Premier League Opener and a Shocking Debut

Brighton, a peaceful coastal city in southern England where the cries of seagulls usually filled the air. Today, however, the Amex Stadium felt like a battlefield.

The thirty-thousand-seat stands were packed with home fans in blue-and-white striped kits. This was Brighton & Hove Albion’s return to the Premier League after promotion. Their opponents: Manchester City, the overwhelming favorites to win the title.

One hour before kickoff, a piece of news dropped that left the entire football world stunned. It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was Manchester City’s starting lineup.

"Crazy! Pep is crazy!"

Sky Sports pundit Gary Neville nearly shouted into his mic.

"Not Raheem Sterling. Not Leroy Sané. Pep Guardiola has chosen a fifteen-year-old Korean boy to start the opening match!"

"Ma Gang-cheol. U-20 World Cup MVP, star of the preseason. But this is the EPL. A senior debut—and as a starter on Matchday One? Isn't that pushing it too far?"

Jamie Carragher voiced the concern. It would be the youngest starting appearance in Premier League history—fifteen years and two hundred days. The audacious selection left not only the crowd but even Brighton themselves reeling.

In the locker room, Pep Guardiola locked eyes with each of his players one by one. The air was thick with tension. He rapped the tactics board.

"Brighton will sit deep. Two banks of four. Predictable."

His gaze settled on Gang-cheol.

"Gang-cheol."

"Yes, Boss."

"Their left-back Suttner and centre-back Dunk. Both tall, both strong. But slow."

"..."

"You tear that gap open. You shake them up, and space appears for Aguero and Jesus. Understood?"

"Don't worry. I'll blend them like a mixer."

Aguero chuckled at the bold reply.

"A mixer, huh? That's a vicious way to put it."

Kompany clapped Gang-cheol on the back.

"Let's go, kid. Cause some chaos today."

The players headed for the tunnel. Gang-cheol drew a deep breath. At last. After thirty-five years of winding roads, the stage he had dreamed of. His heart hammered as if it might burst, yet his mind was colder and clearer than ever.

Show them.

Who I am.

The whistle shrieked.

Kickoff of the opening match. Early on, Brighton came out aggressive, determined to snap Manchester City’s pride. Their target was clear: the youngest, softest-looking player on the right wing—Ma Gang-cheol.

Fifth minute. Gang-cheol collected the ball near the touchline. Brighton’s left-back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Suttner charged in. This was no ordinary press. He launched ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his entire body into Gang-cheol.

Thud!

"Ugh!"

Gang-cheol staggered. The referee’s whistle stayed silent—classic Premier League leniency. The home fans roared.

"Welcome to the Premier League, boy!"

Suttner smirked as he jogged past. This isn't the youth pitch you used to play on.

Gang-cheol brushed the grass from his kit and rose. His right shoulder throbbed, but his eyes were smiling.

A bit weak for a welcome gift, isn't it?

The system began its analysis.

A weak link, huh...

Gang-cheol clicked his tongue.

Fifteenth minute. David Silva wriggled free of pressure in midfield with magical footwork and sprayed a pass into the right channel. Gang-cheol sprinted onto it. Once again Suttner stepped in confidently, shoulder first.

My turn this time.

Gang-cheol did not slow. He dropped his upper body, shifting his weight forward.

This was no ordinary run. It was a charge built for collision.

CRASH!!

The dull impact carried all the way to the broadcast microphones. The result?

"Aaaagh!"

It was Suttner who went flying with a scream, tumbling like a man hit by a truck until he slammed into the advertising boards. Gang-cheol never even wobbled. He simply kept driving with the ball.

"What?!"

Brighton’s bench shot to its feet. A left-back over 180 cm had been sent flying like paper by a fifteen-year-old boy in a physical duel. For a heartbeat the Amex Stadium fell silent.

After the breakthrough Gang-cheol cut a low cross into the box. Aguero’s shot cannoned off the post, but the statement had been made. Gang-cheol turned away without so much as a glance at the fallen Suttner. The silent message was clear.

Next.

Thirtieth minute. Manchester City held 75 percent possession, yet no goal had come. Brighton parked a ten-man bus across the penalty area. There was no space. Even Aguero and Jesus struggled against the dense wall. Pep checked his watch, restless.

Someone has to crack it open. We need a destroyer who can smash through that line.

Then it happened. Gang-cheol drifted in from the right flank toward the centre.

Tactical Understanding A+

If the wing is blocked, break the middle. Kevin De Bruyne never missed the movement. From KDB’s boot a rocket of a pass screamed toward Gang-cheol. He took it at the top of the arc.

In that instant Brighton’s defensive pillar—192 cm of pure bulk, Lewis Dunk—crashed in from behind. Midfielder Stevens joined for a sandwich mark.

"Grrrk..."

Pressure from front and back. Any ordinary player would have gone down or laid it off. Gang-cheol held. He drove both feet into the turf and expanded his back muscles.

This much won't put me down!

Still shielding Dunk with his back, Gang-cheol scraped the ball under his sole and dragged it behind him. Then a lightning turn. Dunk, trying to pin him with pure power, lost his balance and was flung aside by the rotational force.

"He's through!"

The commentator screamed. Two defenders neutralized by raw physique and a single turn. One-on-one with the goalkeeper, but the angle was tight. Gang-cheol feinted a shot and cut inside once. Covering defender Duffy bought the fake and slid past. Perfect open chance. Gang-cheol’s left foot flashed—thanks to the Two-Footed Master technique passed down by Shin Min-heung.

BOOM!

The ball rocketed into the top corner. The net bulged as if it might tear.

"Goal!! MA GANG-CHEOL!!"

Gang-cheol sprinted to the corner flag and dropped into a knee slide. The away end of Manchester City fans erupted.

"KANG! KANG! KANG!"

Teammates piled on top of him.

"You madman! You actually forced that through?"

"He's a monster! A monster!"

Aguero ruffled Gang-cheol’s hair in pure admiration. In that cramped space, against some of the EPL’s biggest units, he had simply overpowered them and scored.

Second half. Gang-cheol’s goal shattered Brighton’s ten-man block. They had no choice but to push higher in search of an equalizer—and a high line was delicious prey for Manchester City.

Seventieth minute. Counter-attack. KDB’s through ball dropped into open space. Gang-cheol’s stage alone.

"Stop him! Foul him if you have to!"

Brighton’s manager bellowed, but it was already too late. Gang-cheol exploded into Runaway Train mode. Dunk chased desperately, yet the gap had already stretched beyond five metres. One-on-one with the keeper. This time Jesus was free on the far side, arm raised. Gang-cheol did not get greedy. He drew the goalkeeper, then simply rolled the ball sideways. Jesus tapped into the empty net.

"Good job, Kang!"

Jesus sprinted over and wrapped him in a hug. Rivals and teammates at once. Healthy competition was detonating into pure synergy.

Eightieth minute. Pep called Gang-cheol to the bench. Substitution. As he left the pitch, not only the away fans but even some of Brighton’s home supporters rose in a standing ovation—respect for a performance that had been utterly dominant.

"Well done."

Pep pulled him into a tight embrace, eyes full of certainty.

My choice was right.

The match ended 2–0. A complete Manchester City victory. One goal, one assist. Everything a debut could possibly show, he had shown.

Post-match interview. Legendary BBC striker Alan Shearer held the microphone.

"Incredible. That physique doesn't look fifteen years old. Lewis Dunk is one of the strongest defenders in the league, and you treated him like a child."

Gang-cheol wiped sweat and grinned.

"Everyone kept saying the EPL was rough, so I was pretty worried. That's why I ate a lot before coming."

The witty reply sent Shearer into a full laugh.

"This was your debut. What's the goal? Young Player of the Year?"

Gang-cheol thought for a second, then stared straight into the camera.

"Young Player of the Year is too small."

"Sorry?"

"We have to win the title. And..."

He held up three fingers.

"The Treble—league, FA Cup, Champions League. I figure I'll give that a try."

The studio stirred. A debutant talking about the Treble. Arrogance? Or pure nerve? Anyone who had watched him play today, however, found it hard to dismiss as empty bluster.

On the team bus back to Manchester the players were still singing in victory. Gang-cheol leaned against the window and switched on his phone. Korean portals were already in meltdown.

Gang-cheol was still smiling at the comments when the system window quietly appeared.

Iron Lungs...

Honey of a reward. The EPL schedule was brutal—league, cups, Champions League. Faster recovery was essential.

Just then a text arrived. Sender: Shin Min-heung hyung.

Message sent. Gang-cheol gazed out at the night sky. England’s night was dark, yet in his eyes stars were pouring down.

The first step was taken. Next opponents: Everton. Wayne Rooney’s team.

Rooney...?

This should be fun.

A legend of the past meeting a legend of the present. Gang-cheol closed his eyes and began image-training the next match.