When in Rome, Talk Like the Gallery

The next morning, Hanbin shouldered a single, sparsely packed bag and returned to the Suwon Blue Sky clubhouse.

Having signed his official contract just yesterday, he was moving in today and joining the team for training.

A club staff member guided him to his assigned quarters, where he unpacked his things.

Befitting housing for professional athletes, the room was clean and stocked with everything he needed.

So this is where I live now.

He'd barely finished throwing his belongings around when someone knocked on the door. He opened it to find Cha Kangmin standing there in a training kit, grinning ear to ear.

"Oh. Hey, Kangmin hyung."

"Yo, you done unpacking? You got here faster than I expected."

Cha Kangmin strolled inside and gave the room a slow once-over.

"So? How's the room? You think you can live in it?"

"It's great, sir. Honestly, it's more than I deserve."

"More than you deserve, my ass."

Cha Kangmin plopped down on the bed, then suddenly seemed to remember something and pulled out his phone.

"Hey, did you check the gallery reactions after your official announcement dropped yesterday?"

"Gallery? What's that?"

Hanbin tilted his head, and Cha Kangmin stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Have you seriously spent your whole life doing nothing but soccer? You become a Suwon player and you don't even check the fan community? You don't know the Suwon gallery? THE Suwon gallery?"

"Ah... I've honestly never heard of it."

Hanbin scratched his head. Years of being crushed under part-time jobs had left him completely clueless about internet culture and online communities.

Cha Kangmin clicked his tongue and shoved his phone screen in Hanbin's face.

"Okay, listen up. Fans are everything to a soccer player. Without fans, we're just nobodies who happen to kick a ball around. The league runs on fans, our salaries go up because of fans. So you always check what they're saying and you put in the effort to engage with them. Got it?"

"Yes... you're right."

Hanbin nodded earnestly at Cha Kangmin's serious advice.

"Alright, this here is the Suwon Blue Sky gallery — we call it the Suwon gallery. Take a look at how people reacted when your signing news dropped."

He'd expected it, but the reactions were far harsher than he'd imagined — nothing but a wall of insults.

"Wow... this is, um. Nothing but curses in here."

Hanbin handed the phone back with a bitter expression, and Cha Kangmin just shrugged.

"Well... honestly, if I were a fan, I'd be pretty pissed too. That bastard Antonio caused a massive scandal, the team's results are rock-bottom, and out of nowhere a rookie with zero track record shows up as his replacement. Can you blame them?"

"So... what am I supposed to do now?"

Worry crept into Hanbin's voice. He was only just starting his professional career, and already the fans' reception was this icy.

Cha Kangmin seemed to mull it over for a moment, then delivered his answer with perfect clarity.

"Do? You prove it on the pitch. The only way is to take every one of those curses and turn them into gasps of amazement with your own skill. That's the fate of a professional."

Kangmin paused, then added:

"Orrrr... hm. You could go post a little introduction thread on the gallery right now, under your own name."

"Sorry, what? Me?"

"Yeah. You know, something like, 'Hello, I'm Kim Hanbin, the new signing. I'm lacking, but I'll work hard!' They say you can't spit on a smiling face, right? If you reach out first like that, at least the ones cursing you to your face might thin out a bit. Nothing to lose, anyway."

Hanbin mulled over the suggestion. The idea of posting directly on a fan community felt foreign to him, but Kangmin's point about smiling faces and spit had a certain logic to it.

"Hmm... you're right. I'll give it a shot."

The comment section was still mostly cold or sarcastic, but a few encouraging replies had appeared as well.

Then one comment in particular snagged his eye.

'You're talking formal at a first meeting?' — what does that even mean?

Was being polite somehow wrong? He couldn't make sense of it at all.

Hanbin turned to Cha Kangmin, who was still peering at the phone beside him.

"Um... hyung? One of the comments says, 'Talking formal at a first meeting?' What's that supposed to mean? Did I write something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wrong?"

Cha Kangmin glanced at the screen Hanbin was showing him and snorted.

"Ahh, that one?"

He waved it off like it was nothing.

"Hmm... the Suwon gallery is, how do I put this. A rough place. Everyone talks down to each other like old buddies, they curse each other out too. Think of it as a neighborhood gang of friends hanging out. So when someone comes in talking as prim and proper as you just did, it comes off weird. That's probably all it is."

"Ah... really?"

Hanbin still looked bewildered.

A community where cursing each other out and dropping all honorifics was the baseline. It was a world apart from anything Hanbin had ever known.

So I should have written my post in banmal and insults?

Hanbin chewed over Kangmin's explanation, thinking it through. Banmal and profanity were the default here. Which meant his courteous greeting might have been exactly the wrong approach for this culture.

Right — when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Around here, you play by the local rules.

Convinced he'd done a decent job matching the Suwon gallery's vibe, Hanbin hit the post button.

That ought to do it, right?

A moment later, Cha Kangmin — still glued to his own phone beside him — suddenly burst out laughing. "PUHAHAHA!"

He clutched his stomach, wheezing as he looked at Hanbin. His eyes were practically brimming with tears.

"Dude! Kim Hanbin! You are... holy crap, you're actually insane!"

Unable to stop himself, Cha Kangmin kept snickering and snorting. Hanbin, utterly lost, just blinked at him.

"Huh? Wh... what's wrong, hyung? Did I mess something up?"

Had his banmal and swearing not been strong enough? Or had he made some other mistake entirely?

Cha Kangmin finally wrestled his laughter under control and wiped his eyes.

"No, no, you didn't mess anything up. The reactions are AMAZING! Heh-heh... khh."

He bit his lip, clearly fighting back another eruption of laughter.

Caught between Cha Kangmin's inexplicable giggling and his enthusiastic verdict, Hanbin still tilted his head in confusion — but he relaxed all the same.

Good reactions, huh? Time to see for myself.

He tapped back into the post he'd just written. Comments were already piling up — Kangmin had been right, the thread was clearly on fire.

Yep. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. That's what works around here.

Just then, Cha Kangmin got up from the bed.

"Hanbin, if you're done unpacking, it's time to get to team training. Come out to the pitch."

"Already? So soon?"

"So soon, nothing. You're one of us starting today. The manager said if your condition's fine, you join afternoon training right away. Get ready and get out there."

And with that, Cha Kangmin swept out of the room.

Team training... it's finally really beginning.

Hanbin looked at the training kit, the cleats, and the huge bag of gear the club had provided. The Suwon Blue Sky crest was emblazoned boldly on the front of the bag.

"Wow... being a pro really does come with everything supplied."

A brand-new training kit and gleaming new cleats — things he never could have dreamed of before.

Now it truly begins.

He found the locker with his name — KIM HANBIN — stowed his things, and laced up his cleats. Then he headed for the training ground.

Several players were already out there, loosening up. One of them spotted Hanbin and jogged over — a young player with a boyish face, probably a fellow youngest-generation teammate.

"Oh? You're Kim Hanbin, the new signing, right?"

He smiled brightly and stuck out his hand first.

"Yes, that's me. Kim Hanbin."

"Wow, great to meet you! I'm Kwon Yeongdae, central midfielder. Looking forward to playing together!"

Kwon Yeongdae approached without a hint of awkwardness.

"Likewise. You seem to be my senior, so feel free to just call me casually."

"I will then. Haha."

But not every player was so welcoming.

While Hanbin was exchanging greetings with Kwon Yeongdae, another player warming up on the far side was watching him with eyes full of wariness.

That'd be... Yoon Hyeonjin, was it? Center forward — my direct rival for the position.

When Yoon Hyeonjin's eyes met Hanbin's, he clicked his tongue and turned away.

... Yeah, this won't be easy.

It was only natural. The professional world was cold. If a rookie who'd rolled in out of nowhere might ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠threaten your spot on the roster, of course you'd keep your guard up.

Anyone good enough to play for a pro club clawed their way up through cutthroat competition since ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠childhood, and one step beyond that, everyone knows everyone. To them, I'm a complete stranger — a rock that just rolled in.

Wariness, jealousy, or outright dismissal. Those were the stares he would have to bear going forward.

It's fine. I expected this.

In the end, this was a place where skill proved everything.

Before long, Manager Kim Seongcheol and the coaching staff emerged onto the training ground. At the sharp blow of the manager's whistle, the scattered players converged at the center for a short pre-training meeting.

Once everyone had gathered, Kim Seongcheol nudged Hanbin, who was standing beside him, forward.

"Alright, everyone, eyes here! Let me introduce our new teammate joining us starting today."

Every player's gaze locked onto Hanbin.

"Name's Kim Hanbin. Position: striker. He joined the team today, so as his seniors, I expect you all to look after him and help him settle in. Hanbin, introduce yourself."

At the manager's word, Hanbin bowed a full ninety degrees toward the players.

"Hello! I'm Kim Hanbin, the newest member of this team! I know I have a long way to go, but I'll learn as hard as I can and give everything to be an asset to this team! I look forward to working with all of you!"

His voice rang out loud and clear. Applause rippled through the squad, though the appraising, sizing-up looks didn't fade.

Just then, a veteran midfielder — one of the most senior players there — spoke up with a mischievous smile.

"Hey, rookie! Welcome aboard! So tell us — what's your specialty? You got a signature skill or what?"

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Hanbin hesitated for a beat.

Then he answered in a voice as firm as iron.

"I take a very good free kick."

"Ooh, free kicks?" The veteran raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "How good are we talking?"

Hanbin chose his words carefully. Then, with every player's eyes on him, he declared with total confidence:

"Probably... the best in the world."

"······?"

The players exchanged dumbfounded glances, and a few of them burst out laughing.

"Best in the world, huh?"

"Man, I like it. This rookie's got confidence to spare."

"Wow, look at the audacity. Great — so I guess we just hand every free kick to Hanbin from now on? Haha."

Laughter and buzzing chatter rose among the players.

Utterly unbothered by the reactions around him, Hanbin added:

"Yes, sir. I mean it. Just leave it to me."

His expression was dead serious — eyes brimming with conviction that left no room for jokes or bluster.

Then Yoon Hyeonjin, who had shown such naked hostility toward Hanbin earlier, sneered.

"Best in the world, eh? Perfect. We were just about to run free-kick practice anyway — go on then, show us a demonstration first. A hundred hearings aren't worth one look, right?"