The Shaking Bridge Effect
Kim Seongcheol, manager of Suwon Blue Sky, gripped the steering wheel with a grave expression.
In the passenger seat sat Cha Kangmin, the national team center-back and the team's captain, gazing out the window.
Their destination was a café in Seoul — the place where they would meet that nameless striker Cha Kangmin had praised until his throat ran dry just days before.
"Haah..."
Manager Kim let out a deep sigh without even realizing it. Cha Kangmin, sitting beside him, didn't miss the sound.
"Coach, why are you sighing again? You should be excited about meeting this kid!"
"Excited, my foot."
Manager Kim answered curtly, glancing at Cha Kangmin through the rearview mirror.
"Hey, Kangmin. Do you honestly think it's right for me to be driving all the way from Suwon to Seoul, in the middle of our busiest stretch, just to meet some middle-school-level player? We could've just told him to come to our clubhouse. Why do we insist on making things hard for ourselves?"
Cha Kangmin shot back with a look of pure disbelief.
"Oh, come on, Coach! If some total stranger calls out of nowhere and tells a guy living in Seoul to come all the way to Suwon, do you think he'd actually show up? Obviously we have to go to him!"
"Hey, you punk! He's not a total stranger — we're the Suwon Blue Sky manager and captain reaching out to say we're interested. Isn't that enough? He dreams of going pro, doesn't he? Then of course he should come!"
At the manager's exasperated retort, Cha Kangmin wagged his index finger with an air of superior knowledge.
"Aigoo, Coach! You just don't get it! Have you ever heard of the shaking bridge effect?"
"Shaking bridge? What the hell is that?"
"Ahem! Well, you see..." Cha Kangmin cleared his throat and began his explanation.
"From the kid's perspective, he strolls into a café without a second thought — and BAM! Sitting right there are yours truly, national team center-back Cha Kangmin, and the legendary mastermind Manager Kim Seongcheol! So now he's thinking, 'Huh? What's going on? Why are these huge names here to see ME?' — total confusion, right?"
"So what's your point?"
"At that moment! We drop the line — 'Suwon Blue Sky wants YOU!' — like THIS! Kyaah~"
Cha Kangmin even threw in exaggerated hand gestures.
"And just like that, the game is over! Amid all the emotion and confusion, he goes, 'Yes! I'll sign!' and stamps the contract on the spot~ Now THAT, my friend, is the art of negotiation!"
Manager Kim let out a hollow laugh, utterly dumbfounded by the absurd logic.
"Hey... you little punk, seriously... You start running that YouTube channel and you come back with all kinds of nonsense..."
"Psh, Coach! This is all scientifically proven psychology! Just trust me on this one!"
Cha Kangmin remained as confident as ever. Manager Kim shook his head, apparently too tired to keep arguing.
"Oh, come on, Coach, really! You watched his match footage and completely lost it yourself! You said, 'This kid is the real deal!' And we're the ones who need him right now! What if another team snatches him up first?"
Cha Kangmin's voice rose again. Manager Kim clicked his tongue in response.
"Hey — nobody on this earth poaches a kid whose entire career ends at middle school. Nobody."
Even as he said it, though, Manager Kim's mind was a tangled mess. Ever since he'd watched the footage, that nameless kid's play kept circling in his head.
"I'll admit... the way he plays on video, it's different. Like you said, Kangmin — either he's some guy who caused trouble at an overseas youth academy and ran back to Korea, or he's just an inexplicable, monstrous talent. It's one or the other."
The manager murmured it half to himself.
"But with talent like that, there would've been rumors flying since middle school... How has nobody known about him until now?"
"Like me? Hahaha!"
Cha Kangmin cut in from the side with his usual antics. Manager Kim stared at him for a long moment, then chuckled despite himself.
"Whew. Yeah, that's my boy. The whole industry knows exactly how good you are. Happy now?"
The manager fell silent for a beat, then turned his focus back to the road, his expression hardening again. The grim reality of the team had crept back into his mind.
"Anyway... we have to get this decision right. That bastard Antonio has wrecked the mood in the locker room, and our attack is in shambles. If we botch this signing, we're truly finished."
At the manager's sighing words, Cha Kangmin dropped the joking act and pulled out his phone.
Suwon Blue Sky's fan community, better known as the "Suwon Gallery." As expected, it was a disaster.
Ever since Antonio's drunk-driving accident, the gallery had been consumed by fan outrage and criticism of the team's slump — burning well past the point of a mere firestorm and well into an inferno.
"Ha... what a complete disaster."
Cha Kangmin sighed. Things had gotten to the point where even his beloved community nickname, "CenterbackLivingInSuwon," couldn't paper over it.
He closed the screen and turned to the manager.
"So, Coach, what happened with Kim Young-jun from Pohang? Shouldn't we be bringing him in as soon as possible?"
Manager Kim's face scrunched up in disgust.
"Those bastards... The second the Antonio scandal broke, his agent suddenly stopped taking my calls."
"What? Why?"
"Take a guess. Because now WE'RE the desperate ones. It's a play to jack up his price as high as he can."
Still seething, Manager Kim squeezed the steering wheel tighter.
Kim Hanbin, having arrived a little earlier than the appointed time, sat by the window and stared down at the table.
The phone call had come on his way home yesterday. The center-back from the Sunday league matches — the one who'd wanted to meet, and who'd spoken with such confidence, as if he had some extraordinary proposal to make. What on earth could it be?
Curiosity mingled with a faint wariness, but he had shown up to the meeting all the same.
Ring—
At the sound of the café door opening, Kim Hanbin instinctively looked up.
Two men were walking in. One was the center-back with the sports goggles he'd seen at the Sunday league games.
The other was a man in his mid-forties, dressed in training clothes.
The attire was relaxed and casual, yet something about the man radiated an undeniable charisma.
The two came straight to the table where Hanbin sat.
Manager Kim arrived first, and before even taking his seat, he looked Hanbin up and down.
Whew... I heard he was in great shape, but this is something else entirely.
Even in photos and video, the kid had looked impressive — but in person, the physical presence hit on a whole different level.
188 centimeters tall, shoulders spread wide, thick forearms, and solid, powerful thighs. It was a physique sculpted to perfection, rare even among professional athletes.
And THAT body produces those shots? If the play in that video wasn't some once-in-a-lifetime fluke... then this kid is the genuine article.
Manager Kim marveled to himself. At that moment, Hanbin spoke first.
But his gaze wasn't directed at the manager — it was on Cha Kangmin, standing beside him.
"Ah... hello? We've... met before, right?"
Recognizing the goggled Cha Kangmin, Hanbin offered a slightly awkward greeting.
Manager Kim found it faintly absurd that he'd been passed over despite standing right there, but Cha Kangmin clearly found the situation hilarious, grinning as he ribbed his manager.
"Oh dear! You didn't recognize the coach?! See, national team players really are on another level! Only YOU recognized me!"
At the teasing, Manager Kim let out a rueful laugh — "You little rascal..." — while Hanbin, utterly lost, wore a question mark on his face.
Cha Kangmin smirked at the sight, then took off his goggles.
Extending his hand, he introduced himself properly.
"Haha, just kidding. Nice to meet you. Well — no, technically we've met, so not exactly the first time? Anyway, I'm Cha Kangmin."
The familiar face that had been hidden behind the goggles. Anyone who followed the national team would have recognized it instantly.
"...!!"
Hanbin's eyes went wide with disbelief.
"Cha Kangmin? The player?!"
"Yes, that's me."
Cha Kangmin smiled with easy composure, and Hanbin clasped the offered hand.
"Oh! Hello! I'm a huge fan!"
"Haha, thank you."
Cha Kangmin gave the hand a light shake, then gestured to the man beside him and continued.
"And this gentleman next to me is Kim Seongcheol, the manager of our Suwon Blue Sky."
Only then did Hanbin realize who the middle-aged man sitting beside them was. He jolted in shock once more and bowed at the waist.
"Ah! I'm so sorry, Coach! I didn't recognize you!"
Manager Kim gave him an awkward smile.
"No, it's fine. Perfectly understandable. Please, have a seat."
And so the brief introductions came to an end, and an awkward silence settled over the table for a moment.
It was Cha Kangmin who broke it. Flashing his trademark easygoing smile, he addressed Hanbin.
"Oh, by the way, I never actually got your name properly, did I? Things were such a blur at that match last time. If you don't mind my asking — what's your name?"
At the question, Hanbin seemed to snap back to his senses.
"Ah... yes! I'm Kim Hanbin. Nineteen years old."
"Kim Hanbin. Nineteen. Wow, young indeed."
Cha Kangmin nodded, repeating the name to himself, then extended his hand once more.
"A pleasure, Hanbin. I'm Cha Kangmin. I know we just shook hands, but let's make it official this time."
"Yes! A pleasure to meet you, Player Cha Kangmin!"
Once the brief round of introductions was done, Manager Kim Seongcheol spoke up, his expression serious. He didn't drag out the preamble — he went straight to the point.
"Kim Hanbin."
"Yes, Coach."
Without meaning to, Hanbin sat up straight and met the manager's eyes.
"The reason I asked to see you today is nothing complicated. I want to offer you a contract."
"...I'm sorry?"
Hanbin's eyes widened again. A contract? What kind of contract?
"I want to sign you as a striker for our Suwon Blue Sky."
"...!"
Stunned by the sudden declaration, Hanbin sat blank for a moment before gathering himself to speak.
"I... Coach, Player Cha Kangmin, I'm truly grateful for this offer. But..."
He hesitated, then forced out the words with difficulty.
"The thing is... I... a few days ago, I had contract talks with Seoul Citizen..."
"...What?"
"...I'm sorry, what did you say?"
This time it was the manager and Cha Kangmin who froze in shock at the same instant.
The easy confidence that had been on both their faces vanished in a heartbeat.
"D-did you say Seoul Citizen?"
Manager Kim repeated it as if he couldn't possibly have heard right.
"Hanbin! You're telling me you've been negotiating with Seoul Citizen?!"
Cha Kangmin pressed urgently.
Startled even further by their reactions, Hanbin nodded.
"Yes... I took their trial a few days ago, and the talks went positively, so I'm supposed to sign a preliminary contract soon..."
"A preliminary contract? So you haven't signed anything yet?"
Cha Kangmin seized on it immediately.
"No... I haven't put my stamp on anything yet. They said we'd finalize after the doping test and medical results..."
The manager and Cha Kangmin exchanged a look. The shock between them was legible in their eyes alone.
Damn it! Were we a step too late? No — if he hasn't signed, there's still a chance.
Cha Kangmin's mind raced just as furiously.
Manager Kim recovered first and shot to his feet.
"Hanbin, excuse us for a moment. Kangmin — come with me. Now."
He said it to Cha Kangmin and strode straight out of the café.
Cha Kangmin, wearing a sheepish expression, offered Hanbin an apologetic nod and followed.
Outside the café door, a short distance away, a heated exchange began between the two men.
"Hey! Cha Kangmin!"
Manager Kim growled in a low voice.
"What the hell did you tell me earlier? You were bragging up and down that nobody else knew about this kid, that no one would be interested! So why is Seoul Citizen already trying to poach him?!"
Cha Kangmin fired back, clearly feeling wronged.
"Coach, come on! You said the same thing! 'Nobody poaches a kid whose career ends at middle school!' I figured so too, obviously! Who could've known a Seoul scout would show up at a Sunday league match of all places?!"
"Well... that's... fair, but..."
"And he hasn't signed anything yet, has he? Which means we've still got a shot, right?"
Manager Kim let out a sigh and clutched his head. At that moment, Cha Kangmin's eyes lit up as if he'd just thought of something.
"Coach! Then here's the play! We find out what salary Seoul Citizen offered, and we just offer double! Simple as that!"
At Cha Kangmin's radical proposal, the manager furrowed his brow.
"Hey! Are you out of your mind? You know damn well how thin our club's budget is — what do you mean, double?! We haven't even resolved the Antonio mess, and you want to dump that kind of money on a rookie? You think the front office and the board are just going to sit quietly?"
Offering an unproven rookie an inflated salary could spark serious backlash from within the club itself.
"If Seoul has any sense, they wouldn't have thrown crazy money at an unproven rookie either! We hear their number, and if it's something we can manage, then we top it — that's all!"
"And what if we bend over backwards to bring him in and he doesn't live up to the hype? Then what? Are YOU going to take responsibility?"
The manager snapped. But Cha Kangmin didn't back down.
"Oh, Coach, come on! Is now really the time to be nitpicking? If the budget's a problem, we cut somewhere else! If we bring this kid in and avoid relegation, that's a bargain in the end, isn't it? And from everything I've seen, there is NO chance he underdelivers! And if he somehow does... then dock my own salary!"
At the words "dock my own salary," Manager Kim paused for a moment.
"Coach! The team's on the brink of relegation, Antonio's gone over a DUI, and Kim Young-jun's agent is holding us hostage! If we let a striker slip away now, second division is a done deal! We grab him first and figure the rest out later!"
At Cha Kangmin's desperate plea, Manager Kim sank into deep thought once more.
Kangmin was right. Suwon was backed up against the cliff's edge.
The budget? Internal backlash? Sure, they mattered — but avoiding the worst-case scenario of relegation was far more urgent.
And Kim Hanbin's play in that video had shown unmistakable potential to fill exactly the gaps this team had.
Ah, the hell with it!
Manager Kim shook his head hard, as if shaking off the tangled thoughts, then looked at Cha Kangmin with resolve.
"...All right. Let's take the gamble first and worry about the rest after."
"Sorry?"
"We make our offer first and see how he reacts. Whether he wavers when we put better terms on the table than Seoul Citizen. If we can see he's willing to come, then I'll handle persuading the front office and the board myself — one way or another."
At the manager's unexpected decision, Cha Kangmin's face lit up brilliantly.
"Oho! That's our Coach! A man worthy of Cha Kangmin's seal of approval! Now THAT is a bold call!"
"Shut up. Let's get back in there. We're short on time."
Manager Kim answered gruffly, but there was a new kind of determination in his eyes.
The two men returned to the café.
Manager Kim sat down across from Hanbin once more and began, his voice grave.
"Hanbin."
"Yes, Coach."
"You said you've been in talks with Seoul Citizen."
"Yes... that's right."
Manager Kim leaned over the table and looked Hanbin dead in the eye.
"We at Suwon Blue Sky need you. I want you to come to our team — right now — and play for us as a professional."
"......!"
It was a far more direct message than the recruitment offer from moments before.
"I don't know what terms Seoul Citizen has offered you. But I will promise you this: whatever they've put on the table, we will beat it. Unconditionally. The salary, the contract length, any other option — we will do our utmost to reflect whatever terms you want."
It was a staggering offer from Manager Kim.
Hanbin was momentarily at a loss for words, staring blankly at the manager's face.
Better than Seoul Citizen... unconditionally?
His mind began to race. The offer he'd heard a few days ago from Manager Park at Seoul Citizen floated back to him.
Passing Seoul Citizen's entry trial. A dreamlike opportunity — but reality was cold.
A preliminary contract, an unstable status at best, and the league-minimum salary of 27 million won.
Considering his father's hospital bills and the household expenses, the amount was nowhere near enough.
And now here sat the manager of another storied K League club and its captain, promising to unconditionally beat those terms.
Wait... is there something I don't know here? Is my value actually way higher than I thought?
This surreal situation — two clubs competing for him.
Barely days ago he'd been agonizing over when he could even take a trial, and now he was the object of a bidding war between K League teams. He could hardly believe it.
Then a thought flashed through Kim Hanbin's mind.
Could I... maybe drive my price up past Seoul's minimum offer?
With competition in play, it might actually work, he thought.
He didn't need much. Just enough to help with his parents' hospital bills.
And Suwon, crucially, didn't even know yet how much Seoul had offered.
The two men before him — especially the earnest look on Manager Kim's face — gave him a flicker of hope.
So... do I tell them how much Seoul offered me..? Ah, whatever, who cares. No way around it!