Scout (1)
The next morning, after finishing breakfast and logging into Ball, Pi Anta was more than a little startled by a whisper message that arrived out of nowhere.
"Scout Team Leader for the Goraniz, huh…"
It wasn't as if the scout team had only one employee. For a team leader to personally move just to meet a player who was still little more than raw ore was rare. On top of that, this was a world where virtual reality had been fully commercialized. If the goal was simply to talk, there was no real need to meet outside — they could just set a time and meet briefly inside the game.
If she's going out of her way to show up in person instead of sending someone else, there are probably two reasons.
First: she was a player they absolutely refused to lose, so they wanted to make an impression from the jump.
And second: there was something she had to confirm with her own eyes.
"But the Goraniz… hmm."
As a player, you needed a team to play the game and get paid, so being contacted at all was something to be grateful for — but for athletes at the absolute top level, the story was different. Depending on their disposition and their goals, there were teams they simply did not want to play for.
Take soccer, for instance. Even when a deal was all but ready for a signature, if the club in question failed to qualify for the Champions League, whether the contract would actually go through became hard to guarantee. Baseball wasn't quite that blatant, but the same undercurrent was still there — a player aiming for a Korean Series title wasn't going to jump at a team that couldn't even touch the threshold of fall baseball.
So Pi Anta — or rather, Jeong Taesik — wrestled with it.
The girl's father desperately wanted her to go to the Goraniz. But was that really the right call?
By her estimate, she would keep putting up performances roughly on the level of what she'd already shown in-game. Almost none of the pitchers she was facing were pro-caliber, after all. Non-pro pitchers were, frankly, riddled with weaknesses — losing to them was harder than winning. So given enough time, other clubs would naturally start reaching out too.
Should she wait until then?
She sank into thought for a moment, then answered the message.
Meeting her wouldn't hurt.
Because in this world, she had no idea how negotiations even worked. It wasn't that she planned to commit to anything on the spot — she just figured she needed to get a feel for the atmosphere once, so that when she sat down with other teams later, she'd already be in a stronger position.
The reply came almost immediately, as if the other party had been waiting.
An Italian restaurant inside Seoul Station. A café would have been better for conversation, but they needed to eat as well, so this was the place they settled on.
And of all the spots in Seoul, why Seoul Station?
So the stadium's still in Daejeon.
Offline professional baseball had been completely replaced by a full-dive virtual reality game, but the stadiums were still in their original cities. Just as e-sports used dedicated arenas to prevent proxy play and hacks and to optimize ping, virtual reality baseball worked the same way. Dedicated VR arenas had been built next to the ballparks, and every pro baseball game was now played in those regional facilities.
Pro games no longer took place on the actual diamonds, but to be good at baseball in virtual reality, you still had to be good at baseball in real life — so offline ballparks continued to see steady demand. Club stadiums doubled as fields for countless amateur adult leagues and as training grounds where prospect players hammered their skills into shape with real baseball.
And because each franchise still contributed to its region's baseball infrastructure that way, the local color of the pro clubs hadn't faded in the slightest even after the shift to VR baseball.
"So they play baseball in virtual reality, but keep the office in Daejeon. That about covers it."
In other words, the team was still a regional landmark — a local symbol.
Which was why the Goraniz Scout Team Leader was currently racing up to Seoul Station on the KTX. Pi Anta had deliberately chosen a restaurant inside the station so the woman coming from so far away wouldn't have to go through any extra hassle. Fortunately, Seoul Station had a wide variety of places, so it hadn't been hard to pick somewhere that wouldn't wreck Pi Anta's training routine while also not being too rude to Yerin.
"What should I get…"
The restaurant's main draws were pilaf, pasta, and pizza. She would have loved to order everything, but a twenty-something girl's body had limits on how much food it could take. If she overdid it and got sick, it would throw off her whole schedule — so restraint was required.
Still… pizza…
Even the legendary Ichiro Suzuki had eaten pepperoni pizza for one meal a day for over seven years. One meal of it couldn't hurt her either, right? She was stroking the menu with that thought when the door chimed and a woman walked in.
"Pi Anta?"
"Ah — yes."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Han Yerin."
Pi Anta half-rose in an awkward scramble and bowed her head, only for her light brown hair to cascade forward; she swept it back with a look of mild annoyance. Only after she'd straightened it out did the woman's features come into focus.
Holy crap…
And she marveled.
The harmony of an elegant face with a meticulously put-together office look. A healthy, zero-excess figure with perfect proportions, and the trinity of blouse buttons perilously holding up a full chest — the whole package seemed to argue that office wear could be every bit as provocative as anything else.
But Pi Anta wasn't the only one struck by the other person's looks.
"I'm not sure if this kind of compliment is appropriate on a first meeting, but you're truly beautiful."
Yerin had known she was a female user, but Pi Anta was far prettier than expected. On the surface she looked fierce, yet beneath that, a quiet beauty bloomed like a single flower — a genuine beauty. Pretty at a glance, and the longer you looked, the more that beauty spread like a fragrance, drawing your eyes back again and again. A girl with that kind of pull.
She'd probably be huge if she streamed. Not interested in that side of things, I guess.
Honestly, that route would have made the girl far more money — but Yerin decided not to bring it up.
"What would you like? Order whatever you want. It's on me."
"Is that really okay?"
When Pi Anta asked back with expectant eyes, Yerin pulled out a corporate card and smiled.
"This is a business expense, after all."
Pi Anta nodded vigorously, looking delighted — and then proceeded to order the cheapest chicken-breast pilaf on the menu, plus a gorgonzola pizza.
"You're welcome to order more, you know."
"I'm getting pizza too. Humanly speaking, the solo dish should be the cheap one."
Frugal for her age, and someone who understood manners. Yerin found herself liking her already.
Yerin ordered cream pasta and a salad. Once the server had taken the menus away, she gradually steered the conversation toward the real subject.
"Honestly, I was very surprised watching your hitting footage. Your form is so clean, and there wasn't a course you couldn't handle."
"I've still got a long way to go."
Pi Anta laughed sheepishly and looked away. As she scratched her head, her right arm came briefly into view — and Yerin didn't miss it.
But—
…No abnormally developed tendons or muscle mass.
At least she didn't seem to have touched anything on the performance-enhancing drug side. There had been exactly one thing Yerin had wanted to confirm by meeting Pi Anta in person.
Whether she was on drugs.
"But last season… no, even just a month ago, you weren't a hitter putting up these kinds of numbers."
"Ah, right, right."
"Is there some kind of secret to it, by any chance?"
At that, Pi Anta let out a soft ahh, a peculiar smile curling her lips as she nodded — an expression that almost seemed to murmur, Now I get it. Yerin swallowed without meaning to.
Why had her baseball skill suddenly skyrocketed? She absolutely could not say, "Well, my main character was always a baseball god."
The excuse Pi Anta cooked up on the spot was this:
"It's a difference in mindset."
"Mindset, you mean?"
"I found a reason I had to work hard."
"And what would that be, if you don't mind…"
Strictly speaking, it wasn't even a lie. The path had simply changed a little. What she aimed for had always been the same.
"Success."
"I want to succeed through baseball — and through baseball, I want to be loved by a lot of people."
Man or woman didn't matter. As long as she could play baseball, it was a dream she could absolutely reach.
"I have a question of my own, though. It might rub you the wrong way a little."
So this time, Pi Anta asked.
"The Goraniz — are you a team that can help me achieve that goal?"
The tables had turned.
Is there a reason I should choose this team? Is this a team worth that choice?
At that bold question, Yerin smiled with genuine amusement and answered.