The Scramble for Mir
When the representative sent a gambler to his grave without so much as a drop of blood on his hands and rescued the crisis-stricken genius, the Mir Guild was not about to be outdone. With earth-shattering momentum, they crushed every opponent—gates and guilds alike—driving an unprecedented boom in League 3.
In the midst of all this, we must consider one thing.
Excluding the Mir Guild itself, who is laughing the loudest at their success?
First, the fans. Their happiness circuits had overloaded so thoroughly that fear itself had vanished.
Next came the Bureau. They had always struggled to revitalize the middle tier of the league, and they simply could not get enough of the Mir Guild, which was steadily climbing from the bottom through proper means.
“Hey, hey, did you hear? They’re saying the next banner ad is going to Mir Guild?”
“It’s a prestigious name. The fandom is solid, they’ve got living legends and future stars. At this point, they’re basically royalty.”
“I get where the higher-ups are coming from. Have you seen their match traffic? The buzz is insane. I’d push for them too if it were up to me.”
Finally, we cannot leave them out.
The lifeblood of the city, the foundation that sustains the market economy.
The small business owners of Busan.
And the first signs that something unusual was about to upend Busan’s guild scene began right here.
Thanks to the Mir Guild’s rapid rise, Busan’s small business owners were enjoying an unexpected boom.
“Yes! That’s it!! That’s it!! New record in the 15th round!!”
“Whew~ Business is gonna be good until the next match!”
“We’re running an event! One side dish per table!”
Busan may have been called the second city, but its economic limitations were stark. There were no proper conglomerates, no famous industries, and no particularly notable local products. Ask anyone about Busan and the answer was always Haeundae, without fail.
Honestly, in a country surrounded by sea on three sides, having nothing to boast about but the ocean only proved how little Busan had to offer. That was exactly why the Mir Guild’s performance on TV felt so special. A city with nothing to show for itself was suddenly packed with crowds in every bar and restaurant, generating real, meaningful buzz.
“Even on weekdays we’re fully booked. These days, it actually feels worth living.”
“I think Busan finally has a guild worth representing it.”
“I’m dying, it’s so cute. A smart League 3 guild is way better than some unpopular League 1 team.”
Of course, the people of Busan were well aware of these regional limitations. They had tried in their own way to overcome them—through the Busan International Film Festival, local festivals, and dumping massive budgets into hauling sand onto the beaches of Haeundae and Gwangalli every summer. And because Busan was this desperate, there was no reason for them to ignore guilds. The world had already proven that a well-nurtured guild could feed an entire city.
Let’s create a guild that represents the region.
It had been one of Busan’s long-standing wishes. The mayor and every local government body had poured their full support into the effort.
But in the end—failure.
“What was that guild called again? The one that barely avoided relegation this time?”
“What’s the point of being in League 1? They’re perennial last place with the lowest popularity in the division. And the way they act is so unlikable it just ruins their image. What a waste of money.”
“Those bastards still haven’t come to their senses. Look at that fan service controversy that blew up recently—they refused to sign autographs for kids just because they lost.”
It was into this landscape of utter failure and near-resignation that the Mir Guild appeared like a comet, sweeping away the gloom with dazzling brilliance. And they did it alone, without any help.
Of course everyone fell in love.
“I told you, those kids were bound to succeed. Just look at how they play. You can see the fire in their eyes, that burning desire to win. They’re fundamentally different from those rotten bastards.”
“The representative treats the fans so well that the front office does too, and the hunters follow suit. It’s actually fun to cheer for them.”
“A Busan-born legend in Sanwang, local boy Park Su-bin who grew up in Busan, and the Mir Guild that brought Busan its first and only championship. Damn, their roots are insane.”
At this point, every citizen of Busan wanted to watch Mir Guild matches. But the 5,000-seat stadium was far too small to accommodate such passionate interest. The pubs stepped in to welcome the lost crowds.
From then on, gathering at pubs and bars to watch Mir Guild matches together became a trend. Overwhelmed by the influx of customers, shop owners frantically installed large screens. Before long, Mir Guild matches were being broadcast all day long in Seomyeon, Haeundae, and every other bustling district.
A true syndrome.
And with that syndrome came the first signs of something unusual……
The movement known as “Make Mir Guild the Center of Busan!”
“Think about it. Looking at how things are going, Mir Guild becoming Busan’s representative guild is basically a done deal, right? So wouldn’t it make sense in every way for them to be located right in the center of Busan?”
No one knew exactly where it started.
But the slogan “Make Mir Guild the Center of Busan!” had undeniably set the Small Business Association ablaze.
First came Seomyeon, Busan’s undisputed number-one entertainment district.
“Exactly, exactly. Bring them right here to Seomyeon, the heart of Busan! Imagine how impressive that would look.”
“It’s a bit much, though. Not to badmouth it, but Yeongdo is way too out of the way. Accessibility matters. Busan’s center—Seomyeon! That’s perfect.”
Next came Haeundae, the wealthiest neighborhood in Busan.
“What are you saying? Busan means Haeundae, and Haeundae means Busan, doesn’t it? If they’re moving, it has to be here!”
“Come on~ Who even goes to Seomyeon these days? All the hot bars and clubs moved to Haeundae ages ago. Obviously it should be Haeundae.”
As the two sides raised their voices, nearly every district in Busan scrambled to get involved. Small business owners began shouting for the Mir Guild to relocate near their own establishments.
Thus began the great Mir Guild tug-of-war.
Lee Shin was reading an article from atop a mountain of documents.
The headline was a masterpiece.
“Pfft. This is hilarious.”
The article praised the Mir Guild for rewriting history and went on to explain the astronomical benefits they would bring to Busan—tourism revenue, market revitalization, and more. It compared Busan’s dark past in the guild scene and declared that the Mir Guild was the only hope for reviving it once again. Blah, blah, blah……
The amusing part was that this very newspaper had, until last year, been inviting elderly experts to perform exorcism rituals declaring that Lee Shin and the Mir Guild must fail.
He wondered if that expert was still working.
“Humans really are entertaining.”
The media outlets that had flipped their stance overnight. The district offices fighting over which jurisdiction the guild should fall under. Even the Busan city hall, acting as if the guild’s future was theirs to decide.
Had they all been boiling kimchi stew in the Nakdong River? What a collective performance.
Because he had been so busy traveling between Seoul and Busan, he had expected nothing but tedious paperwork for a while. Yet here they were, serving up another delightful comedy show.
Lee Shin thought to himself.
This is exactly why I can’t quit being a GM.
He chuckled darkly.
“What kind of trouble are you planning now, smiling like that?”
“Oh, Dong-ha hyung. You’re here? There was an interesting article. Have you seen this?”
“What is it…… Ah, that one.”
Chae Dong-ha skimmed it and let out a small laugh, clearly finding it absurd himself.
“The PR team has been having a hell of a time because of this. Inquiries are pouring in from everywhere asking if we’re relocating. It’s gotten to the point where work is impossible. They even sent an official notice to the media the other day, telling them to stop calling.”
“Kekeke, where there’s smoke, there’s fire. This industry really is something else, huh?”
“It is. The person who’s supposed to give us the rice cake isn’t even thinking about it, though. But after talking with Guild Leader Jeong Sun-dong, it seems like these people aren’t just saying things without any thought.”
“Well, from their perspective, this is the only chance they’ll get while we’re still in League 3.”
“You already knew.”
“Hyung, it’s me. Lee Shin.”
If the difference between League 4 and League 3 could be summed up in one word—“rival matches”—then the difference between League 3 and League 2 was “stadiums.”
A minimum capacity of ten thousand!
That was the requirement for League 2. In essence, prove that you have the scale to represent the region.
Because the Mir Guild had been relegated, they did have their own stadium. But what was the current state of Mir Stadium—or rather, Dragon Palace?
A mere 5,000 seats with almost no amenities.
It made sense. The days when Mir had been in League 1 were ancient history. Back when the Korean league was just beginning to take shape.
Would anyone believe that the very first order Lee Shin gave after visiting the stadium was to remodel the bathrooms? That was how cramped and outdated it was.
So everyone knew.
The moment they were promoted to League 2, they would have to build a new stadium.
“A stadium is no joke when it comes to regional development. Just the influx of people coming to watch rival matches—which happen almost every week—would be enormous. And they won’t come empty-handed, will they? If they’re hungry, they’ll eat. If they eat, they’ll want coffee.”
“That’s why the Bureau is aiming for evening matches. Something about regional economic development.”
“Right, right. After a match, it’s the perfect time for a shot of soju. With the beach nearby, you grab some grilled clams and soju, then you’ll need a designated driver. Who’s paying for that? The ancestors? And if there’s a motel nearby, you might just scratch your head shyly and decide to rest for a bit……”
“Representative, that’s enough.”
In short, from the small business owners’ perspective, recruiting the Mir Guild was an opportunity too good to pass up.
And that naturally led to the next reason.
“Busan’s pride is also on the line.”
“……Pride? That’s the first I’ve heard of that.”
“This might actually be the more important part.”
“Is that so?”
“Even though this city has some of the most passionate league fans in Korea, their results have always been disastrous. Last year, their only major guild was on the verge of relegation, right?”
Wasn’t it strange? Even when the Mir Guild had fallen to the brink of disbandment, why had they still possessed such die-hard fans?
Because, shockingly, this guild was the one and only—not one of two or three, but the single—league championship-winning guild among all Busan-based teams.
In other words, aside from the very first championship when the league began sixty years ago, Busan had never once brought home the league trophy.
Into this city starving for results and championships had appeared a savior riding not a white horse, but a dragon.
And that dragon was the very same one that had brought Busan its only championship trophy.
“Now do you get it, hyung? Marketability? Popularity? None of that matters. If we perform well and win the championship? We become Busan’s heroes overnight.”
“Huh…… So that was the hidden story.”
“Just by taking us in, they have a chance to become Busan’s representative in one fell swoop. If the local governments miss this, wouldn’t that be dereliction of duty?”
“That must be why they’re so desperate. Once the stadium is built, there’s no going back.”
“That’s right!”
To Lee Shin, this was simply an “event” that naturally followed choosing Busan as their home ground.
But the reason he found it amusing was that he hadn’t lifted a finger, yet the “event” was unfolding on its own. The greed of humans was what made it entertaining.
“After listening to you, Representative…… I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to move our home ground while we have the chance.”
“……?”
“Look, honestly, Yeongdo…… doesn’t really have anything. In terms of accessibility and profitability, moving to Seomyeon or Haeundae would be much better. No, should we start a fight over this?”
“Hyung, do I look like someone who’s always itching to start trouble?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Well, this is interesting. Go on.”
“We stir up a fight, expand the playing field, and squeeze out the maximum benefit. That’s your style, isn’t it? That’s exactly how you handled the Shinsung situation.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“We fan the flames so the district offices fight each other, then move to whichever one offers the most. Doesn’t that paint a pretty picture?”
This is correct, right?
Chae Dong-ha’s eyes sparkled like a child holding out a dictation test, hoping for praise.
Lee Shin nodded with a warm smile and said,
“Put that picture away.”
“……?”
“This isn’t something we should touch carelessly.”
“……!”
Wait, our precious golden child?!