Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Stadium Built with Blood and Sweat - 3
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***
“This is crazy. Give me some time to think it over.”
I needed time to sort through my thoughts after Chairman Dirk Zingler’s sudden proposal.
Chairman Zingler nodded and asked me to give him an answer before the season ended. There was still a bit of time left since the season hadn’t wrapped up yet.
Thomas Tuchel didn’t say much. It was his way of respecting my decision without interfering.
And just like that, time flew by.
Amid the club’s turmoil, Union Berlin clinched the league title.
“Scheiße! Let’s put on a show we won’t be ashamed of in front of the fans!”
“Union!!”
The players, whose morale had been shaken by all the setbacks, pulled themselves together after seeing the fans step up voluntarily to renovate the stadium.
Now, with just two games left until the end of the league season.
I still hadn’t decided what to do.
If I wanted a stable future, following Thomas Tuchel was the way to go.
Our partnership had proven rock-solid.
I could even throw a tantrum and demand a co-manager setup. It might actually work.
We’d have to compromise on tactics if our instructions clashed, but Tuchel focusing purely on strategy while I handled player management and board relations would probably yield even better results.
‘A co-manager role should count as clearing the mission, right?’
I hadn’t heard which team Tuchel was heading to, but it was bound to be a top-flight club, and it was clearly the fastest shortcut to mission success.
‘…Wonder which team he’s really going to?’
Based on current results, Dortmund seemed the most likely.
‘So, does that mean Dortmund’s Klopp-Tuchel path gets altered?’
Joining Dortmund with him and lifting the Champions League trophy didn’t sound bad. Even with their financial woes, Dortmund was still leagues above Union Berlin.
But if both Tuchel and I left, Union Berlin’s future worried me.
In the original timeline, Union Berlin was destined to slog it out in the third division next season too.
Our involvement had twisted history.
‘If the club can’t steady itself, they’ll tumble back to the fourth division.’
The Korean youth players who’d come to Union Berlin trusting me also weighed on my mind. Without proper care, they could end up neglected, repeating the same old story.
‘Come to think of it, Yannick Peitz and Leon Han are here too.’
They hadn’t stayed just for me, of course.
But I couldn’t deny my presence had been the deciding factor.
Lost in thought as I wandered the streets.
Stadion An der Alten Försterei, Union Berlin’s home ground, came into view.
I’d unconsciously walked toward the stadium.
Fans were rebuilding it with donations and volunteer labor, but the construction site was a nightmare—conditions too harsh to describe.
“Dem Morgengrauen entgegen, ziehn wir gegen den Wind.
(Toward the dawn, we march against the wind.)”
“Wir werden alles zerlegen, bis wir Deutscher Meister sind.
(We’ll tear everything apart until we’re German champions.)”
Yet even in those conditions, smiles lit the fans’ faces.
“Hey, isn’t that Chan-hyuk?”
“Chan-hyuk! We’ll build the stadium ourselves! Don’t worry! We’ve got some muscle too!”
A Union Berlin fan spotted me and shouted. The others swarmed over.
In that moment, I decided on my answer to Chairman Zingler’s proposal.
‘Man up.’
I’d invested too much here to leave now.
***
The next day.
I told Chairman Dirk Zingler I was staying.
I’d resolved to captain the ship called Union Berlin.
But before the official appointment ceremony, I tried convincing Thomas Tuchel to stay. I figured there was still a chance.
Tuchel shot it down flat.
“Why!”
I protested his firm refusal.
Tuchel replied with a blank expression.
“It’s Munich.”
“Munich what!”
“The offer’s from Munich.”
That day, I unleashed a torrent of curses at Tuchel.
“You fucking idiot, you should’ve led with that.”
Then I wouldn’t have said I was staying.
Tuchel looked dumbfounded at the sudden profanity.
“You didn’t ask.”
I had nothing to say to that.
Even with my improved social skills, it was my fault for forgetting who I was dealing with—Thomas Tuchel.
***
After learning Tuchel’s destination, I gave up trying to persuade him.
Who could blame me? It was Bayern Munich.
One of the Leviathans dominating the 2010s.
If Bayern Munich offered me the job, I’d accept without looking back.
Anyway, the DFL approved Union Berlin’s promotion after seeing the stadium reconstruction underway.
I kept racking my brain for ways to make money.
Memories surfaced of the poor citizen’s club days, shitting blood to survive.
‘We need cash.’
Harsh as it sounded, we had plenty of manpower.
As always, money was the issue.
With back-to-back titles securing second-division promotion.
Even excluding stadium costs, expenses were piling up everywhere.
‘Player re-signings, license fees, transfers…’
I slowly listed out where the money needed to go.
‘Oh, right—stadium rental fees while the rebuild’s ongoing.’
More than I’d thought.
‘Should I hit up my sister for some?’
“Hit up” was putting it mildly—it was basically my money anyway. I owned 50+1% of the investment firm she’d set up.
For context, Park Jung-ah controlled the majority stake in a messenger app through that company.
My slightly larger share was at her request.
Nothing special—just didn’t want her name out there.
‘Oppa, I want to be rich without anyone knowing.’
Not sure if that was possible, but I’d do my best to help.
Anyway, spending my own money required caution.
Apple stock had risen plenty, but it had plenty more room to grow.
Smartphones—the world-changing invention—hadn’t launched yet.
Steve Jobs unveiled it in January, boosting shares, but real sales post-launch would pump it further.
I kept pondering money-making schemes.
‘…Should I sell some bricks?’
I came up with a new solution.
***
Park Chan-hyuk immediately teamed up with Kim Sun-myung.
“Think this’ll sell?”
“If not, oh well. Let’s list it and see.”
That day, a post went up on Union Berlin’s homepage.
[Notice: Club Operations Normal]
Hello. (Omitted.) The messages written by contributors for one section of the standing terrace will be engraved. We appreciate your participation.
Note: Words that may offend many cannot be used on stadium walls.
Note 2: No refunds.
└ Lol, 10,000 won per character? Highway robbery lololol
└ Was gonna donate anyway, but engraving names on bricks? I’m in.
└ Does this count as a donation for tax deduction?
└ Feels more like buying a service, probably not.
└ Hmm, separate donation it is then.
└ What if I write Sieg Heil? lol
└ Ugh, read the notes, dumbass.
└ They won’t know if it’s in Korean?
└ Assistant coach and homepage admin are Korean, idiot^^
***
Sales for engraving messages on the standing terrace blew up beyond expectations.
[POWER SEX!]
Trolls showed up, naturally.
‘Not bad overall. Could probably use it.’
Better than a Hitler mustache, at least. Broke out in cold sweat when Chairman Zingler asked what it meant.
Surprisingly, donations poured in not just from Korea, but Japan too.
“…What’s this say?”
If Union Berlin reached the top flight, an Asian tour might be next.
‘Gotta suck up that China money before it turns sour.’
Word spread through various channels.
People from all over bought into Union Berlin’s unique service.
‘Can’t resist legal graffiti, huh.’
Couples’ engravings were especially common.
‘Why immortalize something that might become a black mark later?’
Pitied them as a life veteran, but money was money—we’d engrave it.
We sold out the planned batch and secured ample funds.
A fine arts student among the volunteers handled the design for the engraved section.
‘Oh. Looks better than expected.’
Mixed languages from various countries gave it a certain flair.
‘Who am I? The founder of the creative economy.’
At this point, “creative economy” felt legit.
Felt like Kim Sun-dal selling Daedong River water.
***
Thomas Tuchel ended on a high in the final match.
He bid farewell to Union Berlin fans.
The fans applauded the man who’d led them for two years.
“Damn, not some scrub team like Danimo, but Munich? Can’t argue with that.”
Tuchel’s destination was public knowledge, and fans didn’t try holding him back from Bayern Munich.
Bayern’s prestige was on another level.
“Hope you fix that shitty personality and don’t get fired before your contract’s up.”
I offered Tuchel some “blessings” before parting.
“Are you cursing me?”
He didn’t take it that way.
“See you in the top flight.”
“Yeah, I’ll be up soon.”
Our partnership ended in a hug.
The next day, I dove into manager duties full throttle.
‘Znicz Pruszków… Never heard of ‘em.’
My first move: scouting a striker from Poland’s third division.