Exterminating the Parasite, and Limiter Release
A shabby officetel in Nonhyeon-dong, Gangnam-gu, Seoul.
Even in the middle of the day the curtains were drawn, leaving the room dim, with only thick cigarette smoke drifting like a ghost. An ashtray piled high with butts teetered on the desk, while on the floor lay a cold sweet-and-sour pork container and shriveled yellow pickled radish from a takeout order days old.
The master of this mess was the self-proclaimed CEO of “JK Global Sports Management”—in reality an unregistered illegal agent named Kim Hyeong-jun, better known as Manager Kim.
“Ah, shit… rent’s overdue again this month. Isn’t there some kid who can make me money?”
He flipped through a sports newspaper with irritation. These days parents were sharp, armed with internet communities and the like. Approach them clumsily and they would demand, “Show me your agent registration,” making it harder to scrape by than before. What he desperately needed was a pure, clueless “sucker” with undeniable talent.
Then a small article in the corner of the paper snagged his hollow eyes.
Tournament MVP Ma Gang-cheol (11): “Overwhelming skill—not elementary-school level,” evaluators say
“Huh? Ma Gang-cheol…?”
Kim Hyeong-jun’s eyes flashed. He remembered. A few months earlier, using a provincial business trip as an excuse, he had stumbled upon that country kid. The boy’s movement while kicking a ball on a dirt field had been anything but ordinary, so he had secretly filmed it and sent the footage to a broker with connections in Spain.
He rummaged through his desk drawer, pulled out an old external hard drive, and plugged it into the computer. Folder name: [Provincial Prospect – Ma Gang-cheol].
Then he opened his inbox. The recipient was a youth coach in Madrid, Spain, named Carlos. The reply was short but clear.
“Fuck, that was it. I should’ve locked him down right then.”
Kim Hyeong-jun bit his lip. The moment the positive signal had come from Madrid, he had tried to set up a meeting and head down. But that very morning he heard Gang-cheol had been hit by a truck. “Ah, bad luck. Kid’s probably a cripple now,” he had thought, blocking the number and vanishing—his greatest regret.
Yet this morning the boy had reappeared in the paper. As city tournament MVP, no less. Dominating the pitch on two perfectly healthy legs.
“He’s alive. And he’s become an even bigger monster.”
Greed glittered in Kim Hyeong-jun’s eyes. He was no simple con man. His specialty was intelligent “design”—setting real deals in motion and skimming the money in the middle.
“Real Madrid already sent a positive signal. Dangle that bait and those country parents will fall for it a hundred percent. Hell, they’ll bow and sign.”
The calculator in his head spun rapidly.
1. Use a “trial opportunity with a prestigious Spanish club” as bait to lock in an exclusive contract.
2. Pocket over 80 percent of the club’s signing bonus and settlement support under the guise of “local management fees” and “education costs.”
3. Dump the player in a cheap local boarding house, take the commission, and disappear. If the kid fails to adapt and comes home, seize the house with the penalty clause.
“Heh heh heh. This time I’ll suck him dry properly. Ma Gang-cheol, you’re my lottery ticket. A gift from heaven.”
With trembling hands he flipped through his notebook and found Ma Gang-cheol’s home phone number. The delicious prey seemed to have walked right into his jaws.
Sunday afternoon. Gang-cheol’s house.
While peacefully enjoying the afterglow of the city tournament victory, a loud telephone ring reached Gang-cheol’s ears.
Riiing— riiing—.
His mother, washing dishes in the kitchen, came out to the living room still wearing rubber gloves.
“Yes, hello? …Ah, yes. Who is this, please?”
Her voice trembled with a hint of confusion. Gang-cheol, lying on the sofa analyzing European youth league footage on a tablet PC, turned his head. His mother’s expression was growing increasingly troubled.
“Ah… Manager Kim? Yes… No, that day the boy had an accident and we were completely out of it… What? A contract? What do you mean… We haven’t even thought about anything like that yet.”
Gang-cheol’s brow furrowed.
Manager Kim.
The moment he heard those words, a sticky, unpleasant name lodged in a corner of his previous life’s memories surfaced. Kim Hyeong-jun.
And the conversation he had shared with Team Leader Choi Hyeon-seok in the car a few days earlier flashed vividly through his mind.
Inside Choi Hyeon-seok’s car.
“Gang-cheol. Once you win, the flies will start swarming.”
“Flies?”
“Yeah. This industry is full of bastards who scam kids by holding their dreams hostage. Especially a guy named Kim Hyeong-jun—watch out for him. LK’s legal team looked into who you were supposed to meet the day of your accident. It was him.”
Choi Hyeon-seok opened the glove box in the passenger seat and tossed over a thick envelope of documents.
“Three prior convictions. Fraud, forgery of private documents, embezzlement. Look at the victim list. You’ll recognize some of the seniors.”
Gang-cheol scanned the papers and clenched his fist. Familiar names appeared. Cases where families sold their homes for study-abroad fees only for the child to become an international missing person; cases where only the signing bonus was stolen and the injured player was abandoned.
“That truck actually saved you. If you’d met him then, your talent would’ve been locked into some slave contract and sucked dry to the bone.”
The flashback ended. Gang-cheol’s eyes turned ice-cold. A bad connection from his past life, and a parasite in this one.
His mother still held the receiver, at a complete loss.
“Um, well… our Gang-cheol is currently with someone else…”
Manager Kim’s shrill voice blasted through the receiver loud enough to fill the living room.
“Hey, Mother! There’s such a thing as professional ethics! You made a verbal promise with me first! I already talked everything over with the Real Madrid local contact to send Gang-cheol to Spain! If you change your tune now, do you want to pay the penalty? This is a clear contract violation! Let’s do this by the book, by the book!”
It was half a threat. At the word “law,” the innocent country mother’s face went white.
Gang-cheol quietly approached and gently took the receiver from her hand.
“Mom, give it to me.”
“Huh? Gang-cheol, you…”
“I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”
He took one deep breath and put the receiver to his ear.
“Hello.”
“Oh, yes! Gang-cheol? It’s Uncle! Uncle Manager Kim! You remember me, right? We were supposed to meet. How’s your body? Aigoo, I’ve been so worried this whole time…”
The moment he confirmed it was a child, the voice turned sickeningly affectionate. That fake tone made disgust rise in Gang-cheol’s throat.
“Just state your business, Uncle.”
“Aw, ‘business’? That hurts. Do you know how hard Uncle ran around to send you to Spain? I sent your video to Madrid and even got the ‘okay’! It was only put on hold because of the accident—our contract is still valid!”
It wasn’t a complete lie. The materials Choi Hyeon-seok had given him confirmed the man had actually sent the video. The intent, however, was rotten.
“So?”
“What do you mean ‘so’! We have to pick it up again. You won MVP this time, right? If we send more video right now it’s a free pass to the trial. Put your mother on. Just stamp the contract. Uncle will take care of the plane tickets and lodging, everything.”
“The contract? Article 4, Clause 2—the one you love the most?”
“…Huh?”
“The player’s salary and signing bonus are received into an account designated by the agent, and the amount remaining after deducting various expenses and management fees is paid to the player. But those management fees exceed 50 percent, don’t they? And if the player fails to adapt locally, all penalties fall on the player. Correct?”
“…!!”
The breathing on the other end grew rough. He had been hit dead center. No eleven-year-old kid should know that content.
“W-who told you that? It’s not like that. Just plane tickets and living expenses, more or less…”
“Uncle. I train with LK’s Team Leader Choi Hyeon-seok. The team leader said something interesting. Seniors who signed with Kim Hyeong-jun lost their houses by the truckload. Three formal complaints already piled up, right?”
“Wh-what? You little arrogant bastard! I’ve got connections with Madrid—you dare look down on me? One word from me to that club and your path to Europe is blocked forever! This industry is small! You want to get blacklisted?!”
Kim Hyeong-jun revealed his true colors and roared. The sound of a desk being slammed came through the receiver. Gang-cheol didn’t so much as blink.
“And that ‘by the book’ you mentioned earlier? Go ahead and try it.”
“What?”
“You didn’t know Chairman Lee Dae-su of the LK Group is behind me? To blacklist me you’ll have to go through LK’s legal team first. Think you can handle that? Becoming a four-time convict would take only a moment.”
“….”
The other end of the line went as silent as if cold water had been dumped on it. In South Korea the two letters “LK” carried absolute power. A third-rate con man had no hill to climb.
“Final warning. Call my mother one more time and threaten her, and next time it won’t be the police station—you’ll be meeting me in the basement of LK headquarters. I’ve recorded everything. Goodbye.”
Click.
Gang-cheol hung up without a shred of regret and yanked the phone cord completely out of the wall.
“Gang-cheol… why did you talk like that… Was he really a scammer? Mom had no idea…”
His mother pressed a hand to her startled chest. Gang-cheol returned to the gentle expression of an eleven-year-old and massaged her shoulders.
“Yes. He’s a bad uncle. Team Leader Choi told me everything. There are players whose lives were ruined because of him. Never deal with him again.”
Right on cue, the front doorbell rang.
Ding-dong—.
Gang-cheol checked the intercom. On the screen appeared Team Leader Choi Hyeon-seok in a neat suit. Beside him stood a sharp-looking man carrying a document bag.
“Ma’am, good afternoon. Choi Hyeon-seok of LK Sports.”
When the door opened, Choi Hyeon-seok bowed politely.
“Oh my, Team Leader, you’re here. And this gentleman…?”
“Ah, this is Attorney Park Min-su from the LK Group legal team. We heard you just received a call from a man named Kim Hyeong-jun.”
The attorney handed over a business card and spoke gently.
“Please don’t worry. We’ve already sent him a content-certified letter for a ‘restraining order application’ and ‘obstruction of business through intimidation.’ He won’t dare come near you or young Gang-cheol again. We’ll also reopen the investigation into his past embezzlement cases.”
His mother’s eyes went wide. Gang-cheol grinned at Choi Hyeon-seok. The timing was perfect.
“See, Mom? That’s a real partner.”
Choi Hyeon-seok clicked his tongue at Gang-cheol.
“You little brat—your handling was way too slick. Where’d you learn the ‘I recorded it’ threat?”
“From you, Team Leader. Over the shoulder.”
“Hah. You’ve got a mouth on you.”
Choi Hyeon-seok gave a bitter smile and pushed Gang-cheol’s back.
“Let’s go. To school. There’s something you need to see.”
One hour later. Haeseong Elementary School playground.
Arriving at the school in Choi Hyeon-seok’s car, Gang-cheol couldn’t close his mouth.
The field that had always kicked up dust had been completely torn up. Trucks shuttled back and forth hauling materials without rest, and on one side of the ground a mountain of brand-new green artificial turf rolls was already stacked high.
“Whoa… construction already started?”
“The chairman ordered it. Lightning speed. Turf installation finishes this weekend. And look over there.”
Where Choi Hyeon-seok pointed, a temporary kitchen built from container boxes had been set up, and chefs in white uniforms were carrying ingredients.
“Those are your team’s dedicated nutritionists. From now on you eat the meals they cook instead of school lunch. Diet is eighty percent of building a body.”
Gang-cheol’s chest swelled. Support he could never have imagined in his previous life. This was the power of capital—the power of LK.
Choi Hyeon-seok led him toward the unfinished urethane track in a corner of the grounds.
“Gang-cheol. The turf is one thing, but the real reason I brought you today is different.”
Choi Hyeon-seok’s expression turned serious. He pulled out a tablet PC and showed Gang-cheol a graph covered in complex waveforms.
“Look at this. Data from just a month ago. See the tiny gap between the speed you think and the actual speed your muscles move?”
“Ah, that feeling I had back then…”
“Right. Your brain already issued the ‘kick’ command, but the neuromuscular system accepted it 0.1 seconds late—a ‘Reaction Delay’ phenomenon. Simply put, the brain was an F1 machine, but the chassis was a compact car overheating and lagging.”
Choi Hyeon-seok swiped the screen sideways and brought up today’s real-time data. The two waveforms overlapped perfectly with zero error.
“But look now. Perfect sync. All that core and deep-muscle work you killed yourself doing at the LK Center paid off. Your body is now fully supporting your head.”
He turned off the tablet and stared straight at Gang-cheol.
“Because of injury risk I’ve been forcing a limiter on you—use only eighty percent. You were frustrated, but I was terrified your body would break. Today’s data is different.”
Choi Hyeon-seok took out a whistle and put it in his mouth.
“Don’t hold back anymore. Pour out a hundred percent. Let’s test your real limits right here today.”
It’s here.
A blue notification window flickered into Gang-cheol’s vision as if it had been waiting.
[Status Change]: Physical Stabilization Phase Complete (Stabilized)
[Warning Lifted]: ‘Neuromuscular Mismatch’ penalty permanently deleted.
[Hidden Function]: Limiter Release ON
[Effect]: Projects 100% of previous-life technique and sensation onto the physical body.
Gang-cheol kicked off the slippers he was wearing.
The elasticity of the urethane floor shot straight from his bare soles into his brain. Choi Hyeon-seok spoke from “data,” but Gang-cheol was certain through the “system.” He could truly let the reins go now.
“Ready… go!”
Tweet—!
Gang-cheol exploded off the ground.
Bang!
Explosive power burst from the soles of his feet.
The old micro-stutter—the frustrating lag of legs arriving later than thought—vanished like a lie. The moment he thought it, his body was already there.
Whoosh, whoosh—!
The sound of cutting wind slapped his ears. In an instant Gang-cheol had covered half a lap of the track.
Explosive acceleration on the straight. Then the corner.
Even at angles that once made his ankles scream, the muscles now gripped the joints rock-solid. Gravity itself felt light.
This is it. This is my body.
Gang-cheol sprinted one full power lap and stopped in front of Choi Hyeon-seok. Breath burned all the way to his throat, yet his face overflowed with a joy he had never felt even in his previous life.
“Hah, hah… Team Leader, this…”
“How is it? Finally feel like running?”
Choi Hyeon-seok showed him the stopwatch.
100 m: 12.82 seconds
It was not a fifth-grade elementary record. Even against elite middle-school players it would rank near the top in pure speed. Above all, the start reaction time was national-team level.
“Insane. Seriously.”
“Yeah. Insane. You’re no longer just the king of a country school—you’re a nationwide monster. No wonder guys like Kim Hyeong-jun were drooling.”
Choi Hyeon-seok tossed him a towel. While Gang-cheol wiped his sweat, the team leader adjusted his sunglasses and smiled strangely.
“Gang-cheol. Earlier Kim Hyeong-jun said he had a line to Real Madrid, right?”
“Yes. He did. A rotten rope, but still.”
“True. But the fact that he sent your video to the Madrid coaches is real. They showed quite a bit of interest, apparently. So we moved first.”
Choi Hyeon-seok brought up the tablet screen and displayed a massive emblem.
World Youth Club Championship
A golden lion wrapping the globe—magnificent logo.
Participating clubs: Barcelona, Manchester City… and Real Madrid.
“As promised, recruitment is finished. Those teams Kim Hyeong-jun was begging by secretly sending videos… I brought them all into your living room.”
Gang-cheol nodded calmly. It was a future he already knew, yet seeing it with his own eyes made his blood boil.
“As expected, you work fast. Worth laying out the mat for you.”
“Hah, you really… not even a little surprised? Real Madrid is coming.”
“No time to be surprised. I have to prepare if I’m going to flatten those arrogant noses.”
Gang-cheol’s eyes blazed. There was no fear or tension—only the excitement of a predator facing its prey.
“Good. Body’s free, the stage is set. No more excuses. Confident?”
At Choi Hyeon-seok’s question Gang-cheol lightly hopped in place. A body light as a feather. Muscles that moved exactly as thought. A more perfect state than any moment in his previous life.
“Confident? Well…”
He grinned and clenched his fist tight.
“In this condition… losing might actually be harder.”
A supremely confident answer. Choi Hyeon-seok let out a hollow laugh and shook his head. Yet the eyes watching that retreating back were filled with certainty. The monster’s seal had been completely broken.