The Director's Restless Fingers
The warm, friendly atmosphere from moments ago had vanished without a trace.
But Hanbin simply wore an awkward smile and spoke again amid the sudden chill.
“Haha... Honestly, if I'm being frank, when I made that statement, I was... quite angry at the time. So before I knew it, I just...”
Hanbin paused, choosing his words carefully, then opened his mouth with genuine sincerity.
“But today, Seoul Citizen's General Manager and Section Chief Park came all the way here in person for a junior like me, offered a heartfelt apology, and told me the person responsible has been fully dealt with. All the anger I felt back then has melted away. I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize once more for speaking so recklessly, out of turn. I'm truly sorry.”
When he finished, Hanbin rose from his seat and bowed a deep, ninety-degree bow toward Seoul Citizen's General Manager and Section Chief Park Cheolmin.
The sincerity of Hanbin's apology and explanation began to thaw the frost that had settled over the meeting room.
The first to react was Section Chief Park. With a sigh of relief, he burst out laughing.
“Haha... Aigoo, Hanbin. You're young—your blood runs hot, doesn't it! It happens! People say things they don't mean when they're angry!”
Seoul Citizen's General Manager likewise softened his stiff expression and answered with a smile.
“It's quite all right, Kim Hanbin. If anything, you must have suffered a great deal on our account, so I'm grateful for your understanding. Haha.”
Only after the two men's generous responses did General Manager Lee Sang-ho of Suwon finally let out a breath of relief and turn to Hanbin.
“Wait... Hanbin. If you saw how things were going just now, you could've quietly let it slide. Why did you have to come out and admit it was you? You nearly made the mood worse for nothing.”
Kim Hanbin scratched his head as he answered.
“Ah... well... Seoul Citizen's General Manager and Section Chief Park apologized to me so sincerely that trying to brush the whole thing past with a lie felt... wrong. Like bad manners. So I told the truth. I'm sorry again for all the commotion.”
When Kim Hanbin bowed his head once more, Seoul Citizen's General Manager waved his hands dismissively to stop him.
“How many times do I have to say it's fine! Kim Hanbin, really.”
Seoul Citizen's General Manager and Section Chief Park Cheolmin left the Suwon Blue Sky clubhouse and climbed into their car without a word.
Section Chief Park took the wheel. The General Manager sank deep into the back seat and stared out the window.
Unlike the warm, amiable meeting room, the air inside the car somehow felt heavy and cold.
Every so often, Section Chief Park stole a glance at the General Manager's face through the rearview mirror.
The man appeared to be watching the scenery, but his fingers, fidgeting nonstop, told a different story—he was in a thoroughly foul mood.
General Manager... he must be absolutely livid.
Section Chief Park sighed inwardly.
Though the General Manager himself seemed oblivious, most of Seoul Citizen's front-office staff knew about his one hidden habit.
Whenever he was extremely angry or in a terrible mood, his fingers started fidgeting without his even realizing it.
That was why an unspoken rule among the front-office staff was simple: never rile him up or deliver important reports while his fingers were going.
Then again... knowing the man's personality, there's no way he's happy about today—bowing his head in person to apologize to some kid half his age... And yet he smiled like that in the meeting room. Honestly, the man's acting is something else.
As far as Section Chief Park could tell, Seoul Citizen's General Manager had never intended to apologize to Kim Hanbin in person for this whole affair in the first place.
The problem, most likely, was a single phone call that came in last night, during the club's emergency meeting.
When the General Manager had stepped out of the meeting room for a long call and returned, his face was the very picture of death.
He's been desperate to land a new main sponsor lately... Did he get read the riot act by upstairs over this?
Park couldn't know the exact details, but there had to be a reason that prideful man was driven all the way to Suwon.
After a long silence settled over the car, the General Manager quietly called out.
“Section Chief Park.”
“Yes, sir.”
Park answered, tensing up despite himself.
“You were the one who first ran the test on that fellow Kim Hanbin, weren't you?”
“Yes, that's right.”
There was an edge to the General Manager's voice.
“Then could you tell me, in detail, exactly how you came to discover him?”
“Yeokdong and Gamdong, Hana Bank K League 1—hello, football fans everywhere! Coming to you live from Suwon World Cup Stadium, packed to the rafters with heat and roaring cheers, it's the greatest derby in the league! The Super Match between sworn rivals Seoul Citizen and Suwon Blue Sky! We'll be bringing you every scorching moment, right here, right now! I'm caster Park Dong-hoon—and joining me on commentary is analyst Jang Yu-sung!”
“Yes, hello everyone. Jang Yu-sung here on commentary.”
Caster Park Dong-hoon and commentator Jang Yu-sung, seated in the broadcast booth, greeted their viewers.
On the eve of kickoff, Suwon World Cup Stadium was so crammed with fans in both teams' colors that there wasn't an inch of space to stand.
“And Jang, here it is! The one match every K League fan has been counting down the days for—the Super Match, no less!”
“That's right. Fitting for the greatest derby in the K League, the Super Match—today's stands sold out well in advance. You can expect the fans of both sides to roar themselves hoarse over every single touch the players make.”
Caster Park Dong-hoon nodded and continued.
“Indeed—it's already the most popular derby in the league, but today's match has one more thing pulling every eye toward it, doesn't it?”
“It does. That unsavory incident between Suwon Blue Sky's rookie forward Kim Hanbin and the Seoul Citizen club. It was resolved smoothly through an amicable agreement between both clubs, of course, but for the fans, today's match has gained yet another intriguing storyline to sink their teeth into.”
The caster's face lit up with interest.
“Yes, thankfully the incident itself was wrapped up nicely, but from the Suwon Blue Sky fans' perspective, wasn't that the kind of thing that would boil anyone's blood? Today's match might just become the outlet for all that rage.”
“Exactly. And it's precisely these little rivalries piling up one by one that stoke a derby's fires even hotter—extra spice, if you will. All things considered, this match is one to watch very closely.”
Just as the two commentators were building anticipation, the broadcast feed caught the face of a man sipping a cola through a straw.
“And there, on our screen right now, we can see Head Coach Baek Seungnam of the U-23 national team!”
“Yes, Coach Baek Seungnam has come to the stadium in person to watch this Super Match. No doubt he's here to work out the final roster for the Olympic squad ahead of September.”
“Right, and it's well known that the composition of the defensive line has been giving him headaches for this Olympic team. In that light, I'd say there's a very strong chance Cha Kangmin—captain of Suwon Blue Sky and a full senior national team player—could be named as a wildcard. He's recently returned from injury and looks to be in fine form.”
At the caster's analysis, commentator Jang Yu-sung nodded and added his own view.
“Cha Kangmin is certainly an excellent option, of course, but personally, I think we need to keep our eyes on another Suwon Blue Sky player today. Kim Hanbin.”
“Kim Hanbin? He's made a tremendous impact in his last two matches, granted... but he's still a rookie with all of two professional appearances to his name.”
The caster echoed back, sounding puzzled.
“Yes, it's true Kim Hanbin lacks experience in real competition. But here's the thing—Kim Hanbin is nineteen, which means he wouldn't consume a wildcard slot at all. And above all... the football Coach Baek Seungnam wants to play—especially that striker archetype who dominates matches with overwhelming physicality—Kim Hanbin fits that mold to a T. If he puts on another performance like he did against Ulsan, I believe a surprise call-up is entirely on the table.”
“Yes, and if Kim Hanbin does make the final Olympic roster as you suggest, that would be a truly bold selection. The announcement of the Olympic squad is something to look forward to now.”
The caster turned his gaze back to the pitch.
“Ah—and while we've been talking, both squads are making their way onto the field!”
Watching the two squads stream onto the pitch, U-23 head coach Baek Seungnam slurped down a mouthful of cola through his straw.
Seated beside him were the Olympic team's coaches and performance analysts, checking player data on tablet PCs.
Hmm... The Super Match really does live up to its name—the atmosphere is absolutely electric.
Baek felt the charged air in his whole body—the stands packed with fans, the taunts flying between rival supporters' groups and the answering cheers.
The blueprint for the final roster that would take the stage at the September Olympics was still very much a work in progress.
Some positions, in particular, were being contested right down to the wire.
Center-back first... Using Cha Kangmin as a wildcard is practically a given. There's no center-back out there with experience and leadership like his... and his condition since coming back from this injury looks good too.
Baek Seungnam's eyes lingered on Suwon Blue Sky's captain, Cha Kangmin, out on the pitch.
And for midfield... Seoul Citizen's Choi Sangwon, most likely... An EPL veteran with a massive work rate. Good passing vision too...
The coach's gaze swept across the players on the field.
Then, naturally, it came to rest on one player warming up on the grass.
A player in the blue Suwon uniform who stood out unmistakably from everyone else.
...Kim Hanbin.
Baek Seungnam stopped sipping his cola without realizing it.
A supernova appearing out of nowhere. Quite literally, with no warning whatsoever, he had burst onto the K League scene and was now the single hottest topic in Korean football.
Zero official records of any kind since middle school.
Then, from the moment of his debut, two consecutive matches of monstrous performance.
On top of that, the recent friction with Seoul Citizen had planted him dead center of every internet conversation in the country.
Baek Seungnam finished the last of the cola in his cup through the straw, thinking.
Despite that frame, his movement is almost unnaturally quick... Only two matches since his debut, true... but you could hardly argue with calling it, both times, a one-man show by that kid.
Who knew how many times Baek Seungnam had replayed Kim Hanbin's match highlights over the past few weeks.
The kickoff goal, the knuckleball free kick, the diving header—every single one of them hard to believe from a player with only two matches under his belt.
Where on earth did a monster like that come from?
The Olympic squad's forward—the very striker Baek had been searching for so desperately.
A true target man. The perfect profile for the striker's position, tailor-made.
Heading power built on overwhelming physicality, the ability to win aerial duels, even a genuinely menacing free kick. He was near-perfect.
But one thing kept snagging in Baek Seungnam's mind.
The simple fact that Kim Hanbin had played only two professional matches.
If it weren't for that, Baek would have had Kim Hanbin on the national squad long before now.
What he showed in his last two matches was certainly impressive... but plenty of players flash brilliantly and then collapse overnight. With young players especially, it happens every day of the week.
Baek Seungnam could not afford to be anything but careful.
He could not recklessly name a player to the Olympic stage—a stage of that magnitude—on the strength of two matches alone.
That was exactly why Coach Baek had come to this Super Match in person today: to confirm that one thing with his own two eyes.
Was what Kim Hanbin had shown a temporary burst of form... or the real thing?