The Chairman's Summons
Cha Daehyeok skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point after asking how I was doing.
"Hyung, the association reached out. They want to schedule a meeting with the chairman."
I paused for a second at his words.
A meeting?
This guy got called out hard last time, and now he's requesting another one?
Does he still think I'm some kid he can manipulate with a few words?
Or is it that chairmen gonna chairman?
Thinking about it, Kim Myeonggyu, the association president, wasn't some pushover despite his sloppy public image. He'd been through hell and back to climb to that position. He inherited the company chairmanship as the youngest ever, then went from owning a football club to becoming the pro league commissioner. Anyway, the vibe you get facing him in person is totally different from the meme-fodder image stuck in people's heads.
The presidency of the Korean Football Association isn't some popularity contest. Far from it. It's decided by votes from delegates, regional association heads, league affiliates, K League club reps—the whole corrupt mess of vested interests, backroom deals, and ass-kissing. He crushed the competition in that snake pit and won. Sure, now he's getting re-elected unopposed, but still, he's a battle-hardened vet.
He might flash that friendly smile everywhere, but there had to be a hundred sly foxes coiled up inside him.
A guy like that wouldn't get rattled by some trash talk from one player. No, he'd use it as a pivot to set up a new board.
The friendly against Chelsea was three days away. The call came today, so they'd probably schedule it every other day. Rest tomorrow, then the day after—that'd be the day before the Chelsea match. Sounded good.
I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them.
"Fine. The day before the Chelsea friendly works for me."
Cha Daehyeok fired back quick.
"Already locked it in for then. Knew you wouldn't say no and you'd want it ASAP anyway."
"...Oh."
Of course.
This was why I trusted and stuck with Daehyeok.
If they'd set it after the Chelsea game or days later, it'd bug the shit out of me. Post-match, you need pure rest—no hanging "meeting with the chairman" stress turning downtime into anxiety hell.
Plus, like I said, Kim Myeonggyu was the chairman. The public might meme him as "Myeonggyu bro" and treat him like a joke, but that chaebol aura hits different up close. You can't ignore it. Looming one-on-one with a heavyweight like that drains your energy, amps the mental tension whether you admit it or not.
Days dragging with that meeting hanging over you? Torture.
Above all, I was dying to know why he wanted me now. No patience to wait through Chelsea.
Do what needs doing, fight what needs fighting, wrap it quick—that's how I stay sane.
Goddamn "ppalli-ppalli" Korean DNA was unbeatable.
Chelsea match, D-1.
I eyed Cha Daehyeok at the wheel and spoke up.
"You must be swamped lately. Sorry. My market value's gold right now, so you're grinding. Bear with it."
He snorted a laugh at my shameless consolation.
"Nah, happy screams. Still sifting through killer offers."
Outside transfer windows, Daehyeok wasn't this slammed. Just handling occasional ads or schedules—no need to fly to Spain for that.
But now? Summer window wide open, my value skyrocketing daily off last season and these A-matches. Sure, performances helped, but big clubs bidding wars sealed it.
Europe's giants drooling and piling in.
"You know Liverpool and Man City are in a bidding frenzy, right? Total chaos."
Excitement laced his voice.
Mega offers flooding an agent? Peak thrill.
But my head was all Kim Myeonggyu meeting and national team coach drama.
What cards would he play?
Back in the football association lobby. Nice to see you, beautiful flowers.
Heart raced like this heading to meet a girl? Nah. I shook it off and kept walking.
I was losing my mind wondering what card Kim Myeonggyu was playing, calling this meeting.
I blasted into the chairman's office faster than a defensive recovery.
Well, not really.
In reality, I strolled in slow and casual.
Had to figure there were rats lurking somewhere in this building, watching. Rushing would kill the fun—give 'em time to observe at leisure.
But damn, these rats hide good.
Quick scan—no suspicious vibes.
Next time, bring cheese. Cough it up and wait.
Knock knock.
I opened the door and stepped in, bowing politely.
"Hello, Mr. Chairman."
"Ah, Ryu Rion. Come on in."
Kim Myeonggyu stood to greet me.
Quick room sweep—not one-on-one. Lee Cheolwoo, the director, was already there.
We sat, exchanged formalities.
"How's your condition? Not too tired?"
"Yes, sir. Fine. Legs and arms working great."
"Haha, good to hear. Oh, congrats on that goal in the Kopaon Play series. Beautiful strike."
I leaned in a bit exaggerated.
"You watched that match?"
"Of course. As association president, how could I miss Korea's future star, Ryu Rion?"
Kim Myeonggyu flashed his folksy grin, cracking wise.
Where'd he pick up humor class since last time?
Last meeting, he was glaring like he'd suspend me on the spot. Today? Benevolent grandpa cosplay.
I was inwardly tsking when Lee Cheolwoo adjusted his glasses and cut to the chase.
"Ryu Rion, we called you here on short notice because... it's about the issue you raised last time."
"The issue I raised..."
"Yes. The factions within the national team. Right after your point, the chairman ordered an immediate investigation."
I shot Kim Myeonggyu a surprised look.
He didn't blow me off?
Actually investigated?
Kim Myeonggyu nodded silently; Lee continued.
"The results confirmed your concerns—factions in the national team are a serious problem. So we wanted to hear more specifics from you, the source."
Ah, so that's it.
Not coercion or sweet-talking—fact-checking.
Things were getting interesting faster than expected.
I shifted in my seat.
"So what do you want me to say?"
"Just tell us everything you felt and saw, no holding back."
"Everything?"
"Yes, everything."
I paused a beat, then spoke.
"Got it. I'll lay it out straight."
I dredged up memories from the foreign coach era.
"Biggest issue was the hierarchy collapse. Especially under the previous foreign coach—some veteran players treated him way too casually. Beyond casual, more like a pushover."
"A pushover..."
"Yes. I get he wanted a free vibe, but some crossed the line. Ignoring tactics, arm-around-shoulder joking during training... Foreign coach or not, it was like, is this the boss or a neighborhood buddy?"
That's when it happened.
Kim Myeonggyu, listening stone-faced, raised a hand to cut me off.
Leaned forward, voice low and firm.
"Ryu."
"Yes."
His eyes sharpened.
"You can name those players. Everything said here stays confidential."
What'd this guy eat wrong?
Of course it's secret. But naming names? Didn't see that coming.
No reason to hide, though. Investigation means spilling it all anyway.
Plus, his follow-through on my ignored rant impressed me. If he had the balls to probe, I'd cough it up.
"There's a faction in the national team called Mo Chanhee's group."