I made my decision—I would return to Mansfield.
I moved quickly. I rejected the offer to be interim manager and submitted my resignation.
Next, I settled everything in Bochum—my house, my connections, everything.
Seeing me act this way, my father made a comment.
"You really take after your mother."
"What do you mean?"
"Once you make up your mind, you don't hesitate. You act immediately."
"Oh, that's not just my personality. That's just how Koreans are in general, mister."
Surprisingly, my parents didn't oppose my return to Mansfield. In fact, they welcomed it. It probably helped that they lived in London as well.
"Mansfield is struggling right now, but it's still a club with a long history. If they can survive this crisis, they'll be able to rise again."
"If you take the interim job at Bochum and fail to keep them up, all the blame will fall on you. It might be tough, but starting fresh at Mansfield isn't a bad idea."
"It's your hometown club, the one where you grew up as a youth player. And more than anything… Lily's there, isn't she?"
That last comment, spoken softly by my mother, was probably the real reason.
She wasn't wrong.
I wasn't going to Mansfield because of some deep love for my hometown club. If anything, my feelings toward it were closer to resentment than affection.
But Lily… her fate was the reason.
I had achieved countless successes. But in the end, what did I have left?
After popping champagne in celebration and returning home alone,
It was like eating chocolate.
The sweetness lingered, but eventually, a bitter aftertaste remained.
I drifted through memories of the past,
And the only thing that remained clear in my mind was Lily's voice, chattering beyond the fence of the training ground.
Lily was different. She had to be different.
So this time, I made a choice.
To never feel that burning pain of regret again, even as I built a successful career.
Fortunately, I made the right first move.
As I finished tying up loose ends in Germany, I heard the news—Bochum had been relegated.
Then, Lily called me.
"Colon cancer… If you hadn't forced me to go in for a full check-up, I would've never known."
It was a serious disease.
It had eventually taken Lily's life before.
She hadn't died because she ran out of money for treatment.
By the time it was discovered, it was already too late. There was nothing anyone could do.
This time, though, we caught it early.
The first tests showed nothing, but I kept pushing. We went from hospital to hospital, eventually making it all the way to London.
Lily had been baffled by my persistence, but since I insisted that it was a condition for me taking the manager's job, she sighed and reluctantly went along with it.
And in the end, they found the tumor.
It was in the absolute earliest stage, to the point that the doctors were stunned by how lucky she was. They were confident she would make a full recovery without any complications.
Lily was less shocked than amazed. She looked at me like I was some kind of mystery.
"I asked you to become our manager, and you ended up saving my life?"
"For now, just focus on your treatment. Forget about the club for a while."
"I'm the chairman. How can I ignore the club? I need to introduce you to the coaching staff, and there are transfer issues to deal with. The administration is still in chaos, and even though we managed to escape liquidation—"
"Don't worry. I'll handle the coaching staff and players. There's no director of football, no proper front office, right? You'll give me full authority over transfers, won't you?"
She hesitated, then eventually nodded. And then she smiled brightly.
"Thank you, Eugene. Thank you for coming."
That smile was enough.
Contract Terms
And so, my managerial contract was finalized.
Time passed quickly. Before I knew it, summer had arrived, and the new season was approaching.
The lower the league, the more teams there are.
That meant more matches to play.
As a result, the off-season was shorter compared to the top leagues, and preseason training started earlier.
By the time I wrapped up my affairs in Germany and arrived in Mansfield, preseason training had already been underway for four days.
I made my way to the training ground.
Through the car window, I saw a small crowd gathered.
"Save Mansfield Town!"
"Mansfield belongs to Mansfield!"
"Donate 10 cents to save our club!"
Fans held signs and chanted in their team jerseys.
Mansfield Town had been drowning in financial trouble. Rumors of sales and takeovers swirled, and ownership disputes had left the club in turmoil.
They had entered administration, and if the court ruled against them, they wouldn't just be relegated from League Two—they could be kicked out of professional football altogether.
But the fans had saved the club.
They pooled their money and managed to take control through a supporters' trust.
And the most influential figure in that trust was Lily's family, who officially took over as the club's owners.
They had narrowly avoided disaster.
But the real battle was just beginning.
The club had always been poor. The town itself wasn't wealthy.
The population was small, and the number of supporters even smaller.
A club owned by its fans—it was a romantic idea. But reality was harsh.
Where would the money come from?
How would they pay off their massive debts?
To any player, the club was utterly unattractive.
The same went for coaches.
No manager, no coach wanted to come to Mansfield.
No one wanted to take the helm of a sinking ship.
"I guess that makes me the fool who did."
With a wry smile, I arrived at the training ground.
Lily must have informed security in advance, as the guard quietly opened the gate for me.
"Welcome, coach. I heard we had a new manager coming in… wait, Eugene?"
An old, heavyset man peered through the window and blinked in shock.
"It's been a while, Uncle Jack."
"Eugene! Oh, Eugene? You're really that Eugene? The kid who skipped school to play football and got his ass handed to him?"
"Must you bring up embarrassing memories the moment we reunite? You haven't changed at all."
"Wait, hold on. This is a club vehicle. Does that mean—?"
Uncle Jack's eyes went wide. His already chubby face scrunched up in disbelief.
"Yes. It's me."
"Holy hell! I heard you were coaching in Germany, but now you're a manager? Damn…!"
"Uh, Uncle Jack? Could you step back a bit? You're crushing me."
His massive body was practically squeezing through the car window.
"Damn. Our youth team's old star is coming back as the boss?"
"Are you disappointed? Because I've never managed a team before?"
Uncle Jack shook his head vigorously and extended his large, rough hand.
"Of course not! Welcome home, Eugene."
"...."
"What's wrong? Is there something on my face?"
"No. I'm just happy to see you."
"Hah, the kid who used to be all about training, never thinking of anything else, went to Germany and softened up?"
Softened up? Not at all.
If you were to see the face of someone you once knew after twenty-something years…
If you saw the face of someone who had left this world, never to be seen again…
If you could see that person's smile once more…
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Wouldn't my reaction be too stiff, too dry?
"Stop eating donuts."
"What?"
"Donuts with tea—it's not good for you. And how much sugar are you putting in your tea? Go to the hospital on your day off."
"How can you drink tea without sugar?"
"Just don't drink it."
"Huh?"
"And go to the hospital. Actually, never mind. You know the hospital the players go to? I'll set up an appointment for you, so visit as soon as possible."
"Wait a minute…"
Uncle Jack had an awkward expression, looking like he didn't know what to say.
To be honest, I felt just as awkward.
Of course, it was nice to see him… but not all my memories of this club were good ones.
I forced a smile, then slowly drove inside.
At that moment, Uncle Jack called out clearly.
"Thank you for taking charge of our team. Really, thank you, Eugene!"
I let out a bitter smile.
I hadn't even led the team to success yet. But I was already receiving words of gratitude. That shout cemented the moment—there was no turning back now.
'I'm back.'
To Mansfield.
And to the past, this very moment in time.
At first, I wasn't completely free of confusion.
Hearing Lily's voice over the phone—someone who had died.
Seeing the date on the screen was from the past.
My mind was hazy, and I just rushed to England. It wasn't until I saw Lily's face…
That I truly realized—I had returned to the past.
That I had come back to Mansfield, the place I had sworn never to return to.
There was no denying it now.
After speaking with Uncle Jack—who I had only heard about later in life, suffering from diabetes until he passed—I took a deep breath.
"If I had stayed in Bochum, I would have soared to success again, just like before."
This time, I could do even better.
The failed transfers, the poor tactical choices, the emerging trends in football strategy—I knew it all now.
I was confident I could do better.
But I abandoned all of that to return to Mansfield.
To become the captain of a sinking ship that everyone was trying to escape from.
Because I had to be here.
'Can I do it?'
Doubt surfaced in my mind.
Doubt about myself.
A future star? A genius destined to follow in Messi's footsteps? A hidden gem waiting to be discovered?
What use was knowing all that…
"If they wouldn't want to come to this team in the first place."
That was the reality. At least for now, that was Mansfield.
'I can't do this alone.'
I had to be realistic.
There was no such thing as "Eugene, the Champions League-winning coach" yet.
No Premier League title. No Bundesliga, Serie A, or La Liga trophy.
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I wasn't the coach who had conquered the Big Four leagues.
I was just a rookie manager, starting my first coaching career at a failing fourth-division club.
I had to accept that. I had to face reality head-on.
Only then could I analyze the situation objectively and overcome it.
I parked in the empty lot and ran my hand down my face.
Some people had called me too sensitive, too negative to be around.
Yeah, that's true. My personality has always been pessimistic.
But I believe that's exactly why I succeeded as a manager.
Because I could instantly spot glaring weaknesses.
And because I couldn't stand flaws—I had to fix them, or they would drive me insane.
Right now, there was only one thing I had to do.
'I can't navigate Mansfield's storm alone.'
A captain needs a skilled helmsman and a capable first mate.
I took out my phone and started typing a message.
—Hey. Are you still getting by writing reports for that paycheck?
No response.
But that was fine. I knew he wouldn't be able to ignore the next part.
—Isn't it time you stepped up and actually coached?
Ding.
As expected, he replied.
—What are you talking about?
He took the bait.
Now…
—How about jumping right in as my assistant coach?
I had to reel him in.
In one swift motion.
Like pulling a fishing line tight—without hesitation.
That's how you catch the big fish.
Ding, ding, ding.
Instead of a text, my phone started ringing.
A name appeared clearly on the screen.
Maximilian.
A semi-pro team's contract-based analyst.
A guy scraping by with temporary pay, just barely making ends meet.
But his passion for football was unmatched.
A future Real Madrid manager.
A true tactical genius.
And now, the assistant coach who would stand by my side.