Gang-cheol and the Kids
The morning scene at the K-NFC—the National Football Training Center—had changed.
The biggest difference was the water.
"Alright, fifteen minutes are up! Everyone hydrate!"
Coach Kim Tae-hoon's whistle cut through the air, and the players in the middle of drills sprinted for the ice chests.
In the old days they would have been forbidden even a sip—"Water makes you soft"—but now the coach himself was watching the clock.
Yesterday's "Mini-Game Rebellion."
After that shocking defeat, Coach Kim Tae-hoon had swallowed his pride and accepted every one of Gang-cheol's suggestions.
"Man… I feel alive again."
"I never knew a single gulp of water could taste this sweet."
The players downed their bottles with pure gratitude. Thirst gone, bodies lightened, focus restored. It was basic physiology, yet to boys raised on outdated training methods it felt like a revolution.
And there was another change.
Every pair of eyes kept drifting toward the fourteen-year-old youngest member stretching on the bench.
"Hey, that Gang-cheol kid… he's the real deal."
"You saw it yesterday, right? The ball stuck to his feet like glue. That rumor about him tearing up the Dutch league wasn't empty talk."
"Honestly I was a little scared of him, but once you actually play with him, his personality's not bad at all."
The wariness the squad had felt toward Gang-cheol was crumbling. Leadership proven by skill—that was what was opening their hearts.
Gang-cheol's expression, however, was not entirely bright.
He had opened the system window and was analyzing the team's strength.
Republic of Korea U-17 National Team
◈ Average Ability:C+
◈ Team Cohesion:D(Scattered grains of sand)
◈ Tactical Understanding:C-
Physicals and fundamentals aren't bad. The problem is the software.
The chronic disease of Korean youth soccer.
They executed orders well enough, but independent decision-making was weak. Afraid of being chewed out by the coach for a mistake, they recycled only the safest passes—or ducked responsibility altogether.
Against the monsters of South America or Europe, this squad would not last ten minutes.
I have to change it. I have to rewire their brains.
Gang-cheol rose from his seat.
Afternoon tactical session.
Coach Kim Tae-hoon approached him with awkward steps. Ever since yesterday's thrashing, he had effectively handed over the reins of tactical training.
"Ahem. Ma… Ma Gang-cheol. What should we start with today?"
"Mini-game, Coach. But I'm changing the rules a little."
Gang-cheol gathered the players.
Captain Lee Jin-yong—seventeen, center-back—and the rest of the older boys hung on every word.
"Hyungs. Did you review yesterday's match?"
"Huh? Uh… yeah, we were pretty terrible."
"No. You weren't terrible. You were just too nice."
Gang-cheol smirked.
"The second you get the ball, every one of you is thinking, 'If I lose it, I'm getting yelled at.' 'Who do I pass to so I don't get chewed out?' While you're busy with that, the timing dies."
The players flinched. He had struck the bullseye.
"Starting today, new plan. We're calling it the Black Hole Tactic."
"Black Hole?"
Striker Oh Dong-sik, seventeen, rounded his eyes.
Instead of a tactics board, Gang-cheol tapped his own chest.
"I'm the black hole. When I receive the ball, at least two or three of their defenders will collapse on me. What happens then?"
"Space… opens up?"
"Bingo. Don't just give me the ball and stand there watching. Sprint into those empty pockets. Run yourselves into the ground. The ball will find you."
His eyes flashed.
"If the pass doesn't arrive, that's on me. If you don't score, that's on me too. I'll take every bit of the blame. You hyungs just go crazy and feast on the space. Got it?"
I'll take every bit of the blame.
That single line hit them square in the chest.
A leader who would shoulder the responsibility.
For boys who had spent years hearing "You little shit!" over one mistake, Gang-cheol's declaration was the key that unlocked their chains.
"Alright… let's try it!"
"Yeah, we trust you, Gang-cheol—run!"
Afternoon training began.
Gang-cheol became, quite literally, the gravity of the pitch.
"Here! Gang-cheol!"
He collected the ball in midfield.
Three defenders playing the role of the opposition swarmed him.
An ordinary player would have panicked and played it back. Gang-cheol had been waiting for exactly this moment.
Closer. Closer. Pile on.
The instant every defender's eyes locked on his feet, Gang-cheol looked left while his right foot carved the ball with an outside-of-the-boot flick.
Whoosh—
The ball traced a trajectory that seemed to mock the laws of physics, sailing over the defenders' heads.
No one was there.
No—someone was.
Striker Oh Dong-sik, who had trusted Gang-cheol's words and exploded into the vacant space.
"Huh?!"
Goosebumps raced down Oh Dong-sik's arms as the ball dropped perfectly onto his foot.
A pure open chance.
One-on-one with the keeper.
He didn't think—he just struck.
BOOM!
The net bulged as if it might tear.
"Woooooo!"
Oh Dong-sik stared down at his own foot in a daze.
Normally he was shoved off the ball by defenders before he could even set for a shot. Just now it had felt like he was alone on an empty field.
It had been ridiculously easy.
"Hyung! Nice shot!"
Gang-cheol sprinted over, thumb raised high.
Oh Dong-sik felt something catch in his throat.
"Dude… that was insane. What the hell was that pass?"
"I didn't give it to you. You were in the right spot, so the ball went there."
Gang-cheol rolled the ball back under his sole.
This was the Gang-cheol Effect.
One ace elevating the entire team's level.
That afternoon, not only Oh Dong-sik but winger Park Min-su and fullback Kim Cheol-su all tasted career-best goals and career-best plays.
"Soccer was this easy?"
"Man, with Gang-cheol drawing all the aggro, it feels like we're at a buffet. Just pick what you want and eat."
Confidence bloomed.
Shoulders that had been hunched straightened; plays grew bold.
The sand-grain cohesion was meeting its center of gravity—Gang-cheol—and hardening into solid rock.
That night.
K-NFC dormitory.
Past ten o'clock, the players were writhing with hunger.
Dinner had been pathetic—nothing but chicken-breast salad for "weight control."
"Ugh… I want ramen so bad."
"Does anyone else smell chicken?"
"You're hallucinating, you psycho."
Then it happened.
At the far end of the hallway, the door to Gang-cheol's private room eased open.
He pressed a finger to his lips—shh—and waved them over.
"Hyungs, come here. Min-su, you too."
Captain Lee Jin-yong and a handful of others slipped inside, hearts pounding.
And then they doubted their eyes.
A glittering feast of foil trays spread across Gang-cheol's floor.
Half-and-half fried and seasoned chicken, jokbal, bossam, and ice-cold cola.
"H-how… what is all this?"
"You guys were starving. I ordered a little something."
Gang-cheol grinned wide.
"Are you crazy? If Coach finds out we're all dead! And this place is a no-delivery zone—how did you even get it in?"
"Come on, who do you think I am? I used to smuggle late-night snacks past Ajax security."
He had simply had Hyung Ho-seok collect the delivery through the back fence hole of the training center.
Throats bobbed. The greasy aroma short-circuited every rational thought.
"Eat. We trained like animals today. We deserve this much of a reward."
Gang-cheol picked up a drumstick and held it out to Captain Lee Jin-yong.
Lee Jin-yong accepted it with trembling hands. The conscience of a national-team captain warred with the appetite of a seventeen-year-old boy.
In front of the fragrance of fried chicken, conscience lost.
Crunch.
"……This is heaven."
That single sentence broke the seal.
The players fell on the food like starving hyenas.
"Thanks for the meal!"
"Gang-cheol, you're a god—an actual god!"
"Hyung, try the jokbal too. The makguksu is killer."
Crowded together in the small room, tearing into late-night snacks, the awkward atmosphere vanished along with the chicken bones.
Then winger Park Min-su, sauce smeared all over his mouth, snickered.
He was the friend who had been at Gang-cheol's side since Haeseong Elementary—Gang-cheol's right-hand man.
"Man, this really takes me back. Gang-cheol, remember? When we won the Hwarangdae Cup we snuck cup ramen into the dorms too."
Gang-cheol chuckled and passed him a cola.
"Of course I remember. You spilled the broth and drew a map on the blanket."
"Ah, damn it! I told you never to bring that up!"
Park Min-su's face went scarlet, and the older players exploded with laughter.
"What? You two already knew each other?"
"Yeah. Elementary and middle-school classmates. This guy's been a total maniac since we were kids. Stealing snacks behind the coach's back was his specialty."
Park Min-su shook his head and added,
"Honestly I thought he'd change after going to the Netherlands. But looking at him now? Same old Gang-cheol. Body turned into a monster, insides still pure Ma Gang-cheol."
"That's a compliment, right?"
"It's an insult, you punk."
Their easy banter loosened everyone else.
The genius boy from Europe was starting to feel like just a regular little brother who loved soccer and chicken.
"Hey, Gang-cheol. I'm dropping the formal speech. Looking at you, you're just the neighborhood kid."
"Go ahead, hyung. I've always been pretty approachable."
Captain Lee Jin-yong smiled warmly and raised his paper cup of cola.
"Anyway… thank you. Since you arrived the whole team atmosphere came back to life. I felt it in training today. We can actually do something big this time."
"Hyung."
"Our goal was the semis, right? No—you said the championship."
Lee Jin-yong clenched his fist.
"Let's go for it. You open the path. We'll run like maniacs."
"Yeah! Let's go!"
The players clinked their paper cups together.
The sound was rough and cheap, yet the resolve inside those cups burned hotter than champagne.
Hidden Quest Complete: 'One Team'
◈ Team cohesion has risen to maximum.
◈ The bond with longtime friend (Park Min-su) is spreading throughout the entire squad.
◈ Team Cohesion Grade:D → B+
Gang-cheol smiled with quiet satisfaction.
Stomachs full. Hearts full.
Now they were truly ready to fight.
One week later.
The day they left for the battleground—Chile.
Incheon Airport's departure hall froze once again. But the atmosphere was nothing like the arrival.
Back then the spotlight had been fixed solely on Ma Gang-cheol the individual. Now the cheers were for the entire Republic of Korea U-17 National Team.
The players stood in matching tracksuits, faces set and solemn.
The ragtag bunch that had been cowed only a week ago was gone.
Their eyes were alive.
Confidence. The belief that we have Ma Gang-cheol, and the conviction that we can do this too, had forged them into warriors.
Even Coach Kim Tae-hoon no longer glanced nervously at Gang-cheol; he stood proudly at the front of the squad. (Of course, the training methods had been completely rewritten under Gang-cheol's consulting.)
"Captain! A word!"
At the reporter's request, Lee Jin-yong took the microphone.
He locked eyes with Gang-cheol beside him and grinned.
"I won't make a long speech. We're going to go raise some hell."
Waaaaaaaaah—!
Amid the roar of the send-off crowd, Gang-cheol quietly opened the system window.
◈ Match 1:Nigeria(Africa's Black Leopards)
◈ Match 2:France(Art Soccer, No. 1 favorites)
◈ Match 3:Host Chile
The Group of Death.
Everyone called it the worst draw in history.
Nigeria—most successful nation in U-17 World Cup history, packed with physical monsters. France—boasting Kylian Mbappe, already being hailed as "the second Thierry Henry."
But Gang-cheol felt no fear.
He glanced sideways. His teammates were not trembling either.
After the late-night feast, they had become true comrades-in-arms.
Black Leopards? I'll chew them all up.
Gang-cheol pulled his suitcase toward the gate.
As he boarded the plane, a crimson tiger's aura seemed to shimmer at his back.
You have boarded the flight to Chile.
Loading analysis data on first opponent: Nigeria…
World-stage debut.
The rebellion of Gang-cheol's kids was about to begin.