Internal Strife (1)
After finishing dinner, I was standing on the outdoor balcony of The Shine Building, sipping hot coffee in the chilly late-autumn breeze, when a car caught my eye.
A black luxury limousine, at least three or four times longer than a regular sedan.
The limo, which had been in the opposite lane, made a U-turn at the signal and pulled up right in front of our The Shine headquarters—where we trained and lived. Two people stepped out: one from the back seat, one from the front.
And they headed straight into the company building.
'Some VIP must've shown up again.'
Such high-end cars didn't visit often, but they popped up just frequently enough to notice.
On days when an obviously expensive luxury foreign car rolled in, the company staff would bustle about noticeably, and even Lee Man-su, the usually elusive chairman of The Shine, would make an appearance.
Of course, those were just fancy imports—this was my first time seeing something as massive as that limo.
Rumors swirled that they sent celebrities for "pillow service" to schmooze VIPs, but who knew if that was true? Not my business anyway.
They had nothing to do with the gaming team, so I'd always just shrugged it off. Today was no different.
"Ugh, it's getting too cold to stay out here long."
I shivered in the biting wind, finished my coffee, and turned to head back inside.
That's when Han Sang-cheol, the deputy manager, flung open the balcony door in a panic, calling for me.
"K-Kang Yuseong Coach!"
"Deputy Manager? What's the rush?"
"To the practice room... please come to the practice room quick!"
"...?"
What the hell?
I hurried back to the practice room with Han Sang-cheol, who was gasping for breath like he was on the verge of collapse.
The players were all out for dinner, so no one should be inside, but there were several pairs of shoes at the entrance.
'Who came?'
As I approached the meeting room, voices drifted out.
"Chairman, our staff just went to fetch the person in charge. They'll be here soon. Please calm down for now..."
'That's the manager.'
Kim Ki-hyeon's voice, struggling to soothe someone.
Then a roar erupted.
The sound of a fist slamming down on the desk—my desk.
"You call this calm?! Why the hell do I have to see photos of my youngest daughter on The Shine's idiot billboard?! You think I'm a pushover because I've used your celebrities in SA ads out of respect for that clown Lee Man-su? You signed a contract?! And you didn't even breathe a word to her father?! Drag the bastard who signed that contract here right now!!!"
Han Sang-cheol, sweating bullets, knocked timidly on the meeting room door.
The bellowing voice paused abruptly.
"Deputy Manager, I've brought Coach Kang Yuseong."
"Get in here, quick."
Inside were three people.
Kim Ki-hyeon, the The Shine department head and Shining Star manager, standing fidgety behind him an unknown man, and the oldest-looking one...
'Kim Seon-woo?'
Who in the country wouldn't recognize that face?
Kim Seon-woo, chairman of Korea's largest conglomerate, SA Group. Electronics, biotech, heavy industry, construction, finance, services, sports—you name it. No Korean alive escapes their influence. The king of a mega-corp, always first on the list of richest men.
'Why the hell is he here?'
It clicked who owned that massive limo.
But why was a tycoon with more pull than the president himself in our team's practice room?
"C-Coach! Introduce yourself..."
Han Sang-cheol poked me urgently, squirming like a dog desperate to pee.
I snapped to, bowed slightly.
"You're SA Group Chairman Kim Seon-woo, right? I'm Kang Yuseong, coach of the pro gaming team Shining Star."
No reply. He just scanned me up and down like appraising meat.
I turned to Kim Ki-hyeon.
"Manager? Why is a conglomerate chairman in our practice room...?"
"Why? You asking why?"
Kim Seon-woo finally spoke. I turned back.
"Why?! Why the fuck are you asking?! You steal some family's precious daughter and shove her into your pathetic clown show in a basement, and you ask why? Spouting that shit now?!"
'What the hell is this guy's problem?'
His sudden casual tongue-lashing sparked instant defiance in me.
No context, weird rant—what? "Pathetic basement clown show"? He means pro gaming, right?
"I can't understand what you're saying."
I stared him straight in the eye. Kim Seon-woo, scowling, called the man behind him.
"Choi Secretary!"
"Yes, Chairman. Hello, Coach Kang. I'm Choi Woo-hyun, your secretary. We happened to pass by and saw Miss Kim Seona, the chairman's youngest daughter, on the billboard at The Shine's entrance. That's why we've come."
...What?
Whose youngest daughter? Seona? Kim Seon-woo's from SA Group? Seona's a chaebol heiress?
My brain short-circuited on the bombshell.
SHOCK
Kim Seona = Chairman Kim Seon-woo's youngest daughter?!
"Miss Seona becoming a... pro gamer was news to the chairman. He's demanding an explanation and compensation for the deception, plus contract termination."
My eyes and ears snapped wide. Contract termination? With two weeks left in the season? That'd forfeit our Winter season spot, auto-relegation. We'd clawed our way up from Third Division. The girls bled for this—how much practice for higher leagues?
And he'd reset it all to zero?
No way in hell.
"Unacceptable."
Ding!
Standing up to Kim Seon-woo triggered the long-silent status window with a positive ping.
This guy's clueless about how serious this is.
All eyes locked on me.
Kim Seon-woo reacted sharpest, brow furrowing as he growled low.
"...What?"
"I reject everything you're saying. No compensation for 'deception,' no termination. Nothing to explain."
"Hah."
Ding!
He stood. Taller than expected, he loomed over me, snarling.
"Unacceptable? No compensation? No termination? No explanation?"
"Yes."
I met his glare head-on. The moment he dismissed pro gaming—sweat and blood of countless pros—as a "clown show," I hated the bastard.
I pulled Seona's contract copy from the drawer, slapped it on the desk.
"We scouted via open auditions. Seona came on her own. I picked her for talent. Nothing to explain.
Her mother accompanied her here for signing. Legal guardian approved. Mutual agreement, no issues.
Termination only if her mother demands it. Father has no say. Two-year term, breach incurs penalty—you know that."
Ding!
Kim Seon-woo scoffed, leaned down to eye level, growling.
"Lecturing me on legality? Penalty? Think that scrap of paper holds weight against me? Kid, you don't know how the world works. Let me enlighten you.
I'm not forcing termination—I'm offering a chance. Go legal if you want. But I'll take my measures.
I'll ban all The Shine celebs from SA Group marketing. Blacklist them across every broadcast, film, animation we fund.
Your actors become jobless nobodies overnight, scraping nightclub gigs. Think bankrupting a company and firing everyone is hard?"
"Ch-Chairman!"
Kim Ki-hyeon paled at the life-or-death threat.
"Think Lee Man-su won't know? One word from me, he'll beg to void it. Then you're breaching, we collect penalty. Your career safe? He'll crucify you for costing the penalty.
Law? It protects men like me, not street rats like you. Law doesn't care about you. Don't delude yourself.
Last chance: terminate now. I'll have the wife sign later. Busy running the company—what's she doing gallivanting? Oh, penalty?
Two-year deal, 25 million won salary. Penalty ten times annual? 50 million times two is 500 million. Double for the surprise visit: one billion. Give me the account. Pay up on termination."
Status, wealth, power, connections.
I was outmatched everywhere.
My contract and "legality" were infant toys to him.
And it wasn't even illegal—just refusing to hire his celebs.
One gesture, The Shine stars unemployed, agency shrinks, gaming team first to go.
Unwinnable.
Not even a fight—realms apart.
His smug, money-conquers-all face.
'Fucking hate that.'
Rage boiled inside.
I'd had plenty of cash pre-regression—not his level, but no pushover. Think I'd grovel?
Defiance ignited. Time for a declaration of war.
Ding!
"...One billion won't cut it."
"Hah? Not enough? Brave or brainless? How much then? 1.5 billion? Two?"
"Five hundred billion minimum."
Seon-woo's face twisted in disbelief, doubting his ears.
Even a tycoon doesn't toss around 500 billion lightly.
He eyed me like a lunatic, snorted.
"Ah, so the coach is a nutjob. 500 billion? Know what you're saying? Beyond the contract—trying to gouge me?"
"Didn't you just call this paper worthless? So I'm quoting off-paper value. Is Seona's dream worth only one billion to you?"
"What?"
"Did you see her desperation at auditions? Her joy at acceptance? Laughing with teammates, practicing through my scoldings?
From Academy League, grinding for heights—gritting through pain. Dreaming of 1st Divison, world champs.
And you crush it for termination and one billion?
Trample her dream for pocket change? I couldn't bear to for one billion. If you're destroying her future, pay 500 billion."
"My daughter's dream is Ivy League business, leading SA Group with leadership."
"That's your dream, Dad!"
The meeting room door flew open. A girl with wavy, chestnut-dyed long hair cascading to her chest stood fuming.