The Mysterious Mercenary of Morning Football
A man holding a camera spoke to a guy dressed in a soccer uniform.
"Hyung-nim! We're starting the shoot now!"
With that, the cameraman made a small hand signal, and Cha Kangmin, in his soccer kit, bellowed with full energy.
"Hello there, subscribers! It's me, Center-Back King Cha Gangmin!"
Starting center-back for K League's Suwon Blue Sky and the national team. He was known by rock-solid nicknames like 'the National Team Lighthouse' and 'Our Wall'—but the Cha Kangmin on display right now looked quite different from his usual self on the pitch.
Filming for his YouTube channel, Center-Back King, he wore a mischievous grin instead of his trademark game-face intensity.
"Alright, so today's content is... as you can see, I'm back out on the grass for the first time in a while! Yes, that's right. I've finally almost recovered from my injury, so I figured I'd do a light run to check my condition. But just running would be boring, so..."
Gangmin dramatically thrust a prop he'd prepared in front of the camera.
"You see this silicone mask, right? I'm going to wear this and disguise myself, and—as a bonus part of my rehab—I'm going to secretly join a local morning football club and film a hidden camera prank!!"
The so-called athlete hidden camera. It was a format that had become a classic ever since a famous beverage commercial started the trend years ago.
A disguised celebrity player shocks everyone with overwhelming skill, then removes the mask to reveal their identity. You capture the crowd's reactions—'Whoa! It's Cha Kangmin!'—and the formula is simple but guarantees laughs every time.
I spent a whole 500,000 won on this silicone mask alone! This time, for sure, it's going to blow up!
Gangmin's channel had mostly featured serious content—defensive tutorials, match analysis, that kind of thing.
But this time he'd boldly pivoted toward entertainment. The reason? A certain junior of his.
Until recently, that kid had been pestering Gangmin with questions about filming techniques, monetization structures, content planning, this and that.
As his senior in both football and YouTube, Gangmin had told him everything he knew.
Then the kid dropped one variety-style video, and it went absolutely viral.
And somehow, six months after starting his channel, the punk had more subscribers than Gangmin, who'd been at it for two years.
On top of that, the kid had even landed a paid sponsorship—something Gangmin had never received!
Of course he was happy that a junior he cared about was doing well. But a corner of his heart couldn't help but taste bitter.
Call it jealousy. So he made up his mind. Time to try some variety content himself.
After putting his heads together with a YouTube PD he knew, the idea they landed on was this hidden camera prank.
YouTube is all about variety! And within that, we're going with the fundamental of fundamentals—the hidden camera!
As luck would have it, the timing lined up with his injury recovery, so he'd planned this content as a bit of light rehab.
Needless to say, he'd told the club trainer it was just a light practice match and some individual training.
He was silently cheering himself on when the PD leaned in with the camera and asked,
"Hyung-nim, but how did you manage to book a morning football club?"
Gangmin puffed out his chest.
"Hey, who do you think I am? I'm a current national team player, aren't I? This much is nothing. One or two connections down the line and everyone knows everybody. And I didn't just pick any random place, you know. I booked a match with two of the toughest teams in this area. If I just steamroll them one-sidedly, it's no fun. Doesn't make for a good video."
Having said his piece, Gangmin leaned toward the camera and held up the silicone mask for a closer look.
"As you can see, the quality is seriously impressive, right? This is custom-made, so it cost a pretty penny!"
After Gangmin spent a good while bragging about the mask, the PD smirked and asked,
"But honestly, hyung-nim—this isn't exactly a money-maker, is it? You're actually running a deficit because of the mask cost. And it's not like our channel pulls enough views to monetize anyway. Why is a player of your caliber taking YouTube this seriously?"
Gangmin carefully set the mask down and flashed a grin.
"Hey, you punk. Do people live for money alone?"
"Uh... then what for?"
"Obviously money matters too. But you see..."
Gangmin winked at the camera.
"It's because... it's fun!"
"Fun?"
"That's right, fun! I became a soccer player in the first place because I love being the center of attention. A so-called attention-seeker, if you will. How awesome is it to run out in front of a packed stadium with the spotlight on you?"
The PD laughed in disbelief.
"Hyung-nim, what spotlight is a center-back ever going to get?"
"Ahem... well, that's..."
Gangmin cleared his throat for a moment before answering.
"Honestly? If I'd been even half decent at scoring goals, I would've absolutely been a striker. Scoring, doing the celebration, hearing the fans roar—that's real swagger, isn't it? But I was terrible at finishing, so I ended up a defender by necessity. Defending is... well, it's fun in its own way, but it's not quite the same thrill as putting the ball in the net."
Gangmin turned back to the camera and added with a playful smirk,
"That's why I do YouTube. Sure, I can't score goals, but connecting with people and getting attention through videos like this—that's fun, right? Am I wrong, subscribers?"
At the sight of Gangmin grinning slyly, even the PD finally burst out laughing.
"Anyway... but are you really going to be okay? You just got over an injury, and... you know how rough those morning football uncles can get. What if you hurt yourself again?"
Gangmin waved a dismissive hand.
"Aw, come on, I'm going to take it easy. Besides, a few morning-football uncles? One body check from me and they'll scatter like leaves. I'm just going to jog around thinking of it as rehab. Don't worry about it."
"Alright... then go ahead and put on the mask and get ready."
"Okay! Let's do this!"
Gangmin picked up the silicone mask again, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.
He carefully fitted it over his face, then added the sports goggles he'd borrowed from his PD friend. At this point, the disguise was perfect.
"Alright! Ladies and gentlemen! It's time for Center-Back King Cha Gangmin's morning football hidden camera! Let's get started!"
Morning football. Just as the name suggests, it's a club where people gather early in the morning to play. Neighborhood uncles who love the game, young guys kicking a ball together—the realm of recreational sports, purely a hobby.
A national team center-back like Gangmin going full throttle in a place like that would be a little embarrassing, to say the least.
Besides, today's real purpose was easing his match sense back after injury—his first semi-real game since recovery. The plan was to take it easy. Really easy.
And beyond that, hidden camera or not, absolutely crushing your opponents here would just be bad manners.
If he went full intensity for no reason and sent all the uncles packing, the comment section would be nothing but hate: 'Now he's bullying morning football clubs? What's next? Unsubscribed, bye.'
But that resolution to take it easy had been completely derailed—by the guy currently running around in front of him.
Before the match started, the opposing team's captain had asked Gangmin's captain for permission.
They had a mercenary striker playing for them today who'd played organized football through middle school. Would that be all right?
Gangmin, being a national team player, felt weird staying silent, so he'd casually mentioned, 'Oh, I played up through high school too.'
Then, wondering if the opposing mercenary might be someone he knew, Gangmin had given him a quick once-over—but the face was completely unfamiliar.
He'd never even heard the name. When asked which middle school he'd come from, it wasn't a school known for football.
A school whose name he was hearing for the first time. So he'd gone into the match feeling even more relaxed about it.
The guy was nearly as tall as Gangmin's own 187cm and packed with serious muscle, which had given him slight pause—but come on, the man was an amateur.
Right. If the opposition is too amateur, the video won't have any spark anyway. This works out great!
And that complacent thinking had turned out to be his downfall.
Thirty minutes into the first half, Gangmin's team had already conceded two goals to that mercenary.
Damn it! Every single time he touches the ball, it's a shot on target! I was supposed to jog around for rehab!
Thirty minutes of marking him had made one thing clear. The mercenary's coordination with his teammates was admittedly rough in places.
But that finishing. The finishing was the problem.
The moment he spotted even the slightest shooting angle, he pulled the trigger without hesitation—and every single strike curled irresistibly into the corner of the net.
If Gangmin's team's goalkeeper hadn't produced several insane saves well beyond morning-football level, the scoreline would have been far more humiliating.
Fine! I have no choice but to get serious now! I can't let this content get ruined like this! And I've got a national team's reputation to protect!
It was laughable to be saying this after already conceding twice—but if he gave up any more, this wouldn't be the opposing team's hidden camera anymore, it'd be Gangmin's hidden camera. The channel would be dead at this rate!
The moment he resolved to give it everything, a low through-ball from the opposing midfielder connected perfectly with that problem mercenary.
The defensive midfielder ahead of Gangmin had already been brushed aside with ease. Now the only thing standing between that man and the goal was Gangmin himself.
This time, I stop him. No matter what.
Cha Gangmin intended to go in with near-full force—a level of physicality he'd never have dreamed of using in morning football.
His body had only just recovered from injury, so he was cautious, sure.
But the opponent was nothing more than a middle school player. This much would be more than enough to shut him down.
Sorry about this! But I've got no choice!
Apologizing inwardly, Gangmin exploded off the ground and charged into the mercenary's side.
Perfect timing. He braced for the dull, heavy thud of shoulder meeting shoulder.
WHAM—!
The sound was exactly what he'd expected. The sensation was not.
What traveled up his shoulder was not the feeling of an opponent being knocked back or sent flying.
It was like slamming head-on into a bus at full speed—an impact that rattled every joint in his body.
Gkh...?! What the hell is this?!
Gangmin's charge stopped dead, like a car slamming on the brakes.
No—it went beyond stopping. The recoil of the collision, and the unbelievable force pushing out from his opponent, sent him staggering backward instead.
He fought desperately for balance, but his feet wouldn't stay planted on the ground.
The other man didn't budge an inch. Worse, he used the shoulder they'd collided on as a pivot, turning his body with fluid ease and gliding forward—riding the very momentum of Gangmin being shoved away.
Gangmin lost his balance, utterly helpless.
Th-this... is this even possible?! He didn't even push me—he just... stood there?!
He'd gone up against foreign mercenary strikers famed for their physicality, and he had never once felt this kind of one-sided, crushing powerlessness.
The foreign mercenaries would brace with strength, or try to shove back.
This mercenary—barely a middle-school graduate—was different.
He was rooted to the spot like a boulder, immovable as stone.
This wasn't a simple difference in strength.
It was something more fundamental—a difference in mass itself. The density of his solidity was on another level entirely.
Thud.
Gangmin landed hard on his backside on the grass.
And what filled the fallen man's field of vision was the mercenary's back as he strolled toward the halfway line, having just calmly smashed a powerful shot into the corner of the goal.
"What the actual hell... what even IS that guy...?"
Yes, he was coming back from an injury—but he'd kept up his weight training steadily through the entire recovery, and his return was only weeks away.
And yet here he was, getting brushed aside like a ragdoll by some middle-school alumnus—the first player in his entire football career he'd never seen before.
Gangmin could practically hear the crack forming in his pride.
Twweeeet—
The whistle blew for the end of the first half, punctuated by the last goal. Players began drifting toward the stands.
"Whoa! That mercenary Choi hyung recommended is a monster!"
"Every single shot he takes just gets blasted into the net?"
"And that center-back fella who said he played in high school? That guy got shrugged off like he was nothing!"
"Second half, let's get some touches ourselves! Everything's going to that one guy!"
Both teams—opponents and Gangmin's side alike—were buzzing about the mercenary.
And worse, there were glances here and there that seemed to be comparing the mercenary to Gangmin.
It was the exact opposite of the plan.
Every ounce of attention was flowing toward that mercenary, not Gangmin. It was over. The content was dead.
He walked over slowly and approached the PD, who was filming secretly from a corner.
"Hey. This isn't some reverse prank where you set me up, is it?"
The PD made a heroic effort to keep a straight face at him. All that came out was a sigh.
"No, hyung-nim! I watched him too—isn't that guy like a former youth national teamer or something? At that level, you'd know his name, right? What was that cannon sound when he shot?!"
"No idea. Never seen the face, never heard the name. And the middle school he supposedly played for isn't a football powerhouse either."
At Gangmin's words, the PD let out an awkward laugh.
"I mean, but he's that good? Hyung-nim, this hidden camera is completely toast."
"Tell me about it. Sure, my form's down a bit from the injury, but I'm not someone who gets outplayed by that level. Second half, I'm going all out. His shooting and physicality are genuinely top-tier, but his link-up play seems a little rough around the edges. I'll target that."
"Hyung-nim, so should I edit out the part where you got bodied, or...?"
The PD asked with an infuriating grin.
"......Edit it out. Please."
"Roger that."
Looking at the PD's smirking face, Gangmin wanted to smack him upside the head—but he held back.
The guy was his only director, writer, and PD rolled into one. He decided to view it with the forgiveness of an ocean.
Done chatting, Gangmin stared hard at the back of the mercenary, who was sitting in a corner at the front of the stands drinking water.
Now that I'm really looking... that body is straight-up insane.
He hadn't noticed it on the pitch, but watching the guy sit still from behind made it all the more obvious.
The rippling muscles of his back rose and fell with every breath, practically shouting for attention.
That wasn't a footballer's body. That was a bodybuilder's.
But seriously—what is a guy with that physique and that shooting ability doing HERE? One look and you can tell he's not morning-football-mercenary material.
Gangmin couldn't stand a mystery. When in doubt, the fastest way was to just ask the man himself.