Time to Rebuild
Rebuilding. Yeah — we had to.
Two days later, Feltner arrived in Korea. It was a feat made possible only because I had scrambled, in Hanul's name, to get every scrap of paperwork he needed for entry lined up in advance.
Even so, the man had clearly come in a dead sprint. All he brought with him was a change of clothes and a handful of the electronics he used — that was it.
Not that it mattered. I had every intention of supplying whatever he needed to live here.
The moment Marco Feltner landed, I was at the airport to meet him.
"Welcome to Korea, Feltner."
"Thank you for the welcome, Chefin."
We exchanged a brief handshake, and I steered him toward the car.
I took the seat of honor; Feltner sat beside me. I turned to Ms. Yoo-kyung at the wheel.
"Ms. Yoo-kyung, take us straight to Feltner's place so he can rest."
"Understood, Chairwoman."
She pulled away toward the house we'd prepared, and I filled Feltner in.
"Feltner, I'll show you to the house you'll be staying in first. Change the passcode yourself, and if there's anything you need, call my number anytime. Today we focus on shaking off the travel fatigue."
But Feltner, it turned out, was a man of almost excessive principle.
"Thanks to you I came over comfortably in first class. If there's work to be done, you don't need to go out of your way to accommodate me like that."
I'd offered him time off as his boss, and he came back with I flew first class, so I can't accept that.
Diligent? Or just stubborn? Either way, one thing was certain: hand this Marco Feltner a job, and it would get done by the deadline.
"Then may I ask one favor?"
"Anything within my power."
"Ms. Yoo-kyung, when you stop for a second, grab the things in the passenger seat. He says he wants to work — we ought to put him to work."
"Yes, Chairwoman."
What sat in the passenger seat was exactly what our club needed most right now. More precisely, what Feltner needed most to do his job.
When we caught a red light, Ms. Yoo-kyung opened the passenger drawer and handed me a thick stack of documents and a USB drive. I passed them straight to Feltner.
"This is…"
"Our player roster and match footage. I've made some personal evaluations of my own — they're an amateur's opinions, so take them or leave them as you like. Toss them if you want."
"So I'm to build a system around these players?"
Build a system around these players? No. Was he out of his mind?
"No."
I cut him off cleanly, then looked out the window and asked him a question I already knew the answer to.
"Feltner — do you hesitate when it comes to cutting players?"
"…If a player undermines the team's tactics or the locker-room atmosphere — if he's unnecessary to the mission — you cut him without flinching."
"If I've said that much, then I think you already know better than I do what your job is."
I glanced once at the papers I'd handed him and drove the point home, reminding him of the one fact he needed to remember.
"Don't worry about the money. Feltner — keep only the players this team needs, and cut everyone else."
"I'll make the final calls after I've met every player in person. Is that all right with you?"
"Of course."
Feltner rummaged a laptop out of his bag and started watching matches on the spot. The man really did throw himself into work like a force of nature.
"Have the release list decided by this coming Wednesday. And the official induction ceremony will be that same day, so come in a suit."
"I'm not really the type who packs a suit."
I'd seen this man in a suit in my previous life, hadn't I? Or had coaching changed him? Maybe the younger Feltner of this timeline simply hated wearing one.
"…Tell me your measurements later. I'll have one made for you."
"I'm joking. I did pack one, of course."
I laughed despite myself. He was funnier than I'd expected.
"You're on the entertaining end of the Germans I've met."
"Do-a, that is a nationally discriminatory remark. Germans are extremely entertaining."
"Among the Germans I've known, with a few exceptions, you're the most entertaining, Feltner."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
As well he should. Whose compliment was it, after all?
We traded a few more bits of small talk for several minutes, and before long Feltner had sunk fully into the match footage.
Out of consideration I shut my mouth, pulled out my phone, and started working through my own backlog. However much of my focus was on football these days, I was still the chairwoman of a corporation. The work had to get done.
About an hour after the two of us settled into our respective tasks, we finally arrived.
At the house I'd prepared for Feltner to live in going forward. Finding one in a single day had been a stretch, but I'd managed it somehow.
I punched in the universal default passcode — 1234 — and stepped inside. A lavish interior unfolded around us: a massive TV installed purely for football, every latest white-goods appliance, a custom bed and furniture that had cost an absurd amount of money.
"Wow."
Feltner stood there with his mouth hanging open in pure, blank astonishment.
"If you keep your mouth that wide open, you're going to drool."
"Even so, this is too…"
"Too…?"
"Never mind. I'll gratefully accept the consideration."
He bowed even more deeply, then disappeared into the bedroom to unpack his meager belongings.
After that I showed him how to change the door-lock passcode and how to work the various appliances, told him I'd assign him a cleaning helper and a cook as well, and called it a day. I had my own schedule to keep.
I had given Feltner every scrap of welfare I could provide. Now it was his turn. Whether he could deliver exactly as I hoped — I was looking forward to finding out.
Three days later. Wednesday.
Click-click-click! Click-click-click!
Caught between the sports press and the storm of flashbulbs they produced, Feltner and I clasped hands.
Having signed the contract in front of the cameras, Marco Feltner was thereby installed as the new head coach of Seongjin Hanul FC.
And then…
"Chefin. Please take a look at this."
Feltner handed me the player list he had analyzed. Something was off. No — a lot was off.
"Feltner, what on earth is this?"
I hefted the absurdly heavy binder he'd given me and asked, but Feltner just kept talking.
"Analysis files on every player. I referenced your evaluations as well — they were remarkably accurate. On par with most professional scouts. They were a great help."
"That's not what I mean… Is this volume even possible in three days?"
Each player had at least three or four pages of evaluation — playing styles, weaknesses, the talent each one possessed. How obsessively had he watched the footage? I couldn't even begin to guess.
And that wasn't the end of it.
"Chefin, just in case, I also analyzed several K League 2 and university matches."
"When did you even watch those? Did you have time left over?"
"I pulled roughly two all-nighters, I believe. Haha."
Feltner wore an easy, good-natured smile.
Leaving him behind for a moment, I flipped through his analyses of the university games and the K League 2 matches, and I came to a single conclusion.
Even to a non-expert like me, the material was eye-widening. The kind of work that made you wonder how many coaches in the country could produce analysis at this level.
And inside those files were names I hadn't expected.
"The prospects I've marked — please bring every one of them to Seongjin Hanul FC by whatever means necessary. And I'd like you to sign a few additional coaches from Europe as well."
"Understood."
I was rattled inside, but I answered as evenly as I could manage.
At the same time I snuck a look at the "provisional release list" he had submitted — and there they were.
The cancers eating away at Seongjin Hanul FC. The same names I had marked. The same names Feltner had marked.
Every last one of them was on it, without a single omission.
To read that much from nothing but match and training footage — Feltner really did have the makings of an elite coach. A once-in-a-generation talent. This was why being a regressor was the best: you could lock down future geniuses before anyone else.
"Well then, Chefin — shall I escort you?"
"My, what a German gentleman."
"Germany has a great many gentlemen, you know."
"Not Britain?"
I rose from the office after his bow and led him out toward the squad.
Once the players — who had been training individually — were gathered in one place, I introduced him.
"This is Marco Feltner. A coach who was working in the 2. Bundesliga, and the new head coach of Seongjin Hanul FC."
The expressions on the players' faces fell into one of three camps: hope directed at the new coach, open irritation at his presence, and last of all…
Faces that expected nothing at all.
How those faces would change — I was genuinely looking forward to it. Truly.