Problem Solving
Problem solving—Sorry, but could you come here right now?
I tilted my head in confusion. I'd just gotten a sudden call from Seo Ha-yoon. It felt urgent, but at the same time, something about it rubbed me the wrong way. Still, I couldn't ignore it. After a moment's hesitation, I got up and headed to the location she'd sent.
The place was a small pub smack in the middle of a bustling street. As I pushed open the door, the clink of beer glasses and raucous laughter hit me. A little ways in, at a corner table, I spotted Seo Ha-yoon.
What the hell is this?
Sitting in front of her were two unfamiliar women. This wasn't part of the plan... What was going on?
"H-hello...?"
Seo Ha-yoon looked embarrassed, and the other two eyed me appraisingly. I read the room in an instant. Anyone with half a brain could see this was a bad setup.
"Ha-yoon, what's this about?" I sat down, deliberately keeping my tone businesslike. "Nothing serious, right? You startled me with the sudden call."
She lifted her glass, then paused and waved it off with a small gesture. "Oh, no, it's not like that at all..."
One of the cheerleaders beside her—a woman with long, sharp eyes—spoke up. "We just wanted to grab a drink together. Chat with a player a bit."
I caught the subtle intent in her words. It sounded playful, but it made me uneasy. I slowly turned to the other one, who was quietly fiddling with her glass. "Oh, I should've asked first—who are these two...?"
"Ah! These are my seniors. This is Senior Park Na-yul, and this is Senior Lee Seo-yeon."
"Ah... Nice to meet you, fellow Gocheok Turkeys cheerleaders."
"Yeah, nice to meet you too."
What do I even say...? Why'd they call me here? Pretty cheerleaders across from me was nice and all, but an inexplicable discomfort had me on edge.
"We were just curious about something. How'd you end up knowing Ha-yoon?" Park Na-yul asked, leaning in with interest.
"Oh... that? I was in the parking lot, about to drive home, and heard someone grunting. Turned out her suitcase wheel was stuck in a sewer grate. I just helped her out a bit."
"Ahh, so that's how you two connected?"
"Yeah... something like that."
"So, have you two met up alone or anything?"
Something tells me I shouldn't answer that... "I haven't known Seo Ha-yoon that long..."
Time to change the subject. "By the way, she did mention something like that. Said she's been losing so much weight lately that cheerleading's getting tough... The fans keep booing, so she's down in the dumps and can't cheer up no matter what. Asked if there's any way to help her shake it off... You know, stuff like that."
Park Na-yul and Lee Seo-yeon looked a bit flustered, while Seo Ha-yoon shot me a look like, Why'd you say that?
"But I went 0-for-4 that day and was crying on the inside. Hearing her say that, it really hit me—tears welled up for real."
"Pfft."
"Puh."
Park Na-yul and Lee Seo-yeon burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.
"Thanks to that, I got my head straight and started hitting again. I really, truly appreciate it, Seo Ha-yoon. Thanks a ton." I glared at her pointedly as I said it, and she pretended not to notice.
Alright... time to bail.
"Oh, by the way, I heard from an acquaintance that the cheerleaders don't get great treatment at the stadium—always on the short end of the stick, and if anything bad happens, help out. That's why I stepped in for Seo Ha-yoon. But... if this isn't some super important meeting... mind if I head out? Gotta prep for tomorrow's game. Doesn't seem like that kind of spot..."
"Ah! Yeah..."
"Well, then..."
I stood up right away. "I'll get going. Thanks for the eye candy—appreciate the invite."
That should do it.
I hurried home. The pointless awkward encounter left my head spinning, but after a shower, I crashed and fell asleep faster than expected.
The next morning, my alarm jolted me awake to a phone notification. It was from Seo Ha-yoon.
Yeah, figured... Man, that scared me.
You give what you get. Gave 'em the bone when they fed me meat—lucky it worked out. Probably passed it off as protesting for the other cheerleaders. Good, all settled.
I stared at the screen for a bit, then chuckled softly. Unexpected truth, but no big issue—relief washed over me. I fired off a quick reply.
Sending that eased my mind. I showered, grabbed my uniform bag. Game day today. A bit short on sleep, body felt heavy, but I pushed through to the stadium.
The game started, and by the third inning, my at-bat came up. The opposing pitcher was a righty power guy, good at jamming inside. I adjusted my helmet and stepped in.
He went into his windup.
Whiiip—Thwack!
First pitch, fastball, but it tailed off the zone. I held the bat, watched it go.
Whiiip—
Second one dove deep inside. No time to react.
Thud!
Pain shot through my arm. I dropped the bat and stumbled back on instinct. Ow... hurts...
The ump called hit-by-pitch right away. I walked slowly to first, crowd murmuring. All I cared about was getting on base.
The first-base coach approached. "You okay?"
"Yeah... stings a bit, but fine."
"Damn kid's got no manners. You're on first and he won't even say sorry?"
"Huh... yeah?"
"Hey, your pitcher's got issues? He's lost it?"
The coach yelled at the first baseman. "Uh... we'll check."
The pitcher glanced over at the voice, then finally flicked his hand in a half-assed apology.
Hmm...
Meanwhile, in the dugout, the manager smiled at my HBP walk. "Nice—game wasn't clicking today, but leadoff's on again."
Kim Young-ho flashed the steal sign right away.
Steal sign? I froze. Steal? I still didn't have the pitcher's timing down... hadn't tried in a while, now this?
I'd widened my lead to pressure, but now had to rethink. Coach's call, though—no choice. I narrowed my lead a touch, watching the pitcher's motion.
Reason was simple: to actually go. Before, safe return was easy wide, but now for a real steal, narrow it—late reaction meant safe slide back from here.
Shoulder lift, left knee up, fingertip twitch—I studied every detail. But the catcher read it.
That guy's annoying... Pitch out.
I deep-breathed, timing the pitch. And...
As he stepped, I exploded off. But something felt off. Glanced at home—catcher blatantly outside, staring right at me.
Thwack! Whiiip!
I bolted to second; second baseman stuck the bag. Ball snapped into his glove. By my slide, it tagged my back.
"Out!"
Ump's arm shot up. Damn... dead.
I slumped, then rose slowly, head down. Glared at the bag, trudged back heavy-footed.
Brain looped on why my timing sucked as I entered the dugout.
The manager shook his head regretfully. "Kid with quick feet blows that... Ugh."
Disappointment dripped from his tone.
"Sorry..."
I nodded, sat. Palms still gritty with dirt, heart pounding.
Fuck... pathetic again. Thought I fixed one thing, but... Sigh. Stealing wasn't just speed. Pitcher rhythm, catcher glance, my reaction—if off by a beat, odds tanked.
Next time... Nah. Skip it? Hell if I know.