The Lowest Salary and the Strangest Call
At Section Chief Yoon's pointed objection, the conference room fell silent.
The problem he had raised was more than enough to seed negative opinion against signing Kim Hanbin.
Several of the officials present already wore open suspicion on their faces — some had even begun to eye the whole proposition with outright wariness.
Park Cheolmin swallowed a curse and waited for his opening to strike back. He could not retreat here.
"I fully understand your concerns, Section Chief Yoon."
Park Cheolmin forced his voice to stay even. Holding Yoon's gaze squarely, he pressed on.
"But the doping suspicion is, as of now, nothing more than baseless speculation. That said, we will of course run a thorough battery of tests before any official contract is signed. If something turns up then, it won't be too late to cancel the deal. What we must not do is pre-judge the man and let a genuine talent slip away."
Park Cheolmin drew a breath and put real weight into his voice.
"And I agree that the system matters. But no system is perfect. Sometimes, from outside the system, someone like Jamie Vardy of Leicester City appears. Isn't it precisely our job as scouts to find that kind of rare talent and bring him into the system, then develop him?"
He swept his eyes across the conference room as he continued.
"Kim Hanbin is clearly short on experience, and there's plenty that needs refining. But the physicality and shooting ability he showed during the test are nothing to dismiss. I'm certain of it. Losing a talent like him would be the far greater loss for this club!"
The coaches who had attended Hanbin's test nodded along to Park Cheolmin's heartfelt appeal, adding their weight to the argument.
"I agree with Section Chief Park. You simply don't see shooting accuracy like that very often."
"The physical tools are already complete, and technically there looked to be plenty of room to grow."
"We should bring him into team training and see with our own eyes what he can do."
As the coaches' endorsements piled up, Section Chief Yoon's expression soured slightly. But he showed no sign of backing down.
"Well. My position hasn't changed — the risk is simply too great to invest on potential alone. Especially in a player with that kind of background..."
Into the tense standoff, the manager finally spoke.
Arms crossed, he studied the footage of Kim Hanbin on the screen one more time before he said anything.
"Hmm... his shooting, that's the genuine article, no question. Finishing of that caliber would be worth something right away, even just on set pieces or as a late-game joker. But..."
The manager turned to Park Cheolmin.
"Section Chief Park, there are things a video alone can't tell me. How was his link-up play and tactical understanding? If his football experience ends at middle school, that's the area of greatest concern. Adapting to team tactics hinges on exactly that."
Park Cheolmin answered the manager's bluntly practical question.
"To be honest with you, he's lacking in a great deal, Manager. But the fundamental instincts were clearly there. With enough training and experience..."
Before he could finish, Section Chief Yoon cut in again.
"That's exactly the point, Manager. There's no telling how much time and money it takes to build that training and experience. Is it really rational to pour that kind of investment into an unproven player? And kicking power is central to shooting accuracy. What if that power comes from muscle enhanced by steroids or some other banned substance?"
The room split once more. Now every eye turned to the director seated at the head of the table — the man who held the club's purse strings and the final say on every signing. He had listened in silence to both sides and to the manager throughout.
He appeared to review the documents for a moment, then lifted his head, surveyed the room, and spoke with measured calm.
"Mm... I've heard both sides out. The manager's input was useful as well."
He looked first at Section Chief Yoon.
"The risk management you raised, Section Chief Yoon, and the importance of the system — those are, quite naturally, the first things an administrator responsible for this club's operations must weigh. Doping in particular is not a matter we can ever take lightly. I agree completely that thorough verification is necessary."
Then he turned his gaze to Section Chief Park Cheolmin.
"However — the discovery and development of exceptional talent, as you've argued, is also a value this club should stand for. Kim Hanbin's potential on that footage is... genuinely attractive. There's no question he's a card worth considering, especially where strengthening our attack is concerned."
The director paused, then delivered his verdict.
"Very well. Here is what we'll do. Taking into account Section Chief Park's report, the coaching staff's recommendations, and the manager's remarks on his potential uses, we have decided to give Kim Hanbin his chance."
Relief spread across Park Cheolmin's face. Section Chief Yoon bit his lip.
"That said, given the concerns you raised, Section Chief Yoon, a rigorous verification process is mandatory. First, run the basic doping test and a detailed medical examination at the earliest possible date. If no preliminary problems emerge, we will proceed to a provisional contract with the player."
The director put deliberate emphasis on the words provisional contract.
"Furthermore, this provisional contract will remain a conditional agreement, valid only until the final negative result comes back from the follow-up comprehensive doping test. Should any issue surface in that comprehensive testing, the provisional contract will be voided immediately. The player himself must understand this clearly."
The director's meaning was unambiguous: they would pursue the signing, but the club would make absolutely certain its risk-management safeguards were locked in place.
"The official contract and public announcement will wait until every test result comes back clean. And the terms will start at the league minimum salary, in accordance with the club's standard rookie contract regulations. We cannot extend special privileges to a player with no career whatsoever. He will have to prove his worth on his own ability."
He paused briefly, then looked down the row of coaching staff.
"The timing and manner of his integration into team training will likewise be decided later, based on all test results and the judgment of the manager and coaching staff. Bear in mind that joining the first-team squad right away may prove difficult."
"Understood, Director. We'll proceed rigorously and make everything clear to the player."
Park Cheolmin answered. With the director's ruling delivered, Section Chief Yoon offered no further objection.
And so the discussion over Kim Hanbin was settled, at least for now. As the meeting broke up and he stepped out of the conference room, Park Cheolmin let out a long breath of relief.
We got as far as the provisional contract...! But there are still a lot of mountains to climb before the official signing. The doping results, for one...
Still — the biggest mountain is behind us.
From here on out, it was Kim Hanbin's fight.
Whether he carved out a place for himself at Seoul Citizen with the ability he possessed — or was cut loose. That was all that remained.
It won't be easy, I know... but if what I saw was real, he's more than enough.
He took out his phone and called Kim Hanbin.
A few days later.
Kim Hanbin arrived early at the café where he'd agreed to meet Section Chief Park Cheolmin and settled into a seat.
The wait since the test had felt like an eternity of blood drying in his veins — and today, at last, he would hear the result.
Before long, Park Cheolmin walked into the café. He spotted me, gave a light wave, and took the seat across from mine.
"Sorry to keep you waiting long, Hanbin?"
"Not at all, sir. I just got here myself."
"Ah. Can I get you something to drink...?"
"Oh, I'm fine, thank you."
"Still, you'll get thirsty. Two iced Americanos, please."
Only after calling the server and placing the order did he look at me and begin. His expression was still hard to read, but there was careful deliberation in his eyes.
"I'll get straight to the point. The results of the test last week were very impressive. Everyone on the coaching staff and every official in that room came away positive."
"......!"
Just knowing the evaluation was positive let a knot of tension loosen in my chest.
"So the club has decided... to give you your chance, Hanbin."
"I... really, sir?"
My heart was pounding.
"Yes. But before we go further, there's something I need to ask you honestly."
Park Cheolmin's voice dropped. He leaned slightly over the table and fixed his eyes on mine.
"Answer me honestly, Kim Hanbin. Did you dope before that test? I mean... did you use any banned substances?"
A fastball thrown straight out of nowhere.
Shock jangled through me, threaded with something close to indignation — but his eyes were dead serious.
He wasn't testing my nerve. He truly wanted to know.
I answered without a flicker of hesitation in my voice.
"No, sir. I swear on my life, never once."
At my resolute answer, Park Cheolmin's expression seemed to soften a degree.
"...Good. Looking you in the eye, I believe you. And I'm glad, truly. But the club has decided to put you through a rigorous verification process anyway, just in case. You'll be taking a simple doping test and a medical examination before long."
"Understood. Of course I'll take them."
"And once those tests come back with no problems, you'll sign a provisional contract with the club."
"A provisional... contract, you said?"
"Yes. This provisional contract is a conditional agreement, valid only until the final negative result comes back from the comprehensive doping test that follows. And remember this: if, by any chance, a problem does turn up in the comprehensive testing, the provisional contract can be voided on the spot."
A conditional contract, then... Not that it mattered — I'd never touched a banned substance in my life.
"That's fine with me, sir."
"Good. As for terms — you'll be starting at the league minimum salary, under the club's standard rookie contract regulations."
The minimum salary. I'd expected it, but I wanted to know the actual number.
"Excuse me, sir... would it be all right to ask roughly what we're talking about, the minimum salary?"
At my careful question, Park Cheolmin hesitated a moment before answering.
"Hmm... the K League minimum salary regulation is 27 million won a year. After taxes, that works out to a little over 2 million won a month in take-home pay."
"......"
Twenty-seven million a year. Barely two million a month. Far less than I'd imagined.
That's actually... less than I make doing the grunt work now, isn't it?
The material hauling was brutal, but a solid month of it brought in over six million won. The arithmetic spun through my head in an instant.
How much was Father's hospital bill a month again... with the caregiving costs... this wouldn't even come close...
Reading the change in my face, Park Cheolmin spoke with visible sympathy.
"About your family situation... I heard it from your brother. I know the number falls far short of what you need."
"......"
"But for the club's sake — for fairness with the other players, if nothing else — they can't bend the salary rules for someone with zero career, no matter the circumstances. Even so, Hanbin, this is a genuinely enormous opportunity."
Park Cheolmin took a sip of his freshly arrived americano and went on.
"Honestly? A player with no record at all — someone who quit football back in middle school — walking straight into the professional ranks, and straight into a storied K League 1 club at that... it practically never happens. It was only possible because I and every member of the coaching staff who ran your test went to bat for you with the club."
He wasn't wrong. I'd looked into the path players took to going pro back in my middle school days, and I knew better than anyone how brutal that road was.
Countless players who soared through high school and university football never managed to break through the wall of the professional game.
That someone like me had landed this chance at all was, frankly, close to a miracle.
But... reality was still reality.
When I hesitated, unable to give an easy answer, Park Cheolmin rose from his seat.
"It's not a decision you can make lightly. I understand completely. I've pushed too hard, I think. I'm sorry."
He set the cost of the coffees down on the table.
"You don't have to decide today. Think it over for a few days and give me a call. Just — don't take too long. There are club procedures to see to."
"...Yes, sir. Thank you."
"Right... I'll head off then. I'll be waiting to hear from you."
Park Cheolmin gave my shoulder a single pat and walked out of the café. Left alone, I stared down at the coffee on the table and sank into thought.
What am I supposed to do...?
The chance of a lifetime to become a professional player — set against the hard reality pressing down on me right now. In the end I pushed back my chair and left the café.
My steps toward my studio apartment felt heavy. But somewhere along the way, my heart tipped to one side.
No — this is absolutely a massive opportunity. When am I ever going to get another one like this?
Money? Of course it matters. But if I let this chance slip away over money, I'd regret it for the rest of my life.
I've got a little saved up... I'll scrape by on that somehow. Get my foot in the pro door first, then prove myself with my play. I can raise the salary later, once I've earned it.
The moment the decision settled in my chest, my footsteps seemed to lighten, just a little. And that was exactly what I was thinking about when it happened.
Bzzzzzz—
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
Unknown number. I nearly brushed it off as spam, but a flicker of curiosity — who could this be? — made me press the call button.
"Hello?"
A beat of silence on the other end. Then came a man's voice, one I felt like I'd heard somewhere before.
"Uh... no, wait, what should I call you? Ah! You're that striker guy who played as a ringer in our Sunday league a while back, right?"
"Sunday league... ah, yes, that's me. But who is this...?"
I racked my brain trying to place the voice.
"I was the center-back on the other team that day! The guy who got your number after the match!"
Ah. But why was he calling out of nowhere?
"Oh... right, I remember now. But what's this about..."
Before I could finish, the voice on the line jumped another octave higher.
"Here's the thing! Could you meet me tomorrow?!"
"Sorry — you want to meet?"
"Yes! I really want to sit down and talk with you, just once! I promise you will absolutely not regret it! I guarantee it!"
A meeting out of thin air — and delivered in a tone brimming with confidence.
Who the hell is this guy?