The Uninvited Guest at the Welcome Reception, and the Queen Bee's Hunt
The heat of their victory over Dortmund still clung to the night air of Seoul, warming even the breeze that drifted down from Namsan.
Inside the Dynasty Hall of the LK Grand Hotel, nestled at the foot of the mountain, LK Group’s ambitious 1st LK Global Youth Cup Welcome Reception was in full swing—a glittering battlefield of stars.
Crystal chandeliers hung high overhead, pouring brilliant light across the ballroom while a classical string quartet wove elegant melodies through the air. Young football prospects from every corner of the globe had gathered here tonight.
And at the absolute center of the glittering crowd stood the players of Haeseong Middle School—the “Black Storm” that everyone was talking about.
“Look over there. Those are the ones. The team that crushed the Germans with pure power yesterday.”
“Especially that number 10. Name’s Ma? Ma Gang-cheol? Not the biggest frame, but they say his balance is monstrous.”
Whispers in English, Spanish, and German washed over Gang-cheol’s back. The man himself, however, was wrestling with a far more immediate problem.
“Ugh, seriously. Do I really have to wear this? I can’t breathe.”
He yanked roughly at the necktie strangling him. Team Leader Choi Hyeon-seok had insisted on the black suit—“You’re the host nation’s captain and the face of this tournament; you need to look the part.” The fit was perfect, but to someone used to training gear it felt like a straitjacket.
“Hold still. It’s crooked.”
Beside him, Han Se-hui reached out sharply and straightened his tie with brisk, precise fingers.
Tonight she looked nothing like her usual self. Instead of the baggy hoodies she always wore, she had chosen a neat navy dress that stopped just above the knee.
“Team Leader Han. You look weird today. Did you put on makeup?”
“Sh-shut up! I only put on lip balm for politeness, okay? And don’t you dare drool on that jacket—it’s expensive.”
She answered with deliberate gruffness while transferring a piece of grilled lobster onto his plate. The tips of her ears, however, had turned faintly pink. The sight of Gang-cheol in a proper suit was far more solid and reliable than she had expected.
“Hey, Kim Cheol-su! Park Min-ho! Don’t act like country bumpkins—eat properly before you get sick!”
Gang-cheol scolded his teammates, who were piling their plates into mountains behind him. The boys, equally awkward in formal wear, were busy raiding the buffet. That was when it happened.
A sudden murmur rippled through the hall.
The entrance grew noisy. People parted like the Red Sea as a girl entered under the escort of black-suited bodyguards.
A shimmering champagne-gold dress.
The crisp click of high heels.
Proud eyes that seemed to savor every gaze turned her way.
Lee Ye-rin—beloved granddaughter of LK Group Chairman Lee Dae-su, and the undisputed princess of this domain.
She swept the ballroom once with a cool glance, then locked onto her target like a predator and strode straight toward it without a moment’s hesitation.
Click. Click. Click.
The heels stopped directly in front of Gang-cheol’s table.
He paused with a forkful of lobster halfway to his mouth and looked up. Ye-rin stood with her arms crossed, looking down at him.
“You’re Ma Gang-cheol, right?”
Casual speech from the first word—natural, effortless condescension.
Gang-cheol put the lobster in his mouth, chewed slowly, swallowed, then wiped his lips with a napkin.
“That’s me. And you are?”
“Me? Lee Ye-rin. Granddaughter of the chairman who organized this whole tournament. And…”
She studied him from head to toe with an appraising glint. The real thing was better than the photos. Especially those rebellious eyes—she liked them.
She opened the luxury clutch in her hand, pulled out a thick white envelope, and shoved it roughly into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
“Take it. A token of gratitude.”
Gang-cheol fished the envelope out. The flap had come slightly open, revealing a thick stack of high-value checks covered in zeros. Beside him, Se-hui’s eyes went wide.
“What’s this supposed to be? Handing out money envelopes on first meeting—kind of rude, don’t you think?”
“Last winter. The truck accident at Haeseong Intersection. Remember? The little kid you saved that day was my sister, Min-ji.”
Ye-rin lifted her chin, fully expecting shock or gratitude at the revelation that he had rescued a chaebol granddaughter.
Gang-cheol’s reaction was bone-dry.
“I know.”
“……What?”
“Min-ji. Yeah, I know. The chairman himself came to the hospital.”
He answered flatly. He had known from the start. Right after the accident, Chairman Lee Dae-su had come to the hospital room in person, bowed his head, and thanked him. That was when Gang-cheol learned the man was Min-ji’s grandfather.
“You knew and pretended not to? Sly. Were you waiting for something bigger before making your move?”
Ye-rin’s eyes sharpened.
“Pretty sure you were the one who approached first.”
Gang-cheol gave a short laugh. Ye-rin found herself momentarily speechless. This kid was no ordinary middle-schooler.
“Anyway. Our family doesn’t like being in anyone’s debt. Min-ji still doesn’t know who you are. She just keeps singing about the ‘Superman oppa’ who saved her. So I did a little digging.”
There was no gratitude in her tone—only the cool air of a creditor settling a family ledger.
“What’s in that envelope is enough for you to play football for the rest of your life. Let’s call that day even. I hate messy ties. Don’t come back later with any other stories.”
She finished speaking and started to turn away with cool finality. Players and officials nearby held their breath, watching the scene unfold.
Then—
Tak.
Her slender wrist was caught. Gang-cheol.
He pressed the envelope firmly back into her hand. The motion was absolute.
“Take it back. I don’t need it.”
“……What? You didn’t even check the amount. Don’t get all prideful—”
“I didn’t save her for money. A kid looked like she was about to die, so my body moved first. And for a human life, that envelope’s a little thin.”
“Hey—are you saying the amount’s too small? You want more? How much?”
Ye-rin’s voice rose. To her, refusal simply meant the negotiation had failed.
“No. It’s the attitude of trying to settle it with cash that I don’t like. You want to clear a debt—wrong address.”
His eyes were cold, yet they carried an authority that could not be dismissed. These were not the eyes of a thirteen-year-old boy. They belonged to a veteran who had seen every kind of battlefield.
Ye-rin flinched. No one except her grandfather, Lee Dae-su, had ever looked at her like that.
Se-hui, who had been watching from the side, could no longer stay silent. She stepped between them.
“Excuse me, miss. Our player is in the middle of dinner. If your business is finished, please leave. As his manager, I’m finding this unpleasant.”
“Manager?”
Ye-rin flicked a glance at Se-hui—plain dress, eyes full of wariness—and snorted.
“Playing house with your little friend? Stay out of it. I’m conducting business.”
“The business is over.”
Gang-cheol slipped an arm around Se-hui’s shoulders and blocked Ye-rin’s path.
“If you really want to repay me, let’s do it with something other than money.”
“Something else? What—want a car? Study abroad? Just name it.”
Ye-rin crossed her arms again, smirking. So the real colors come out after all, she thought. Then the words that left Gang-cheol’s mouth shattered every expectation.
“During the tournament, keep our team’s snacks stocked nice and full.”
“……Huh?”
“You’re the granddaughter of LK Group—you’ve got that much authority, right? Yesterday the dorm fridge only had bread and milk. Throw in some premium hanwoo, eel, whatever. Top-grade stuff so the boys can recover properly. That’s my condition.”
Ye-rin stared at him, dumbfounded. He had rejected tens of millions of won in checks… for meat for his teammates?
“You… are you serious? That’s all?”
“Yes. Oh—and one more thing.”
He paused as if about to leave, then added,
“Tell your sister not to chase puppies into the road again. Next time I won’t save her.”
He brushed past the still-stunned Ye-rin, took Se-hui’s hand, and started walking.
“Let’s go, Team Leader Han. The food here is too greasy. We’re getting tteokbokki outside.”
“Huh? Uh… yeah! Let’s go!”
Se-hui shot Ye-rin a triumphant little snort and clung to Gang-cheol’s arm as they left the ballroom.
In the space they left behind, Ye-rin stood alone. The crumpled envelope in her hand looked almost pitiful.
Her face flushed deep red. Shame? No. Something far more primal and intense.
“Ha…”
She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. Her heart was pounding.
She had just met a man who could not be crushed by money or family background.
His eyes, his tone, the confident back he turned on her—none of it would leave her mind.
“Just hanwoo? Snacks? He’s treating me like water.”
The corner of her mouth twisted upward. It was the smile of a predator that had finally spotted worthy prey.
“Fine. I’ll feed him until he bursts.”
She pulled out her phone and called her secretary. Her voice trembled ever so slightly.
“Secretary Kim. From this moment until the end of the tournament, station a top-tier catering truck at the Haeseong Middle School dorm. Three meals a day plus late-night snacks—Korean, Western, Chinese, everything. Start tonight. I want it ready the second the boys get back. And send premium 1++ hanwoo gift sets to every player on the roster. The amount? Irrelevant. Use the corporate card.”
“—Miss? What on earth—”
“Don’t talk back, just do it! Oh, and one more thing.”
Ye-rin’s eyes followed Gang-cheol’s retreating figure.
“From now on, report Ma Gang-cheol’s schedule down to the minute. I’ll manage it myself. Training times, diet, who he meets—everything.”
She hung up. Her eyes glittered with pure possessiveness. When a queen bee discovers something money cannot buy, she goes hunting herself.
“Interesting, Ma Gang-cheol. You’re mine. Just wait and see.”
That night at ten o’clock, the parking lot of the Haeseong Middle School dormitory erupted into chaos.
Hotel chefs had lined up and begun grilling steaks on the spot. A mountain of lobster, abalone, and eel formed an ultra-luxurious late-night buffet right in the dorm courtyard.
“Wooooah! This is insane! What is all this?!”
“Captain! That pretty noona from earlier sent it! Thanks for the meal!”
The boys cheered and piled their plates high. Foreign players from Manchester City and Dortmund, drawn by the aroma, stared with open envy and watering mouths.
Gang-cheol watched the scene and gave a wry smile.
“She’s got a big hand, I’ll give her that. Guess she really intends to pay the debt.”
Beside him, Se-hui—who had abandoned tteokbokki for steak—stabbed her fork into the meat with a sulky expression.
“So annoying. Pure money-flaunting. Gang-cheol, don’t you dare fall for this, okay? If you start drooling just because someone buys you meat, you’re dead.”
“Who’s falling for anything? Just eat plenty. Tomorrow’s match against Man City is going to be a war of attrition.”
He popped a piece of steak into his mouth.
The juices burst. It tasted excellent—yet somehow he felt a premonition that it might not sit well.
Inside the stadium waited tactical geniuses who dreamed of becoming the next Pep Guardiola. Outside waited an obsessive chaebol heiress. And right beside him waited a childhood friend burning with jealousy.
Might as well eat. Even a ghost that dies full looks better, they say.
Gang-cheol chewed his meat while gazing up at the night sky.
Tomorrow: Manchester City.
A battle that would have to be won with the mind.