The Queen's Proposal
The entire Netherlands was thrown into an uproar.
This was no ordinary youth league match. At De Kuip—the sacred ground of Dutch football and Feyenoord’s fortress of a home stadium—a thirteen-year-old Asian boy from Ajax had utterly dismantled their bitter rivals, Feyenoord Rotterdam, a side packed with physical monsters. The news was the scoop of scoops.
Highlight reels from the broadcasters shattered five million views in a single day.
In particular, the late-game equalizer—where he toyed with Feyenoord’s hulking defender Jakob van Dijk, a full sixteen centimeters taller, using a Zidane roulette to dance past a murderous tackle before burying the winner—had already transcended “Goal of the Week.” It was being crowned “Moment of the Year,” looping endlessly on every screen. All of Europe went wild for the sight of a thirteen-year-old boy toppling seventeen-year-old giants not with raw power, but with pure, fundamental technique.
And the shockwaves hit even harder off the pitch.
“Team lead! Have you checked the stock price?”
“This is insane… completely insane!”
Inside the marketing office at LK Group headquarters in Korea, the staff stared at their monitors with bloodshot eyes. The share price of the LK Sports line had slammed into its daily upper limit the moment the market opened.
A single thirteen-year-old youth player who hadn’t even made his official professional debut was making a major conglomerate’s subsidiary stock surge? It was unprecedented in the history of Korean business.
The Nike boots Gang-cheol had worn that day, along with the goalkeeper gloves from his earlier youth days, were already sold out worldwide. On the resale market they were trading at more than triple the retail price.
The old executives inside the group who had sneered when Executive Director Lee Ye-rin signed him as an exclusive model—“a waste of money,” “the spoiled hobby of a third-generation chaebol”—could no longer open their mouths.
This was not merely the birth of a promising athlete.
It was the beginning of a massive cultural phenomenon.
A few days later, in the heart of Amsterdam.
The Duchess—an ultra-luxury restaurant converted from a former bank building. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a soft glow, while the marble floors gleamed like mirrors.
Guided politely by a waiter into a private room at the back, Gang-cheol fidgeted with the bow tie of his tuxedo. After living in sweat-soaked uniforms every day, putting on a high-end suit felt thoroughly awkward.
“You’re here?”
By the window table, a woman turned her head while swirling a glass of wine.
Lee Ye-rin.
Granddaughter of the LK Group chairman, and the one who had handpicked Gang-cheol as an exclusive model and brought him to Europe.
Her mere presence dominated the air around her.
“….”
Gang-cheol lost his words for a moment.
This was nothing like the sporty business attire he had seen her wear in the VIP box at the stadium.
A daring off-shoulder black mini dress that traced every curve of her figure, casually draped with a white fur jacket that made her slender shoulders look even more striking. Sparkling diamond earrings caught the light, and her deep red lips curved in a provocative arc.
Rather than the freshness of her early twenties, she radiated the untouchable aura of a queen.
“Why are you just standing there staring? Sit down.”
Ye-rin pointed her chin at the chair opposite her.
Gang-cheol smirked and took his seat.
“Noona, you went all out today. Trying to seduce someone?”
“This brat has a mouth on him. You were acting so expensive, I had to put on a proper show as your sponsor.”
Ye-rin smiled leisurely and gave the waiter a subtle glance. Moments later, a chef’s special multi-course meal of the highest caliber began filling the table.
“Steak’s not bad.”
Gang-cheol sliced the meat with complete nonchalance.
Ye-rin propped her chin on her hand and watched him with open interest.
An ordinary thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boy would have been unable to meet her eyes, or would have flushed and floundered. Wearing a dress this revealing, any normal kid would have had no idea where to look.
But this boy was different.
He carried himself with the composure of a seasoned adult man—her equal, or perhaps even more experienced. Not a flicker of wavering in his gaze.
“You’re really interesting. On the pitch and right now.”
“I only came because you said you’d buy dinner. Just get to the point. I’ve got first-team training tomorrow morning—busy body.”
Gang-cheol speared a piece of meat with his fork and spoke with deliberate arrogance.
Even at the bombshell news of his leap to the first-team training ground, Ye-rin’s eyes merely narrowed; she didn’t look displeased. If anything, that boldness and arrogance seemed to confirm her own eye for talent, and she liked it.
“Fine. Let’s get to business. Let’s renew the contract.”
Ye-rin slid a thick brown envelope across the table.
Gang-cheol set down his fork, wiped his mouth with a wet wipe, opened the envelope, and scanned the documents.
Exclusive Model Contract Extension and Sponsorship Scale Expansion Agreement
The terms were outrageous.
Base signing fee: one billion won.
Plus a five-hundred-million-won bonus upon official first-team debut, additional incentives for Champions League appearances, top-tier personal vehicle and housing support, and more.
These were not numbers you offered a youth player who had just turned thirteen. They rivaled the contracts of solid adult professionals in Europe’s top divisions.
“Planning to row hard while the tide’s in, huh?”
“Of course. I judged that your value is cheapest right now. Once you actually start playing for the first team next season, even ten billion won’t be enough to lock you down.”
Ye-rin leaned her upper body across the table.
An elegant rose scent mixed with a heavy musk washed over him. Her deep eyes fixed on Gang-cheol as if they could pierce straight through him.
“Conditions?”
“Simple. Two additional global commercial shoots. And…”
Ye-rin paused for a beat.
“Become my partner.”
“…What?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea. Business partner. Next month is the fiftieth anniversary party for LK Group’s European branch. I’d like you to escort me there—as the player I sponsor.”
Gang-cheol fell silent for a moment, thinking.
The LK Group founding anniversary party.
This was no ordinary social gathering. Europe’s political and financial heavyweights, owners of elite clubs, and CEOs of global corporations would all be there—a true war of the stars.
Attending as the official partner of Lee Ye-rin, one of the absolute top figures in Korean business?
It went far beyond sportswear modeling. It would be a perfect public declaration of exactly who stood behind him, and just how high a level of treatment he commanded in Europe.
Before his regression, while scraping along the lower leagues and crawling through the mud, he had never even dared to look at the uppermost echelons of power.
This was a seductive offer to open that solid door for him.
Not bad at all.
Gang-cheol grinned and lifted his wine glass—filled, of course, with the finest grape juice.
“Deal. But I’ve got a condition of my own.”
“Let’s hear it. If money can solve it, I’ll grant anything.”
Ye-rin’s reply brimmed with almost arrogant confidence.
“My personal trainer. Give Han Se-hui the same perfect support.”
Ye-rin’s eyebrows twitched.
A name she had never expected.
“Han Se-hui? That little data analyst kid with the glasses?”
“Yeah. Her analysis is the real deal. Without Se-hui I can’t bring out a hundred percent of my body’s condition. Give her the same level of medical support as me, top-tier data analysis system equipment, and an industry-leading salary.”
For a moment, a subtle current crossed Ye-rin’s face.
Simple camaraderie? Or something more?
A woman’s intuition, perhaps. Ye-rin felt a strange mix of jealousy and competitive fire at once. The sight of a thirteen-year-old boy looking after another girl—with such specific, concrete conditions—right in front of a woman as perfect as herself was unfamiliar, and yet oddly stimulating.
“Hmm… You’re awfully devoted to looking after that cute little kid.”
“Pure business. My market value is your money, Noona. Investing properly in the person who can inflate the value of my body is basic entrepreneurship, isn’t it?”
Gang-cheol fired back without missing a beat.
Ye-rin stared at him for a moment, then finally let out a short laugh as if conceding defeat and raised her glass.
“Fine. If that’s what you want. We’ll treat that kid like royalty too.”
Clink—
Their glasses met with a clear, ringing sound.
A massive contract had been sealed.
That was when it happened.
The previously quiet restaurant entrance suddenly erupted into chaos.
Black-suited bodyguards fumbled with their radios in panic, while paparazzi armed with massive telephoto lenses swarmed in like a pack of hyenas.
“Ugh, they already caught the scent.”
Ye-rin spoke as if troubled, but her expression showed not the slightest hint of actual surprise.
If anything, she looked as though she had perfectly anticipated this uproar. She calmly pulled a compact from her handbag and touched up her makeup.
“You’re the one who leaked the location, Noona?”
Gang-cheol hit the bullseye.
There was no way tabloid reporters could know the exact location of a private room with ironclad security and barge in at such perfect timing.
This secret meeting itself had been part of a grand “show” designed to maximize Gang-cheol’s star power.
Ye-rin retouched her red lips and winked at him.
“Caught me? Going on a date with Europe’s next superstar is no fun without an audience.”
She rose from her seat with elegant grace and held out her hand to Gang-cheol.
“Let’s go, Ma Gang-cheol. You’re going to have to get used to this insane flash barrage. You’re not just some kid who’s good at football anymore.”
Gang-cheol wiped his lips with a napkin and stood slowly.
The door to the room opened, and dozens of camera lenses poured toward them like a torrential rain.
Pop! Pop! Pop-pop-pop!
A blinding barrage of flashes so intense it was hard to keep one’s eyes open.
The secret rendezvous between a Korean chaebol heiress and the thirteen-year-old football genius who had shaken European football.
Tomorrow morning’s front-page headlines across every sports paper and tabloid in the world were already as good as written.
Path of Celebrity
📍 Objective: Maximize your Fame stat by leveraging the explosive media attention.
🎁 Reward: Sponsor Rank upgraded to ‘S’. Charm Stat +5.
A holographic window floated before his eyes, but Gang-cheol did not take the hand Ye-rin offered.
Instead, he stepped closer and placed his hand on her slender waist with perfect naturalness.
Not so much an escort as a lead—protecting her from the cascading lights and guiding her forward.
A bold gesture that seemed to declare, I am the protagonist of this stage.
“Oh my…”
Ye-rin’s eyes widened at the unexpected contact, but she soon curved her lips into a captivating smile and pressed herself against Gang-cheol’s solid shoulder.
At the sight of that cocky, commanding male presence that no one could believe belonged to a thirteen-year-old, the reporters who had just landed the scoop hammered their shutters at a frenzied pace.
Go ahead and shoot.
Even under the relentless camera flashes, Gang-cheol never once blinked or looked away.
Before the regression, when his knees had been destroyed and he was cast down to the lower leagues, he had been terrified of the mocking camera lenses aimed at him—he had kept his head down and fled.
But now it was different.
These dazzling lights existed solely to make him stand out.
On the pitch and off it.
He would dominate everything completely.
That was Ma Gang-cheol’s way.
The backs of the thirteen-year-old boy and the heiress in her twenties, walking out of the restaurant with his arm around her shoulders, shone with a dangerous, glamorous brilliance—like a scene straight out of a noir film.