The Betrayal Exposed and the Director's Judgment

"What's going on?!"

The manager and the medical staff came sprinting over. Ederson and Ramirez were writhing on the ground in agony, and I was groaning beside them as if I were hurt too.

"Ugh..."

"They got tangled up going for an aerial ball and all three of them went down!"

The players nearby rushed to explain. The medical staff checked them over at once, and their faces turned grim.

"This... looks like a possible ankle fracture. They need to get to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a hospital right away."

"What about Tae-woo?" the manager asked, his voice tight with worry.

"Jung Tae-woo doesn't appear to have any serious injuries, thankfully."

"Hah... why does this kind of thing even happen." Peter Guardian let out a sigh and clutched his head.

"Two players, right at the start of the season..."

The training ground descended into chaos in an instant. The medical staff bustled about calling an ambulance, and the players traded anxious looks, whispering among themselves. Ederson and Ramirez were carried off on stretchers.

Mathias came over and patted my shoulder.

"You all right, Tae-woo? Don't blame yourself. This isn't on you."

Vice-captain Alexander picked up where Mathias left off.

"He's right. If anything, they went in way too rough. We're just lucky you didn't get hurt."

"Hah... still, if I'd just been a little more careful..."

I did my best to look wracked with guilt, making sure to hang my head and let my shoulders slump.

Someone might say snapping their ankles was going too far. But if things had gone according to their plan, I'd be the one being loaded into that ambulance right now.

If you were going to ruin someone else's life, you should've been ready to have yours ruined too.

In the end, training was called off on the spot. The manager headed to the hospital to check on Ederson and Ramirez, and the rest of the squad filed toward the locker room with heavy faces.

As I was leaving, Mathias and Alexander came up behind me once more.

"Tae-woo. This really isn't your fault. You know that, right?" Mathias said, his voice grave. Alexander nodded and added,

"Don't worry yourself sick. Go home and get some rest."

I nodded at the two seniors' warmth. They watched me all the way out of the locker room, worry still sitting in their eyes.

Tsk... now I feel a little guilty.

Well — that just meant my acting had been perfect, didn't it? I decided to take it as a compliment.

At the cutting-edge sports clinic in the heart of Manchester — the Manchester Institute of Sports Medicine & Rehabilitation (MISMR) — Peter Guardian sat in a consultation room, speaking with the medical staff, his expression grave.

"Is it that serious?" Worry filled every word.

"Ederson has a ruptured ankle ligament, and Ramirez has damaged cartilage in the knee." The doctor pointed to the X-rays as he went on. "Both of them are going to need surgery. We're looking at a minimum of three months of rehab, possibly as long as six."

Peter Guardian's face hardened. He had never intended to simply park Ederson on the bench. His plan had been to rotate him with Jung Tae-woo and actually lift Ederson's form in the process — and that plan was now dead in the water.

"I understand. And the surgeries would be..."

A commotion rose outside the consultation room.

"Manager! This was no accident!"

It was Ederson. Seated in a wheelchair, his face was twisted with rage.

"When we went down, that kid deliberately put his weight into it—"

That was when Thomas Wilson carefully opened the door. He was the B-team striker whose ability in today's session had left Tae-woo genuinely impressed — and the reason Tae-woo hadn't recognized him was that he was a City youth player making his first appearance at first-team training.

"Manager... I'm sorry, but I happened to overhear something last night."

Thomas cleared his throat and began to explain. At his words, Ederson's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expression froze. He hurriedly raised a hand, trying to cut Thomas off.

"Wait—"

Thomas did not stop.

"Last night — since today was my first first-team session, I was so wound up I stopped by the training ground for a bit. I overheard Ederson and Ramirez talking behind the locker room, and..."

He hesitated, then pushed on.

"They were planning to go after Jung Tae-woo's knee during the last aerial duel of today's practice match."

The color drained from Ederson's face in an instant.

"Manager, that is absolutely not true! This kid is—"

"Quiet!!!!!!"

Peter Guardian's furious roar filled the consultation room. He turned a piercing look on Thomas.

"There isn't even one percent of a lie in what you just said, is there?"

"No, sir. I heard it clearly last night."

"Then..." Guardian's voice went cold. "Why are you only coming forward now, instead of before training?"

Thomas lowered his head for a moment, then answered in a trembling voice.

"I'm sorry... I was scared of accusing two seniors when I'd only just been called up to the first team... and I wasn't sure I hadn't misheard..."

Ederson tried to push himself up out of the wheelchair, shouting,

"It's a lie! Manager, this kid is trying to smear us—"

"Can't you keep your mouth shut?"

Peter Guardian's icy voice cut across the room, and Ederson froze where he sat.

It hadn't shown much lately, with Manchester City on the rise — but among the players, Peter Guardian was someone to be feared. His charisma and his severity were already well known, and when he got angry even the veterans held their breath. A tension as thin as ice settled over the consultation room in an instant.

"You two."

His voice was low and heavy.

"The moment your surgeries are done, you come straight to my office. I'll be requesting severe disciplinary action from the board."

Ederson tried to speak again, but a firm cut of Guardian's hand left him no choice but to close his mouth.

His fist slammed down on the desk beside him.

"The very fact that this happened at our club is a disgrace. The board will decide what punishment you receive — but my own position is already set."

Ramirez kept his head bowed and could not say a word.

"Thomas." Guardian's voice softened. "Coming forward, even late, was the right thing to do. If anything like this happens again, you report it at once."

Thomas let out a breath of relief and nodded.

Peter Guardian stopped at the door and looked back. What sat in his eyes now was not so much anger as a deep, quiet disappointment.

Ederson's face went pale.

"I was going to rotate you and Tae-woo this season. You were actually lined up for more minutes. Tae-woo's still young."

Ederson's eyes flew wide. His hands clenched white around the wheelchair's armrests.

"But you threw all of that away."

The door shut, and Ederson's head slowly dropped.

Just as Peter Guardian had said, the disciplinary process moved like a well-oiled machine. The club board convened an emergency meeting within twenty-four hours of the incident. Thomas's testimony, additional statements from Guerrero and Sanchez, and the medical staff's written opinion — every piece of evidence was unambiguous. The meeting reached a verdict in three hours.

It was among the harshest punishments in Premier League history for an attempt to injure a teammate.

The next morning, the manager called Jung Tae-woo to his office.

Knock, knock.

"Manager, it's Jung Tae-woo."

"Come in."

As Tae-woo stepped inside, Guardian let out a long breath.

"First... I'm sorry."

It was the last thing Tae-woo had expected. His eyes went wide.

"I should have seen it. The strange atmosphere between Ederson and Ramirez... and how hard this must have been for you."

"That's not necessary, sir. I—"

"No." Peter Guardian cut him off, shaking his head. "A manager is responsible for his players' safety. For a young player like you to go through something like this... that's entirely on me."

I've been riding too high lately.

"Go on. From today, you'll be able to focus on football without anything like this hanging over you."

Tae-woo bowed in thanks and left the office. Guardian looked out through the window at the training ground and sank into thought. He had never imagined that the friction between an eighteen-year-old goalkeeper and a veteran would swell this far. He sighed, turning his own carelessness over in his mind once more.

"I still have a long way to go..."

Huh. I didn't think this would blow up this big.

To think someone had actually overheard Ederson and Ramirez talking. Honestly — even now — what a pair of idiots.

"How'd it go?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I was heading back from the manager's office to the training ground when I found three guys staring a hole through my face. Guerrero, Sanchez, Castillo. They looked as antsy as neighborhood kids waiting for a friend to come out after getting chewed out by his parents.

"It's not like I did anything wrong. He just said he was sorry he hadn't known, and that nothing like this would happen from now on. That was it."

"Phew. Thank god."

Sanchez let out a breath and shook his head.

"But seriously — how do two guys sit down and plot to take out their own team's prospect? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Are they actually insane?"

"Right? Just goes to show not every senior is like the captain."

I found myself nodding at Castillo's words. The moment last night's plot to injure me got out among the players, the captain had called. He'd said he was truly sorry — sorry he hadn't caught it and stopped it first. Even among all the adults I'd met, he was someone with a great deal worth learning from.

"Those idiots. If they'd seen that look on Tae-woo's face, they would've dumped that plan in the trash on the spot."

"Huh? What look?" Castillo, who hadn't seen it, asked, curious.

"If the devil actually existed, that's the face he'd make—"

"Hey. Shut it."

I smacked the back of Guerrero's head for running his mouth, then said, "Let's get to training," and walked on ahead.

Was that look really that scary?

A fun thought occurred to me. If Guerrero ever did something stupid, I should try threatening him with that face.

Then he won't run his mouth about going to Man United.