Facing the Eternal Rival - Japan
As soon as the quarterfinal opponent was confirmed as Japan, we dove into full-scale training to prepare for the match. The Korea-Japan showdown—a guillotine battle with FIFA U-20 World Cup qualification on the line—had everyone buzzing for a while. But Coach Han Gwang-jong, who had foreseen this exact scenario, cut off all access to outside news for the young players. Thanks to that, the team could focus purely on training without any pressure.
Son Jinho showing his resolve for the Korea-Japan match. "We can't lose at rock-paper-scissors against Japan."
Well... unlike the other players, I did give an interview to the press. Normally, the captain handles that, but since I'm the most spotlighted player on this U-19 team—and the one feeling the least pressure—they had me represent everyone.
"As everyone knows, our quarterfinal opponent is our eternal rival, Japan."
The day before the Japan match, Coach Han Gwang-jong gathered the players in the multipurpose hall. He looked at us and opened his mouth.
"Honestly, leaving aside Jinho, Japan's technical skills are superior to our national team's."
True to his reputation as the "Yi Sun-sin of soccer," he had a clear grasp of Korea's objective strengths and Japan's weaknesses.
"Should we let Japan play the technical game they're good at?"
"No, sir!"
"Then what should we do?"
"Play the soccer we're good at and target Japan's weaknesses!"
Through his questions, he drew out the answers from us, imprinting exactly what we needed to do on the pitch.
"What's the soccer we're good at?"
"Fast counterattacks leveraging our physicality!"
"Japan's weakness?"
"They're weak against strong, aggressive pressing!"
"They're not proactive in physical duels!"
The coach nodded in satisfaction at our responses.
"Right! Japan has always been classified as having chronic weaknesses in physicality and stamina!"
That would change in the future, but right now, physicality was always cited as Japan's Achilles' heel.
"If we replicate our training exactly on the pitch, victory is all but guaranteed!"
As the coach declared victory, confidence swelled across the Korean national team's faces. He looked at me with eyes full of trust.
That look... is it Ki-hyeon-hyung?
It reminded me of something about Choi Gi-hyeon for a second, but Han Gwang-jong was so capable that comparing him would be an insult. I shook my head, brushing away the fleeting image of Ki-hyeon-hyung.
"Well... Ki-hyeon-hyung isn't incompetent; he's just a good guy at heart."
"Achoo—! Who's talking about me?"
Choi Gi-hyeon rubbed his nose and muttered softly before burying his head back in the documents.
"Ugh... how are there so many agents? Offers are pouring in."
Since arriving in Germany, Choi Gi-hyeon had been amazed by Son Jinho's performances. Seeing his protégé achieve his dreams at breakneck speed made him want to support him wholeheartedly. He pulled all-nighters to wrap up the administrative hurdles for Jinho's stay without causing him any stress.
Last time, Jinho's expression had looked off, so he'd worried about homesickness and suggested heading back to Korea. But...
His protégé had shaken his head firmly every time.
It's not polite to pry too deep into personal matters. I'll help if he asks later.
Choi Gi-hyeon nodded. The bad expression had cleared up soon enough, so it wasn't a big deal.
"This guy's the one who tried slipping me cash last time? Out."
Shaking off stray thoughts, he quickly sorted the agents. Some had tried bribing him—he tossed them immediately.
He might've taken a moderate cut and played nice in the past. But now, seeing Son Jinho succeed meant more than money.
And above all...
"My disciple trusted me with this—can't sell him out for pocket change."
Choi Gi-hyeon couldn't betray the kid who believed in him. As he culled the unworthy, the massive stack of documents shrank in no time.
"Ha... how many scammers are there? No decent talent to entrust Jinho to."
He shook his head at the dwindled pile. Deep down, he'd love to be Jinho's agent himself, but witnessing Germany's training system had sparked a new dream.
The one to reform Korea's youth training system? It's me.
On off days, he visited Dortmund and other Bundesliga U-15 youth teams, studying their methods and pondering Korean applications.
Choi Gi-hyeon's future, once destined to end as a high school coach, was shifting toward soccer administration.
October 11, Monday. Linzi Stadium, Shandong Province, China.
"Korea, fighting—!!"
It wasn't a full house, but more fans had shown up than expected.
About 3,000, maybe?
Probably the biggest crowd since my regression. I glanced at the stands, then remembered Gyeowol's messages.
Germany was early morning right now, but imagining Gyeowol waking up to send cheers brought a smile to my face.
Maybe because of her support, I felt like there was no way we'd lose this match, no matter what.
She woke up at dawn to watch—can't let her down.
As I steeled my resolve staring at the Japanese players prepping for kickoff...
Beep!!
Referee Abdullah Mohamed Hilal blew the whistle, signaling the start of the game.