Free Web NovelThe Korean national team’s first World Cup match ended, just as it ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) originally had, in Korea’s victory.
At an unbelievable score of 2:0, the entire country exploded with excitement.
Everyone poured into the streets, celebrating and joining strangers in a night-long festival.
When the excitement finally settled, people recalled the words that had appeared on the front page of every newspaper that morning.
[Congratulations to the Republic of Korea on its first World Cup victory.]
No one had predicted it. Most people thought even a draw would have been an achievement.
But Korea won the opening match against Poland, and that advertisement seared itself into everyone’s mind.
When the second match day arrived, another ad appeared in every newspaper.
Korea’s second match against the United States also ended in a 1:1 draw.
Only then did people begin to pay attention to the mysterious ad that seemed to predict the results.
And on the day of the third match—
Today’s result would decide whether Korea advanced to the Round of 16.
At dawn, another ad appeared on the front page.
[Congratulations to the Republic of Korea on advancing to the Round of 16 for the first time.]
A simple, plain sentence.
No one knew who had placed the ad, or why.
Once might have been coincidence, but doing it repeatedly caused newspaper sales to soar.
Before the match began, every internet community buzzed with talk of the mysterious ads.
― Korea’s advancing to the Round of 16? You mean they’re gonna beat Portugal?
⤷ Bro, that makes no sense. How could Korea beat Portugal?
⤷ They’re top of Group D anyway. Don’t we just need a draw?
Of course, there were all kinds of predictions about the match itself, but the bigger topic was the ad that felt like prophecy.
― Hey, anyone see that newspaper ad? The one congratulating Korea for making the Round of 16?
⤷ Whoa~
⤷ If this comes true too, that’s like a modern Nostradamus, isn’t it?
⤷ Bullshit. How would Korea beat Portugal? One of their players is worth more than our whole squad combined.
⤷ But seriously, who’s putting out those ads? Anyone know?
Rumors about the ad spread from mouth to mouth like an urban legend, filling the internet nonstop.
And finally, the match against Portugal began.
At that hour, I was watching the game on TV in my study with Han Kyungyeong, who had arrived in Korea earlier that day.
I switched the channel to the live broadcast and spoke first.
“I told you to focus on things in the States, but this came up too urgently.”
Han Kyungyeong shrugged and replied,
“Nah, it’s fine. I get to watch the World Cup, so I’m good. But what’s going on?”
I told him about my conversation with Koizumi.
When I finished, Han Kyungyeong’s mouth fell open.
“...They’re completely insane. Isn’t that basically a declaration of war?”
His reaction was just like mine had been earlier—it almost made me laugh.
“I could maybe understand their claim over Dokdo, but... how the hell do they think dragging in former President Choi Sun-man makes sense?”
Han Kyungyeong kept talking, his voice rising.
“Damn it, this is why dealing with the Japanese pisses me off. Should’ve just joined the hedge funds and attacked together.”
“Forget it. This time, the Japanese government’s determined to block the attack with every possible measure.”
“Still, if we move, the asset management firms that’ve been staying quiet will join in too, you know that?”
He had a point. Not all hedge funds had mobilized yet.
But in the end, what would later be known as the Ilnepo Incident—the war between the hedge funds and the Japanese government—would end in Japan’s victory no matter what.
Even if we joined in. The losses would be astronomical, and winning would be impossible.
Despite its economic slowdown, Japan was still one of the strongest economies in the world and the largest holder of U.S. Treasury bonds.
If the Japanese government intervened in the exchange rate directly, it could easily block the hedge funds’ attack.
They’d sell U.S. Treasuries and buy dollars with that money. The efficiency difference alone was incomparable.
Once they won, they’d just use those same dollars to repurchase the Treasuries—meaning they’d lose nothing.
But the hedge funds were too drunk on past glory, clicking their abacuses even in the middle of a storm.
“They’ve been hit twice already—if they get crushed again, Japan’s national pride won’t let it slide. Every hedge fund that joins in is going to take a massive loss.”
“Hmm... okay. Got it. But you have no idea how many old guys on Wall Street are calling me. They’re all convinced they’re going to win.”
“Well, sure. They’ll be pouring in hundreds of billions, maybe trillions of dollars. Even individual investors are siding with the funds. They probably never imagined the Japanese government would go this far.”
Talking made me thirsty. I took a long gulp of the beer in front of me and continued.
“This time, Japan wins. And you know how Japanese people are—if the government says so, they obey. Unless an earthquake hits, the hedge funds lose, guaranteed.”
“If you say it like that, then yeah, they’re screwed. Ha! Those old bastards are gonna be pissed.”
Han Kyungyeong chuckled to himself like a lunatic, tipping back his beer. He must’ve lost plenty to those same people before.
I shook my head at his nonchalant attitude. Sure, money mattered—but there was something far more important at stake.
“It’s not about money. The entire board I’ve set up could collapse. Money can be earned again, but if this plan breaks, it’s over.”
“Is taking control of Korea really that important? Do you even need to? The U.S. welcomes you, and Russia... well, Putin would welcome you with open arms. I don’t get it.”
It wasn’t sarcasm—he meant it. I gave a faint, crooked smile.
Han Kyungyeong had been saying the same thing ever since he heard my plan:
stop obsessing over Korea, move to the U.S. or Russia, change citizenship, live freely.
“If I wanted that, I’d have left when Grandfather died. My parents and grandfather are buried here. My grandmother will be too. I’ll never abandon this country.”
“I guess I can’t really understand. My whole family’s in the States. Still, if you’re doing it, I’ll back you. So—what do you need me to do?”
“Let’s talk after the match. You’re watching the game more than me anyway.”
“Caught me, huh?”
Thanks to his playful tone, I could finally laugh.
So we ate chicken, drank beer, and focused on the match.
In the second half, Korea scored its first goal. Portugal had two players sent off.
Since Korea had already drawn with the U.S. and beaten Poland, even a draw would have guaranteed advancement.
Han Kyungyeong’s face slowly filled with growing excitement.
When the final whistle blew, he shot up from his seat, shouting.
“Nice! Round of 16! Muhyuk, you were right! We actually made it!”
Normally, Pyeongchang-dong was quiet, but tonight even the usually restrained residents were shouting from their homes.
Even outside the study, I could hear the servants cheering softly among themselves. The whole country must have been the same.
“I told you, we’d make it no matter what.”
“I didn’t believe it! I mean, beating Portugal? Damn!”
He kept glancing between me and the TV, still dazed.
“Enough, sit down.”
“Hey, Muhyuk, seriously—do you have some future newspaper? Or do you just... see the future?”
I gestured for him to calm down. He sat but kept babbling in disbelief.
“Think about it! It started with that newspaper ad. Between Joongwoo Group, Taesan Finance, and Joongwoo Construction’s events, you clearly knew these results before the World Cup even began!”
“It was prediction. Why do you think I brought in Coach Hiddink? Because the synergy between a top-tier coach and our players would work. It was an educated guess.”
“Bullshit. No one thought that way. Most people said we’d be lucky to win even one game! Even the analysts said so. This isn’t prediction—it’s beyond that! Come on, admit it, Muhyuk. You came from the future, didn’t you?”
I flinched inwardly, but outwardly could only laugh.
“Fine. Let’s say I’m from the future. Happy now?”
“...”
Han Kyungyeong stared at me like I’d lost my mind, completely unsure how to respond.
I couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing.
“Kidding. I told them to run the campaign because we’d lose nothing either way. If the prediction failed, the next day’s ad would go out under Joongwoo Group and Taesan Finance’s names. Whether good or bad, publicity’s always good.”
“If you don’t want to tell me, fine. So when do I die? You see that too?”
“...Hyung, it’s prediction, not prophecy.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop.”
Where did he even get that jinx of a question? I frowned, and he patted my shoulder with a grin.
Then he drained his glass.
“Ahh... that’s good. I really hope we make the semifinals, just like you said. If that happens, Hiddink’s price will skyrocket... damn, good thing you signed him early. He won’t go back on a verbal agreement, right?”
“He’s not that kind of man. And no top-tier club can offer him better terms anyway. Who else gives full control over player transfers for three years?”
That much was necessary to bring him in, but judging by Han’s reaction, it seemed I’d set the right balance.
After all, he was about to become a national hero. We got him cheap.
“That’s true. Even look at Chelsea—Roman himself meddles in every signing.”
“Well, he has to. He doesn’t trust people easily. That’s just how you survive doing business in Russia.”
My voice trailed off as I picked up the remote and turned off the TV.
The fever from the match had cooled enough—it was time to talk business.
“Alright, let’s get down to work.”
I called for the staff to clean the study.
While they tidied up the room and cleared the table, I took a few calls.
“Yes. Proceed as scheduled. We’ll definitely make it to the semifinals. The ad will run under Joongwoo Group and Taesan Finance again on the day of the last match. Be ready for that.” frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
After finishing with Chairman Kim Byungwoo, another call came in—it was Lee Sanggeun.
Even his normally calm voice was tinged with disbelief.
― Hey! Muhyuk! You crazy bastard! We’re actually making the semifinals? This can’t be real! I’m betting money with the Assemblymen on this, you hear me? If we don’t make it, you’re dead!
I hung up, still half-laughing, just as the study was completely cleaned.
“Been a while, President.”
“Ah, Chairman. Welcome.”
Right on time, Chairman Ha Myeonghun of Taesan Finance arrived.
He knew more about former President Choi Sun-man’s case than I did, which was why I’d called him.
“Seeing how Taesan Finance keeps growing, I’d say you’ve finally found your calling. Grandfather would be proud.”
“...”
He just gave a quiet smile, no reply.
Instead, he looked around the study, tracing the traces of Grandfather’s presence. There was longing in his expression.
A steadfast man. I’d heard he still visited Grandfather’s grave every week.
He’d been Grandfather’s blade—and his son.
Even now, he was driving Taesan Finance’s aggressive expansion with the will to preserve that name.
Normally, I wouldn’t have dragged him into something like this again, but this time, I needed every ounce of power I had.
“Let’s sit. Eva will be a little late—she’s handling something. And... Manager Ma, bring in all the documents we’ve compiled so far.”
“Yes, boss.”
Ma left, and we all sat down.
Soon, he returned carrying a thick stack of files.
He placed them on the table, then took his seat.
Now everyone I trusted most was here—Ha Myeonghun, Ma Seokdae, and Han Kyungyeong.
I explained everything: Daedonghoe’s existence, its connection to former President Choi Sun-man, and what they were planning to do.
Ha Myeonghun listened silently, his face hardening. Occasionally, he nodded, absorbing each word.
When I finished, he finally spoke.
“As I thought. Choi Sun-man isn’t someone who’d fall so easily. I knew something didn’t add up.”
His eyes had turned sharp again—just like in the old days.
