Seeing Is Believing
"Best in the world, huh... I like it. I was just about to practice free kicks myself, so why don't you demonstrate first? Seeing is believing, after all?"
At Yoon Hyeonjin's challenge, every eye on the training ground turned back to Kim Hanbin.
Some eyes mocked. Others carried a flicker of curiosity.
Everyone expected Hanbin to get flustered or laugh it off, but his reaction caught them all off guard.
Hanbin still wore that same serious expression as he looked toward Manager Kim Seongcheol.
"Manager. May I show them?"
The manager hesitated for a moment.
It was an unexpected situation, one that could disrupt the rhythm of training.
But he could feel the subtle current running between his players.
A rookie with no record whatsoever. A signing that had come through a path unlike anyone else's.
There were certainly players who resented Hanbin's arrival — and among them, someone like Yoon Hyeonjin, a direct rival for the same position, would resent it most of all.
He'd have to go through this sooner or later anyway. The locker room's already been whispering about it... Might as well use this chance to show exactly what he can do. Better than letting them mutter behind his back.
At the same time, the manager himself was curious.
Could Hanbin really reproduce those astonishing shots from the tryout — this time, in front of the whole squad?
"...Fine."
Manager Kim nodded.
"Everyone's still loosening up anyway, so we'll watch a free kick demonstration first. Same as you did at the tryout — show us. However you kick it."
The moment permission was granted, a faint smile spread across Kim Hanbin's lips.
Hanbin swept his gaze over the goal once, then made a suggestion.
"Hmm... kicking alone isn't much fun. Since we're doing this anyway, could we make a little game out of it?"
"A game?"
The manager and the players echoed him, puzzled.
"Yes. A one-on-one free kick duel against every single member of the team here. We take turns shooting — miss once, and you're out. Whoever's left standing at the end wins."
Kim Hanbin's proposal sent the training ground into an uproar.
"What? He wants to go one-on-one with the entire team?"
"And they say the MZ generation's all about the MZ generation. Guess it was true."
"Rookies these days have no fear at all..."
"If the manager tells you to kick, you kick. What's with the games?"
The veteran midfielder — the same one who'd demanded to know what Hanbin was actually good at — shouted in open disbelief.
"Hey, kid. You're saying you can beat every single guy here in a free kick duel?"
Despite the veteran's biting tone, Hanbin didn't so much as blink.
"That's the only way you'd all believe me, sunbaenim. I did tell you I'm the best free kick taker in the world."
The veteran's brow furrowed.
"Ha! Kids these days really don't know the meaning of fear."
He clicked his tongue, muttering just loud enough for the players around him to hear.
"Where the hell does a youth product get off being that full of himself?"
The veteran asked his junior teammates nearby in an irritated voice. One of them answered cautiously.
"Uh... sunbaenim. I heard his entire career... ends at middle school."
The murmur that spread through the squad grew even louder.
"Him? That kid? I figured he'd be headed straight to the reserves..."
The fact that a player whose résumé ended at middle school had joined the pros — and skipped straight into first-team training, no less — was shocking news even to the players.
"What? Middle school? Hey! Then how the hell did he even get in here?"
The veteran's voice rose louder and louder.
Just as the atmosphere threatened to turn ugly, Cha Kangmin, who had been listening quietly nearby, stepped forward.
Kangmin looked the veteran dead in the eye, his voice glacial.
"Hanbin's here because I recommended him, sunbaenim. Got a problem with that?"
The moment Cha Kangmin — the team captain and a national team player — intervened, the air on the training ground froze solid.
"No... Kangmin, that's not what I meant..."
Flustered as he clearly was, the veteran couldn't bring himself to argue with Cha Kangmin to his face. His lips just twitched wordlessly.
Cha Kangmin, captain and international, was the true power in this team — the power behind the power.
The players who had been chiming in alongside him quietly shut their mouths as well.
Then Kangmin's frosty expression melted into a playful grin.
But there was a peculiar pressure woven into that smile.
"Come on, sunbaenim, don't be like that. The manager and I drove all the way up to Seoul together to bring Hanbin in, you know."
Kangmin swept his gaze across the whole squad.
"Doesn't it sound like you're saying the manager and I did something wrong? Hahaha."
He said it with a laugh, but the message was unmistakable.
Stop questioning Kim Hanbin's background or how he was signed. Now.
The veteran ultimately said nothing more and closed his mouth.
Kangmin turned back to Hanbin.
"Alright, Hanbin! You said the words, so you'd better back them up, right? Come on then — show us a world-class free kick!"
"Yes, sir."
***
The players gathered at one end of the training ground.
A free kick from thirty meters out — quite a distance for scoring directly from a set piece.
And in front of the goal, several life-sized practice dummies had been arranged in a tight wall, recreating a real defensive wall.
Good. This is about as close to a real match as it gets. Let's see just how accurately he can bend it over that wall...
Manager Kim crossed his arms and studied Kim Hanbin.
The players watched too, each wearing a look halfway between expectation and doubt, as Hanbin picked up a ball and walked to the free kick spot.
With practiced ease, he set the ball down and stepped back.
"Shall we begin?"
When Hanbin asked, Manager Kim gave a nod.
After a short run-up, Hanbin wrapped his right instep around the ball.
Wham—!
The ball arced gracefully over the wall of dummies and was sucked into the top right corner of the goal with pinpoint precision.
A perfect trajectory that no goalkeeper on earth could have stopped.
Thwack—!
At the crisp snap of the net, a collective gasp burst from the watching players.
"Whoa~"
"Damn, the kid can actually kick."
"Guess he wasn't talking big after all."
That single kick was enough to convince everyone that Kim Hanbin's claim was no empty bragging. The mockery drained from the players' faces, replaced by something earnest.
"Alright, next shooter!"
At Manager Kim's call, an unexpected figure stepped forward — Choi Hyunsoo, the team's starting goalkeeper.
"Huh? Hyunsoo-hyung! What're you coming out for? Haha."
"Since when does the goalkeeper take free kicks?!"
His teammates ribbed him through their laughter, but Hyunsoo paid them no mind and grabbed a ball.
"Hey! I took plenty of free kicks back in my day! And I'd out-kick the lot of you anyway!"
"Oh please, hyung, just be good at goal kicks! Don't come out here and embarrass yourself!"
"Shut it! This looks fun! I'm having a turn!"
Beaming with confidence, Hyunsoo set the ball down and prepared his kick.
But with far too much power behind it, his shot thudded uselessly off the wall of dummies and ricocheted away.
"Booooooo~"
"See?! You should've just stayed back there!"
Jeers and jabs rained down on him. Hyunsoo scratched his head sheepishly and retreated.
Thanks to him, the stiff atmosphere lightened considerably. Even Manager Kim allowed himself a faint smile watching the players carry on.
He could feel things getting too tense, so he stepped up himself to break the ice. That's Hyunsoo for you. Always thinking about the team's mood — a good kid.
After the goalkeeper's elimination, the next in line were mostly the defenders.
Each of them strutted up declaring they had a trick or two up their sleeve, but nearly every attempt sailed wide or smacked into the wall.
Even for professionals, curling an accurate free kick over a human-sized wall from thirty meters was no easy feat.
A few more defenders fell by the wayside, and then it was Cha Kangmin's turn.
Kangmin strolled up with the ball, the picture of relaxation.
"Ahh, now it's the captain's turn, is it? A captain's gotta bury one of these to show everyone what Suwon leadership looks like!"
Hamming it up for the crowd, Kangmin took his run-up and unleashed a powerful right-footed instep drive.
BOOM—!
The ball rocketed in low and fast, shaving past the edge of the wall and slamming precisely into the bottom corner of the goal.
"Oooooh! That's our captain!"
"Wow, look at that kicking power!"
Admiration erupted all around. A powerful, precise strike worthy of a national team center-back.
Kangmin strutted back to his spot with both arms thrust triumphantly toward the sky.
The first successful shooter from the Suwon squad had emerged. Now it was Kim Hanbin's turn again.
Every eye locked onto him once more. Could he do it again?
Kim Hanbin, utterly unbothered, simply set another ball down.
And with the exact same right-footed curler as before, he buried it in the exact same top right corner.
Thwaaack—!
Twice in a row, the identical spot. Another wave of gasps rolled through the players.
"He's good."
"How the hell does he curl it into the exact same spot every time?"
"Clean, too."
Cha Kangmin, watching from the side, let out a whistle.
"Phew~ Kid really can kick, can't he. Respect."
Then he picked up another ball and headed back to the spot. Kangmin's second attempt.
"Alright, time for me to put some real technique on it."
Kangmin wound up for another thunderous instep strike.
This time, he adjusted his angle carefully, apparently trying to pick out the corner of the goal with more precision.
BOOM—!
The driven ball clipped past the wall of dummies by the narrowest of margins — but slammed hard off the left post and bounced away.
"So close!"
"Boooooo~ Captain's out!"
"Swap the captain! Swap the captain!"
The players jeered and taunted Kangmin as if they'd been waiting for it.
Kangmin clutched his head at the near miss, but soon grinned and hollered back at the squad.
"Hey! I'm a center-back! Have you ever seen a center-back take a free kick like that?! That counts as great!"
Laughter rippled through the players once more.
After Kangmin's elimination, the remaining shooters were mostly midfielders and forwards.
They were the ones with reputations as the team's dead-ball specialists, but the thirty-meter free kick remained a stubborn obstacle.
Two midfielders stepped up in succession — one blazed his shot high over the bar, the other crashed it into the wall.
And then, at last, came the turn of the veteran midfielder who had first picked a fight with Kim Hanbin.
With a confident look, the veteran set the ball down and prepared his kick with great care.
Wham—!
The ball left his foot tracing a beautiful curve, cleared the wall, and was drawn inside the goal.
It wasn't the perfect corner Hanbin had found, but it was a stable, well-struck free kick by any measure.
"Oooooh~ Class is class!"
"Nice one, sunbaenim!"
This time the players applauded with genuine admiration.
The veteran midfielder puffed up his chest and shot a sideways glance at Kim Hanbin. See that? I can do this much too — his eyes seemed to say.
Now it was Kim Hanbin's third attempt.
There was a new quality in the players' gaze now — genuine anticipation.
Kim Hanbin's expression remained as flat as ever.
He set down his third ball and went through the exact same routine as the first two times.
The same right-footed curler.
Thwaaack—!
The result was exactly what everyone now feared.
As if pulled by a magnet, the ball flew along a trajectory perfectly identical to the previous two and curled into the top right corner yet again.
Three in a row — in chillingly, eerily identical spots.
"...Whoa!"
"...That kid really can kick!"
"Wow... how do you hit the same spot three times in a row?!"
Gasps of shock and admiration erupted from all directions.
The players could only look back and forth between the ball rippling the net and Kim Hanbin's impassive face.
Amid the chorus of disbelief, the veteran midfielder who had scored earlier stepped forward again.
"Alright, move aside. I've got the feel for it now!"
Confidently, he placed the ball down and readied another free kick.
But this time, with too much muscle behind it, his shot sailed well over the crossbar.
"......"
An unmistakable failure.
Yet this time, instead of jeers, only silence followed, along with soulless murmurs of "Ah, so close!" and "It was almost in!"
He was the senior player infamous around the club for his explosive temper, so nobody dared tease him openly.
Scowling furiously, the veteran spat out a curse — "Ah, damn it...!" — and retreated.
Several more players took their turns after that, but the results were much the same.
Shots drifting wide, shots caroming off the wall — eliminations piled up one after another.
Now only Kim Hanbin and a handful of the forwards remained.
And finally, it was Yoon Hyeonjin's turn.
With Antonio gone, Hyeonjin was now the team's starting forward — and Suwon Bluesky's designated free kick taker.
He was known for burying sharp free kicks from considerable distance.
Yoon Hyeonjin walked to the spot in silence, ball in hand.
On his face sat confidence — and a strange, simmering competitiveness aimed squarely at Kim Hanbin.
He steadied his breathing carefully and lashed a powerful right-footed instep shot around the ball.
Wham—!
The ball traced a gorgeous arc over the wall and dropped precisely into the corner of the goal.
It wasn't quite the impossible corner Hanbin kept finding, but it was a nasty, keeper-proof course.
"Ooooh! That's our Hyeonjin!"
"Krrr~ THAT'S what our designated kicker looks like!"
"Nice kick!"
True to his billing as the team's dead-ball specialist.
Having scored, Yoon Hyeonjin shot a single glare in Kim Hanbin's direction and turned away without a word.
His eyes seemed to carry a message: No matter how well you kick, the free kicks on this team belong to me.
Hold on — all I said was that I'm good at free kicks... What did I even do to earn this much hate?
Kim Hanbin found Yoon Hyeonjin's blatant hostility absurd. But at the same time, it lit a fire in him.
Fine. So that's how you want to play it? Then I'll show you exactly how wide the gap between us is.
Now it was Kim Hanbin's fourth attempt.
This time, instead of the right foot, Hanbin shifted the ball slightly to one side to prepare for a left-footed kick.
At the sight, a fresh murmur broke out among the players.
"Huh? Hey, he switched sides!"
"No way... is he trying to kick it with his left?"
"Come on, there's no way his left foot is that good too."
"Seriously? He's good with both?"
The players stared at Hanbin's next move with eyes caught somewhere between disbelief and burning anticipation.
His right foot alone had already been overwhelming. But if his left was at the same level...
Oblivious to the buzzing around him, Hanbin calmly settled into his left-footed stance.
Then he drew a deep breath and whipped his left instep through the ball with full force.
Wham—!