Internal Conflict (5)
“Seona’s mom?”
I was about to hit the call button but froze for a moment.
It had been about a month since Kim Seon-woo’s visit, but we still hadn’t received any official word on contract termination from their side.
What if I called Seona’s mom right now and explained everything, only for her to side with her husband and push to cancel the contract?
If Seona’s mom demanded cancellation herself, I’d have no excuse left...
“Hold on, let me think this through.”
No matter how positive the signals from the Status Window were, this situation carried way too much risk.
It wasn’t just me at stake—the whole team would suffer.
In the end, I didn’t call Seona’s mom that day and just locked my phone screen again.
In the meantime, things between Ha-young and Seona had spiraled to an all-time low.
Seona had at least tried talking to Ha-young before, but now they were treating each other like ghosts.
Eunjae and Sera had tried mediating but given up from exhaustion, and Yuna—who was piling up losses and stress—was back to her sharp-tongued old self.
After putting the two on lockdown, I’d moved my sleeping spot to the practice room living area just in case something else blew up. I’d been crashing on the sofa for days now.
The next match, our fourth: We lost 0:2 as expected, bringing our record to a dismal 0-4.
If we won out the rest of our games, promotion/relegation to Division 2 was still possible, but...
“The chairman is furious.”
That night after the loss, Manager Kim Ki-hyeon pulled me aside and spoke quietly.
“Because of the results...?”
“That’s the surface reason.”
“Surface? Then what’s the real issue?”
“He didn’t say outright, but it’s probably because you’ve been voicing opinions against team policy a lot.”
“You mean that off-season policy where he drags the players out every three days for all-day shoots?”
“I talk with you plenty on operations and management, so I get where you’re coming from and agree. But the chairman doesn’t. To him, this team is a business, and when it gets attention, we need to capitalize with ads and promo to boost visibility.
I’ve tried convincing him multiple times, but he’s stubborn as hell... What can a salaried guy like me do when the boss says jump?”
“So basically, he’s pissed because the coach keeps questioning his orders and we’re not winning.”
Manager Kim Ki-hyeon let out a quiet sigh, his face heavy with worry.
“He even brought up firing you. I begged him no—not mid-season, at least. It’d tank the team’s image endlessly, the exact opposite of what he wants. I barely held him off. But if things stay like this, by season’s end, I won’t have the pull to...”
“Got it. I’ll find a way to turn this around ASAP. When the season ends, I’ll take full responsibility for the results. And... thank you, Manager.”
“I don’t want to watch the team crumble either. On paper, I’m the manager, and I care about the team and players. You’re young, Coach Kang, but you’ve got the skills. I believe you’ll pull through.”
I felt a deep gratitude toward Manager Kim Ki-hyeon. Despite knowing next to nothing about pro gaming, he’d delegated most operations to me, just stamping approvals and occasionally playing good cop with the players. Still, he was a gamer at heart.
Even if his tier was low, his game sense poor, and his eye for talent lacking, he loved Shining Star as a pro gaming team.
But Lee Man-su, chairman of The Shine and owner of Shining Star? Not so much. To him, it was just one of many businesses, and a losing one had no value.
To Lee Man-su, I was some punk kid daring to challenge his policies—and failing to deliver results on top of it. He had every justification to axe me.
Without Kim Ki-hyeon, my head would’ve rolled already. The thought sent chills down my spine. If this continued, I was done.
No—getting fired wasn’t even the worst part. If we truly gave our all and fell short due to my limits or the players’, I could accept that.
But losing like this, with the team fractured, players fighting, barely scraping half their potential? No. We couldn’t go out like this.
What about me? What about my team? We clawed out of Division 3 with dreams we haven’t even chased yet. It’d be too unfair to end here.
This couldn’t be the end.
As the situation hit rock bottom, I steeled myself.
Follow Passfinder or not, staying the course meant doom for me and the team.
I unlocked my phone, resolved to call Seona’s mom.
Just as I went to hit call, an incoming call lit up the screen. The contact name made my eyes widen.
Right as I was about to call her? Coincidence?
“Yes, Seona’s mom. Hello.”
- Hello, Coach. Do you have a moment?
“Yes, of course. Go ahead.”
- Is something wrong with Seona? She looks drained in matches, her face so shadowed... I’m worried. Is she okay?
She doesn’t know what happened...?
Seona’s mom seemed completely in the dark.
Kim Seon-woo had said he’d have his wife push for contract termination that day, but maybe he hadn’t? Come to think of it, Lee Man-su griped about results but never mentioned Kim Seon-woo...
If his secretary demanded silence and only the manager and Han Sang-cheol stayed quiet, no one would know.
“Did Seona say anything to you, ma’am?”
- No, nothing. I check her games, but she seems so out of it, dazed. Even when I call, she says it’s fine... She bottles things up like this. Acts tough, but it shows in her eyes. Coach, is something going on with Seona?
Yeah, time to tell her.
Ding dong.
From what Seona had said, her mom seemed supportive of her choices. She’d called out of worry, after all.
No way she’d flip out and demand cancellation like her husband.
Plus, as wife of SA Group chairman Kim Seon-woo, she was the chairman’s wife—with real clout. Even without company ties, maybe she could sway her husband or at least speak up about Ha-young’s family issue.
Passfinder, I trust you. Help me out here.
“There’s something, but... it’s complicated over the phone. If you have time, could we meet to talk?”
The moment I mentioned it involved her daughter, Seona’s mom cleared her evening and rushed to a café near the office. She was impeccably dressed in a suit.
“Ma’am, over here.”
Breathless, she sat and fired questions with a frantic look.
“Coach, what’s wrong with Seona? What happened? Did she disobey and get scolded? She didn’t cause trouble, did she? What did she do?”
“Ma’am, calm down. Seona didn’t do anything wrong. It’s complicated, but can you hear me out fully?”
I laid it all out.
Ha-young’s family situation in rough strokes, how close she and Seona had been, the workshop, Kim Seon-woo bursting into practice, Seona’s intrusion, Ha-young learning everything, and the fallout since.
Seona’s mom’s expressions shifted wildly.
Shock and trembling at Ha-young’s family story.
A faint smile at their hangouts.
Outrage at her husband demanding contract termination.
Tears with tissues at their rift turning to fights.
“That poor Ha-young girl... And my Seona too...”
“Didn’t your husband or Seona tell you?”
“Nothing at all...”
Seona, maybe, but Kim Seon-woo staying silent was suspicious.
Sniffling, exhausted, Seona’s mom spoke.
“In the end... karma comes back like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew how my husband buried company scandals. He led them, and it wasn’t one or two across the group. Similar stuff happened before and after Ha-young’s family incident.
He hates publicity, so we always suppressed stories. I knew it was wrong but looked away.
I didn’t order it myself. I rationalized not endorsing it, just watching. Convinced myself as long as our youngest didn’t inherit his bad side, and kept the truth from her.
I focused on her upbringing, and she grew kind-hearted. Thought that’d be enough... but here we are. What sin did Seona commit? And that Ha-young girl especially...”
She kept wiping tears, sniffling.
“What’s money or wealth if parents shirk responsibility, ruining their daughter’s future? I should’ve stopped him sooner... How can I face Seona now? And that girl always on screen with her during matches—I’m so sorry...”
Suddenly, she looked up at me.
“Coach, no point saying it, but... does that Ha-young hate us that much?”
“Honestly, yes. They were so close, but learning Seona’s the SA Group chairman’s daughter flipped her hostile. Betrayal over Seona not telling her too.”
“Obviously because of what SA did to her family?”
“...Yes.”
“If we take responsibility now for everything my husband and we did... would that soften her heart? Would Ha-young accept Seona again?”
“......”
I couldn’t answer. She had clout as chairman’s wife, but...
“No, stupid question. Even if not, it’s our karma. Can’t expect results. If she won’t forgive, we still own our wrongs.”
“Ma’am, what are you planning...?”
“Coach, I’ll call you back. Then tell Ha-young this: Hate me, all of SA Group forever if you want—but not Seona.
She was 8 then. Innocent, clueless. Please don’t hate our blameless Seona... Beg her for me.”
And she left abruptly.
I’d hoped she’d just talk to her husband. Taking responsibility? No clue what that meant—but answers came sooner than expected.
Three days before our fifth match.
Midday, a sudden message pinged. From Seona’s mom.
“...What the?”
News for us practice drones meant patch notes. Real news? Couldn’t remember the last time.
Urgent, so pre-scrim, I gathered the players. Calling just those two would get refusals, so I dragged the other three too.
TV on: A press conference. And on stage...
“Mom?!”
Seona reacted instantly. She seemed clueless too.
“Your mom?”
“Unnie’s mom?”
“Mom... why is Mom there...”
“I’m out.”
Ha-young stood, voice flat at the SA Group rep.
I grabbed her hand.
“I don’t wanna see.”
“Ha-young, Seona’s mom just messaged me special. Begged you to watch. I get your feelings, but for me, just a bit?”
“Mom called you? When? Why? What’d she say?”
“She called me before. Said you looked off in games, asked if something was up. I told her, she said she’d follow up. Looks like today.”
“Mom hates that stuff, why...”
The conference began.
Ha-young’s eyes trembled. Her dad was one such victim.
Seona’s mom listed SA subsidiaries’ incidents: dates, groups, casualties—including Ha-young’s dad’s.
The rest wasn’t crucial for us, but we watched silently to the end.
Ha-young wiped tears. Seona stared complexly at the empty stage and subtitles.
Then both phones rang near-simultaneously.
I didn’t hear the calls then, but they later said: both moms.
- Ha-young, see the news?
"Mom, what’s going on? You watched?"
- Yeah. Yoo Ji-hye came yesterday—somehow knew. Kneeled, apologized profusely for ignoring us since Dad. Promised to drop all defenses, pay legal damages separate, investigate and compensate. Brought legal team, notarized it all.
Told me about the conference but begged secrecy till after—for you. No idea what wind blew, but good, right? Finally face Dad honorably. Thank goodness.
- Seona.
"Mom! What was that? Press conference? You hate that stuff!"
- Coach told me days ago. You fought Ha-young after she learned you’re our daughter. Sorry, sweetie. Friends shouldn’t suffer for parents...
"N-no, I’m fine..."
- Should’ve taken responsibility sooner if Dad wouldn’t... Sorry for hiding company stuff. Parents are guilty—you’re innocent.
Don’t blame yourself. Reconcile with Ha-young. It’s our fault. Made it public so you’d talk. Tell her I’m sorry, will apologize in person.
Calls ended; both teary-faced.
I silently thanked Seona’s mom endlessly. This was her responsibility?
Seemed unilateral—no husband consult. He wouldn’t sit idle; huge resolve.
Her daughter’s friendship breakup drove this recklessness—Seona meant everything.
And...
“Ha-young.”
“......Yes...”
Ha-young trembled, holding back sobs, shoulders shaking.
“When I met Seona’s mom, she asked me to pass this: Hate her, all SA Group forever—but not Seona. She’s blameless. Won’t be easy to forgive, but she’s truly sorry, begging you to ease up a—”
“Hic... Waaah!”
Before I finished, Ha-young burst into loud sobs.
I’d planned to leave when Seona’s mom appeared on TV—to show Seona how hurt and angry I was.
Wondered if it was too much, but two months of her deception fueled petty revenge. I embraced it.
But Coach stopped me. Seona’s mom begged. For his sake, I stayed—briefly. Still no forgiveness planned.
The conference shocked: She admitted faults, past dodges, victim toll. Promised to drop defenses, compensate fully. I refused to trust SA, Dad’s killers.
Hmph, lies. Easy to say...
Then she knelt publicly. SA Electronics CEO? Doing that? Sincere...?
Mom called, voice relieved, joyful. Yoo Ji-hye visited days ago, knelt, apologized, notarized promises. Left sorries for me...
Realizing Dad’s issue resolved hit: shock, joy, then shame, guilt.
I knew it wasn’t Seona’s fault. She couldn’t know.
But two months fooled? Daughter of Dad’s doom group? Couldn’t accept—felt like betraying Dad.
So I pushed, rejected, cursed, hit Seona despite knowing.
But her mom stepping up late... what now? Keep raging?
Suppressing tears amid turmoil, Coach said: She’d accept hating all SA—but spare Seona, innocent...
Hit me: Coach, innocent, ran everywhere, even begged her mom—for me. Yet I abused Seona over nothing.
Seona hid two months—annoying, but understandable.
And Yuna-unnie, Eunjae, Sera... Division 3 escapees suffering losses because of me...
All crashed; I sobbed uncontrollably.
“Sniff... Waaah! S-Seona, sorry! Uw aaaah! M-my fault! Sorry for cursing, hitting! Knew it wasn’t you...! Knew you didn’t mean it...! But I vented like a kid... Hic... Sob...”
Seona’s dam broke too.
“Waaah! N-no! Sorry, Ha-young! No right to hit but did! My fault! Hic... Sorry... Sorry about your dad... Waaah!”
Sobbing wildly, they clutched, apologizing louder.
“Phew, finally breathing easy.”
Yuna voiced my relief. Nearly a month of tension suffocating us four.
“Heehee, they made up. Good.”
“No more fighting, unnies.”
“Sniff... Yeah...”
“Hic... Sorry...”
They turned to me.
“Coach, sorry... sniff.”
“Sob... My bad... Won’t fight again.”
“Whew... Really reconciled? Feels like a toothache’s gone.”
Thanks to Passfinder and Seona’s mom, we escaped the tunnel.
Seona’s mom, thank you.
Status Window, sorry for calling you a bastard. You’re a hero. Believed in you.
Late start, but this was our myth’s first step in Division 3.