Traitors Within
So there were traitor bastards inside after all.
Association President Kim Myeonggyu's breathing grew ragged.
"You... aren't you crossing the line right now? You think just because I've been lenient, you can forget where you are...!"
"I'm not the one crossing the line, President."
I didn't flinch at Kim Myeonggyu's outburst, continuing calmly.
"I'm just saying this because I want Korean football—and the national team—not to fall apart. Isn't that what you want too? Results, outcomes, and honor."
"......"
"If we cover up these festering wounds and go into World Cup qualifiers like this, who takes responsibility for the fallout? The players? The coach?"
I paused for a beat before adding,
"Or the association that's supposed to oversee it all?"
Kim Myeonggyu's eyes wavered.
Hit the nail on the head?
With reelection looming, the last thing he needed was bad press. When a guy in his position starts pandering to public opinion and loses his spine, no wonder the whole pond turns to shit.
If he keeps shielding poster boy Mo Chanhee and the team implodes, those arrows will point right back at him.
But ego wouldn't let him admit I was right, nor could he promise to boot Mo Chanhee on the spot. He was trapped. Now you know who requested this meeting, huh? Consider yourself lucky to meet a regressor.
A suffocating silence stretched out.
Kim Myeonggyu yanked off his tie roughly. He glared at me for a moment before waving me off wearily.
"......Enough."
His excited tone had sunk into something subdued.
"I get your point. Arrogant as hell, but not wrong. I'll chalk it up to genuine concern for the team."
What bullshit.
Genuine concern my ass.
He just couldn't stomach any more facts from my mouth, so he was wrapping it up with some polite bullshit.
"We'll look into it at the association level... or discuss it once a coach is appointed. Head out for today."
In the end, just a vague promise to "review it."
Classic yu-ya-mu-ya evasion—neither confirming nor denying.
But I didn't push further.
Any more and it'd devolve into a pure pissing match.
I hadn't come here expecting Kim Myeonggyu to have some epiphany and discipline Mo Chanhee out of the goodness of his heart.
My goal was clear.
Ryu Rion isn't a pushover. Poke him, and he explodes. So if you're gonna try roasting me with your authority, know exactly who you're messing with.
Planting that message was enough. The image of the quiet guy suddenly flipping out—speaking truth to power against the 50 Million Bandwagon Fans, reporters, the star player, even the association president.
I stood up.
"Got it. I'll wait for your wise decision."
"......"
Kim Myeonggyu turned his gaze to the window instead of answering. Probably couldn't stand the sight of me.
I turned and left the president's office without a second thought.
Click.
The moment the door shut, I heard a frustrated "Fuck!" from behind, followed by something crashing. Fuck this—next it'd be you bitch.
So childish.
I chuckled, straightened my tie, and walked down the hall.
The meeting with the president was over.
Not without gains.
Kim Myeonggyu knew now.
That I wasn't like the old compliant players.
And that the power he wielded didn't work on me.
I pulled out my phone while pressing the elevator button.
There was a missed call.
[Agent Cha Daehyeok]
Perfect timing.
"Yo, Daehyeok, meeting's done."
― What'd the president say? Discipline coming?
"Nah. As expected. 'Let's bury it, good things stay good,' that kinda crap."
― Sigh... Knew it. That's the president for ya. So? You just nodded and bounced?
"As if. Said my piece and left. He's probably hunting for blood pressure meds right now."
― Bro, seriously, in front of the president...! What the hell are you planning?
I snickered at Daehyeok's sigh-mixed voice.
"Relax. He can't screw me over right now. With public opinion and my form? Touch me, and the association blows up."
― True. You're the rising sun—just too reckless. Oh, heard the news?
"What news?"
Daehyeok's voice dropped a notch over the line.
― Source from the power committee. Chairman Seo Taeyoung is resigning.
For a split second, that ashen face of Seo Taeyoung I'd passed in the hall flashed in my mind.
So that's why he looked so defeated.
Kim Myeonggyu.
Acting all concerned up front, but rigging the board his way behind the scenes.
"He resigned? Interesting."
The elevator doors opened, my reflection staring back.
"Guess it's time for my next move."
― ...What now? Bro, I can't handle this.
"Gotta scale up the board."
The downfall of Korean football from my past life memories. To stop it, raw skill alone won't cut it. I need power too. The president in my pocket. Hell, the whole association as my machine. I'll orchestrate it all. Dogs barking in my path? Kick 'em. Glass walls? Smash 'em. Buildings? Raze 'em. Don't block me. Hell, I'm curious how far I'll go.
A smirk spread across my face in the elevator mirror. Health? Bullshit.
He'd probably seen the final coach candidates earlier. Didn't know the exact reason, but the president must've ordered a review, and he'd taken it as a vote of no confidence. No wonder he was gutted—all those all-nighters debating in committee meetings, meaningless now that the president would do whatever he wanted anyway.
In the mere 20 minutes I was bickering with Kim Myeonggyu, Seo Taeyoung had packed up and left.
Clicking the articles was a shitshow.
"Health and personal reasons," they said, but it screamed he couldn't stomach being a puppet anymore—not with the president promising full authority then meddling every step.
Ding-.
The chime announced the first floor.
The doors opened to a clamor. Reporters camped outside the lobby, buzzing.
"Player Ryu Rion's coming out!"
I strode right up to them, and prepared questions flew.
"Heard about Chairman Seo Taeyoung's resignation?"
"What went down in the president's meeting?"
Flashes popped. What fun event is this? These reporter scum knew I'd had a meeting. They might track my return to Korea and schedules if they were obsessed, but how'd they know I was here—meeting the president specifically? Who the fuck leaked it? Agent Cha Daehyeok a traitor? Nah. He'd worked for me in the past life too—zero chance. Or next to none. Daehyeok was too damn competent, an agent young as he was. Just working with me now showed his chops. Him betraying me? No motive, doesn't add up.
Traitor inside the association... Ah. I laughed. Overlooked the most rotten org of all. Fuck, the rats aren't just in the national team.
Daehyeok, waiting by the reporters, fell in step. Trying to peel me away, no doubt. Definitely not him. If it was just the power committee chairman's resignation drawing them, fine—but that one yelling "meeting." At least some of these reporter fucks are in bed with the association. Probably leaked when I entered, calling them in. These ones knew it was a meeting. Perfect timing with Seo Taeyoung quitting—they must be thrilled. Great angle, solid hook.
I'd been thinking of holding a presser to blow the lid off internally anyway. Them setting the stage? Thanks a bunch.
Perfect clusterfuck.
I cleared my throat, facing the swarm of mics.
Sharpening a cold blade inside.
Yeah, blow it all up. Better to burn to ash than half-ass patch it.
"First, Chairman Seo Taeyoung—wishing you a speedy recovery. And..."
I paused.
"Reporters first. How'd you know about my private meeting schedule? Impressive intel—who in the association fed you?"
The questions are mine now.