National Big Brother
The crowd finally dispersed thanks to Chang-min dragging the basketball team members over.
“Sorry! Excuse us!”
“We have training!”
“Please make way!”
After barely relocating to the gymnasium, Chang-min immediately bowed in apology.
“Sorry about that! One of the basketball seniors must have leaked that you were coming. Looks like it spread across campus.”
“No kidding. So that’s how they spotted me so fast.”
“Well, that’s part of it….”
He gave me a meaningful once-over from head to toe and nodded.
“Let’s start with some drills first.”
“Okay.”
I needed to loosen up anyway, and while I was at it I could give the college players some training advice. The players stared wide-eyed, hanging on my every word.
‘The Asian Games really left a big impression.’
If before their eyes had been full of jealousy and suspicion, now all of that had vanished completely. Chang-min was puffing out his chest too, telling the seniors, “See? I told you I’m close with Lee Seo-jun!”
After about three hours of training, I brought up the real reason I’d come. Chang-min nodded without hesitation.
“If it’s that, of course I’ll help. I’ll round up the guys and get everything ready.”
“Thanks. I’ll send you the location through KakaoTalk.”
Since Chang-min had confidently declared he’d handle it, the main discussion wrapped up quickly and casual chatter followed. The main topic was, naturally, the university students who had camped out in the gymnasium to watch.
Chang-min shook his head in disbelief.
“This is probably the first time our school has shown this much interest in the basketball team since it was founded. I’m speechless. Is this what being a national star feels like?”
It surprised me too.
My recognition had shot up starting with my debut game in the Philippines, but this was on another level. Popularity itself had skyrocketed, separate from mere name recognition. Chang-min spoke as if it were obvious.
“Do you even know what your nickname is right now? National Big Brother!”
“Not National Little Brother?”
“That’s Su-bin. That’s why you naturally became the big brother. Besides, with your size, does National Little Brother even suit you?”
“I’m only nineteen, and they’re calling me National Big Brother….”
Anyway, the birth of a proper fandom changed the situation dramatically. Being merely famous and being famous with a huge fanbase were completely different dimensions—like the difference between seeing the UN Secretary-General and watching a figure skater. Thanks to that, my stock—which I thought had already peaked after exploding from the Philippines game—had doubled again.
“You especially gained a ton of male fans. If they do a poll, you’ll definitely be number one for ‘celebrity I want as my older brother.’”
“That’s nice, but the vibe of National Big Brother feels a bit off. Can’t they just call me National Oppa instead?”
“Whatever works. You’re not in a position to wander around freely anymore, so make sure you always bring your manager. You said you picked one, right?”
“The uncle helped pick him, but I rejected the candidates in the interview. I wanted someone who could communicate smoothly with other players besides me.”
I’d asked for a Black manager who was active in the U.S., fluent in Korean culture and the language, but obviously such a person wasn’t easy to find right away.
“I see. Then you’ll have to get good at disguises.”
“I even wore a mask and a hat, but they still recognized me. Last time the reporters spotted me instantly too. Must be the height, right?”
But Chang-min tilted his head with a strange expression.
“That’s part of it, but… your clothes are always the same. Maybe that’s why the reporters recognize you? Because you keep wearing the exact same outfit.”
It was an unexpected opinion.
“My clothes?”
“I haven’t known you that long, but… you’re not good at dressing, are you?”
“W-what do you mean…? My girlfriend said I dress well!”
“Who said that?”
“My girlfriend.”
“She’s just saying that because she’s your girlfriend. From what I see, you really can’t dress. Well, it’s not that you can’t dress—it’s that you wear the same thing every day, so it gets boring.”
“…!?”
I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t. Chang-min had hit the nail on the head.
Of course, there was a reason. My height was enormous and my frame was thick, so finding clothes that actually fit properly was difficult. Whenever I bought clothes, I always bought multiple sets of the exact same thing. That habit had carried over from my previous life, so I’d naturally become completely clueless about fashion.
‘It didn’t matter when I was playing soccer, but…’
Now that I was receiving nationwide attention—and especially in the NBA—that wouldn’t fly.
The evening of Tuesday, October 7th—the day before departure. A public parking lot in front of a station.
I sat in my parked car, reviewing documents. They were sponsorship offers that had come in. I’d postponed things like commercials and TV appearances until next year due to my schedule, but these sponsorship proposals didn’t require much time, so I decided to handle what I could.
The most eye-catching ones were, of course, from electronics companies aiming for U.S. marketing.
‘Tens of billions of won being offered so casually like this.’
Just as Shin Won-hyung had predicted, they seemed to expect my value to skyrocket next year, so they were trying to lock me in with long-term deals now. As a result, the contract values easily exceeded several billion won.
‘I’ll put these on hold until next year.’
Besides that, there were broadcasting stations battling for exclusive interview rights, sports brands eyeing each other warily over contracts, and aggressive courtship from clothing companies, fashion malls, and famous designers. Their sponsorship scale came right after the electronics and sports brands.
‘It must be because of the arrival look.’
It was a unique NBA culture. Every time players arrived at the arena, their outfits were broadcast, and people called it tunnel fashion or tunnel runway. Since basketball players generally had good proportions and clothes looked great on them, many signed contracts with designers who wanted the exposure.
‘If I keep showing up in the same clothes every day like now…’
I’d be branded a fashion terrorist.
…Like Ronaldo.
That was something I genuinely hated.
Knock knock!
“…? Ah.”
Click. The moment I unlocked the door, Seo-eun opened the passenger side and climbed in.
“Hey. Wasn’t it cold on the way?”
“Yeah, the weather suddenly got chilly.”
After confirming she’d fastened her seatbelt, I stepped on the accelerator. Vroom! The car pulled out of the parking lot.
“Sorry. You don’t mind going on a date in the car, do you?”
“No. It feels like I get to stick with you the whole time, so I like it.”
“Still…”
I headed toward our destination while catching her up on recent events.
“──So apparently my nickname these days is National Oppa. Crazy, right?”
“What are you talking about, oppa? It’s National Big Brother, not National Oppa.”
“No, I think National Oppa sounds better…”
“National Big Brother.”
“….”
“….”
“…Yeah, National Big Brother does sound right.”
“See!”
The mood was warm and cheerful. I brought up the topic.
“By the way, Seo-eun. Am I bad at dressing?”
“Out of nowhere? Why?”
“Just curious. What do you think?”
“I think the way you dress is cute, so I like it?”
“Cute?”
“Yeah. When I look at your clothes I can tell what season it is and what day of the week it is, so it’s nice.”
“You’re just politely saying I wear the same clothes every day.”
“I said I like it! And I actually hate it when you dress stylishly. Who are you trying to impress? On the other hand, would you like it if I walked around in short skirts or low-cut tops? So other guys can stare?”
“…No. I wouldn’t like that at all.”
“Right? I feel the same way.”
Come to think of it, although Seo-eun dressed very well, she never wore anything revealing except during private events just for the two of us.
“So that’s how it is…”
“Yeah. So I like the way you dress. It’s cute because I only see the clothes I already know.”
“Still, I want to dress better. You’re good at it, Seo-eun. You even said your dream when you were little was to be a fashion designer.”
“How do you know that?!”
“It was in third grade, right? That thing where you wrote your future dream and they posted it on the back of the classroom. I saw it when I went to your class. I didn’t say anything because it felt a little stalker-ish.”
Seo-eun looked embarrassed, not knowing what to do with herself.
“That’s… because my mom was a designer. She ran a small handmade clothing shop, though…”
“Does she still do it?”
“She quit when I was in fifth grade. Nothing was selling. I found out later that she kept it going for two more years even though it wasn’t working, just because I said I wanted to be a designer like her. I cried so much when I heard that.”
“I see. So what about now? Do you still want to try being a fashion designer?”
“What are you talking about? How could I? After Mom quit, I didn’t study anything related and we didn’t have the means anyway.”
“What if you did have the means?”
“Huh…? What do you mean?”
“Ah, let’s talk about that a little later.”
We were getting close to our destination. I changed the subject.
Before the important conversation, there was something I needed to apologize for first.
“I’m sorry, Seo-eun. For not being able to visit your parents this time.”
“….”
I still hadn’t been able to visit Seo-eun’s parents.
I obviously had enough money to pay off the combined 1.69 billion won in debt her parents owed, but there were other complications. When I actually tried to repay it, all sorts of noise had erupted.
I’d asked the lawyer who had helped with the inheritance renunciation to handle preliminary negotiations, but we hit a reef. Most of the creditors were furious, demanding not only the principal but also the legal interest after the debt had been written off. Some even brought up debts that weren’t on the books, inflating the amount dramatically.
I wasn’t sure if they thought they could squeeze more money out of me now that I was famous, or if there were other circumstances I didn’t know about.
The lawyer had become extremely angry and fought with the creditors, asking why they were acting crazy when we were paying money we didn’t even legally owe out of courtesy. In the end, he suggested we not pay them at all and sue for defamation the moment anything came up—a hardline approach—but I stopped him.
‘I’m paying this money for her parents, not for myself.’
I hoped they could let go of their guilt and pass on peacefully.
And what was it again? Later on, I remembered a famous Major League player going through something similar.
‘He ignored his father’s debt and got dragged through the mud, right?’
Because of that uncomfortable feeling, I asked the lawyer to handle it amicably. He said he’d take time to prepare post-settlement contracts so no further issues would arise later. That’s why we decided to pay off the final debt all at once after this season, which meant Seo-eun’s parents’ debt would also be settled then.
“It would be fine to just visit them, but… it feels rude to visit your parents separately when I haven’t visited anyone else’s.”
“Yeah… I know. It’s okay.”
Even though she said that, Seo-eun seemed conflicted inside. It looked like she was feeling some anxiety now that I had become famous. After all, stories of famous athletes dumping their girlfriends from their unknown days like old shoes were all too common.
I parked the car and firmly took her hand.
“You don’t need to feel anxious. That’s what I came to talk about today.”
“Yeah…. Huh…? W-wait…! Ah…!”
Seo-eun’s eyes widened like a rabbit’s. Her lips began to tremble, her pupils shook, and soon her face flushed red as she grew flustered.
“Sorry for killing the mood, but before that story, let’s finish what we were talking about earlier. …Seo-eun, if you come to America with me, all the job-prep studying you’ve been doing won’t mean much anymore. You know that, right?”
“Y-yeah… I do.”
“So, if you come to America, would you like to try working as a designer, even if it’s just a little on the side?”
I explained the NBA’s tunnel fashion culture and asked her to handle setting up my arrival looks starting next season. Seo-eun was so flustered she could barely speak, but eventually she nodded.
“I’ll do it! I’ll study hard until next year and give it a try!”
“Thanks. Let’s get out first.”
What appeared in front of me when I stepped out of the car was a kindergarten. Seeing that it hadn’t gone under and had actually expanded, I felt proud.
Seo-eun, who had gotten out of the car with trembling hands, saw the kindergarten and her suspicion turned to certainty. She couldn’t calm down at all.
“Want me to hold your hand?”
“I-I-I-I’m fine.”
It was past nine at night, but the kindergarten was still open.
And along the path we walked, Chang-min and his friends had set up a flower path and pretty fairy lights. Finally, we reached our destination—the Buttercup Class. Mood lighting that made the eyes dazzle illuminated the space.
‘Whoa, that kid Chang-min. He really delivered when I left it to him.’
Whoops. There was no time to admire it.
I took a ring case out of my pocket and held it out to Seo-eun.
“I’ve liked you from the moment we first met at kindergarten until now. After this season ends and I come back, will you marry me?”
“…!!”
There was no more hesitation.
Thinking about one thing had solidified my heart. The thought of sending this Seo-eun to another man was something I simply could not accept. Birds of a feather, I suppose. It seemed I was secretly quite jealous too.
“Yes…! I’ll gladly accept!”
Seo-eun took the ring and accepted the proposal, then immediately burst into endless tears.
Seeing her like that, I thought I had finally gotten one over on her, but…
After stopping her tears and calming down, Seo-eun looked up at me with moist eyes and a captivating smile.
“What should we do, oppa? I… want to get a head start.”
“What!?”
I really couldn’t win against Seo-eun after all.
October 8th, departure day.
I left the departure hall amid a grand send-off. Not only reporters but ordinary people at the airport and the newly formed fan club Brotherhood cheered me on, blessing my journey to America.
They were dreamlike days.
However.
[………….]
As if it had all been a lie, the America that greeted me was cold.
No one recognized me.
I was just one person among the busy crowd.
‘I guess I’m still a frog in a well.’
No matter how high my stock rose in Korea, it was still KOSPI at best. It couldn’t compare to NASDAQ. Still, there were people who welcomed me.
“Lee! Welcome!”
“You’re finally here.”
They were the Black manager the uncle had somehow managed to recruit and a White Atlanta front office staff member. The manager introduced himself as DeShawn Jefferson. He looked to be in his mid-forties, a slim man. He knew basketball well, had worked as a native English instructor for about twelve years, spoke Korean, and was well-versed in Korean culture.
“Nice to meet you. I’ll be counting on you from now on. And feel free to speak casually.”
“I’m the one who should be saying that!”
DeShawn was excited, saying he never dreamed he’d become an NBA player’s manager. On the other hand, the Atlanta staff member urged me to hurry.
“Lee, you know the preseason has already started, right? You’re currently behind.”
As we headed to the gymnasium, he calmly explained my current situation.
“Normally, a 9th pick in the first round might become a starter right away depending on team needs, but our team is different. We’re not a tanking team—we’re a win-now team.”
Therefore, I couldn’t become a starter immediately. My starting competition’s performance was simply too good. Manager DeShawn, who seemed to have been tipped off, took this moment to hand me a sheet of paper. It was DeMarre Carroll’s stats from last season.
‘Field goal percentage 47%, average 11.1 points… three-point percentage 36.2%… PER around 13.9…’
Carroll was the team’s fifth option. For a fifth option to put up those numbers was excellent. Above all, his defensive metrics were in the top 10%. It meant he was a highly efficient player.
‘Efficiency is the key after all.’
But rookies generally had low efficiency. They were too eager to show off and their skills weren’t refined yet. Among Rookie of the Year winners over the past ten years, only Blake Griffin had exceeded 50% field goal percentage, followed by Derrick Rose (47.5%) and Kyrie Irving (46.9%). If we excluded Griffin since he was a big man, 47% could be considered the ceiling. And right now Carroll’s field goal percentage was 47%.
In other words, I would need to match Irving or Rose-level shooting efficiency to reliably push him out.
“So for the time being, it would be better to focus on adapting from the bench rather than competing for the starting spot. The coach will explain this part in more detail.”
“What about the GM?”
“He’s currently on suspension due to disciplinary issues. It looks like it’ll go all the way to trial, so we won’t be able to appoint a new GM for a while. Still, team operations are running smoothly, so don’t worry.”
“Ah…”
So that’s why a mere front office employee was saying all this. He was the newly appointed acting GM. His name seemed to be Robert Gilchrist.
Robert spoke in a serious tone.
“Lee, to be honest, I’m not sure how much expectation I should place on you. Coach Budenholzer rates you highly, but there are also people in the organization who rate you low.”
“And you’re one of them?”
“I’m… just of the opinion that the 9th pick was a bit much.”
“Thanks for being honest.”
“Anyway, my basic expectation is that you steadily stay in the bench rotation and grow for next season.”
“If that’s the baseline, then there must be higher expectations too.”
“Yes. That’s what Coach Budenholzer is expecting from you. I’ve been debating whether I should even tell you this.”
“Since you brought it up, you must want to say it. So just say it straight.”
“Hah, I like how well we communicate.”
Robert continued.
“Displace DeMarre Carroll before January ends. That way we can use him as a trade asset.”
“…!”
“Or even if we don’t trade him, we’ll use him as a bench rotation player. His contract ends this year. I have zero intention of paying the inflated price he’ll demand. Since he’s leaving anyway, it’s better for the team to start you if you perform similarly. You have a much better chance… understood?”
“Understood.”
“Of course, before that, you have to win the bench competition first. You heard that Coach Budenholzer expects you to take on a ball-handler role, right?”
“Yes, we talked about it in the last meeting.”
A limited ball-handler role. It was the drive and kick pattern play.
Robert nailed it down, saying it wasn’t exactly hopeful news.
“There’s no time to relax. As I said earlier, we’re a win-now team. We don’t have time to patiently give you opportunities, and we already have a bench ball handler. So for this part… if you don’t show something by the end of November, the next opportunity won’t come until next season.”
I could roughly understand what Robert was getting at.
‘He’s setting goals for me.’
First. Take the small forward starting position by January.
Second. If I want to keep the ball-handler role, show results by November.
‘The first competitor is DeMarre Carroll. And the second competitor is…’
At that moment, DeShawn tactfully handed me a player profile.
My bench ball-handler competitor.
It was Dennis Schröder’s profile.