Clashing with the Association President
Kim Myeonggyu, the president of the Football Association, set down the report. Disappointment was plain on his face.
"So Yoon is your top pick. Got it. But Chairman Seo, didn't you go all the way to Europe in person to meet with Marsch and Casas? You only did video interviews with Wagner and Dash. Recommending Yoon as number one without even interviewing him... doesn't that violate procedure?"
Kim Myeonggyu slammed the brakes on the chairman's report with his signature logic.
"I think Yoon's a good choice too. But we should meet the other two foreign candidates in person fairly, then wrap things up in a way the association can accept. Lee Cheol-woo, tell the technical director to schedule in-person meetings with Wagner and Dash alongside Chairman Seo."
Seo Taeyoung's face stiffened. To him, the president's order felt like a rejection of Yoon and a vote of no confidence, pushing for more scrutiny of the foreign candidates.
I took the elevator from the Football Association lobby up to the floor with the president's office. As I turned the corner in the hallway, I bumped into a man coming out of the president's door. It was Seo Taeyoung, the head of the Power Strengthening Committee. His face was ashen... eyes hollow like he hadn't slept in days. Wrinkled suit jacket, and above all, an expression of deep exhaustion. The document envelope in his hand looked especially tattered.
"Oh? Player Rion?"
Seo Taeyoung spotted me, paused, and adjusted his glasses.
"Hello, Chairman."
"Yeah, long time no see. What brings you here?"
It looked like something had gone down between him and the president in there. What happened? His voice had zero energy. I gave a quick nod and answered.
"I've been making waves lately. The president wanted to meet about that."
"Ah... right. That issue."
Seo Taeyoung smacked his lips bitterly. The national team infighting rumors. Me and Mo Chanhee right in the middle. The whole country was buzzing about it—he had to know. But whatever was dominating his mind right now didn't seem to be my problem.
I glanced at the papers in his hand and asked casually, "Here about the coach selection?"
His shoulders twitched at my question. He glanced sideways at the president's door, let out a deep sigh, and nodded.
"......Yeah."
The guy handling coach selection sighing in front of the president's office? Did the committee's pick get shot down? Lately, the coach hunt had made the Power Strengthening Committee as hot a potato as me and Mo Chanhee. Big-name coaches were showing up after ages, jacking up their prices, or being total no-shows at interviews with zero effort. It was a headache all around, so I figured he was stressed about that. But this reaction felt like more than just tough times.
Did the committee's rational candidate just get nixed by the power player behind that door? Kim Myeonggyu was exactly the type to do it—no surprise there.
"Hang in there."
"You too, Rion... keep it up."
Seo Taeyoung shuffled off down the hall, looking like a defeated soldier. I watched his back for a moment, straightened my clothes, and knocked on the president's door.
"Come in."
The door opened to reveal Kim Myeonggyu sunk deep into a top-grade leather sofa. He scanned me over his glasses, then flashed a friendly smile and beckoned.
"Come on in, Player Ryu Rion. Have a seat."
A messy pile of documents—probably what Seo Taeyoung had just reported—littered the table. But Kim brushed them aside like they were nothing. Systems and procedures clearly weren't his priority right now.
I sat down for a one-on-one with Kim Myeonggyu. We exchanged brief pleasantries. Routine questions about my club form, physical condition. I answered politely enough.
The real talk came quick.
"Rion, the reason I called you here today is..."
Kim set down his teacup and leaned forward.
"The national team's atmosphere lately is a mess. Faction talk, especially the feud between you and Mo Chanhee. The headlines are nonstop."
"Yes, I'm aware."
"The public's worried sick. As association president, it weighs heavy on me."
He furrowed his brow like he was deep in thought. But that look in his eyes wasn't grasping the crisis—it was just a bureaucrat sick of the noise and wanting it shut down fast. From what I knew, association president elections were right around the corner. With polls looming, noisy players, coach drama—it was all obstacles to reelection. My nonstop fireworks against the 50 Million Bandwagon Fans and all-out war with the poster boy probably had the association in total chaos internally too.
Thinking about it, the situation was almost funny. Out in Spain, my agent Cha Daehyeok suddenly relayed a meeting invite from the association. They must've been sweating what I'd stir up next. I'd met Kim Myeonggyu in my past life, but never had a real chat—just passing hellos. Now he personally schedules a sit-down. I'd timed it with my return flight, and yeah, coming was the right call.
"Player Ryu Rion. You're the pillar of our national team, aren't you? Vice-captain, world-class talent."
"You're too kind."
"That's why I'm saying."
Kim leaned in, eyeing me intently.
"Can't you act a bit more mature, hold it in like a grown-up? Think of Korean football's future, show some understanding and unity—public opinion would calm right down."
It was the script I'd expected since landing. Who caused it, what the real issue was—none of that mattered. Just patch it up, good is good. Classic Kim Myeonggyu style. That's why fights kept erupting in Korean football, big or small. In my past life too, factions split the squad, players overstepped with foreign coaches. The association should've stepped up, axed the rot, sorted the mess. But Kim assimilated into sycophancy, shoving foreign coaches down our throats. Unfamiliar with Korean culture, those coaches saw squad drama as shifting winds and just watched. Language barriers, constant flare-ups everywhere—they couldn't even grasp what was happening right in front of them. Internal staff got shredded, factions split even there. Total fucking disaster. A real shitshow like nothing I'd seen before. Not even the mud-wrestling pit was this bad.
Kim's "good is good" bullshit contributed big-time to Korean football's collapse. I couldn't just sit by. Time to ram it home to him too, president or not. In the past life, he cowered before the poster boy, couldn't discipline overreach even when it happened. I'd use that.
The rising sun now was me. I barely stifled a smirk.
I knew why Seo Taeyoung had that face leaving. Teams don't stay fresh just 'cause you force the lid on.
I leaned off the backrest and stared Kim straight on.
"President."
"Speak."
"Unity's great. I don't want the team ruined either."
I paused, then said clearly, "But that's not about me sucking it up. It depends on that player."
"......What?"
Kim's eyebrow twitched. Expression like my answer blindsided him. I didn't back down, drove the wedge home.
"No unity without an apology and attitude change first. Wounds don't heal from bandaging over rot without cutting it out."
Kim glared.
"So what's your point?"
"Discipline who needs disciplining—poster boy or not—and get the association to take control."
"You want yourself disciplined?"
"I'm saying investigate why this feud blew up, what's really happening in the squad, and discipline accordingly. Aren't you just standing by right now?"
Kim clenched his fist tight.
"Player Ryu Rion, you're saying poster boy crossed the line and needs discipline—is that where we are?"
"Wasn't this a meeting to fix internal strife? Or did you call me to just sweep it quiet?"
Kim ground his teeth. No one in the association had ever nitpicked like this. Everything always went his way, and now some young punk challenges him—had to be boiling inside. But exclude or discipline me? We both fought—why not Mo Chanhee? Contradiction city. Coaches pick players; with my value skyrocketing, skipping me makes no sense, and even the president can't overrule that. What now, Kim Myeonggyu?