Jeonbuk's True Core (5)
The chaos sparked by Baek Yi-an's celebration was, thankfully, put to rest in short order once both managers stepped in.
It had been serious enough to trigger a full-on bench-clearing, but the players who poured onto the pitch had done so less out of genuine fury at Baek Yi-an than out of pure bewilderment at a young player's childish stunt. And when word got around that he hadn't done it on purpose — that he'd simply slipped on a patch of sunken turf — the anger drained away almost at once.
What a strange kid.
Manager Nam Jae-yoon covered his rising smile with one hand and looked out over the field. Only minutes earlier the boy had nearly set Seoul and Jeonbuk at each other's throats, and now he was just... running around like nothing had happened. Watching him, Nam almost wondered whether he was really a rookie at all.
Where did that kind of swagger even come from, the nerve to pull a stunt like that? And the more startling part was that his play itself was as composed and steady as a veteran who'd been grinding it out for years. His command of midfield went without saying — and the second he sensed an opening, he didn't hesitate. He'd try the risky pass on the spot. Situations that could collapse into disaster if they went wrong, and he charged into them with the kind of courage that practically invited people to hate him. No fear at all.
Maybe that was what put the thought in Nam Jae-yoon's head.
Maybe...
Maybe Baek Yi-an was the real core of Jeonbuk.
It wasn't that he'd been looking down on the boy, or failed to grasp his value. A manager who didn't understand how good a player was after the kid had claimed Young Player of the Year the moment he debuted, while putting up absurd stats, would have been a joke.
What Nam meant was something else entirely. After all the analysis with his coaching staff, they had settled on Yoon Seung-hwan as the true linchpin — but the gap between Seung-hwan and Baek Yi-an was so far beyond comparison it defied imagination.
It was Yoon Seung-hwan who broke through the defensive scheme we prepared, sure... but Seung-hwan was the finishing blow. The entire blueprint underneath it was Baek Yi-an's work, start to finish.
Systematic, rapid shifting. A side that collapsed the gap between the second and third lines so aggressively it left no room to breathe. From an attacker's perspective it was the kind of setup that made you want to throw up from pure frustration — and yet Baek Yi-an had used his wingers and fullbacks as bait, dragged the defenders out toward the flanks, and carved open the space himself.
How hard was that, really?
Even for a manager standing one step back, surveying the whole field, finding that answer was difficult. For a player actually running out there to read the trap and solve it on the fly? That was bordering on absurd.
Watching the boy's performance with something close to awe, Nam found himself thinking something else as well. Baek Yi-an could probably have taken the shot and scored on his own without using Yoon Seung-hwan at all. Maybe he'd used Seung-hwan simply to raise the odds.
Of course, he might have been wrong. Maybe Baek Yi-an had passed to Seung-hwan because he judged he couldn't finish it alone. Maybe a gap had just opened up by luck while he was circulating the ball. But at the very least, the movement and the quality of the passes Baek Yi-an had shown today were, without question, among the best Nam Jae-yoon had ever seen in his time managing Seoul United.
So Baek Yi-an was the core all along... I figured it out too late. Not that knowing earlier would have made me think we could actually stop him.
Unless you deliberately set out to injure him and force him off — and took the abuse that came with it — what else was there to do?
It was not a thought a manager of a team was supposed to entertain. But Nam Jae-yoon was thinking it all the same.
Might as well treat it like a natural disaster.
Tweet! Tweet! Tweeet!
"Well played, sir. It was a good match. And regarding the incident with our player — please accept my apology."
"Not at all. Kids will be kids. It was a good game."
One–nil. He hadn't managed a win at home, and yet somehow Manager Nam Jae-yoon's face carried a strange, unburdened ease.
Then as now, the whole mess caused by Sangam's wrecked pitch had, mercifully, been sorted out cleanly enough.
One–nil. After taking the win away from Seoul on their own ground, I finished getting ready in a hurry and left the mixed zone first. It wasn't that the manager was shielding me from more nonsense over the celebration — I just had someone to meet.
"If you were coming to the match, you could've said something. I would've gotten you a ticket."
"It's an away game in Seoul — how exactly were you going to get me a ticket...? It wasn't hard to find one, so you don't need to worry about it."
A-yoon, wearing my jersey, glanced around and then immediately folded herself into my arms.
I'd known she usually watched Jeonbuk's home games, or even came to see them in person — but I hadn't expected her to make the trip for an away match too. Knowing how far Seoul was from Jeonju, her sudden appearance couldn't help but catch me off guard.
I only got a moment to feel the warmth of A-yoon, who'd come all this way just to see me, before her eyes dropped to my ankle the second the hug ended.
"By the way, Yi-an — is your ankle okay?"
"Ankle? Why are you asking about my ankle all of a sudden?"
"I saw it earlier. You went down during the celebration. That wasn't on purpose, right? You slipped? I saw you step on a sunken patch of turf while you were running and lose your footing."
"Ah, that? Yeah, I slipped, but you don't need to worry about it. I didn't get hurt."
"Well, that's a relief, but be careful from now on. Next time something like that happens, don't try to stay on your feet — do you have any idea how much that scared me watching?"
"Got it. Sorry."
Looking at her, I could feel how hyper-aware she was of the possibility that I might have gotten injured. Fair enough. A-yoon of all people would know that a pitch in that condition didn't just tank the quality of play — it jacked up the injury risk too. And I'd stepped on a stretch where the turf had completely caved in. One wrong move and I could have been seriously hurt.
No one frets over my injuries more than A-yoon does.
Watching a near-injury with her own eyes would have been bad enough — but it hadn't even been during play. It had nearly happened in a celebration. I could understand why she was so on edge.
"You really have to be careful, you know that? Twisting an ankle looks like nothing at the time, but it can turn into something much worse later. Especially for a player who has to play every week like you."
"It wasn't a twist or anything. I just slipped. How am I supposed to get hurt when you're looking out for me like this? More importantly — did you come all the way to Seoul alone?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow's Mom and Dad's wedding anniversary, so they took Seung-ah to England for a trip."
"England?"
"Mm-hm. My little sister got them tickets to the Man City–Liverpool match as a present. But she only managed three seats, and I have school, and I couldn't leave Ibrahim Poppy alone either, so I decided to stay home."
So the rest of the family was off traveling and watching football in England, and she'd been left to hold down the fort by herself. Strangely, though, there wasn't a trace of regret or envy on her face. If anything, she almost seemed happier to have stayed behind.
Whether she read that thought on me or not, A-yoon snickered and gave my chest a light poke.
"Don't look at me like I'm so pitiful. I didn't want to go with them anyway."
"Huh? You didn't want to go? Why? A trip to England sounds pretty great."
"A trip to England is great. Watching football with Mom and Dad is... less great. You know how they are."
"Ah."
My mother-in-law and father-in-law's personalities. The second she said it, a sigh slipped out of me. That explained why she looked completely fine about the family heading off to England without her.
One look at the group chat would have been enough.
Father-in-law's a Liverpool fan. Mother-in-law's a Man City fan. Going to a match with those two would be absolute hell.
If it had been some third club with no stake in either side, maybe. But for a City–Liverpool game, unless it ended in a draw, one of them was going to spend the whole match on a one-sided rampage — and whoever tagged along would be the one stuck enduring the atmosphere. Knowing how much A-yoon already put up with living under the same roof as them, her reaction made perfect sense.
"Seung-ah's going to have a rough time. Tell her to hang in there."
"She brought it on herself — she can deal with it. Anyway, Yi-an. Mom and Dad just texted me that they landed in England. For the next nine days or so, it's just me at home..."
A-yoon hesitated for a second, then looked up at me with her face flushed bright red.
"Want to come over tomorrow?"
"Huh?"
"It's nothing weird. It's just... there's no one else there, so I thought it might be nice if we hung out at home together... Or if you don't want to stay in, we could go somewhere..."
She was so embarrassed she could barely get the words out, and it was all I could do not to laugh. Of course I knew what she really meant. With her parents and sister out of the way, this was a golden chance to be alone together, and she wanted me there.
Any other day, I wouldn't have thought twice about saying yes. But...
"Ahh. Sorry — tomorrow might be tough."
"Huh? Why? Is something going on?"
Unfortunately, I had urgent business, so I couldn't take her up on it. A-yoon stared at me in confusion, and as I watched her, I thought back to the message Oliver had sent me before the match.
A golden chance to clear four million won in debt. No way I'm letting this one slip.