People in America: My Uncle Don Quixote

The final whistle had just blown.

Kim Ha-eun waited at the corner of the corridor, holding a fresh hot Americano, leaning against the wall for Levi to return.

The boss played exceptionally well today, but there are some things she still needs to discuss with Li Wei beforehand to avoid a public relations crisis.

However, just as she was considering her next move, a series of chaotic and aggressive footsteps suddenly filled the corridor.

"Get out of the way! This is a routine check!"

Hearing the noise, Kim Ha-eun peeked out.

In the corridor, a grim-faced white official held aloft a document bearing the NFL league seal, followed by four men carrying specialized medical refrigerated cases. Around them, a dozen or so journalists with press passes followed like hyenas, excitedly carrying their cameras and microphones; even a reporter from the Philadelphia Eagles was mixed in.

The blinding flash of the cameras had already illuminated the locked locker room doors.

Kim Ha-eun quietly shrank back into the shadows around the corner, her heart pounding.

She had been afraid of direct conflict with adult men since childhood, which involuntarily reminded her of her alcoholic father who resorted to violence.

But recalling the referee who targeted Li Wei during the match, Kim Ha-eun knew without a doubt that it was aimed at Li Wei.

The best proof is the reporter who was wearing an Hawks jacket and was mixed in with the other reporters.

She took a deep breath and dialed Don Quixote's number.

"Don Quixote!" she reported, observing the preparing testing team. "The league's doping control team is outside the locker room! They brought a lot of people, and a bunch of reporters! They're going to do a surprise blood test on the boss!"

Don Quixote on the other end of the phone sounded unusually calm, seemingly without the slightest panic:

"Yes, I know about that," he said. "The owner of the Philadelphia Hawks is sitting right across from me, and he strongly suggested that the league do the testing and ignore them."

"Let them wait outside. The boss has his own opinion," he said, hanging up the phone. "I have some things to take care of. We'll deal with them when I get downstairs. Take care of yourself."

"But--"

Kim Ha-eun was about to say that there were Hawks reporters following them when the call was disconnected.

She cautiously peeked out half her head, looking into the corridor outside.

Reporters had already started snapping photos of the locker room sign and the testing officials. Several officials were ready, and the one in the lead was waiting for Li Wei to return.

Kim Ha-eun suddenly found herself in a state of inner turmoil.

Did the boss use performance-enhancing drugs?

Kim Ha-eun didn't know. She really didn't know.

She had only been with the company for a month and had not yet had any contact with Levi or the Giants' medical team.

She originally thought Li Wei was perfectly normal, but today her boss's performance on the field was close to Bolt's world record! Is that the physical ability a normal person should have?

And even if the boss was perfectly healthy—she glanced again at the group of reporters frantically snapping photos—she knew all too well the media's bloodthirsty nature.

Once these reporters take photos today of "the NFL team storming the Levi's locker room with a doping control team," tomorrow—no, not even tomorrow, just half an hour later, social media will explode!

She could even come up with a title:

Has the "Yellow-Skinned God" fallen from grace? He refused to open the door after the match, seemingly destroying evidence of doping!

In mass communication studies, the truth is never important; emotions and narratives are what matter.

Once such highly suggestive photos are leaked, even if Li Wei's test results come out tomorrow and he is 100% clean, even if all his indicators are normal, a thorn will forever remain in the public's mind.

People will only say, "He must have used some new drug that hasn't been added to the list of banned drugs yet," or "He must have used some means to wash out the blood sample."

Moreover, Don Quixote and Livy were definitely not fools.

If her retreat and her "obedience" had led to this disastrous public relations crisis, Don Quixote would never have said, "Little Kim, you did the right thing, you obeyed my orders."

That manager, who exuded an aura of authority and commanded respect without even getting angry, would only vent all his fury on her.

He would point his finger at her and yell, "I hired you to do crisis management! Reporters are shoving cameras in your face, and instead of stopping them, you're hiding in a corner like a coward! You worthless piece of trash, get out!"

Get out? Go back where?

Go back to K-town, the home she doesn't want to return to?

Should I go back to face my father, who reeks of alcohol and is ready to slap me at any moment? Should I go back to meticulously calculating the cost of every Starbucks coffee?

"Ashiba seige..."

Just like when she was a child at school, to avoid being beaten, she would swing a water cup and smash it on the bully's head.

She knew she had no trump cards; all she had was this crazy drive to climb to the top, no matter what.

"Bang!"

Kim Ha-eun slammed the half-finished iced Americano into the nearby trash can, then slapped herself hard across the face.

"stop!"

Kim Ha-eun strode out of the shadows, the sharp heels of her high heels striking the marble floor.

"What are you trying to do?" she demanded aggressively, strode up to the leading official, and shouted, "Put down your cameras!"

The leading alliance official frowned, looking down at the Korean-American girl, who was less than 170 cm tall, with a hint of disdain in his eyes, and said in a serious tone:

"Young lady, move aside. We are carrying out NFL official duties. Levi needs to undergo blood and hair testing. If you obstruct law enforcement, we have the right to have security throw you out."

"A routine check, is that it?!" Kim Ho-eun laughed angrily, her eyes, usually crinkling into crescents, now contorted with rage. "If it's a post-game random check, why is Li Wei's name the only one on your list?! Are all the dozens of players on the Philadelphia Hawks transparent?! And who gave you permission to bring reporters?"

The official's expression changed slightly, and he said firmly, "This is a list randomly generated by the alliance system. Get out of here immediately!"

"You dare touch me!"

Kim Ha-eun shouted. Instead of backing down, she took a step forward, meeting the other party's pressure head-on.

"According to the NFL Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA), all drug testing samples must be collected in a completely closed and independent environment, and the process must be kept strictly confidential!"

She abruptly pointed her finger at the group of reporters holding cameras on the perimeter: "You brought media reporters here to document the medical procedure, and you're only documenting Li Wei's case. This is a serious violation!"

The white official was taken aback.

Kim Ha-eun keenly caught this detail, and so she continued to press forward with clear and resonant words, her petite body radiating tremendous energy.

"Under the privacy rules of the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA), any medical tests, physiological samples, and health data of a player are considered top-level protected health information! Any organization or individual who discloses, guides, or implies the occurrence of such medical procedures in public without the player's authorization faces up to ten years of federal imprisonment, as well as civil penalties of up to $150 million per violation, with no upper limit!"

The reporters in the corridor were all stunned by this terrifying energy.

Some things can't be said outright. It's okay to do things without clarifying things, but after Kim Ha-eun has brought it up, doing anything more would really be going too far.

Half of the reporters put their cameras down.

"Now!" Kim Ho-eun pointed at the leading official, then at several eager reporters accompanying the team, "If you insist on taking any photos today, even just one picture of Levi being blocked at the door and publicly tested will leak out, Vision Holdings will join forces with its legal team to bankrupt your newspaper and you personally! I wonder if your fee this time is enough for $150 million, plus a huge bail!"

The remaining reporters looked at each other, silently lowered their cameras, and some even nervously pressed the delete button.

The crazy woman in front of me clearly knows the law; she speaks eloquently and logically, and I won't get the better of her by confronting her head-on.

NFL officials were also caught in a dilemma.

He wasn't intimidated by Kim Ha-eun, but the public testing was a requirement from the league's higher-ups, and he couldn't fulfill his duty if he didn't do it.

The atmosphere became tense for a moment. Kim Ha-eun's chest heaved violently, and she was trembling with fear, as if she were in battle mode.

Just as tensions were rising, a flurry of footsteps sounded from the other end of the corridor.

Li Wei had just finished a brief off-field interview and came over with several teammates who had been following him around, flattering him.

Looking at the scene in the corridor, and Kim Ha-eun blocking the way for a group of people, Li Wei said with some surprise:

"What happened?" he asked, grabbing her arm and pulling Kim Ha-eun behind him. "Who are you?"

The moment Lee Wei pulled Kim Ha-eun's tense nerves behind her, she suddenly felt a huge sense of security fill her from head to toe, and her whole state relaxed a lot.

Her tone suddenly became soft and weak, full of grievance:

"Boss, the alliance's testing officials have brought reporters to block your door, demanding targeted blood and hair tests."

Wardfa?

If these reporters hadn't just been yelled at by Kim Ha-eun, they would never have believed that such a delicate voice came from that woman.

"Hmm?" Li Wei glanced at the Philadelphia Hawks' reporters and then at them. "It's so late, aren't our friends from Philadelphia heading to the visiting team's locker room?"

Li Wei's voice was gentle and calm, completely different from his performance on the field. However, his terrifying dominance on the field just now transformed into a real sense of oppression.

"Mr. Li Wei, this is a routine inspection by the Alliance," the official's voice unconsciously lowered by half a beat, "Please...please cooperate."

"Of course I'll cooperate," Li Wei said, "but my PR person has already said that the medical testing must be conducted privately and discreetly, is that alright?"

"Of course...no problem," the official nodded repeatedly, "we will prepare a separate testing room."