What's a Hanbok? One Hour Before Official Appointment
"What exactly is this good news?"
"We've received a sponsorship offer from Korea."
"Already?"
"Saying 'already' means you predicted something like this yourself, Manager."
"True enough."
"Then care to guess which company?"
"Too many come to mind. Just one hint."
"The logo happens to be red."
High probability it's a Korean firm. Among the red-logo groups that would move this fast to claim a sponsorship…
"Hmm… SK, by any chance?"
Cyril's pupils contracted into perfect circles. He looked genuinely startled.
"How did you get it in one try??? That's right. The director reported that SK, the telecom company, has inquired about sponsoring our team."
"Whew—that's fantastic news. What's the scale?"
"A six-million-pound kit sponsorship offer. The only issue is that this year's kit deal is still running, so we'll need to discuss it in a meeting."
Six million. One million is roughly 1.7 billion won. So about ten billion? Insane.
"But that's not all. There's also a game company. Since you love games, Manager, you'll know it right away—the name starts with N."
A Korean game company starting with N… There are the three giant 3Ns. The one connected to football is the one that used to run FIFA Online.
"Nexon?"
"Oh là là!~"
Emma clenched both fists in delight.
"What? Did the Manager get it right again?"
"Yes… sigh. Correct again. This is no fun—there's no point in quizzing you."
"Should I have pretended not to know?"
"No need for that. Nexon's offer is three million pounds."
"Excellent."
"And finally—"
"There's another sponsor?"
Don't tell me a car company too?
"That's all the sponsorship proposals I received today."
A little disappointing.
"A league official passed along word that there's interest in broadcasting Championship matches inside Korea."
"Welcome news. Viewership there could turn out quite solid."
"They want exclusive rights to every single one of our matches, so we'll take our time and watch how it develops."
"Understood."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Yes?"
"Manager, Chairman—you're both here. If you're ready, shall we head to the set for rehearsal?"
"Let's do that."
"Perfect."
Cyril handed over a Sunderland scarf.
"Welcome to the club, truly."
"Thank you for giving me the chance to join."
"Nonsense—you earned it purely on your own ability. Shall we?"
As they stepped outside, Han Shin probed carefully.
"You could have refused me, you know."
"Why would I do that, Manager? Before I'm a club owner, I'm a businessman. Do you know the one ability a businessman and a manager both absolutely must possess?"
"A clear goal and thorough planning? Vision? Or maybe decisiveness and a sense of responsibility?"
The owner was roughly the same age as Han Shin.
"People like us need good eyes. Eyes that can see straight through to a person's essence. Do you know what you look like to me right now?"
"No idea."
Cyril slid his horn-rimmed glasses down a fraction and peered over them.
"You, Manager Han, look to me like the goose that lays the golden eggs."
"Then shall we discuss a contract extension?"
"On your very first day? Hahahaha!"
"Hahahahaha!"
This Paris Baguette brat younger than me! He's treating me as a cash cow instead of a manager. That pisses me off.
His steps toward the set quickened.
Eyes that see through to the essence, my ass… Born with a diamond spoon in his mouth as a Louis-Dreyfus, buying a club at twenty-three…
"Manager!"
"Yes?" He turned at the voice behind him.
"Could you slow down a little? And these are photos from my holiday—what do you think? Have you ever been to France, Manager?"
"Not yet."
On the phone screen, a party scene. Familiar faces jumped out at once.
Whoa… is that former French President Macron? And next to him—Kylian Mbappé?
Right, his fortune was three trillion won…
Money really does make the world go round~
Maybe he meant something else, or perhaps that I'll produce a gleaming trophy. Yeah, that must be it, Han Shin rationalized to himself.
"Camera five, give me a full shot."
"Yes, sir!"
At the assistant director's order, staff in black T-shirts with "Black Cats" printed across the back moved in crisp coordination.
Five broadcast cameras, boom mics, cables snaking across the floor like a nest of vipers—a full-blown film set.
Standing before the green screen, Han Shin and Cyril heard the director call out.
"Manager, look into camera one! Chairman, camera two!"
"Got it."
The assistant director shouted, "All standby~~~!!"
Head director Peter bellowed,
"Sound ready?"
"Speed~!"
A fresh-faced academy kid with a shaved head held the clapperboard for the day—the same rectangular thing you see in behind-the-scenes footage that snaps shut with a sharp crack before the kid bolts out of frame.
"All right, Scene Two. Three, two, one~"
"Scene 2, cut 1, take 1!"
Snap!
The boy slammed the stick down, flashed the slate at the camera, and vanished.
"Camera!"
"Speed~"
"Okay, ready~~~ Action!"
Han Shin delivered the first line written in the script.
"Welcome to Sunderland!"
"Cut! Great work, everyone!"
"You did well."
Cyril dabbed the beads of sweat on his forehead with a handkerchief.
"Whew~~ Sorry, Manager Han. I kept flubbing my lines."
"Not at all. It actually helped me relax."
"You didn't look nervous in the slightest."
"It just doesn't show."
"Hahaha. First time for me too. Shall we head back to the original schedule?"
"Let's."
"Action!"
Han Shin drove along Millennium Way toward the stadium.
An outdoor set had been built outside the ground.
Act like it's my first visit… and drive a Nissan, no less. The "traitor" headlines are going to pour in for sure.
At the entrance, Cyril waited with two other men.
Cameras stayed back, capturing the subjects naturally.
Meanwhile, former Sunderland owner Stuart Donald, in a casual T-shirt, waited behind the entrance with Juan Sartori.
Stuart sneered and whispered to Juan.
"This is pure comedy. Running a club is a joke to them?"
Stuart hated every second of it.
"Tell me about it. What the hell are they even doing?"
"Think they're just milking one big payday before dumping the club?"
"Maybe. Wouldn't put it past them."
Han Shin stepped out of the car and exchanged a warm handshake with Cyril as if meeting for the first time.
"Good day, Chairman."
"Welcome, Manager Han."
"This is Steve McMahon, our chief executive."
"Pleasure to work with you."
"And our sporting director—"
Before the introduction finished, Han Shin was already offering his hand.
"Director Speakman! Great to meet you."
Kristjaan Speakman, sporting director.
The man who handled player transfers, contracts, and the club's overall operations.
Even inside the game he was known as a solid staff member with excellent attributes—so Han Shin already felt a strange sense of familiarity.
"Director Speakman, truly a pleasure. An honor to work alongside you."
"Ah—yes. Likewise. Glad we can work together."
Cyril pointed back and forth with his index finger.
"You two already know each other?"
"No, first time meeting. I hope it's all right to say this, but Director Speakman's reputation is well known even in the game—his attributes are excellent, so I hired him every single save."
"Me? Oh! I had no idea I was famous in a game."
"You certainly are. There's a great deal I'd like to discuss with you going forward."
"Same here. The transfer window is already open, after all."
What baseball calls the "stove league," football calls the transfer window—literally the gateway for player movement.
Players go up for sale on the market; clubs reinforce weak spots and bring in the pieces they need. It is an absolutely critical period.
In World Football Manager, depending on the save, it can be more fun than the matches themselves—players often spend the majority of their time there.
It is the flower and the highlight of the game.
And that vital window was already open.
Sunderland, without a manager until now, had made no moves at all. The fire was under their feet.
Speakman and Han Shin exchanged a meaningful look.
"Shall we head inside?"
Stuart and Juan's expressions grew complicated.
But the moment the door opened and Han Shin entered, Juan rushed forward as if nothing had happened.
"Hey!"
Stuart hurried after him.
"Manager Han, welcome."
"This is Director Juan, and Director Stuart, correct? Pleasure to meet you both."
He shook hands with Stuart and Juan, smiling.
"One moment, Manager Han."
Cyril whispered close.
"Just listen quietly. Stuart no longer has any involvement in club operations. He's only here as a supporters' representative."
Damn, the news reached me late. Complete blunder.
Han Shin had been out of the loop, but Cyril had already acquired 64 percent of the club; Juan held the remaining 36 percent.
In other words, Stuart no longer had any say in running the club.
I got too excited. Need to stop showing off.
Han Shin walked into the Stadium of Light with the club officials. Along the corridor, photographs and memorabilia of Sunderland's glorious moments lined the walls.
Click-clack of high heels. A woman waved.
"Hello, Manager! You're even more handsome in person. Heehee."
She was Emily, head of marketing.
"And you're even more beautiful in person, Emily."
"Oh my, thank you."
She proceeded to narrate the club's history on their behalf.
The 1973 FA Cup triumph, the 1992 FA Cup final, the 2014 League Cup runners-up finish.
Six First Division titles from the late 1800s when Sunderland had been a powerhouse long before the Premier League existed, the FA Cup trophy, the Championship title—all displayed in glass cases.
Yet to Han Shin it still felt like a history museum.
Uncle James already drilled all this into me until I was sick of it. Why is this photo even hanging here?
He stared at a picture of a Black player in a red-striped kit.
Emily asked casually,
"Do you know which European club was the first to wear Nike kits?"
The answer's already baked into the question. She really loves quizzes. First day, so I'll play along.
"Sunderland, right? I didn't realize the club's history was this impressive."
"Exactly. People have no idea how storied this club is."
It was true that Sunderland had been on a successful run at the time.
But the more common explanation was that Nike's first European branch simply happened to open in Sunderland, leading to the kit deal.
That clean, retro design had influenced many others—right down to the football kits of Korea University.
A production staffer approached.
"We'll now move on to the official photo shoot."
Emily, barely containing her excitement, wriggled her fingers while looking at Han Shin.
"Manager, shall we go change you into the hanbok?"
"Of course. Excuse me for a moment."
"Take your time."
Emma and Emily trailed after Han Shin as he headed off to change.
"You really don't have to help."
"You don't have a separate coordinator, and I honestly don't mind."
"Sigh… fine. But why are you coming, Emily?"
"I was the one who secured the hanbok sponsorship~"
"Yes, yes, I can't win against you, Emily."
"Hurry up!"
Cyril nudged Speakman in the ribs with his elbow.
"Do you happen to know what a hanbok is?"
"Of course I don't, Cyril!"