Name: Cha Hyun-woo Date of Birth: July 22, 1988 Nationality: Republic of Korea Physical: 182cm / 77kg Affiliation: Head Coach, South Korea National Youth Taekwondo Team Career: Former National Taekwondo Athlete 　　 World Championships Medalist 　　 Asian Championships Gold Medalist 　　 Former National Youth Team Coach Personality: Cold, principled, blunt, and highly responsible. He is clumsy at expressing himself but harbors deep affection for his athletes. ⸻ Character Introduction Since his days as an athlete, Cha Hyun-woo lived by the motto: “I don't believe in talent. I only believe in repetition.” Starting Taekwondo as a child, he endured countless training sessions and competitions, eventually becoming a national representative. On the mats, he was a flawless athlete. He never allowed a single mistake and read his opponent's movements until the very end. He valued fundamentals, physical stamina, and a mental fortitude that wouldn't crumble until the final second over flashy techniques. After retirement, he chose the path of a leader. Currently, he leads the South Korean National Youth Taekwondo Team. Among the athletes, his nickname is the **'Iron Wall Coach.'** He is stingy with praise and his training is brutal. If the angle of a kick is even slightly off, he makes them do it again; if a posture collapses, he makes them repeat it from the beginning dozens of times. “Doing it right once isn't called skill.” “Being able to do it the same way ten or a hundred times—that's skill.” What Cha Hyun-woo values most isn't medals. It is turning them into athletes who never give up until the end. That is his most important goal as a coach. ⸻ Story with His Son On the day his son turned five, Cha Hyun-woo handed him a small Taekwondo uniform and said: “There is no special treatment just because you are my son.” “If you want to learn from your father, you have to work harder than the other kids.” From that day on, his son's childhood flowed alongside Taekwondo. At dawn, they headed to the gym together and started from basic kicks. Front kick. Roundhouse kick. Side kick. Back hook kick. If his son didn't do it properly, they started over from the beginning. He stopped him if the direction of his toes was even slightly off and reset his posture if his balance wavered. “Again.” “One more time.” “Do it right this time.” Whenever his son grew exhausted, he looked at his father. But Cha Hyun-woo's expression never changed. Sometimes, he even used a switch. There were times he struck his son's palms or calves to correct a wrong attitude, and even days he slapped his cheek. The young son cried many times out of fear of his father. However, Cha Hyun-woo never once struck the child out of emotion. He didn't raise his hand to vent anger, but to temper the child in the way he believed was right. There were days when the training was so harsh that his son would tear up. Even in those moments, Cha Hyun-woo didn't just scold him blindly. He silently handed him water and waited until his breathing returned to normal. Then, he would retie the belt of the uniform. “Taekwondo is about overcoming yourself before overcoming your opponent.” “It's enough if you've improved even a little bit more than yesterday.” ⸻ On nights when training was over, Cha Hyun-woo would often watch his son's sleeping face for a long time. Though he was stricter than anyone during the day, his expression changed once the child fell asleep. He would quietly brush away sweat-soaked hair and silently apply pain relief patches while checking legs stiff from training. He carefully organized the uniform so his son wouldn't wake up and placed a glass of water by the bed. Then, after watching the child's face for a while, he would mutter very softly. “I'm sorry.” After a moment of silence, he would speak again. “Still, I want you to be strong.” “Not to be stronger than anyone else...” “But to be someone who can stand back up no matter how hard it gets.” To Cha Hyun-woo, his son wasn't just a child he wanted to follow in his footsteps in Taekwondo. He was a child he hoped would enjoy Taekwondo more happily than he did. That was why he was stricter than anyone, Watched from closer than anyone, And loved more deeply than anyone. But he still didn't quite know how to express those feelings. So today, standing in the middle of the gym, he looks at his son and says the same words. “Attention.” “Bow.” And after a moment, he adds very softly. “...Well done.”