Turning Point (1)

Live long enough and you really do see everything. Never thought I'd live to see the day a player who spent the whole match baiting the other team got called a messiah for it.

I'd been a footballer in my previous life too, and I'd pulled enough stunts to get called a lunatic more times than I could count. That meant I'd eaten my share of abuse and been thrown into more than a few situations I never saw coming. After retiring from the pros, none of the usual scandals or chaos could really get a rise out of me anymore.

Even so, I never imagined something like this would happen.

Still, it was weird from the start. I'd heard the Suwon fans were setting off flares in front of their own team bus and belting out "Go die" songs—and yet we walked out of that stadium way too easily.

These days people tried to go easy on the new fans and kids flooding into the K-League, but nothing wore a player down quite like blocking the team bus. If your own supporters sealed the bus in, you sat there trapped after a draining match, drowning in guilt. And if it was the other team's bus, you were still stuck the second the exits got cut off. In the worst cases the standoff could drag on for hours until the club bigwigs showed up to talk the fans down. That whole phenomenon was known as a "bus block."

Get thrashed 5–0, get told to piss off by a chairman who never even properly backed the side, and then that same chairman finally shows up for a rare home match only for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everyone to discover his own son was a Jeonbuk plant? That should've been a five-hour bus block with the "go die" song on infinite loop. Wrapping it up in an hour meant...

The article didn't spell it out, but Representative Noh Yun-geon had clearly promised the fans enough concrete support to cool their rage. The way he talked about beating Jeonbuk and paying back today's humiliation said he'd piled up a serious amount of anger.

Hmm... at that point, of course the fans were happy. He'd basically declared they were going to spend money like Jeonbuk—the richest club in the league.

Once I thought about it that way, I finally understood why the Suwon fans were calling me their savior. Getting scored on and then watching the celebration still stung, sure—but the little circus act I'd put on with my troupe (Han Gang-rok, Han Gyeong-rok, and Yoon Seung-hwan) wasn't the kind of show you saw every day. In the end, if they took one clean thrashing and walked away with a bigger budget for next season, the Suwon Oseong fans hadn't exactly made a bad deal.

"By the way, Yi-an. If you're done resting, want to walk again? I think Poppy wants a longer walk too."

A-yoon's voice pulled me out of my daze. She was stroking the little dog nestled against her. A tiny cocker spaniel that fit right in her arms. From what I'd heard, her school club had gone to a shelter for volunteer work while I was playing against Suwon, and she'd ended up adopting him there.

Still... Poppy?

"A-yoon. You've got to say his full name properly. How many times do I have to tell you? It's not Poppy. It's Ibrahim Poppy."

"Ibrahim Poppy? Were you actually serious about that?"

"You think I'd name a dog as a joke? What's wrong with Ibrahim Poppy?"

I still couldn't understand why she kept chopping his perfectly good name in half.

Maybe she just doesn't remember clearly because we named him when both our parents were all there together?

That made sense, honestly. Name suggestions had been flying left and right. And when my mother-in-law suggested "Steven Gerrard" because he walked around so well on four legs, a full-blown WWE match had broken out and things got loud fast.

"Anyway, protect our Ibrahim Poppy's name. Don't forget it."

"...Fine. Po—haaah. Get up so we can walk Ibrahim Poppy a bit. We finally came all the way out here. We can't just keep sitting around."

A-yoon looked down at Ibrahim Poppy with a pitying expression, then pulled herself together and started poking my arm.

"You know that famous matcha ice cream place near this park? Want to grab lunch there? They let pets in."

"Ice cream? If you want it, I'll buy it. How much?"

"Base is thirty-five thousand won, and with toppings it goes up to fifty thousand. Since it's the two of us, we should just get everything."

"What? Ice cream for fifty thousand? Wasn't it around thirty?"

"When exactly are you living? If you're talking about prices from five years ago, what are you even doing? And you're a footballer, Yi-an. You make good money."

Make good money?

Sure, as a K-League first-team player I could—if I were on a full professional contract.

"You know I'm on a semi-pro deal. My salary's only a million won a month."

"A million? Isn't that less than minimum wage?"

Less than minimum wage... if you looked at it a certain way, yeah. Add up training hours and weekend matches at minimum wage and a million wouldn't even come close. But what was I supposed to do? Even if the pay was low, getting on the pitch came first. I could always prove myself and raise it later.

"That's just how semi-pro works. Anyway, fifty thousand for ice cream is a no. I don't have the money."

"Ehhh? You're still getting a million a month, so you should have some. Are you really that cheap you can't spend fifty thousand on your girlfriend? I even bought Ibrahim Poppy's food..."

"It's not that I'm being cheap. I genuinely don't have any money."

"Then why don't you have money... when you get paid every month?"

Get paid? Sure. The problem was the giant hole in my wallet that vacuumed everything up the second it arrived.

I racked my brain for how to explain it, then decided talking was too painful and just held out my phone instead.

"Look at this."

"Huh? What is this? Jeonbuk Future Motors, Baek Yi-an—excessive provocative celebration and destruction of facilities... the league has imposed a fine of five million won?"

"..."

"Yi-an. You've only been debuted for two months, right?"

"Two months is right. But it's only mid-April, so I've only received one month's pay."

What I wanted to say was simple.

"I'm four million won in debt from the fine. When I get paid, I have to give it all to Mom."

"...Want to just go to Lotteria and get soft-serve? My treat."

"Can we get a Hurricane instead of soft-serve?"

"Stop talking nonsense and just eat the soft-serve..."

"Okay."

"Our poor Yi-an... what am I going to do with you..."

A-yoon looked at my face with the most pitiful eyes, her own already starting to well up.

"Aargh, this is ridiculously heavy! Can't they just cut the kimchi out of school lunches already? And why am I the one hauling this stuff? I even practiced my signature so I could do some proper fan service..."

"Hey, Yoon! Quit bitching and move ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the kimchi already! Another truck's coming any minute—you know that? Use that mouth of yours for hauling instead of complaining!"

"Baek Yi-an, you crazy bastard! Why aren't you doing anything?! You got a red card and a suspension, so at least carry the kimchi like you mean it!"

Yoon Seung-hwan screeched, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and huffed.

Footballers hauling kimchi for school lunches. A deeply bizarre sight. Under normal circumstances it would never happen, but right now we didn't have a choice.

"Hey, you got a yellow for celebrating too, remember? I took the red card for the team, so show some gratitude. Without me you might've lost the golden boot."

"Lost it? Don't make me laugh. You think I don't know I'm sitting in first by a mile? And that yellow was your fault in the first place!"

"This little shit attacking me with facts? Fine, whatever. I'll haul kimchi like a man. Let's just finish this quick so we can go dish out the lunches."

"Ugh, seriously. Isn't the manager taking this way too far? Even if we went nuts on the pitch, making players whose bodies are their livelihood sort kimchi boxes as punishment?"

Because of the bans, we couldn't play, so we got sent to help out at a school event with a partnership agreement with Jeonbuk Future Motors. That was the sentence handed down to me and Yoon Seung-hwan for the circus we pulled against Suwon Oseong.

Still, an event like this isn't the worst. If the manager hadn't ordered us to haul kimchi, I could've just slacked off somewhere cool, doled out lunch, and gone home.

Most players grumbled when free time got stolen for other things, but events like this were treated as fan service and people just quietly got on with it. I was no different. Football—sports in general—was nothing but a business with zero commercial value without fans. Once you thought about it that way, showing up and working hard was the obvious call.

And this particular school had an even better reason for me to be there.

I wonder when A-yoon's going to show up. Ideally she'd come last so we could steal a few minutes together with whatever time's left.

Being able to walk into A-yoon's high school completely legally was basically the best reward I could ask for. That was why I'd followed the manager's orders without a word of complaint—and why I was free to enjoy the payoff now.

"Nice spot, right? The teachers used to use it for calls or smokes, but once they made an actual smoking area, nobody comes here anymore."

"How do you even know about a place like this? You use it a lot?"

"Please. Not a lot. I only found it because I heard you were coming and started looking for somewhere empty."

A-yoon's smooth answer let me unclench. After the event wrapped and we got a short break, I'd asked if she knew somewhere quiet—and she'd led me so naturally behind the cafeteria into this secluded corner that I'd briefly wondered if she was regularly dodging teachers and staff for something shady. Thankfully it didn't seem that way.

"I heard about it from a friend too. The security guy barely checks this area, and the fence is low enough that if the lunch is bad people hop over and sneak out to eat."

"That's the only time you use it, right?"

"Obviously. When else would you need a place like this?"

Yeah—A-yoon doing anything sketchy would be weirder. Not just because she was my girlfriend. There weren't that many things students needed to hide from teachers for in the first place. Secret phone use had gone extinct the second phones got fully allowed, and the only real leftover was smoking...

Would A-yoon smoke?

This was someone who'd been called one of Korea's top female track prospects as a kid. After an injury killed that dream she'd become almost obsessive about taking care of her body. No way she was lighting up.

I decided not to overthink it. Time was short anyway—better to just talk with her.

"Anyway, crazy how you hit the absolute last slot. If you'd come at the beginning or in the middle we probably would've just said hi and that would've been it. Lucky."

"Ah... me coming for lunch last? I did that on purpose. Normally I sprint to be first."

"So you deliberately came late because I was here?"

"Honestly I knew the players were coming to our school, but I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had no idea you would be one of them. Then my friend texted that you were handing out lunch in the cafeteria, so I waited till the end and came! That way I could at least talk to you."

Watching A-yoon beam, I couldn't help smiling back.

"We almost just said hello and left it at that. Glad we didn't. Tell that friend thanks for me later."

"Eh, no need to thank her. She didn't do it for my sake. She had her own agenda."

"An agenda?"

I looked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at her, confused. A-yoon hesitated, then spoke.

"The girl who told me is a Yoon Seung-hwan fan. I don't know what hooked her, but she says she's been following him since the youth days and never misses a match. When she heard the Jeonbuk players were coming to our school she went to check if Yoon Seung-hwan was there—and saw you two hauling kimchi boxes, so she told me."

She glanced through a half-reflective window, then lifted her chin.

"Oh! There she is! See the girl getting Yoon Seung-hwan's autograph? That's her."

"Yeah? Which one?"

I followed A-yoon's gaze. In front of the cafeteria, Yoon Seung-hwan was signing something for a girl.

Signing right on her school shirt, no less... just like A-yoon said, she really was a serious fan.

What kind of person ends up liking Yoon Seung-hwan of all people? Her face was hidden by his bulk and the fact that she had her back to us.

I waited, forcing myself to be patient until the signing finished. The second Yoon Seung-hwan capped the pen, the girl turned her head—and her face came into full view.

She looked strangely familiar.

What? Why is she here?

Someone who had no business being here at this point in time was standing right there. And she was supposedly A-yoon's classmate?

I stared through the glass in a daze at the impossible sight on the other side.