Eight Hundred Million Won and a Ticket to Seattle

Not long after Kang Hyuk signed his contract, articles covering rookie signings began pouring out one after another.

Of them all, the article that racked up the most views was the one covering the Hawks' signing.

Normally, all the media ever got to see was the total value or the signing bonus. But because this contract came with both a hefty price tag and a full breakdown of its incentive clauses, even baseball fans found themselves split down the middle.

Nothing changed just because a contract had been signed. He was still affiliated with his school, after all, and December through January was the official inactivity period mandated by the KBO.

Following the advice to stay far away from the internet, he was training as usual when his uncle brought him welcome news.

"Hyuk."

"Yes?"

"You remember what you asked me for last time? An instructor who could do one-on-one coaching."

"Did you find someone?"

He'd been growing increasingly uneasy about how bulky his body was becoming, and it seemed his uncle had timed the information perfectly.

"Where is it?"

"I looked into it through Hyun-woo. Apparently there's a well-known physical lab in the States — even MLB players train there."

"The United States?"

It was a place he'd never even imagined, and he failed utterly to keep the surprise off his face. After all, for someone who'd been agonizing over lesson gyms in Korea, it felt an ocean away.

"You know how things stand, Uncle. The cash I actually have on hand is a hundred million won, that's it."

The gap between the MLB and KBO markets was the difference between heaven and earth. For a player who had only just gotten his first foot in the professional door, it was a prospect he couldn't even bring himself to consider. He could have asked his parents for the money, but he didn't want to go that far, either.

His uncle, who seemed to have anticipated all of this, simply shrugged.

"It's not like you're moving there permanently. It's physical measurement — what's the big deal? It'll take about a week, and it won't cost anywhere near what you're picturing."

"Still......."

"And while it's not the full amount, the Hawks have agreed to chip in. On the condition that the club gets to send its players to the lab as well."

"Well, that changes everything."

He turned shameless in an instant. If the club was footing part of the bill, what reason was there to say no?

"So we're going to America, then? I'll be coming with you, so don't worry too much."

"Sounds good."

Kang Hyuk studied his uncle with fresh eyes. There had been the contract negotiation before, and now this — connecting the lab with the club to secure funding. For all his uncle's usual easygoing antics, the results he delivered were always staggering, and it made the man feel oddly unfamiliar.

So this is what a top-tier domestic agent looks like. Guess that's why they're top-tier.

Still, there was one thing that needed pinning down before they went any further.

"My personal information isn't going to leak out anywhere, is it?"

"Don't worry. I don't know what there is to hide from a bunch of company boys, but my friends in the States are very touchy about that kind of personal privacy."

And so, with the winter break of the season drawing near, his destination was set: America.

The plane landed in Seattle, Washington. The facility located there, Drive Baseball, was a center famous for its data-driven approach to the game.

In his uncle's words, it was a place that precisely analyzed each player's body mechanics and athletic capacity to squeeze out optimal performance while minimizing injury risk.

"That was quite the pitch."

"A lab introduction is supposed to sound impressive. That's how you separate people from their money."

His uncle grumbled away, mouthing off about how easy people thought swindling others was. The lab they arrived at, however, bore little resemblance to the image Kang Hyuk had imagined.

The word laboratory conjured calm, orderly spaces — but Drive Baseball looked like a baseball training ground thick with the smell of sweat. When they stepped into the lobby and stood there blinking, a Black man came striding toward them, and his appearance was anything but ordinary. His entire frame was packed with muscle, dense enough to make you think of an American football player.

Kang Hyuk turned to his uncle.

"Did we sign up for physical training?"

"No? We applied for the individualized assessment program......."

After a mystified exchange with the man, his uncle quickly translated for him.

"They work in pairs here, apparently. One handles data collection and body analysis, and this guy runs the tests."

"Ah, got it."

Seemed that in a country whose baseball market stretched past twenty trillion won, even physical measurement was broken down into specialties.

"WOW!"

"......?"

The man, who introduced himself as Marcus, let out a cry of admiration at the sight of Kang Hyuk's body, then rattled something off to his uncle.

"He's asking if he can touch you."

"...First Hyun-woo sunbae last time, now this. Why does everyone want to put their hands on me the second they see me?"

"I guess people who train just speak the same language."

Kang Hyuk did his best to ignore his uncle — who was clearly itching to have a feel himself — and accepted Marcus's offer. The man kneaded and prodded at various spots across his body, then left the verdict that this was going to be a very enjoyable assignment.

What followed was an unbroken string of measurements. Training sessions conducted with sensors strapped all over his body — 3D motion capture, swing mechanics analysis, ground reaction force measured on force plates, tracking checks and more.

He could roughly guess what each drill was meant to reveal, but without English he had no choice but to simply follow along like a duckling in a line. His uncle, who at first had explained the purpose of each exercise, soon gave up trying to keep pace with the parade of unfamiliar jargon and started glossing over things entirely.

"Hyuk. They're asking for me on the data analysis side, so I'm going to go take a look. For now, just do whatever Marcus tells you."

"Uncle. Are you running away?"

"See you in a bit."

Left on his own, Kang Hyuk followed Marcus's instructions through the one universal language of the world: body language.

"You can do this, too?"

"Yes. Yes."

He had no idea what was being said. He just shouted "Yes" and did as he was told — and the tests kept getting harder. And along with that, was it his imagination, or was the swarthy Marcus's complexion growing brighter by the minute?

Is it just me, or is this getting brutal?

Kang Hyuk gritted his teeth and chased the training down.

The Drive Baseball engineer who introduced himself as Simon could barely contain his excitement. The moment he came face to face with Park Sungho, the questions came pouring out.

"Is it really true that Kang is eighteen?"

"Eighteen by international age, yes."

"Holy crap! I've collaborated with plenty of MLB players, and I have never seen a player put up data like this!"

FMS this, EMG that. As Simon strung together incomprehensible terms and burst out exclamation after exclamation, Park Sungho ventured a careful question.

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Absolutely! A baseball player repeats the same motions over and over, so asymmetry in the body is practically inevitable. The more of those imbalances you accumulate, the higher your injury risk gets — but despite having already completed his own hitting mechanics, Kang shows remarkably little muscular imbalance or damage."

At that, Park Sungho's expression brightened.

"That was the player's biggest worry, actually. He's bulked up dramatically in a short time recently, and he was concerned it might be putting a strain on his body."

"Of course, we'd need the full diagnostic results to say anything definitive, but I don't see any major problems. His range of motion and flexibility are solid, and his muscles show very little fatigue."

"That's a relief."

"His bat speed reaches 76 miles per hour, too — that puts him in the top 5 percent even in MLB. Given how young he is, though, we'll want continued observation and tracking going forward......."

Muttering half to himself, Simon glanced sideways at Sungho.

"There's one thing I'd like to propose."

"Go on?"

"We operate strictly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠through the system here, so we don't have a concept of billable service time. But this case is such a rare one that......."

"So?"

"We won't charge you a cent. In exchange, we'd like to collect additional data on Kang."

Park Sungho's face went serious.

"When you say 'collect data,' you mean that information could end up being shared?"

Simon waved his hands back and forth.

"Nothing of the sort! The whole point is simply accumulating the record. The reason we built this lab in the first place is that we love baseball data."

"Hmm."

"In return, we'll share the training sessions we run on our end. Free of charge, naturally."

"Well, in that case......."

Free coaching — what reason was there to refuse?

"Of course, if the player makes it big someday, a small mention that he received help from our data center would......."

"Naturally."

Park Sungho fought to suppress the smile that kept trying to escape. It was, in effect, a sponsorship deal — and considering that Kang Hyuk was a rookie with nothing yet to his name, it was a trade that could not possibly be beaten.

Watching Kang Hyuk lose himself in the middle of his measurements, Sungho stepped aside and dialed somewhere.

"Looks like our stay in the States is going to run longer. Can you adjust the schedule?"