A Transformed South Korea (3)
"Hahahaha!"
The Director, freshly arrived in London, England, burst into a hearty guffaw.
"I never dreamed I'd live to see a day like this. To think I'd actually set foot in England for the World League schedule."
"Is that so?"
Park Chang-seok smiled at the Director's words.
The heads of state of every nation selected for the Round of 16 received an invitation from the British royal family — a seat among the most coveted in the entire world. It meant being formally recognized as an undeniable summoning superpower.
South Korea had sent Player Headquarters Director Gwak Gyu-jun as its representative. He was popular with the public, and his Baek Jinwoo-friendly policies had effectively been judged as merit enough to earn the honor. After all, hadn't replacing the national team with the SKY members been the Headquarters' own decision in the first place?
"Assemblyman Park Chang-seok."
"Yes."
"Thank you once again. Hahah! If I hadn't listened to you, could I possibly be attending an occasion like this as Acting President? It's all thanks to you. Hahahah!"
"As long as you know, sir."
"Yes, yes. I know it very well."
The Director nodded vigorously.
There was a certain lack of tact in the way he put things, but it hardly mattered. The man had sins on his record from the old Assemblywoman Lim Hee-su affair, not to mention the blunder of withdrawing his investment in Baek Jinwoo because a mere ten-odd billion won felt like too much to part with. And the one who had swept all of that under the rug was none other than Park Chang-seok. Yubaek listened only to that assemblyman.
Haah, the Round of 16.
The Director's heart was already pounding.
The World League was on an entirely different tier from sporting events like the World Cup or the Olympics. Sporting in form, yes — but in substance, it was an occasion to take each nation's measure and sort the world into ranks. And in that league, South Korea had reached the Round of 16. Better still, he himself, Director of the Korean Players Headquarters, would personally receive the treatment reserved for a superpower.
The President said so himself.
That he could pass judgment on every matter at this assembly on the spot and carry it out exactly as he saw fit.
Heheheh.
The Director, ambitious and power-hungry by nature, began to burn hot with fervor. A born politician, he found himself wanting more.
At this rate, shouldn't I actually run in the next presidential election?
The Round of 16 wasn't even locked in yet. What if they made the quarterfinals? No — what if, just as Baek Jinwoo had said, they reached the semifinals?
Or maybe, just maybe...
Win the whole thing or take runner-up, and it would be an absolute jackpot!
"Director."
Park Chang-seok spoke gravely.
"Hm?"
"Don't get too carried away."
"Oh, come now? Who's carried away, I'd like to know?"
"It's written all over your face."
"Ahem. Ahem."
"Placing in the top sixteen out of ninety-two nations is more than enough to be proud of. Of course, if Baek Jinwoo keeps growing, we may surpass even England someday — but realistically, it's far too early to expect that, wouldn't you say?"
"Haha, right! That goes without saying!"
"I would naturally love for us to win, but even if we don't, for our country Baek Jinwoo is the future. The hope. Just remember that much."
"True enough."
The Director smiled beatifically.
Even if he really did become president down the road, all he'd have to do was keep the Baek Jinwoo-friendly policies coming. And if they actually won it all? Then South Korea would truly become the Baek Jinwoo Republic.
"Heheheh, heheheheh!"
The Director simply could not stop laughing. Even on the way to Buckingham Palace in Westminster, London, his face stayed in full bloom.
And then—
Thud!
He walked straight into a passerby.
Haah, the man needs to watch where he's going. What kind of Director has such terrible manners?
Park Chang-seok, sighing deeply on the inside, bowed his head.
"I beg your pardon. We should have been watching where we were going."
Above the rooftop of Buckingham Palace floated interpreter birds — not every day, only deployed whenever an occasion like this called for one.
"My, my. Do watch yourself, won't you?"
The man they'd bumped into scowled hard. Big nose, deep wrinkles — clearly a Westerner...
Wait just a moment.
Park Chang-seok froze.
The Italian Senate President?
He recognized the man at a glance. When representing your nation abroad, knowing the other side's key figures was basic diplomatic literacy.
Of course—
"What's with that guy?"
—Director Gwak Gyu-jun, muttering such things after a man already walking away in irritation, seemed to have missed that particular lesson by a wide margin.
Whether the Senate President heard him or not, he whipped his head around.
"What did you just say?"
"Pardon?"
"You bump into me first, and now you're picking a fight?"
Oh no.
Park Chang-seok smacked his forehead with his right palm.
Haah.
What kind of Director stirs up trouble the moment he arrives? His facial muscles twitching violently, Park Chang-seok seized the Director's shoulder in a crushing grip.
"Shu. Shut. Your. Mouth?"
"Ow, ow! Ouch! That hurts, I said!"
"Please. Stand. Still. I'm begging you."
"F-fine... I get it! I get it, so let go!"
Any way you looked at him, the Director was simply a man skilled at one thing: political scheming. Not true politics in the noble sense of governing a nation — the other kind, the kind where you tack "scheming" onto the end of the word. Which made him remarkably easy to manage and milk.
The less capable a man is, the easier he is to handle.
"Who are you people? What country are you from? China, is it? Hnnh?"
As the Senate President's voice climbed, the atmosphere turned hostile in an instant. Park Chang-seok eased the Director behind him and bowed his head politely once more.
"I apologize. Given the venue, we should have been more mindful of our surroundings, and we failed to be."
"No, I asked which country! China?"
"Not China. South Korea."
"...South Korea?"
The Italian Senate President's hostile face began, ever so slowly, to soften.
"...Did you say South Korea? Sauth Korea?"
"Yes."
"The Korea — the one with Jinugod?"
"...That's the one."
Park Chang-seok learned something new that day: that the scowl on that big-nosed Westerner's face could actually melt into something like that.
"Ah, ahahahah! So you're Korea's distinguished guests! I studied, I truly did, but it never came up. So it wasn't the President himself who came? And your position might be...?"
"...I'm the Director of the Players Headquarters. This assemblyman here serves under me."
"Ahahahah! Is that so?"
Even the invitees from countries other than Italy began to sidle closer — nations hoping to bank at least a sliver of goodwill on the mere word Korea.
"Oh dear, I should have kept my eyes properly open. Raising my voice instead — the shame is entirely mine. Forgive my rudeness at a first meeting."
He even buried his earlier attitude, swallowed his pride, and apologized in person. And this was the Senate President of Italy — a summoning superpower, no less.
Ah. So this is it.
Park Chang-seok felt it sink into his bones. So this is what the treatment of a superpower looks like.
And at the same time, he was grateful — to Baek Jinwoo, who had raised South Korea's standing this high.
The league began in earnest.
The World League would run through the end of January, and once it concluded, the world rankings and domestic rankings would be updated accordingly.
Day one: England versus Italy! It ended, naturally, in an overwhelming English victory. Italy was, quite literally, fleeced head to toe before being sent home... and yet their faces brimmed with satisfaction. Drawing the strongest nation on earth in their very first Round of 16 match only confirmed what everyone already knew — they had barely scraped into the bottom of the top sixteen. They were more than content just to be there, and beating England had never once crossed their minds. The Italian public, for their part, were far too busy oohing and ahhing at the English national team's showcase to care.
Day two: Mexico versus Bangladesh! A razor-thin contest unfolded, the outcome hanging in the balance until the very end, and Mexico clawed out a hard-fought victory that moved them to tears.
And then, day three.
The match between South Korea and France will begin shortly.
Participating nations, please enter the Arena.
At last, South Korea's first match of the Round of 16 was about to begin.
"UWAAAAAAH-RAH-RAH-RAHHH!"
With Ki Jaehyeok's battle cry, the whole team entered the Arena.
"Big bros, big sis! Fighting, everyone! Let's gooo!"
"Yeah, let's go! Win it clean and come back!"
"Whoever we draw, let's pull off another all-kill this time!"
"Ooh, an all-kill in the Round of 16! Now that's the stuff! The whole world's gonna lose its mind again!"
The guild members' hearts swelled with a strange, new feeling. To think the day would come when they could crack jokes like this, tossing the word "all-kill" back and forth against France — a summoning superpower.
Watching them, even Baek Jinwoo said nothing. He didn't know who the French players were in the first place, after all. He had only ever analyzed the players of the five great superpowers — the homes of the Five Emperors.
"For France, you only need to watch out for two men."
Surprisingly, it was Hwang Juwon delivering the analysis. Forming the national team's signature circular shoulder-huddle, he recited the intel on the French roster.
"Evan Parker, world rank nineteen — he's the captain. Ian Hayes, world rank forty-two — that one's the vice-captain. There's also a Kevin Diau hanging around rank ninety-six, but we won't even get that far. Take out those first two and it's done. And let's aim to wrap things up within our own lineup — no need for it to ever reach the Guild Master, if we can help it."
Hwang Juwon reeled it all off from memory — the summons their opponents favored, their combat habits, even their publicly known weaknesses.
Ohh.
Baek Jinwoo's lips curled with interest. Hwang Juwon really was born to be a coach. And the man himself seemed to know it, too.
He's showing it even now.
Showing that he was a player with value in these corners of the game as well. He'd have to sit down with him for a serious talk once this league wrapped up — about joining the training sessions, about taking the job of full-time coach. And of course, he'd be treated the same as any national team member. The slogan Yoo Jia had hung over SKY from its founding was, after all: The World's Best Skill, the World's Best Treatment. Baek Jinwoo had no intention of breaking it.
Players of all nations, please prepare for the tournament.
The order shall be decided by the Dice of Fate!
It was always the same. Player order was random. And it wasn't revealed ahead of time, either — each combatant was drawn by dice the moment one duel ended, which meant reworking your strategy on the fly mattered just as much as raw strength.
First up—
France's dice are rolling!
The first match's combatant is Player 'Amadou Jean Lyon'!
France's first batter was a player named Lyon. Naturally, Baek Jinwoo had no idea who he was — and even less interest.
Doesn't look like a world ranker, either.
Next, South Korea's dice are rolling!
Rrrroll!
The dice on the giant screen tumbled along in comical fashion. Six faces, sure — but the names written on them were random anyway.
Tock, rumble-rumble! The dice, rolling this way and that, began to slow, and the guild members clasped their hands together and prayed with everything they had.
C'mon, me!
Let me be the one to show them!
A guy like Lyon is mine to crush!
Baek Jinwoo had told them, after all — to show the world what they were made of at this World League. And as a stage for showing off, France was a fairly soft draw. The quarterfinals and semifinals would naturally bring far nastier opponents. In other words, this was the chance...
But the Dice of Fate dealt the guild members a rather heartless result.
What?
The guild members' eyes blew wide as saucers.
"Huh?"
Baek Jinwoo blinked and scratched the back of his head.
Me? Right off the bat?
Well, then. What are we gonna do with you kids? Looks like you're heading home without even getting a turn.