Life After Regression
Watching Korean football collapse felt so damn satisfying.
"Serves you right, you fucking bastards. Feels good."
On the screen, the empty Asiad Main Stadium loomed alongside the Korean national team's iconic red uniforms scattered across the pitch like trash.
The 50 Million Bandwagon Fans burned hotter than anyone when things were boiling over, but they turned ice-cold the moment it cooled down. Every time expectations shattered, the unimaginable hate they spewed had led to this pathetic end.
"Self-inflicted. They boiled up all that talent, let it cool off, fucked around until it ended up in the shitter—this is the least they deserve. Perfect fucking ending."
I cackled, pulling the covers over me and drifting off to sleep. With a refreshing sense of having swept away all the garbage.
Beep-beep-beep! Beep-beep-beep!
Vigo, Spain. The alarm blaring from the nightstand beside the bed sliced through my sleep like a knife. I bolted upright on instinct, forcing my heavy eyelids open.
The outdated apartment bedroom on the outskirts of Vigo. The Celta Vigo uniform hanging on the wall. A familiar sight.
I'd opened my eyes to find myself in my apartment bedroom on the outskirts of Vigo, Spain. The last time I'd played for Celta Vigo was right before Korean football's collapse, when the head coach couldn't last a year and got sacked.
That's when I'd transferred to Galatasaray in Turkey during the winter window and announced my retirement from the national team.
'Vigo?'
The soft feel of the rug underfoot. The intense Atlantic sunlight pouring through the window. I grabbed my smartphone to check the date.
'A dream? Why the hell is this 2024?'
Outside the window, the team bus emblazoned with the club's crest was idling, about to depart. Everything matched that June 2024 period when I was a starter in a European big league, hailed as Korea's football hope.
I poked around, running my hands over everything, then stared into the brightly lit mirror. This had to be...
"Regression? Why me?"
Regressions usually stem from regrets or lingering attachments. But I had none of that. Just pure relief at never having to deal with those bandwagon fans again.
Then my phone rang. The screen showed "Lee Coach."
I picked up, and a frantic voice exploded through.
"Ryu Rion, you punk, when the hell are you coming back to Korea? You gonna ghost us forever?"
What the fuck was this? No memory of it. Was I suffering from dementia? Yeah, that explained this bullshit. I must be reliving everything due to dementia. Nah, fuck that—it didn't feel like dementia at all. But whatever this was, it wasn't in my memories. Interim coach? Wasn't Kim Myeongbak directing things back then?
"Coach, when did I ghost you? I just woke up from sleep. And interim coach... what the hell? We've got Coach Myeongbak, don't we?"
Lee Coach spilled the story, sounding utterly baffled.
"Myeongbak? What bullshit is that, you lunatic? You went radio silent for days, so I told your agent to check your place. He said you were just sleeping. Figured you were exhausted, so I left you alone, but then you ghost total—no contact. That's why I'm stepping in."
'What the hell kind of memory is this?'
"Uh... where's my agent?"
"You know him."
My agent was Cha Daehyeok, but he wasn't around now—or was he not?
"Cha Daehyeok by any chance?"
"Cha Daehyeok, whatever, you little shit—does that matter right now? You gonna keep ghosting? Lucky for you Daehyeok's a nice guy. Fuck."
'No Myeongbak coach, but Daehyeok's around?'
If Daehyeok handled it his way, it made sense he didn't wake me. The guy's too nice to piss me off, but damn good at his job—that's why we teamed up. Anyway, Daehyeok existed.
"Got it. I'm starving—gonna eat and call you back."
"Hey, Ryu Rion..."
I hung up. The signal flare of Korean football's downfall, Coach Kim Myeongbak, was being treated like he never existed. What the fuck was going on? And me going radio silent? Never happened. Unless my phone was off...
Then I heard footsteps at the door, and Daehyeok walked in.
"Oh? Bro, you're up?"
Daehyeok looked exactly the same...
"Yeah, I'm up. How long was I out?"
Daehyeok set down cup ramen and a lunchbox from the bag, saying he'd apparently gone to the Korean mart while I slept.
"About two days. You looked wiped, so I just checked you were alive."
Two days... That enough to lose his shit?
"Two days?"
"Exactly four, technically. Two days since I first came by. You know the other two."
Got it. Total radio silence for four days, two confirmed sleeping by Daehyeok. Nothing major in the first two, so whatever. The real issue: I regressed for no damn reason. Classic cliché? Then I gotta live this out. Nah, this ain't no "wait, is this a dream? Feels too real" bullshit.
Daehyeok boiled water as he spoke.
"Bro, why'd you sleep like that? Even a sloth wouldn't go that hard. Good thing the season's over."
Won't believe me if I say regression.
"Those bandwagon fuckers pissed me off, so I crashed."
"Bandwagon? Oh, Korea?"
"Yeah, those assholes."
Daehyeok looked pretty thrown.
"Weren't you super patriotic, bro?"
Yeah. Up until Coach Myeongbak's era, anyway. I was proud to be Korean, loved wearing the taegukgi armband for the national team. Wished the results matched that passion, but they didn't. The bandwagon fans and the players' mental fragility wore my patriotism down day by day.
So suddenly calling Koreans bandwagon assholes? No wonder he was shocked. Right now, I had to be pre-regression Ryu Rion. But no going back to that. No armoring up with patriotism. Already scraped clean—might as well do my own thing now that I'm back.
"..."
But seeing his reaction, I figured he wouldn't cheer me on, so I held back on saying more.
Daehyeok poured water into the cup ramen.
'Looks tasty.'
Seeing the ramen made my stomach growl harder. Four days of nothing but sleep? I could devour the world. And here he was, pouring water for me—guy's a pro.
Just to check, I asked Daehyeok too.
"You know anyone named Myeongbak?"
He looked like he'd never heard the name.
"There was a president by that name, I think."
His reaction confirmed: Coach Myeongbak never existed.
"Nah. Let's eat ramen."
I was trying to figure out why I'd regressed. My guess: the absence of Coach Myeongbak, the downfall's trigger, and me spitting on Korean football while reveling in its collapse. Change it this time?
Nah. Not even a little interested. Would those fucking 50 Million Bandwagon Fans listen to me now? Hell no. No point flailing around like an idiot.
But my much younger body brimmed with energy, sparking a weird stubborn urge. If it's doomed to collapse anyway, why not give it a shot? Using my knowledge of Korean football's downfall to fix even a bit of this chaotic mess? If it grows back? Fail and fine, succeed and bonus. Footballers thrive on competitive fire—this was mine ignited. This time, against the 50 million.
Flying back to Korea from Spain in a rush, I joined the national team right away. The interim coach was Baek Ho-dol, a K League champion. With the sacked coaches causing a deadlock in selecting a new one, he'd been thrown in as a firefighter to fill the void. Already, the scorching gaze of the 50 Million Bandwagon Fans bore down on him.
In this familiar yet vicious chaos, I calmly checked the roster. Mostly the guys I knew, of course.
Captain Bong Hyeoksu made the cut, steadily reassuring the players with his heavy presence. Reliable defender Jongmin was there too. Players quietly doing their jobs—I liked those types. And the ones I hated made it too.
"Mo Chanhee. That prick's on the list again."
In my past life, Mo Chanhee had been vice-captain after Bong Hyeoksu. They'd offered me the role too, but I turned it down. Didn't want the attention. Despite being vice-captain, Mo Chanhee wasn't leader material—he'd even stirred teammates into the hate mob, letting public opinion swallow them. I despised his hypocritical opportunism.
This time, captain Bong Hyeoksu, vice-captain Mo Chanhee. And before the face-to-face, Baek Ho-dol was using the vice-captain offer as an excuse to call me in.
Baek Ho-dol called out.
"Ryu Rion, come in and have a seat."