but can we actually sign him without a hitch?
Kim Hanbin's background was far too unusual. Would a club really take in a player with zero track record — and at that, straight into a top-half K League 1 side?
Certainly, caution and opposition would surface within the club.
Especially from the rival faction currently at Park's throat. Yoon's crowd would never let this slide quietly.
I'll have to win over the manager first, and the reports up the chain won't be easy either. Salary could be a sticking point too...
A difficult road clearly lay ahead. And yet his heart was racing.
Discovering a player with that kind of talent, and raising him into something greater.
This is why I became a scout.
A few days later, in the conference room of the Seoul Citizen clubhouse.
Seated around the table were the manager and coaching staff, the scouting department, and several senior club officials.
It was a regular meeting held in preparation for the summer transfer window, to review signing targets and discuss strategy.
"...So negotiations over Player A's transfer fee are currently at a standstill. Player B, meanwhile, prefers to remain in Europe."
Another section chief from the scouting team was briefing the room on the feasibility of signing overseas-based players.
The atmosphere in the conference room dragged along, dull and listless.
A quiet disappointment hung in the air — no worthwhile targets seemed available who could contribute immediately.
The briefing ended, and a brief silence followed.
Then Section Chief Park Cheolmin rose from his seat and put his prepared materials up on the screen.
"Next, I'd like to present a domestic prospect I've discovered."
A photograph of a sturdy young man appeared on the screen. Taken, it seemed, at a training ground, the young man's frame in the picture was packed solid with muscle.
"His name is Kim Hanbin. Age nineteen, full Korean age. Position: striker. Height 188 centimeters, weight around 93 kilograms."
As Park Cheolmin ran through the brief profile, stirrings broke out around the conference room.
"Oh, that's some physique."
"Sure, the body's impressive — but isn't he a bit bulked up for a striker's frame?"
Paying the reactions no mind, Park Cheolmin put up the next set of materials: the results of the individual test he had run on Kim Hanbin a few days earlier.
"A few days ago, I conducted an individual test with him directly. First, the basic fitness results."
The screen displayed his numbers from the Yo-Yo Intermittent Recovery Test, the 50-meter sprint, the side-step drill, and more. The eyes of everyone reading them went wide.
"Hold on, Chief Park. Isn't this a typo? It says Level 23 or higher on the Yo-Yo test?"
The fitness coach asked, clearly finding it hard to believe.
"That's correct. I measured it myself, and we have video footage. He cleared Level 23 and still looked like he had room to spare, so I stopped him."
"Good grief... and the 50-meter time too... that's practically a track athlete's number. He generates that kind of speed in that body?"
"The side-step results are the same. His agility is considerable as well."
The conference room erupted in an instant. Everyone stared at the numbers on the screen with looks of sheer disbelief.
"Wait, at that level, shouldn't another club have already snapped him up — or at the very least, we'd have heard his name from the youth ranks somewhere? Why have we never heard of him?"
The technical director asked, puzzled.
"Could he be from an overseas youth academy? Or a mixed-heritage player who recently returned to the country?"
Someone else floated a possibility. Park Cheolmin shook his head.
"No. He's a purely domestic player."
He moved to the next slide. This time, it was footage of Kim Hanbin's technical tests. Dribbling, trapping, and... shooting.
"We also verified his technical ability. As for his shooting in particular... it'll be faster for you to see it yourselves."
Park Cheolmin played the video. Every gaze in the conference room locked onto the screen.
Twenty curled shots, right foot and left, each one buried in the same upper corners of the goal.
The ferocious instep drives off the dribble, the first-time finishes off crosses, the volleys, the composed finishing after combination play.
When the video ended, silence hung over the room. Everyone wore the look of people at a loss for words.
Even the manager was studying the screen with an expression of keen interest.
"......"
The one to break the silence was Section Chief Yoon, widely known as Park Cheolmin's rival.
Arms crossed, he fixed Park Cheolmin with a suspicious gaze before speaking.
"Chief Park. I watched the video carefully. It's certainly... impressive. However..."
A peculiar thorn lurked in his voice.
"This Kim Hanbin fellow... what exactly is his playing history?"
The moment had come.
Park Cheolmin took a short, steadying breath. He felt every gaze in the room swing back to him.
"This player's official football history is..."
He paused. Then, as evenly as he could manage:
"His middle school club team. Bohyun Middle School. That's the whole of it."
"...... I'm sorry, what?"
Section Chief Yoon's brow knitted sharply. Bewilderment and disbelief flashed across the other faces in the room too.
Whispers rippled among the attendees — "Bohyun Middle School? Where even is that?"
"Middle school club ball is all? Then what about high school? University? He obviously has no professional career?"
"No, he doesn't."
"Then... what about a youth club or a national youth team background?"
Section Chief Yoon pressed doggedly. Park Cheolmin took another short breath and answered slowly.
"...He has no club or national team experience of the kind you're describing."
The conference room, so warm and animated just moments before, went cold in a heartbeat.
Everyone seemed to be struggling to reconcile the extraordinary talent they'd just witnessed with the meager résumé standing in such stark contrast to it.
It was Park Cheolmin who broke the silence. His voice was firm.
"I concede that his experience is thin. But what he showed us today, in itself, is proof enough of his potential. He is more than worth bringing into full team training for a proper trial."
At Park Cheolmin's words, the coaches who had attended the test nodded in agreement.
But then Section Chief Yoon — known throughout the club as Park Cheolmin's opposition — opened his mouth again, unhurried.
"Experience, you say... Well, Chief Park, experience matters. In a professional club like ours, one that prizes a systematic approach above all, I'd call it critically important."
Yoon let his gaze sweep the room as he continued.
"People will, in pursuit of a result, sometimes charge ahead without a thought for what comes after — through fire and water alike. Young players in desperate circumstances, above all, face that kind of temptation."
At his words, the mood in the room shifted again, subtly.
"Here is my point. Can anyone guarantee that this Kim Hanbin did not borrow the aid of banned substances for this test? Chief Park — did you, by any chance, conduct a doping test?"
At Yoon's direct question, Park Cheolmin's expression stiffened slightly.
"...No, not yet. It was a private evaluation stage; a medical and doping screen was naturally planned alongside any formal contract."
"Exactly. Quite right. Naturally you haven't done one yet."
Section Chief Yoon pounced, as if he'd been waiting for exactly that answer.
"That is precisely why I find it dangerous. Look at those abnormal numbers right now — they defy common sense. Of course, it could be extraordinary talent. But if it were doping, even once, it could be a catastrophic blow to this entire club."
Yoon drew a breath, then turned his eyes toward the manager and the club officials.
"Why do you suppose we've spent years building our youth development system and scouting network? Precisely to filter out risks like this, and to secure players reliably through years of verification."
"......"
"And yet we would sign a player with no vetting whatsoever, whose history we can't even confirm, on the strength of a single test? I call that far too dangerous a gamble."
Under the weight of Yoon's airtight rebuttal, the room chilled once more.
His argument plainly had merit. Kim Hanbin's ability was astonishing — and for exactly that reason, the risk looked just as large.
Several club officials nodded, exchanging glances that seemed to side with Yoon's view.
A current was flowing through the room, as if Yoon's words had become truth — as if Kim Hanbin's astonishing numbers had already warped from cause for wonder into grounds for suspicion.
Park Cheolmin's blood boiled.
Sophistry.
Dressed up in fine language, but in the end wasn't this just a dig at the record of a man from the opposing faction?
Park Cheolmin saw straight through Yoon's true aim.
Doping? Certainly, the possibility couldn't be dismissed outright. But that was not what Yoon was really after.
His scheme was to sully the Kim Hanbin signing by any means necessary, and drain momentum from a player that Park Cheolmin himself had recommended.
A basic doping test would clear the suspicion itself in no time. But...
Park Cheolmin's brow furrowed. The problem was what came after. And Yoon was surely counting on exactly that.
That man won't be satisfied even if the standard test comes back negative. He'll stall, trotting out excuses — 'we need more precise analysis,' 'long-term monitoring is required.'
A routine doping screen usually produced results within a week or two.
But the additional testing and procedures Yoon would insist on were far more complex and drawn out — a month or more, quite possibly.
And if that happens... the summer transfer window will have closed.
Player registration periods were fixed by rule.
That was precisely the trap Yoon had set when he reached for the doping card.
His intent: stall by any means necessary and sink Kim Hanbin's arrival this season.
Already, a substantial portion of the attendees had been swayed by Yoon's words, the air thickening as if Kim Hanbin's abilities were a settled fact — something manufactured by doping.
In their eyes, wonder and expectation had given way entirely to suspicion and wariness.
Park Cheolmin swallowed a curse.