This Business Won't Be Easy
“Young man! What did you go and buy all this for!?”
I handed Emma the multivitamins and nutritional supplements I'd picked up from the pharmacy.
“You need to take care of your health. This one's for you, Grandma. And please pass this on to Hyunji.”
Dear Hyunji,
Oppa is so happy to have met you. For now, use this money to chase whatever dreams you have. If it's not enough, just give me a call. Of course, it's not a free gift. Pay me back when you've made some money later. But no interest. Email me often~
Your Hero Oppa.
The package for Hyunji also contained ten million won in cash tucked inside with the letter. With that, I wrapped up my schedule in Korea and boarded the flight to London.
I was glad I'd come back home. I had no idea how much joy meeting her had brought to my second life. It was a shame we couldn't spend more time together, but somehow that made me miss her even more, my heart pounding harder.
But the moment I landed at London airport, a shocking piece of news waiting for me wiped all thoughts of Korea from my mind.
The front page of the newspaper on the stand snapped me to attention.
West Ham United Sacks Manager and Director Who Led Promotion
Magnusson Chairman: East London Needs a New Football Philosophy. Will Definitely Bring in Capable Manager to Lead to Premier League Title.
The thing I'd half-dreaded had happened. Alan's sacking was just the opening act to the chaos ahead of my first Premier League season.
Riding a taxi back to East London, I read the paper. The new chairman, Magnusson, declared in his interview that he would revolutionize West Ham and turn it into a Premier League powerhouse. His overconfidence and zeal felt ominous somehow.
“I'm home.”
The house in London was empty. Maybe it was my imagination, but Upton Park felt eerily quiet. Was it because the Icelanders had taken over the club?
I dropped my bags in my second-floor room, set the gifts from Korea in the kitchen, and sank into the living room sofa with a cup of black tea.
Ding-ding~
Classic music flowed from the vacuum-tube radio. Sipping tea while Schumann's Fantasie Impromptu played, I really felt like I was back in London. Before coming to England, I'd never touched tea. Why drink that crap? I'd thought. But living here and drinking it daily, it was a pretty nice ritual. Tasted good and good for the mind too. Now just hearing “teatime” made my mouth water.
The front door creaked open, and Emma walked in. One look at her face, and I knew something big had gone down.
“Oh, Hero's back. Have you eaten? Want Grandma to bake you a pie?”
“No, I'm not hungry. But what's wrong? Your face...”
“...You haven't heard yet.”
“Heard what?”
Emma hesitated before speaking. It was about the changes at West Ham. It explained the chill around Upton Park too.
“Where's Paul right now?”
“Where do you think? Probably at the pub.”
“I'll go see him.”
“Maybe leave him be tonight...”
“No, I'll go. Don't worry, Grandma.”
I bolted out and headed to Paul's usual pub. Between West Ham's home ground, the Boleyn Ground, and Upton Park station, shabby pubs lined the street. East Londoners each had their favorite haunts, and Paul loved the oldest, grimiest one.
Three Frogs
Inside, Paul was slumped in the corner like a frog drowned in booze, staggering. His eyes were bloodshot from crying.
“Hero player! Great to see you!”
“Good luck this season too!”
Fans spotted me and asked for handshakes. I obliged them first, then went to Paul. He was already half out of it from the drink.
“Uh... Hero. Back from Korea already?”
“What the hell happened?”
“...What?”
“I heard. You got sacked by the club.”
“...”
Paul's lips trembled. He looked like a tribesman unjustly banished. I'd never seen him this broken. Despite his small frame, he'd always hustled everywhere for the club. Some teased him as a dwarf, but Paul worked harder than any dwarf.
“How can they do this to someone who worked as hard as you? Who fired you?”
“The new boss said West Ham staff lack expertise. That's why the team's results suck... Said he'll fill the office with highly educated professionals from now on. Anderson got the boot with me too.”
“Seriously!?”
Anderson managed club gear and had been loyal to West Ham for three generations. Tossing them out like trash overnight...
“I don't resent the club. Just... it's a shame...”
Paul couldn't finish. Knowing how much he loved West Ham hurt my heart. Not resenting the club even now—what an idiot.
“Anyway, how was Korea? Why'd you come back so soon?”
“Is that what matters right now?”
“Ha. True.”
“Boss, beers here. Keep 'em coming till I say stop—no empty glasses.”
Clink— I clapped Paul's shoulder and turned, shouting.
“Everyone! Drinks on me tonight—get smashed! You know who I am, right? It's to celebrate my bro Paul losing his job, so drink up!”
“For real!? Wow~! Long live Na Yeong-ung!”
My announcement rang like a golden bell, and the pub erupted in cheers. It felt like West Ham had just won a weekend match.
“Hero, don't...”
“I'd love to drink with you, but I'm underage. In Korea, you'd drink with a bro in his hour of need—that's loyalty.”
“...You little...”
“Bro, tomorrow's tomorrow. Tonight, just drink. When else you gonna get fired from West Ham?”
“Haha. Yeah. Thanks.”
That's how I spent the night with Paul. Jet lag sucked, but compared to his pain, it was nothing. He chugged beer like his gut had a hole, finally passing out. I piggybacked him home.
Next morning, I checked the internet. England was buzzing with Premier League summer transfer rumors—unconfirmed scoops, exclusives, speculation everywhere.
Manchester United! Close to Signing Everton Prodigy Wayne Rooney! Ferguson: Revenge on Arsenal and Chelsea Begins.
Chelsea Poised to Appoint Young Portuguese Genius Jose Mourinho!
Arsenal Joins Massive Signing Spree! After Two Straight Losses, Can They Continue Unbeaten Run?
The top three teams were in a fierce arms race, especially Manchester United, who'd finished third and won the FA Cup last season. But Sir Alex Ferguson wasn't one to settle.
“Man Utd, huh...”
Seeing Alan and Paul axed overnight soured me on West Ham. If soccer's just business, why not go where the money and fame are biggest and fastest? They wouldn't let me leave easily, but Ferguson would pull strings if I wanted out.
“Guess I need a real agent...”
Jorge Mendes was right. Starting tomorrow, I'd train for the new season. I needed someone to handle negotiations—sharper with numbers, more tenacious, and trustworthy above all.
“Time to go.”
I headed alone to West Ham's offices. The vibe had changed—new faces mixed with holdovers, cold tension between them. I walked the long hall to the empty trophy case. Our Championship-winning trophy sat proudly displayed. Made me chuckle. Who'd put that there?
Stifling a laugh, I knocked on the director's door.
Knock-knock-knock—
“Come in.”
Icelandic-accented English from inside. My third director already.
“Nice to meet you, Hero.”
“Pleasure, Director Alfred Garson.”
“Just Alfred. Haha.”
Magnusson had installed fellow Icelanders as chairman and director. New guy was a finance expert, soccer newbie.
“Director, you've seen my contract. We need to settle next season's salary before the window closes.”
“Yes. Bizarre contract. Vague clauses, options... Heh.”
Alfred smiled coldly at the Bobby Moore portrait—classic Nordic chill. My goal and assist bonuses had netted me as much as my base pay last season. About two billion won total. He looked stingy about it.
“Those options motivated my performance. Benefited the club too, right?”
“True. But I won't do option deals. Unpredictable costs. Amateurs do that.”
His fangs showed. I stood without hesitation. He blinked.
“Leaving already?”
“Yeah. You said you're no amateur. So I'm sending you a pro negotiator in my place.”
“A pro?”
“Yep. Someone pro to handle my talks. Expect a call. Have fun.”
“...”
Alfred was speechless. He'd prepped to sweet-talk me, but I stayed out of range.
“New director, no new manager yet?”
“Negotiations ongoing.”
“Players aren't stock charts. They have emotions, hot blood. They see managers as fathers. No manager, and the team's uneasy—like kids without a dad. Cohesion crumbles daily. Building a unit's hard; it falls apart in a flash. That's why pro teams blow billions and flop. Ignore the numbers beyond... this business won't be easy. See ya.”
“...”
Alfred was stunned silent. Heading home, I muttered,
“First things first—find an agent.”