Champions (2)
The instant they smashed the final everyone had expected to be a war into a 6–0 demolition, the fans who had come all the way to Qatar erupted.
OLÉ! OLÉ! OLÉ! OLÉ!
Even after the whistle, some stayed in the stands and roared the anthem until their throats gave out. Others turned their backs on the pitch and bounced through the Poznań, teabagging the Yokohama supporters on the far side for good measure.
You could argue it was overkill. Then again, the situation itself practically demanded it.
Think about it for a second.
The Asian Champions League final had been staged in Qatar — a country that had nothing to do with either club. To actually show up and cheer, you had to book a flight, find a hotel, and eat every meal in the neighborhood. One match meant an absurd amount of money and an equally absurd amount of time shuttling between Qatar and Korea.
These weren’t people on a national holiday. They had come for one reason only: to watch their team. The ones who had made the trip for Jeonbuk were exactly that kind of fan. After pouring that much cash into the journey and swearing they would rather die than go home empty-handed, being handed a 6–0 thrashing as a gift made their total meltdown not only understandable — it was practically mandatory.
“Uwaaaah… what do I do… what do I do…”
“Ji-yoo… stop crying already. Even if winning feels that good, you can’t just sob for twenty straight minutes.”
“It’s not… because I feel good.”
“What? You’re not happy? Don’t tell me you’re a fashion Jeonbuk fan whose heart is secretly with Yokohama.”
“…No.”
“Right? Our Ji-yoo would never pull some sneaky double-agent crap. Anyway, wipe those tears and look over there. They’re replaying the celebration Yi-an did.”
“Huh? Uwaaaaaaah!”
Shin A-yoon tilted her head at her friend, who had been crying nonstop ever since Yoon Seung-hwan buried that header. She knew Ji-yoo was a passionate Seung-hwan fan, but was this really a weeping occasion?
It made so little sense that A-yoon briefly wondered if her own empathy had short-circuited. She closed her eyes and tried to picture Baek Yi-an scoring and celebrating…
…Yeah? That’s just the stuff Yi-an does every other week.
No matter how hard she tried, the only thing that rose up was a snort of laughter, not tears. At that point A-yoon decided to drop the whole “I’m emotionally broken” theory. The world had all kinds of people. Some laughed when their favorite player went nuclear; others cried because they couldn’t hold the joy in. That was that.
More importantly, why has that spoiled rich-kid youngest daughter gone dead silent? Normally the second the match ends she comes skittering out like a cockroach, clicking and clacking.
Day in and day out she tore into A-yoon’s boyfriend and even sniped that Seung-hwan would have done it better. For someone who prided herself on watching matches objectively, A-yoon found the whole spectacle unwatchable — so she had made time to go toe-to-toe with the girl, and she had been fully prepared to thrash her again the moment she showed her face.
Except this time she never appeared.
That absolute lunatic isn’t the type to give up easy… or is she? After watching today’s match, maybe she finally realized our Yi-an is way past the reach of her half-baked knowledge.
Yeah. That had to be it. Faced with the highlight reel of Baek Yi-an’s absurd performance, she hadn’t even mustered the courage to open a Gald Cup thread.
Come to think of it, maybe she had never actually liked Seung-hwan at all. Maybe she just bounced from player to player wearing a fan mask, desperate for any angle to trash Baek Yi-an, until she ran out of options and settled on Seung-hwan as the only rival who could even compete. That would also explain why she had shown up right when the Jeonbuk fan community was debating which of the two was the more precious academy product.
Whatever the truth, A-yoon only needed to remember one thing.
She had defeated a filthy, underhanded anti-fan in a jersey — the kind of creep who pretends to support another player purely to drag a specific one through the mud.
And if you won, you raised the victory banner. That was only natural.
With that noble purpose burning in her chest, Shin A-yoon immediately dropped a post on the community board.
The comments started pouring in the second the post went live.
“Mm-hm. Seung-hwan played well too, but our Yi-an was on another level.”
“Uwaaaah, my Seung-hwan… his face was already a little scarred and now he’s got a new cut, uwaaaah…”
The moment Seung-hwan’s name came up, Ha Ji-yoo’s tears — which had finally started to dry — burst open all over again. Caught somewhere between a festival and a funeral, A-yoon patted her friend’s back with one hand and refreshed the comment section with the other, savoring the dopamine hit.
That was when a man approached her.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes? Who are you?”
“Ah. I’m cleaning the stadium. I’m not a weirdo. Yokohama fan.”
He spat out the Korean awkwardly and immediately started picking up trash around them. A-yoon eyed him warily — and then a truly bizarre line landed in her ear.
“Hmph! We may have gotten wrecked on the pitch, but Japan will never lose when it comes to cleaning!”
What is he even saying. This guy’s insane.
The second the final at Qatar’s Lusail Stadium ended 6–0 in Jeonbuk’s favor, articles began flooding the wire.
Once the match was over, I flew straight back to Korea with the team and arranged to see my family first. Of course it wasn’t just my family — A-yoon and her parents, who might as well have been family already, were there too.
“Listen, Yi-an. Liverpool would suit you perfectly. You know their midfield is completely wrecked right now, right? You show up and you’re starting eleven, guaranteed. Just get here and go — that’s the whole vibe.”
“Just get here and go? Has this man actually lost his mind? Where does he get off trying to dump our son-in-law at a place like Liverpool?”
“A place like Liverpool? Manchester, Liverpool — same difference. What’s the big distinction?”
“Not all Manchesters are the same, you idiot. Outfits like Ineos can’t even spend money properly and just scramble to renovate their stadium, but our royal Manchester City has already developed the entire area, don’t you know?”
“Hah! Royal, my foot. Just an oil club.”
“Just an oil club? Honey. You remember when we agreed to show each other our phones before we got married? You remember what you said? When someone asked if you’d suck Mansour’s toe for a hundred million won, you typed, ‘If I vacuum it properly, can I get an extra fifty million?’ Remember that or not?”
“You—! What are you turning the head of this household into right now!”
“Dad! Don’t worry. I’ve known ever since I saw the weird way you eat screw-bar ice cream.”
“Shin Seung-ah! Want your allowance confiscated next month?”
“…Unnie. Our father’s cornered and you’re just sitting there. You’re the eldest daughter — help him out.”
“Shut it.”
“…Yes.”
Unlike my relatively quiet family, A-yoon’s household launched into a full brawl the second they sat down. Of course, A-yoon — who had lived with them her whole life — probably felt differently, but from where I was sitting it didn’t seem weird so much as… kind of fun. Living with people like this might actually be entertaining.
I ate quietly for a while, using Father-in-law and Mother-in-law’s fight as dinner theater. Once the chaos finally started to settle, my mother carefully cleared her throat.
“By the way, Yi-an. The news keeps saying your chances of moving overseas are extremely high. Is there anything you can tell us? Or is there some embargo even family can’t break?”
“Nah. Family’s fine. But the transfer window hasn’t opened yet, so no official offers have come in.”
“Right? Anyway, it looks like our son can land somewhere good next year. That’s a relief.”
Jeonbuk was already one of the best clubs in Korea, no question. But both of my parents were athletes themselves, and when a chance to play on a bigger stage appeared, they clearly believed you had to take it.
I agreed completely. I had planned to leave Jeonbuk the moment we completed the treble anyway.
Some people might call a rookie arrogant for thinking about a transfer when he had only just re-signed — but it wasn’t arrogance. Not really.
Because of this.
Official offers hadn’t arrived yet — but the fact that multiple clubs were already circling was undeniable.