Chapter 5
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Don't Insult Park Si-hyun
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"Ha... Isn't there even one standout guy who catches my eye?"
A man leaned against the hood of his beat-up BMW, cigarette dangling from his lips as he exhaled a thick plume of smoke.
2001.
On Korean roads, a foreign car was a symbol of power in itself.
And among them, BMWs were special.
Even if this was a third-generation 3 Series that looked at least ten years old, it hinted that the owner was no ordinary guy.
Jang Do-yoon. Thirty-seven years old.
His business card read 'Freelance Scout,' but the reality was simpler.
Finding unknown Korean prospects and tossing their footage to obscure German clubs.
If he got lucky, they'd get a trial. Luckier still, a contract.
In 2001 Korea, the word 'agent' was still unfamiliar.
Going overseas meant the football association's official channels or a college coach's connections—that was it.
Guys like Jang Do-yoon were hyenas prowling the gaps.
Talented kids with no connections.
Youngsters on the verge of being buried after getting pushed out of the mainstream.
Digging up those rough diamonds and planting them in Europe's backwaters was his way of surviving.
Of course, the success rate was abysmal.
A hellish probability where not even one in a hundred made it.
But Jang Do-yoon had his own philosophy.
'I just need to hit on one. That one changes my life.'
And so, today too, he was killing time in front of a high school athletic field.
"These days, kids are all the same. No basics, no sense... just robots who obey the coach."
That was when it happened.
Boom!
A heavy roar shook the entire field.
Jang Do-yoon jumped in surprise, dropping the cigarette from his mouth.
"Shit, what the hell? Did a bomb go off or something?"
Turning his head with a panicked look, he stared at the field.
It was lunchtime, and several students were playing soccer. Amid them, one guy stood out sharply.
For starters, his physique was on another level.
Even from afar, his height was overwhelmingly tall, and his build was far too polished for a high schooler.
On top of that, he was smiling casually now, saying something—while the listener's face twisted in disgust.
As if he'd heard the most revolting thing in the world.
Jang Do-yoon narrowed his eyes, starting to read the situation.
'He's smiling while talking, so that boom earlier must've come from the ball he kicked?'
From then on, calculations raced through his mind.
The average height for Korean high schoolers was about 173 cm. Even in the soccer team, over 180 cm counted as tall back then.
But this guy...
"...Gotta be at least 193. A giant."
Jang Do-yoon picked up his dropped cigarette, brushed the dirt from the filter, and stuck it back in his mouth.
'He'd crush in basketball.'
Jang Do-yoon believed height was more disadvantage than advantage in soccer.
From a decade rolling in this business, tall players usually had clear limits.
Poor explosiveness, high center of gravity making them lose one-on-ones, sluggish if agility lacked.
Especially in Korean soccer.
In a league valuing speed and stamina over technique, big bodies were mostly failures.
'And he's not even on the soccer team...'
If he were, he wouldn't be playing casual lunchtime games. Mixing with regular kids screamed ordinary student.
Soccer teams trained separately or scrimmaged.
He was about to lose interest and look away—
When the guy's movements oddly snagged his eye.
'...Wait, is that movement on purpose?'
Dismissing him as just a big lug wouldn't fly—his actions earlier were no joke.
He wasn't even chasing the ball, just strolling slowly, leisurely.
Like he was on a walk in the park.
'That kid... he's deliberately creating space.'
Jang Do-yoon squinted, cigarette in mouth.
Seemed lazy, but each step manipulated the defenders' psyche.
Tilt left, they lean unconsciously. Flick eyes right, they fixate there.
Not enough—he seemed to predict their moves.
Like a chess master seeing moves ahead.
Space opened naturally, the ball flowed magnetically into it.
'Crazy... what the hell is this guy?'
A high schooler already reading space at this level?
Jang Do-yoon's hand trembled faintly.
In ten years, hundreds of players—but this soccer IQ was new.
Flashy dribblers, speedy ones, powerful shooters, precise passers.
All had limits.
No matter personal skill, soccer without tactics meant failure.
But this guy was different.
'That's play from fully grasping soccer as a system.'
Reading the whole game's flow, not isolated skills.
And then, the ball dropped right at his feet.
He drew his right leg back wide.
'Mid-range from there?'
Earlier, he'd whipped his head around too fast to see properly. Not this time.
Jang Do-yoon instinctively leaned forward, studying his form.
Boom!
An even louder roar shook the field.
The ball rocketed straight like cannon fire.
The keeper could only gape, no reaction possible.
"Crazy..."
An exclamation slipped from Jang Do-yoon's lips.
'Not just power.'
He saw it clearly this time.
Timing, balance, impact—pro-level perfection.
Even his stance at contact was textbook.
Torso slightly forward, weight perfectly on the toes.
His eyes locked on goal, unshaken at impact.
But most striking? His attitude.
'This bastard's totally enjoying it.'
Relaxed face saying 'this is nothing,' delighting in the opponent's despair.
No ceremony post-goal—just hands in pockets, standing there blankly.
As if to say 'this is daily life.'
Jang Do-yoon stubbed out his cigarette and stood.
"Found him."
The diamond in the rough he'd chased for ten years in this grind.
He hurried into the school field, waiting for the game to end.
As lunch ended and kids trickled back to class, he grabbed the tall one.
"Hold up a sec."
"?"
The guy turned slowly.
At 193 cm, Jang Do-yoon had to crane his neck to look up.
"Ever thought about playing soccer in Germany? With your talent, you could aim for Bundesliga 2. If you're interested in going to Europe..."
Before he finished, the guy's face chilled.
Like he'd heard something offensive.
"Are you insulting me right now?"
"What?"
Jang Do-yoon blinked in confusion.
No insult in his words—praising him as 2nd division material, right?
'Doesn't know Bundesliga? Not big on soccer?'
Possible.
2001 Korea barely knew other European leagues.
"What part felt insulting? If you don't know Bundesliga..."
"Prospect? You're calling me a prospect?"
His voice dripped cold arrogance.
Jang Do-yoon tried explaining calmly.
"Yeah, you've got talent any German club would welcome. Height, strong physique, power... even speed rare for your size. And most important, your soccer brain."
"Tch."
Park Si-hyun clicked his tongue, eyes full of disappointment.
"Seems you don't get what I mean. Want a rough explanation of 'prospect'? A player with potential to make it big someday."
He shook his head slowly.
"But I'm different. Park Si-hyun is already perfect. Sure, I'm young—that I admit. So if I go to Germany, I'll choose carefully. A promising club that recognizes me, the world's top player despite my youth."
"...Freelance agent, huh."
I slowly lifted the business card.
Black ink name and number, with some sloppily printed title below.
In 2001 Korea, going to Europe via agent was rare.
Only since An Jung-hwan's 2000 Italy move did 'agent' start buzzing faintly.
So anyone would peg this card's owner as a scammer, nine times out of ten.
Like most self-proclaimed agents in Korea.
Still, I took it because he'd become Germany's renowned agent later.
This Jang Do-yoon would earn a nickname among Bundesliga execs.
"Der Goldene Jäger aus Korea." – The Golden Hunter from Korea.
The man who unearthed gem players from East Asia's street fields, school yards, local clubs, and launched them onto Europe's stage.
Players he discovered started in 3rd division nobodies, became Bundesliga starters, national team aces, even wore Bayern Munich or Dortmund kits.
"I hate meeting Jang Do-yoon. Makes me wanna punch that smug face during negotiations. But the agent for every prospect we think is 'the one' always turns out to be him."
German club officials' consistent verdict.
And this guy had picked me.
Though mistaking me for a 'prospect' after one game was inevitable—I hadn't shown my true power.
Lunchtime soccer was just warming up.
Not the emperor's full glory ruling the world from his feet.
'Hunter meets emperor... this'll be fun.'