Black Hole, and the Fake Genius
Hwarangdaegi Tournament — Opening Day D-3
Haeseong Elementary School audiovisual room.
Summer heat poured through the gaps in the windows, thick and stifling, yet the air inside felt as cold as a Siberian plain.
Ma Gang-cheol stood before the massive whiteboard and popped the cap off a black marker with a sharp click. The sound cracked against the kids’ eardrums like a gunshot.
A year of hellish training had finished the physical overhaul. Now it was time to rewire their brains.
“Listen up. For this tournament, we run one tactic. Just one.”
He stabbed a thick black dot dead center on the board, then ringed it with ten smaller dots like satellites.
“The Black Hole strategy.”
“Bl… black hole?”
“Is this space science class?”
The kids murmured. The word felt too grand, too abstract for a soccer tactic. Gang-cheol smirked as if he’d expected exactly that reaction and tapped the center dot with the marker tip.
“Modern soccer is a war over space. But let’s be honest—with your current tactical IQ, complicated tiki-taka or build-up play is impossible.”
Cold, merciless facts. The kids shut their mouths. No one could argue. Their stamina had reached national-team levels, but footwork and soccer sense didn’t turn into Messi or Iniesta overnight.
“So we keep it simple. When I get the ball, what do the other team’s defenders do?”
Lee Dong-hyeok’s hand shot up.
“They swarm you, right? Because… you’re dangerous.”
“And because you’re an annoying bastard they want to stomp.”
“Correct.”
Gang-cheol drew a flurry of arrows racing toward the center dot—enemies pressing from every direction.
“My goal this tournament isn’t scoring. It’s aggro. The second I start dribbling, at least two, maybe three or four, will come to stop me. That’s the black hole. I suck in their entire defensive structure and every pair of eyes.”
His gaze flashed. This wasn’t sacrifice. It was domination.
“And in that moment, what do you become? Satellites.”
“Satellites?”
“The second their defense gets sucked into the black hole, a wide-open highway appears in front of you. Those two, three seconds I hold the ball and keep it—you sprint into the empty space like maniacs. Don’t think. Don’t look back. Just run.”
He locked eyes with each teammate in turn, planting trust and certainty.
“My passes won’t land at your feet. They’ll drop into the empty space you need to reach. Your only job is one thing: run like dogs and gobble it up.”
Simple. Clear.
An overwhelming crack named Ma Gang-cheol would shatter the back line, and a zombie horde with endless stamina would pour through the gaps to finish. Cover technical shortcomings with sheer work rate and the ace’s carry power—the most reliable, most ruthless winning formula at youth level.
“Dong-hyeok.”
“Y-yeah?”
The striker swallowed hard.
“You’ve been taking five hundred shots a day, right?”
“Yeah… till I almost puked. Nearly lost a toenail.”
“Then trust yourself. My passes will always arrive at the shooting angle you love most.”
Dong-hyeok’s heart hammered. There was a strange magic in Gang-cheol’s words. If that bastard said he’d deliver, he would. No—he absolutely would.
🧩 Tactic Registered: ‘Gang-cheol and the Kids (Black Hole ver.)’
— Effect: Party leader (Ma Gang-cheol)’s ‘Aggro’ value rises dramatically.
— Effect: Party members’ ‘Space Penetration’ speed increases by 10%.
“Good. Theory’s done. Pack up. We’re going to Gyeongju. Time to hunt.”
Hwarangdaegi National Youth Soccer Tournament — Opening Day
Gyeongju Civic Stadium
August in Gyeongju burned. Heat haze shimmered above the asphalt.
But hotter still was the passion of soccer dreamers pouring in from every corner of the country.
“Whoa…!”
The Haeseong kids pressed their faces to the bus windows and couldn’t close their mouths.
An endless line of tour buses. Over five hundred elementary school teams from across the nation. Thousands of players in every color of uniform flooding the grounds. Flags snapped. Cheers and fight songs rolled like waves. A true ocean of soccer.
“Hey, look! Seoul Sindap Elementary—last year’s champions!”
“Holy crap, that’s the Ulsan Hyundai youth team. Even their kits look expensive… we’re from a totally different world.”
To country kids, the national wall looked sky-high. Brand-new uniforms with crisp logos, sleek gear bags, professional coaching staffs. Worlds apart from boys who rolled in the dirt. It would have been easy to shrink.
But then—
Vroooom— screeeech—!
A black limousine bus, bigger and more luxurious than most celebrity vans, glided in among them. Even the engine note was heavy and expensive.
Along the side, the golden LK SPORTS logo gleamed.
Every head turned.
“What the hell is that bus? National team?”
“LK? That’s a conglomerate. Why’s a pro club here?”
“Damn, look at those rims. Is that even a bus?”
Hisss—
The air brakes sighed and the door opened.
First out was Team Leader Choi Hyeon-seok in sunglasses and a razor-sharp suit—the unmistakable aura of a successful businessman.
Behind him, Ma Gang-cheol and the Haeseong kids stepped down one by one in brand-new matching kits: black with gold trim, names printed in English across the backs. Not a rural branch-school soccer club. They looked like a European academy side.
“Shoulders back,” Gang-cheol said quietly.
“We rolled up in the most expensive bus here. Money or skill—we don’t owe anyone an apology.”
The kids squared their shoulders hard.
Yeah! We’ve got the LK Group behind us! We grew up on premium Korean beef!
The power of capitalism was glorious. In an instant the country-bumpkin eyes turned into the arrogant gaze of a noble club.
Coach Park Tae-su looked dazed as he asked Choi Hyeon-seok,
“Uh… Team Leader, isn’t a limousine a bit much for a youth tournament? The other schools might feel… intimidated…”
“That’s exactly why we brought it.”
Choi straightened his tie and smiled easily.
“Gang-cheol said sports is about momentum. Crush them with money from the first second and make them flinch—you’ve already won half the battle. Use the LK name as hard as you like.”
It was working. Players from other schools whispered, eyes full of wariness.
“Who are those guys? Haeseong Elementary? Never heard of them.”
“Some rich private school in Gangnam?”
“They look legit… and their physiques are no joke.”
Gang-cheol soaked in the stares and started light stretches. The air was hot; the smell of grass stabbed his nose. The scent of a tournament he had longed for so desperately in his previous life. His heart beat with pure pleasure.
Good. Blood’s boiling.
Then—
“Move.”
An insolent voice came from behind.
He turned. A pack of players in red kits stood there, a roaring tiger emblem on their chests.
The strongest youth side in the country. The pro-affiliated academy team: Beomcheon FC U-12.
At the front stood one boy in particular—yellow bridge highlights in his hair, captain’s armband on his arm, weight cocked on one hip as he looked down at Gang-cheol.
Name:Go Tae-yang (Age 12)
Position:Attacking Midfielder (No. 10)
Club:Beomcheon FC (National Rank #1)
Notes:Prospect called a “genius.” Personality: broken.
“Don’t block the road. You reek of the countryside.”
Go Tae-yang chewed his gum with loud smacks.
The Haeseong kids flinched and started to clear a path, crushed by the weight of “national strongest” and the pure arrogance rolling off the boy.
Gang-cheol didn’t budge. He cocked his own hip and stared straight into Tae-yang’s eyes.
“Road’s wide enough.”
He jerked his chin toward the empty space beside them.
“Eyes bad? Maybe skip soccer and hit an ophthalmologist first.”
“……What?”
Tae-yang’s eyebrows twitched. Some nobody from a no-name team dared talk back to the national number-one, the magazine cover boy?
“You don’t know me? I’m Go Tae-yang. Last year’s top scorer, Go Tae-yang.”
“I know.”
Gang-cheol snorted.
“The kid who cares more about his dye job than soccer.”
“Pfft—!”
Lee Dong-hyeok couldn’t hold it in. Nearby players from other teams snickered too. The yellow bridge highlights—Tae-yang’s trademark—had just been roasted in public.
Tae-yang’s pale face flushed tomato-red in a heartbeat.
“You… you little—!”
He clenched a fist and stepped forward, but the Beomcheon FC coach rushed in and grabbed him.
“Tae-yang! What are you doing before a match? People are watching. Don’t lower yourself!”
The coach looked Gang-cheol up and down and sneered.
“Haeseong Elementary? Ah, the lucky country team from Gyeongbuk that scraped through. Tae-yang, don’t waste energy. They’re packing their bags after the group stage. Entertaining them is a waste of time.”
“Ha, right? Coach is right.”
Tae-yang forced his face back into a smug smile, pretending to recover his cool.
“Hey, hick. You guys think if you win this you get into the LK Cup? Dream on. That’s for elites like us. Not a place for every stray dog and cow.”
He deliberately bumped Gang-cheol’s shoulder as he walked past. The Beomcheon players snickered and followed.
“Dogs and cows… heh.”
“Know your place.”
The Haeseong kids trembled with rage, fists clenched white.
“Those arrogant bastards…”
“Man, I wanna punch them so bad. If the coach hadn’t been there—!”
But Gang-cheol’s expression stayed calm. No—he looked delighted, like a predator that had just spotted prey.
“Team Leader.”
“Yeah, I’m watching.”
Choi Hyeon-seok tapped his tablet. The data analysis was already finished.
“Go Tae-yang. Last year’s national tournament MVP. Good technique, good sense—classic greenhouse flower. Mentality made of glass. Push him a little rough and he self-destructs from pure rage.”
“Perfect bait.”
Gang-cheol murmured toward the retreating yellow-haired back.
“Elite? Dogs and cows?”
Blue system light flickered in his eyes.
Target: Go Tae-yang (Fake Genius)
Quest Issued: Hierarchy Correction
📍 Objective: Deliver overwhelming skill-gap education on the pitch.
🎁 Reward: Massive Reputation boost, target Mental Collapse (Trauma).
“See you on the field, yellow hair. I’ll teach you soccer isn’t played with hair dye.”
Gang-cheol turned to the Haeseong kids. Poison burned in their eyes now. Fear was gone; pure fury had taken its place.
“You heard him? He called us dogs and cows.”
“……”
“Let’s show them how much it hurts when a rabid dog bites. Chew them up so bad they can’t even collect the bones.”
“Okay!! They’re dead!”
“Smash them flat!”
Haeseong’s morale shot through the roof. Winning alone wasn’t the goal anymore. Thoroughly crushing the pride of those high-nosed elites—nothing was more certain or more delicious motivation.
“All right—we’re going in!”
At Gang-cheol’s command, the black-kit Haeseong legion strode onto the field with heads high.
Under Gyeongju’s blazing sun, a massive storm cloud was rolling in to blot out the fake “sun.”