The Foreman's Offer
“Hoooh...”
I let out a long breath as I set down the last bag of cement at the designated spot.
A 40-kilogram bag of cement. I'd hit my quota of three hundred exactly for the day. Every muscle in my body hummed with a satisfying ache.
It wasn't simply that the work was grueling. Back, shoulders, thighs, lower back—every one of them had been worked over. This was the ultimate weight training: a full-body workout that paid you money at the end of it.
Another good day of training.
I slipped the carrying yoke off my shoulders and set it in a corner, downing a bottle of water in one go as I thought. Honestly, the very first thing I'd wanted to do after escaping the time-stop was to march straight up to a K League club's front door.
'Please, give me a chance!' — something like that. But reality was cold and unforgiving.
Some nobody showing up out of nowhere and declaring, “I'm really good at soccer!”—if the worst that got me was being treated like a lunatic, I'd count myself lucky.
Worse still, my career as a player ended not in high school but in middle school. And a middle schooler who never once stood out from the crowd? All the more hopeless.
So I was biding my time. The open tryouts held by K League clubs.
Those usually kicked off in late November, after the season wrapped, which meant I had about five months to wait from now, late June.
But honestly, most clubs didn't even bother holding open tryouts.
Even among those that did, if you were lucky, three or four teams at most would go through with it.
And the teams that did were overwhelmingly K League 2 sides.
K League 1? One club a year at best. No—there might not be one at all. Even if a spot opened, the competition ratio would blow past 100-to-1, a stampede of hopefuls all crushing in on the same door.
Registered players in even just the high school football system alone numbered over six thousand—kids who had given their whole lives to the sport.
On top of that, university players and countless amateurs all dreamed of going pro.
And out of that ocean of hopefuls, the number of rookies who actually inked professional contracts across K League 1 and K League 2 combined barely scraped a hundred a year.
Within that pool, connections and word of mouth among coaches and scouts carried enormous weight.
A guy like me—no real career, no connections—had no choice but to demonstrate overwhelming ability the instant an opportunity appeared.
When tryouts come, I'll show them everything I have.
For now, I had to wait and earn money. My father's hospital bills and caregiving costs were more than my mother could shoulder alone.
That was why I'd chosen this brutal labor. The pay was decent, and after a day of punishing physical work, all the stray thoughts drained right out of my head.
I brushed the dust from my work clothes. It was about time to wrap up and go wash off.
“Hey! Kim Hanbin!”
A familiar, husky voice called out from behind me.
I turned, pulling off my hard hat, to see Foreman Choi, my crew leader, trudging toward me, sweat pouring down his face.
Over the past two months working here, he was the person I'd talked to most.
Though admittedly, most of that talk had been work orders.
“We only just made this delivery deadline thanks to you, ya hear!”
Foreman Choi clapped my shoulder as he spoke.
“So here's the thing—we're getting the whole crew together for dinner tonight! And Hanbin, you're our ace, so you'd better be there! It's my treat tonight, special occasion, so don't you dare feel bad about it! What do ya say? Samgyeopsal and a shot of soju—deal?”
A company dinner. In the three months since I'd gotten out, I hadn't gone to a single one.
But still... samgyeopsal? And free samgyeopsal at that?
It really has been forever since I've had pork belly.
In the frozen expanse of stopped time, taste had been meaningless. The kimchi jjigae I'd eaten right after escaping this place still lingered vividly in my memory, but after that I'd lived on the bare minimum of meals to save money. Father's hospital bills, and living expenses for what lay ahead.
However good the daily wage from this labor was, there was no telling how long I could keep doing it.
Foreman Choi's offer was a temptation too sweet to refuse. And it was the foreman footing the bill, no less. A gesture this generous, I could allow myself to accept.
No point in turning him down and making enemies for nothing.
After a moment's deliberation, I nodded.
“Yes, sir. If you're treating, I'll eat my fill with gratitude.”
At my answer, Foreman Choi slapped my back with a resounding crack and let out a booming laugh.
“Alright! That's our ace!”
Then he hollered across the site to the rest of the crew.
“Alright, everybody, time to call it a day! Tonight, pork belly and cold soju—on me!”
“Woo!”
“Foreman's the best!”
“Hey, Hanbin! You show up tonight, you hear me? Promise?”
Amid the crew's cheering, I smiled faintly and quietly pulled my hard hat back on.
Samgyeopsal after all this time—I was actually looking forward to it.
Sssszz—
The sizzle of pork belly browning on the grill teased my ears.
“Hey! Mr. Park! Your glass is empty! Fill it up, quick!”
“Well now, foreman's in a right good mood tonight, ain't he!”
Face flushed red, Foreman Choi weaved from table to table, relentlessly pressing drinks on his crew.
And I was no exception to his radar net.
Before I knew it, he'd plopped down in the seat beside me, picked out the best-cooked slices of pork belly, and dropped them onto my plate.
“Eat up, Hanbin. You worked hard today, boy.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I took the glass with an awkward smile. Foreman Choi filled it with soju, looking me up and down with evident curiosity.
“Y'know, Hanbin, the more I look at ya, the more I notice you've got one hell of a body on you. One look and you can tell that ain't the kind of build that just happens. You play some sport before? Lifting, maybe? Bodybuilding, something like that?”
“No, sir. I just... lifted a bit around the neighborhood, and played some soccer up through middle school.”
“What? Soccer?”
Foreman Choi's eyes went round as saucers.
“You played soccer? Well I'll be—now that's good to hear! I play in a Sunday league myself! No wonder you're so quick on your feet! What position?”
“Everything, really... a bit of this and that. I wasn't exactly good.”
“Heh, is that so. But tell me, why'd you quit in middle school? With a frame like yours, given some athletic talent, you could've gone all the way as a pro. Real waste, that.”
A pointed question. I hesitated for a moment before answering.
“...My father got sick. Money got tight at home, so I had to quit.”
At my answer, the noisy chatter drained from Foreman Choi's face, his expression going serious in an instant.
He refilled my glass and gave my shoulder a firm pat.
“So that's how it was. No wonder you work like a man possessed—harder than anyone twice your age. You had a family carrying you, huh...”
He didn't press further. Instead, he filled his own glass to the brim and drained it in one go.
Foreman Choi patted my shoulder gently. There was something almost pitying in his eyes.
“Don't sweat it, kid! That's just how life is for all of us. You hang in there, ya hear!”
Then he refilled the soju glass and tossed out a different question.
“Hey, but Hanbin—ever think about playing that soccer again? Far as I can tell, you've still got a fire burning for it. Be a damn shame to let a body like that go to waste.”
“Actually... yes. There are a few K League clubs holding open tryouts around late November this year. I'm planning to apply to those.”
“Oho, is that right? Open tryouts?”
Foreman Choi's eyes lit up.
“Aigoo, if our team's ace leaves, what am I gonna do without ya! Hmm... but still, a man's gotta take his shot at least once, don't he? Yes! Now that's a fine plan!”
He pounded my back again, harder than ever, clearly wishing me his best. Then, as if something had suddenly struck him—
“Oh! That's right!” he cried, clapping his hands.
“Hold on a minute... one of the boys I play ball with—you know, there's a fella who's supposedly a scout for Seoul Citizen. You know Seoul Citizen, right? Well, talk about perfect timing!”
A Seoul Citizen scout? That was a connection I'd never seen coming.
Foreman Choi barreled on, thoroughly worked up.
“I'll put in a word with him about you! Play your cards right, you might even get an official tryout! Look, our Sunday league's got a match next weekend—you come out, show the man how you play ball, and that'll do it! What d'ya say? I'll drag that friend of mine out for sure!”
“I'm sorry—what?”
Foreman Choi looked at me with eyes full of expectation. The offer was almost too outrageous to believe.
A chance to show my ability directly to a K League scout.
And not even a K League 2 club—K League 1 itself.
The words came out of nowhere, and I'd blurted back a dazed “What?”, but my mouth was already answering on its own.
“Yes... if you'd do that... I'd be more than grateful, sir...”
“That's the spirit! Once we've got a date locked down, I'll get in touch!”
“You'd better show up, ya hear!” With that, Foreman Choi chuckled in satisfaction and moved off to another table to start pressing drinks on somebody new.
Amid the rowdy warmth of the dinner, I ate my samgyeopsal while turning over my conversation with the foreman in my mind.
Seoul Citizen scout... Sunday league match... next weekend...
My plan—to lie low and aim for the open tryouts in late November—had just been handed an unexpected opening.
A part of me still wanted to stay quiet and wait for my moment.
But...
Would a chance like this ever come again?
Open tryouts meant fighting through hundreds-to-one odds, and there was no guarantee they'd even be held.
Compared to that, this was a chance—maybe a once-in-a-lifetime one—to present myself directly to a K League scout.
And with Foreman Choi's personal recommendation, surely they'd look past, or at least soften, that prejudice against a mere middle-school grad.
Lying low? That could wait. Three months had already passed in this world—three more of patience was manageable.
There was nothing stupider than passing up an opportunity sitting right in front of you over something so small, only to regret it after.
Before long, the dinner began to wind down.
Leaving behind Foreman Choi and a few of the crew hollering “Round two, let's go!”, I rose from my seat.
“Sir, thank you for the meal—really. I'm going to head home first.”
“Already? Well, that's a shame. Next weekend's match—don't you dare miss it!”
Foreman Choi waved with obvious reluctance.
I gave him a polite bow and slipped out of the restaurant.
Step by step, I walked the night streets.
Foreman Choi's outlandish offer circled round and round in my head. A Seoul Citizen scout. It would throw off my plan to stay hidden—but at the same time, an enormous opportunity had landed in my lap.
Steeling my resolve, I pulled out my smartphone.
I'd tried to reach my mother earlier in the day, but we hadn't managed a proper call.
I'd sent a sizable chunk of this month's wages to her bank account, and I needed to make sure she'd received it.
I dialed the familiar number, and this time it connected after barely a ring.
—Hello?
“Hi, Mom. It's me—Hanbin.”
—There you are. Sounds like you're working late again. You must be exhausted, honey.
Worry was woven through every syllable of her voice.
“No, I'm fine. I just got back from a team dinner with the crew. Actually... the money I sent today—did it go through?”
—Huh? Oh... yes, it did... Hanbin, sweetie.
Mom's tone shifted, suddenly several degrees more anxious.
—What is this money, all of a sudden? You sent four million won! Are you doing something dangerous? Where is this coming from?
There it was. She'd been startled by the amount.
Fair enough—it dwarfed anything I'd earned from part-time jobs before. Of course she was suspicious.
“I told you, Mom. A really good opportunity came my way. I joined a construction crew with exceptional pay and conditions—that's all it is.”
—No, that's just not natural. You barely started the job—how are you earning that much already... Hanbin, be honest with me. You're not... doing anything illegal, are you?
“No, Mom! I swear!”
I raised my voice and shut it down firmly.
“It's nothing like that, so don't worry. Would I lie to you? Can't you trust your own son?”
—...If you say it's nothing, then I'll believe you. Hearing your voice does put my mind a little more at ease, but...
Mom still sounded doubtful, but she didn't press any further.
“Right, of course. So use that money to hire a caregiver for Dad, and don't push yourself too hard either, okay? I'll keep in touch when I can. Tell Dad I said hello. Love you, Mom.”
—...All right. I trust my son. But take care of yourself, and eat properly! If anything comes up, you call me right away, you hear?
“I will. Don't worry so much.”
Click. I hung up and let out a long, deep breath.
“Might as well check my stats tomorrow—it's been a while.”