Truth Without Malice
Truth Without Malice
The area in front of the main gate of the Paju NFC (National Football Center) was a sea of people.
Whether it was because the Association had leaked information in advance, or perhaps because the power of 12 goals was just that immense, reporters and fans were packed tightly all the way to the entrance.
Flashbulbs popped the moment I stepped out of the car.
Amidst them, Association officials rushed out and greeted me with excessive, almost burdensome, politeness.
"You've worked hard coming here, Han-su-gun! You truly are the treasure of our La Liga."
Coach Park, whom I ran into in the training ground hallway, looked even more exhausted than I had imagined.
Elena's assessment that he was just a 'domestic scarecrow' hastily propped up by the Association wasn't wrong.
The moment he saw me, he wore a strange expression that was less about being glad to see me and more about relief.
"You're here, Han-su-ya. You've worked hard."
"Yes, Coach-nim."
"Rather than any specific tactical instructions... just play as you're comfortable. As long as you do what you've been doing in La Liga, our team's offense will be fine. You know? The players are all trusting only in you."
Full authority delegated, with tactical deliberation omitted.
It was exactly the scenario in the email Elena had sent. The 'Just Do It' tactic.
When I entered the locker room, I saw the hyungs who had been chatting in the group chat.
"Hey! The 12th goal has descended! Aren't you all going to stand up?"
Young-gwang-hyung cheered, clapping his hands. Ji-hoon was next to him, pretending to roll out a red carpet.
"Hyung, did you eat well on the plane?"
"Yeah. The in-flight meal was good."
I tossed my bag aside and sat down.
The atmosphere was playful, but they knew it too.
The fact that the coach's gaze was fixed solely on me, and that they were standing one step back, removed from that gaze.
"Han-su-ya, the coach kept playing only your highlight reels during the meeting earlier. I thought it was a religious cult."
Seung-min-hyung whispered low, tapping my shoulder.
"But listen, don't try to carry it all on your own. If you slip up, the arrows will really point at you."
Inside the tunnel leading to the training ground.
The green grass visible in the distance and the large screen printed with the Association's logo.
The Association officials were laughing and pointing at me in front of the reporters, and the coach was in the corner, taking notes on my every move.
[Villarreal Gallery Real-time Status]
Title: Hey lol did you see the pic of Han-su entering Paju? lol
Author: Vill-admin
Look at the KFA geezers grinning like idiots next to Han-su lol
Inside they're praying 'Please Han-su score a goal and save my neck' lol
Coach bastard is standing there blankly with a notebook. Probably nothing written in there except 'Pass to Han-su' lol
ㄴ Admin, are you a mind reader? lol. Expression analysis is god-tier
ㄴ Real, Han-su-ya run away... that place is a cesspool...
ㄴ Admin this bastard has been bashing the KFA all day lol. So refreshing
It was the final domestic A-match friendly before the Asian Cup to be held in Qatar in the middle of the year.
The opponent was Jordan, the 'dark horse of Asia' that had humiliated us in the last tournament.
On the tactical board, instead of complex arrows, the three letters 'KIM' were written particularly large.
"See? Han-su-ya. If you catch the ball right here, three or four Jordan defenders will stick to you. At that moment, you decide whether to break through and shoot, or pass to the open Ji-hoon... I trust your creativity. You know?"
"...What should I do about defensive line control? Jordan's counterattacks will be fast."
"That's for Seung-min and Young-gwang to handle! You just think about scoring. If you score, not a single article will be written about defensive instability."
Coach Park gave me a thumbs-up throughout the training, and the hyungs suppressed dry laughter as they watched the scene.
The heat radiating from the 60,000 spectators at Sangam was suffocating.
But the pitch felt unpleasantly cold.
Jordan had come prepared.
In particular, the eyes of their right winger, Jordan's treasure 'Zair Al-Hamad' who plays for Stade Rennais in Ligue 1, were sharp.
Ppi-.
The game went wrong from the start.
Our team's spacing was as wide as the Pacific Ocean.
Coach Park's 'freedom' gifted hell to the defensive line.
As soon as Al-Hamad got the ball, he ravaged our flank.
He was fast.
He erased our fullback with European-level elasticity.
"Block him! Stick to him!"
I heard Young-gwang-hyung's scream, but Al-Hamad wove between two defenders with a single fluid body feint.
He slammed on the brakes near the box, cut inside in an instant, and unleashed a left-footed curler.
The ball hit the post and sucked into the goal.
0-1.
Silence flowed through Sangam.
Al-Hamad celebrated, shrugging his shoulders arrogantly.
The Association executives in the VIP seats all stiffened.
They stared fixedly at me.
A silent pressure to 'quickly score a goal according to the scenario we planned.'
The ball didn't come to me.
The midfield, flustered by Jordan's pressure, just spammed meaningless back-passes.
The only balls that barely came my way were long balls that were impossible to handle.
Al-Hamad roamed the pitch with ease, toying with our defense, and I was thoroughly isolated up front.
I eventually dropped down to the half-line.
If I didn't design it myself, the opportunity wouldn't come.
Three Jordan defenders surrounded me.
"Click."
The world stopped. Space split, and the blueprint unfolded.
The space behind Al-Hamad, who had pushed up recklessly for the attack.
And the 8-meter micro-crack created as the Jordan center-back came out to pressure me.
After looking at that spot, I released the ability.
The world flowed, and at the same time, I received Seung-min-hyung's pass with my chest.
I turned, utilizing the center of gravity of the rushing defender.
The Jordan defense tangled in confusion at the movement that instantly squeezed between two defenders.
Near the box, the last defender reached out late, attempting a sliding tackle.
"Click."
I judged quickly.
I scraped the ball slightly, lifting it over the defender's foot, and simultaneously placed the ball on my instep while it was still in the air.
At the moment of the shot, with the sound of the air bursting, the ball descended vertically, pierced the goalkeeper's hands, and slammed into the net as if to tear it.
1-1.
Coach Park was hugging the coaching staff, going wild.
Anyway.
The game was in a boring stalemate.
Al-Hamad clearly looked exhausted, but Jordan still held on tenaciously.
Just as the scent of a draw was thickening, we earned a golden free-kick opportunity right in front of the arc.
Every gaze in Sangam turned toward me.
The Association executives were already standing, ready to applaud, and Al-Hamad was standing in the defensive wall, glaring at me.
Click.
The density of the wind, the goalkeeper's slightly trembling knees, the habit of the second player from the left in the defensive wall bowing his head when jumping...
Every variable was visible.
I took three steps back and began a short, powerful leap.
The sensation caught on the tip of my toe was vivid.
The ball narrowly cleared the top of the defensive wall and changed its trajectory.
Into the top corner of the post, the goalkeeper threw his entire body, but the ball had already pierced the blind spot.
2-1. A comeback victory.
The moment the whistle blew, Sangam became a crucible of frenzy.
On the way to the Mixed Zone, an Association official ran over, gripped my shoulder tightly, and made a fuss.
"Han-su-gun! That was truly amazing! You really are the treasure of our Association. Thanks to you, our Asian Cup preparations have gained momentum. You know we're only trusting in you, right?"
From the press conference area in the distance, Coach Park's triumphant voice could be heard.
"The game unfolded exactly as prepared. In particular, utilizing player Han-su in a free role to maximize creativity was the turning point. My belief paid off."
Post-match Mixed Zone.
Association officials were surrounding me in a circle.
They were desperate to piggyback on the success, patting my back in front of the cameras and saying, "Our Han-su really saved the country."
Reporters shoved microphones in my face.
"Han-su player! Today's 'free role' instruction from the coach was truly fantastic. Was there anything special the coach ordered before the game?"
I stared at the reporter blankly for a moment.
Honestly, I'm not good at these kinds of interviews. I lack social skills.
Besides, I didn't even know what I was supposed to say.
I just needed to be good at soccer.
"Click."
In the stopped time, I reviewed the coach's instructions from before the game.
No matter how much I thought about it, no answer came out. What kind of flowery language should I add?
Political games like the Association's, they're too hard for me.
'I'll just say it as it is.'
I released the time. With Coach Park's benevolent smile beside me, I opened my mouth in a very calm tone.
"Yes. There were three things the coach instructed in detail."
Coach Park's cheekbones soared. The reporters' notebooks got busy.
"The first was, if the Jordan defenders stuck to me, he told me to 'dribble well'."
The reporters' pens hesitated. A slight twitch appeared in Coach Park's smile.
"The second was, when the ball came, he told me to 'hit it with feeling'."
A strange silence flowed through the Mixed Zone.
"Lastly, if it was hard in the second half, he told me to 'endure with mental strength'. He said to show that the fighting spirit of Koreans is stronger than the Spanish wind."
"......"
Coach Park's face rotted in real-time.
The Association officials collectively adjusted their masks and avoided eye contact.
"Do you have any other questions? I did exactly as the coach told me, so I'm glad the result was good. Now, I'm going to go catch my flight."
I walked away, leaving the stunned reporters behind.