Declaration of War at the Man City Press Conference
"Player Ryu Rion, joining Manchester City is shocking enough for Korean football fans, but even bigger news has hit Korea. The football association has reappointed Coach Yoon Seungwoo, the main culprit behind the World Cup failure ten years ago, as the national team head coach. Public opinion in Korea is at its worst right now, with criticism pouring in about the return of 'connections football.' As a key player on the national team, what are your thoughts on this appointment?"
Right on cue.
The moment the question ended, the air in the briefing room turned ice-cold. A club official next to me caught the edge in the question and tried to stop the interpreter, but I casually raised a hand to halt him.
The reporters' eyes were like starving wolves. If I criticized Coach Yoon here or gave some bland response about respecting the association's decision, they were primed to spin sensational headlines out of it.
I adjusted the mic and stared straight ahead.
"Shocking, you say?"
My voice low. The resonance carrying through the mic heavy and thick.
"I remember the people throwing pumpkin taffy at Coach Yoon ten years ago. It's not hard to turn someone into a traitor in Korea. So let me ask you this: Is all this backlash really out of worry for Korean football? Or do you just need someone to sink your teeth into?"
The room buzzed. The reporter stammered, flustered.
"B-but the failures of the past..."
"Name me a coach who hasn't failed. Why would any competent coach take the Korean national team job? Have you ever thought maybe you're dumping all the blame on the coach? No matter how I look at it, it's the public and the media destroying Korean football. Have you ever seriously reflected on that? The whims of 50 million bandwagon fans who boil over like pots then go cold. And the media going insane for views, driving players and coaches to ruin. Aren't you the massive boulders holding Korean football back?"
I slowly stood from my seat. The interpreter faltered under my seething intensity, and the foreign reporters perked up their ears, trying to catch the nuances of the Korean.
"Reporter, speak up confidently like that. Why bring up the Korean coach appointment at a Man City joining interview? Let's hear the reason for that question. What makes it so damn important that you flew all the way here just to ask that?"
Overwhelming silence.
In the hush where even camera shutters stopped, I waited for an answer. In the quiet, another Korean reporter from K-Sports, Kang, grabbed the mic.
"First off, congratulations on joining Man City, Player Ryu Rion. But Korean fans are filled more with anger than joy right now. There are rumors that a player was involved in interviews during the selection process for Coach Yoon's appointment. What do you think about this special privilege hiring?"
Chiki Director next to me furrowed his brow listening to the translation.
That interview rumor was some half-baked tabloid chatter floating around communities. Comments like that popped up because my interview timing coincidentally overlapped with the final three candidates being set. Conspiracy nuts gonna conspiracy—turn everything into a problem. But how the hell is a player supposed to shake up the association? Like I have the authority to meddle in coach appointments?
I leisurely took a sip of water and continued.
"I don't know why that tabloid shit keeps circulating, but how is a player supposed to be involved in the coach selection?"
The reporter didn't back down.
"You had an interview, didn't you? If it's above board, can you disclose the contents?"
Whoa, fuck. If it's clean, just spill it, huh? What is this, treating me like a sex crime suspect—guilty till proven innocent? Is this their idea of logic? In a way, it's par for the course. That's the Korea I live in. That's what makes the bandwagons bandwagons. A question that hammered home the bone-deep reality of my country. Hiding my shock at the idiotic query, I gripped the mic.
"That's no different from telling me to shut up if I'm innocent."
The reporter looked flustered.
"Wha...?"
"Nothing I can't disclose, but spare me that dogshit logic. Listen up. The interview wasn't about coach selection—it was about factions within the national team. Factions? Think about it. There are players abusing their authority on the team. And talk that the association stays silent or looks the other way. We discussed that. And the medical team issues too."
Silence again. These fuckers set their frames and clam up if it doesn't fit. How are these reporters any different from Korea's 50 million bandwagons?
"Seems like no more questions. Time to go play some football. Safe travels back to Korea."
I walked out into the corridor.
As I reached the locker room entrance, a shadow blocked my path.
A man leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring right at me.
Pep Guardiola.
He scanned me with his signature sharp gaze and spoke.
"That interview was quite interesting. Ryan, looks like joining Man City has puffed up your chest. Want some advice? If you fight outside as hard as that but can't prove it on the pitch... Manchester's opinion will be even crueler than Korea's. You ready?"
To his question, I just grinned instead of answering. That's when my phone buzzed. It was Bong Hyeoksu from Chelsea, watching me live. Guy must be lonely. Or just curiously observing.
The message was one short line.
That short sentence from Bong Hyeoksu cracked me up. I fired back simply.
The interview's ripple effects were beyond imagination. My venomous words from Manchester hit Korea in real-time, absolutely bombing every community.
The internet was pure chaos. "Ryu Rion interview" and "national team factions" dominated portal site search terms. The public raged at my arrogance but got hooked on the massive bait I dropped about the incidents.
Long hushed-up chronic wounds of Korean football were starting to burst open from one sentence I uttered in Manchester.
I boarded the train to London.
The train gliding smoothly from Manchester Piccadilly toward London. Ah, so fucking far. I don't have a car yet, and when Bong Hyeoksu said he'd pick me up, I thought he was nuts and barely talked him out of it. No matter how shitty the hierarchy is, ordering the captain around? That's not manners, not something you do to someone I respect. Even if the bandwagons or public call me a crazy bastard or inhuman scum, I'm not so deranged as to be rude to my actual people.
The images the public creates are like that. Star Mo Chanhee builds this saintly persona of being nice and kind, so if you clash with him, you're instantly the villain. Weak backing? Battling Mo Chanhee in rhythm with Celta Vigo's name only staggers you for two days because his fandom dwarfs yours. Now with Man City, a big club. No more judging players by goals and assists—it's about big-club presence and match impact. In other words, the beats I drop at Man City become mirror therapy, twisting Mo Chanhee the star and the bandwagons right back at them.