The King's Throne Changes Hands
The older guys had rallied around him after the goal that put them behind, and their encouragement had steeled his resolve — but chances refused to come easy.
They attacked. We defended.
That was the atmosphere all the way to the final whistle.
Trapped in their own half, taking a beating, hanging on by sheer stubbornness — that was when it happened.
Thwack!
Hyeon stripped the ball and fed it straight to him.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Footsteps hammered behind him. He laid the ball off to Gi-cheol beside him and sprinted into the open space free of any marker.
Tap. Tap.
The ball came right back. An angle opened in an instant — Tae-ung, Jeong-woo, Seung-pyo, Si-woo, all surging forward.
In the middle of a sudden counter, there was only one thing he could do.
Whoosh!
A lofted pass arcing toward Tae-ung.
The trajectory was beautiful. Impossibly, almost unfairly beautiful.
And then, right in the middle of it—
Grab! Whoosh!!
Someone seized Tae-ung mid-sprint and hauled him down.
Crash!
Tweet!
Tae-ung went down and won the foul.
A free-kick chance. The moment he got it, he looked toward the sideline.
The coach held up his index finger, thumb, and middle finger. He knew exactly what that signal meant. How could he not?
They had drilled the pattern for a full hour in training until they were sick of it.
Three minutes of stoppage time were added at the end of the second half.
The instant that clock started, Seongjin Hanul won a free kick.
It was a chance for both sides.
Seongjin Hanul's first truly dangerous opportunity after a second half spent without a single attack.
And, at the same time, Suwon Galaxy Wings' last chance to punish a Seongjin Hanul side that had finally pushed its line high.
Break through, or get broken through. That was the fight.
Three men stepped up to take it.
Ha Seung-pyo and Jo Tae-ung, the previous free-kick specialists — and Yun Seo-jin.
"Seongjin Hanul's first free kick of the match."
"Ha Seung-pyo looks like he's preparing to take it again, as he has been — but Yun Seo-jin, who's delivered some excellent balls today, is standing there too."
"And Jo Tae-ung, who handled free kicks before the mid-season break, is also in the mix."
"I have absolutely no idea who's going to take this."
Ha Seung-pyo, the designated taker since the break. Jo Tae-ung, the pre-break specialist who hadn't taken one all season until suddenly appearing today. And Yun Seo-jin, the rookie who had been spraying pinpoint passes all afternoon.
With all three of them standing over the ball, the Suwon Galaxy Wings players packed tight into the middle of the wall, wound tight with tension over who would strike it — who would dictate the free kick.
That tension lasted only a moment. The three exchanged a few words, and then Jo Tae-ung peeled off and sprinted into the box.
For all practical purposes, he was out of the running as the taker. That left Yun Seo-jin and Ha Seung-pyo.
And then—
Thud-thud-thud!
Ha Seung-pyo started his run-up as if he meant to strike it himself.
In the decisive moment of a match, entrusting the kick to a prospect must have seemed like a poor call.
That was the assumption — until—
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!!
Yun Seo-jin burst out from behind Ha Seung-pyo.
Tap!
Ha Seung-pyo slipped a short pass to Yun Seo-jin as he cut across—
Crack!!
—and Yun Seo-jin hammered the ball toward the face of goal.
The delivery was exquisite. Far enough out that the keeper couldn't rush off his line, yet right into the cluster of attackers.
And waiting in that exact spot, positioned to perfection, was the man who had been standing over the free kick moments earlier before charging into the box.
Jo Tae-ung.
Whoosh!
Jo Tae-ung rose into the air.
It was a header he could have taken clean. But he knew better.
If he headed it from there, it was going straight at the keeper. Guaranteed.
So he scanned. Eyes flicking left and right. And he found him.
The hunter who had smelled blood — the man who had taken his place.
Tap!
He nodded the ball gently off to the side.
And the player who surged onto it was Seongjin Hanul's main gun.
Kang Si-woo.
BOOM!!
THWACK!!
A blistering run and a shot that flew true.
The ball buried itself in the back of the net.
"GOOOOOOOOOAL!!!"
"KANG SI-WOOOOOOOO!!!"
The commentators roared.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
The home fans of Seongjin Hanul FC exploded.
"Shhhhhhhh."
Kang Si-woo sprinted toward the Suwon Galaxy Wings supporters and put a finger to his lips — the full shushing celebration.
Every single one of those moments pointed to a Seongjin Hanul FC victory.
Even so, the Suwon Galaxy Wings players refused to quit.
The match wasn't over yet.
But the Seongjin Hanul FC players were burning just as hot.
Victory — a victory over the kings of K League 2 — first place — was right there in front of them.
…After that, the rest of the match was straightforward.
In the two minutes that remained, everything Suwon Galaxy Wings could muster was direct and desperate. Even their sharper, more clinical attacks earlier in the match had been handled by Seongjin Hanul FC's defense; these ones were far too easy.
Tweet! Tweet! Tweeeeeeet!
The match ended 2–1 to Seongjin Hanul FC.
The moment a throne changed hands.
After the final whistle, players from both sides shook off whatever had happened on the pitch and exchanged greetings.
"Good match, Coach Feltner."
"Excellent match, Coach."
It started with a handshake between the managers.
Two of the sharpest tactical minds in K League 2, each quietly impressed by the other's work.
Neither had expected to find a tactician of this caliber out here on the fringes of the football world — and neither had expected a German coach of this quality to turn up in a place like this.
"I'd love a chance to sit down and talk tactics properly sometime."
"So would I."
"Seongjin Hanul will be going up to K League 1, I take it?"
"Of course. As league leaders. Direct promotion is the goal."
"Hahaha. This season's fixtures are done, so we'll see you in K League 1 next. We won't lose then."
"We'll win then, too."
Respect and competitive fire in equal measure. With that, both managers headed back to their own players.
Among the players themselves, there was little friction once the whistle blew.
The two clubs weren't rivals, and no one on either side carried any deep personal grudge. A few challenges had been rough, sure — but that was football, and everyone could leave it on the pitch.
Everyone except one man, who made a point of seeking out one particular player to apologize.
"Hey… Yun Seo-jin?"
"Yes? Oh — Go Hyeon-beom. Hello… right, well played today."
"Yeah, you too. Look… sorry about that. I was pretty rough on you, huh?"
"No, it's fine. You never went in with anything dangerous."
"You're not hurt anywhere?"
"No, I'm good."
Yun Seo-jin was still very young — a kid without even the usual "prodigy" label attached to his name. Go Hyeon-beom had been under orders from his coach, but playing that hard against someone so young still sat wrong with him. So he came over to apologize.
And while he was at it—
"You got anyone to swap jerseys with?"
"Jersey swap…? No, I don't."
"Then swap with me."
Go Hyeon-beom wanted Yun Seo-jin's shirt.
"With you, Go Hyeon-beom?"
"What, you don't want to?"
"No, it's not that, it's just…"
Yun Seo-jin hesitated, then said something almost painfully earnest.
"I'm just… really surprised. I don't know if I deserve something like this…"
Only a week ago, Yun Seo-jin had been a high school senior on the verge of walking away from football entirely.
And now Go Hyeon-beom — a player whose ability ranked among the best even in K League 1, who had dropped down to the second division to help rebuild a storied club — was asking him for a jersey swap.
That alone was staggering.
"Don't overthink it. Just take it. You hit the ball ridiculously well out there."
"Ah… thank you."
They pulled off their shirts and exchanged them. A smile tugged at the corner of Yun Seo-jin's mouth.
That jersey swap felt like proof he belonged on this pitch — proof he had been recognized. For a kid who had nearly given it all up, it was an enormous gift.
"You're going to be exhausted for a while."
"Sorry? What do you mean?"
"With that kind of ability, you're getting called up to the youth national team for sure."
"Ah… there's no way I'd make the national team…"
Yun Seo-jin took it as a joke at his expense. Go Hyeon-beom found that almost absurd.
Yun Seo-jin's frame was frail even by high school standards — that much was true. But the quality of those passes was something Go Hyeon-beom had never seen, not even in K League 1.
To a kid who clearly had no idea how good he was, Go Hyeon-beom left something that wasn't quite advice and wasn't quite a lecture.
"Don't sell yourself short like that. It's insulting to the guys who had to play against you. Have some confidence."
He clapped Yun Seo-jin on the back — not as an opponent, but as a senior looking out for a younger player. Yun Seo-jin felt it, and bowed his head.
And behind that warm little scene, there was another.
"Jo — how does it feel to be back out there?"
Jorge, the attacking coach who had converted him into a winger, tossed the question his way. Jo Tae-ung looked around for Yun Seo-jin or an interpreter. Neither was nearby.
So he answered on pure instinct, guessing at what Jorge had said.
"Very good."
As he said it, Feltner appeared from behind Jorge and held out a hand.
The manager's hand.
Jo Tae-ung looked at it — and met it with a hard, ringing high five.
Smack!
Seongjin Hanul FC was complete at last.
And nothing looked capable of stopping them.
Even if something from the outside tried to get in their way—
"First place! First plaaace! You did so well, my babies!!!"
—their beautiful club owner, currently channeling pure neighborhood auntie energy, would handle it.