The 500-Million-Won Rehab

Christina crossed her legs as she settled into her chair.

"Alright, then. Let's run a quick check. We'll start with some simple questions."

Her gaze, sharp as if she were observing a lab specimen, sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

"After the injury, how much more did you start relying on your girlfriend?"

"Relying?"

I shook my head.

"Not at all. If anything, it was the opposite."

"The opposite?"

"We... broke up recently."

Christina's eyes sparkled.

She smacked her lips once, then asked, "When?"

"A few days ago."

"So, you two had been together steadily for years even after the injury, and then you break up right before coming here."

"Yes."

Christina jotted something down on her notepad with her pen.

"Let me rephrase the question. When you had to make important decisions in the past, who did you consult?"

"Well... I don't really consult anyone."

"Really? Even coming to Germany this time—you decided that on your own?"

"Yes."

"What about soccer-related decisions? Which club to join, what contracts to sign."

"Of course. My latest transfer, for instance, I handled entirely by myself..."

She giggled.

Christina's shoulders shook as she waved a hand in apology.

"Sorry. You're so big and yet you've got this cute side."

"Pardon?"

"You didn't decide it alone."

"What do you mean? I weighed all the conditions carefully..."

"Your girlfriend cheated on you. You transferred to get revenge."

I froze for a moment.

Had I told this woman about that?

No matter how hard I racked my brain, I couldn't remember.

Christina smiled. "Players like you, Cha Kang-min, wear it all over their faces."

I found myself touching my face without thinking, then hurriedly dropped my hand to my knee when I saw her lips curving upward.

...What was I supposed to say to that?

She was a tough one to beat.

"Haha. Great reaction. Hmm. I'm satisfied. Teasing the patient ends here."

"...That was teasing?"

With a light wink, Christina continued.

"Let's turn the clock back a bit further. Right after the injury. How did you make decisions back then? Even if it's traumatic, try to recall it slowly."

Guided by her, I rewound my memories.

Immediately after the injury.

All the countless worries I had to face.

"Who was by your side at that time?"

"...Han Ye-jin. My ex-girlfriend."

"Recall it more specifically. What decisions did you make, and who was really driving them?"

In truth, those decisions... I'd discussed them with Han Ye-jin. Or more precisely, she'd given me advice, and I'd followed it.

An ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠excuse slipped out unbidden. "It was natural to get help from my girlfriend. She's in club management, so she knew the professional side."

"Ah."

Christina flashed a knowing smile.

"Who managed your diet?"

"That was... my ex-girlfriend too."

"Your schedule?"

"That too..."

"Choosing your rehab program?"

"That too..."

My voice grew smaller with each answer.

Christina tapped her pen against the desk. "Cha Kang-min, do you know what all those things I just asked about have in common?"

"...Everyday stuff?"

"They're the core domains of a pro soccer player. Conditioning, career, rehab... Handing them all over to someone else means you were living completely dependent."

Something started to tighten in my chest.

"But that's normal between people who love each other..."

"Really? Are you sure you were the one in control back then?"

"Yes, of course..."

Suddenly, Christina stood and approached me.

She kept a proper distance but locked eyes with me directly.

"I'm right here."

"Yes?"

"Objectively speaking, I'm a pretty attractive woman. Do you agree?"

The abrupt question threw me off.

"W-Well..."

"Cha Kang-min, be honest. What do you think of me?"

I looked at her again.

Red hair, sharp green eyes, a figure that showed through her white coat, and an expression brimming with confidence. Undeniably attractive.

"...Objectively, yes, you're attractive."

"Then why won't you even look me in the eye properly?"

"Pardon?"

"During our entire conversation so far, you've made eye contact for less than 20% of the time. That's not a normal reaction when talking to a woman you find attractive."

Christina took another step closer.

"Especially when that attractive opposite sex is showing interest in you."

"Showing... interest?"

"Yes. Didn't you notice?"

My mind went blank.

"Are you seducing me?"

"No. A doctor can't seduce a patient."

"Then what?"

"But a patient can seduce a doctor."

My head felt like it was turning white.

Honestly, I couldn't keep up with this flow.

What did any of this have to do with gaslighting?

Christina giggled. "See? Even in a situation like this, you're not taking the initiative. That's the problem."

"What's the problem?"

"All your agency has been stripped away, Cha Kang-min. You're only used to being led around by someone else. It's practically brainwashing."

She returned to her chair and sat down.

"In summary, you were dependent on your girlfriend. Severely so."

She twirled her pen.

"And that dependency transferred to your 'teammates' in a team sport like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠soccer. Now, then!"

She slammed the desk and stood, dragging over a mobile monitor from against the wall.

"How do we rehabilitate Cha Kang-min? The legendary player who single-handedly carried a fourth-division team up to the second division."

She turned on the screen and played a video.

"Watch this."

The footage was from Lincoln City's training ground.

Me in a one-on-one duel with Yu Hyeon-seong.

Me completely overpowering him.

That play where instantaneous explosiveness and technique had fused perfectly.

"At that moment, you showed physical explosiveness close to your pre-injury level."

I was speechless.

"Do you remember how it felt?"

I did. Vividly.

"The fog that had filled my head cleared... and I felt like the old me again, the one ready to devour the pitch."

Christina clapped her hands. "Exactly! That fog in your head—that's the product of gaslighting."

"Gaslighting?"

"Yes. Someone deliberately weakened you. Made you doubt yourself and rely on others."

Christina pulled up another set of data.

"Your current ability is rated at 67, right? That's not due to physical limits."

"Then what is it?"

"Mental constraints. You didn't turn to team play because your physical abilities dropped—you're limiting your physical abilities to justify depending on the team."

"Is that even possible?"

"Absolutely. The brain's control over the body is far stronger than we think."

Christina turned off the screen.

"Simply put, you've been subconsciously weakening yourself to have an excuse to depend on others."

She walked over to the window.

"But the hopeful part is, lift those mental constraints, and you can run like before."

"Really?"

"Of course. I guarantee it. Rehab here at our center, and I can get you back to 80% of your previous condition in the short term."

She displayed various stats on the monitor.

Speed, acceleration, shot power, dribbling.

All at least 30% higher than my current self.

Christina smiled at me. "Shall we start the main treatment sessions? Two weeks will do it."

She extended her hand for a shake.

I hesitated only briefly.

I wanted to play soccer like I used to.

I reached out to take her hand.

But clutched in my hand was not her palm—a bill.

"..."

I stared at the number, blinking several times.

I'd known it intellectually, but seeing it still left my jaw on the floor.

Christina shrugged. "My treatments are special. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠And the results are guaranteed."

Two weeks passed.

They flew by like a dream.

Christina organized her papers as she spoke. "How do you feel?"

"...Like a different person."

It was true.

The me from two weeks ago and the me now were worlds apart.

The knots in my chest had all unraveled.

"Let me show you the results."

Christina turned on the monitor.

Two numbers appeared on the screen.

"Whoa..."

I couldn't close my mouth.

"A straight 19-point recovery. Astonishing results."

"Is this really possible?"

"Of course. Your physical rehab is essentially complete."

Christina stood from her chair.

"All that's left is for you to overcome it yourself, Cha Kang-min."

"Overcome it myself...?"

"Regain your independence. Play your soccer, without depending on anyone."

I nodded.

I really wanted that.

No—I felt like I could do it now.

Christina extended her hand with a smile. "Shall we say our goodbyes, then?"

I took her hand. "Thank you so much. Thanks to you..."

"Oh, wait."

Christina cut me off suddenly.

"One last thing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I want to say."

"Yes?"

"Your girlfriend is one hell of a woman."

"...Pardon?"

"I'd love to meet her someday. See how she pulled off such perfect gaslighting."

I gave a wry smile. "I'm still not entirely sure she gaslit me. It doesn't even cross my mind anymore, and I feel like I've overcome it."

Christina grinned mischievously. "You have to confess to me for that to count as overcoming it."

"...Pardon?"

She giggled at my blank expression.

"Kidding. But seriously, to fully get over it, I recommend finding a new girlfriend who'll make you forget her."

"...No plans for that yet. Not sure I can trust anyone again."

"Who knows. In my experience, fate has a way of circling back."

Christina handed me her business card.

"And you're a good guy, Cha Kang-min. Call anytime if you need anything."

"Thank you."

I pocketed the card.

And hoped I'd never need to use it.

...Yeah. With invoices like 500 million won for two weeks.

"Well, truly farewell then. I'm looking forward to your future exploits."

We exchanged final goodbyes, and I left the Rehabilitation Center.

My steps felt remarkably light.

On the flight back to London.

I sat in economy, gazing out the window.

Business class didn't feel right just yet.

Not after dropping 500 million won on two weeks.

Still, no regrets.

Considering my condition now, the money didn't sting at all.

That's when it happened.

"Hey, check this out."

A voice came from the seat next to me.

I turned and saw two Premier League fans in jerseys—one in Tottenham kit, the other Arsenal.

The Arsenal fan chuckled, pointing at his phone.

"Le Chat's at it again with the crazy shit."

"What now?"

"Read the article."

I pulled my cap low and eavesdropped discreetly.

"Whoa, this time he's really gonna demolish that second-division team. Insane, right?"

"Sucks your team didn't snag him."

"Wanna die?"

"All nineteen clubs except Tottenham welcome Le Chat to Tottenham."

They bickered for a bit.

Then the Arsenal fan asked, "How long you think Le Chat lasts? Wanna bet?"

"Not even a season. Players'll all retire."

"I bet two seasons. Relegation."

"Kukukuku, talking big when it's not your team."

"Nah, honestly, isn't London City just a team riding coattails? Low player values too."

"True. Trading for Cha Kang-min with that option says it all."

My ears perked up at my name.

"Man, what a romantic contract. Gotta admit that."

"Who cares if you admit it? The coach doesn't."

The coach doesn't approve?

The Tottenham fan voiced my question. "Why? Le Chat dissing players again?"

"He roasted Cha Kang-min hard. You didn't hear?"

"Nah. What'd he say?"

"Hold on, lemme find the article."

The Arsenal fan fiddled with his phone.

The Tottenham fan peered at the screen and muttered gravely, "Whoa, London City players are fucked."

Damn. What the hell? I leaned over subtly to peek at their phone screen.

"What the hell is this?"

The words burst out of me louder than intended.