Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: You Dare to Stab Me in the Back?
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You dare to stab me in the back?
After successfully recruiting Seok Un-gang, I received the official paperwork from Shaolin Temple.
Even though I'd told them there was no team yet, the abbot acted like it wasn't a big deal at all.
'Take good care of Un-gang. I have faith that a team built by a pitcher like you will climb to great heights.'
The abbot's words carried a profound insight. I nodded deeply and descended from Shaolin Temple—with Seok Un-gang in tow.
I'm a year older than him, and now we're teammates, so I told him to drop the formalities. I asked him casually,
"Un-gang, you got a place to stay once we head down?"
"Shaolin Temple is a symbol of the Buddhist world, so it has connections to many other temples. I heard the abbot already reached out to one near Munhyeok High School."
"Tch, so religion runs on connections too."
"Rather than calling it something so worldly, I'd prefer 'fate.' Seeing it as mutual bonds where we help each other makes the world feel a lot warmer, don't you think?"
"...Yeah, sure."
Even a remark that could've rubbed me the wrong way, Un-gang turned into something full of wisdom.
A thug like me could never reach such lofty heights.
I'm glad a guy like Seok Un-gang will be on the team I'm building. When a bastard like me starts kicking up a fuss, someone like him will have to soothe the other members to keep things running.
After a long trek to our destination, we handled our business separately and agreed to meet again at the start of the semester.
"I trust you'll handle the baseball club setup perfectly, patron Geum Seong-muk. Just contact the temple when you're ready."
"Yeah, see you soon."
"Amitabha."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I thought the baseball club setup would go smoothly, but it hit a wall with the chairman's sour expression.
"What? You actually went and did it?"
"What do you mean..."
"I was just saying it offhand. Ahem."
The chairman scratched his head as he held Seok Un-gang's transfer application.
I knew he wasn't a pushover, but I didn't expect him to flip like this. I barely suppressed my anger and asked,
"Wasn't this the condition you put forward yourself? I busted my ass believing that promise—surely you're not backing out now?"
"......Hmm."
He stroked his chin at my words, blew his nose into a tissue, and eyed me.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to start a baseball club from scratch where none existed? Prestigious high schools have been running theirs for at least a century—some three."
"What about the parents' association? They survive on sponsorships. Any club that tried to stay clean without those fees got wiped out."
"We ditched baseball to build nationally competitive programs in other areas with that budget—fine arts, dance, piano, cooking... That girl who studied abroad in England last year even got on TV."
His rambling excuses fell on deaf ears. The implication behind all that nonsense was dead simple.
"You never intended to create a baseball club in the first place. Did you?"
Clench—
I balled my fists and glared at the chairman.
He smirked back.
"Wrong question, kid. Why would the head of Munhyeok Foundation keep some trivial promise to a punk like you?"
"......!"
"Remember this well: Life doesn't flow the way you want. Sure, it's a shame when effort doesn't pay off as hoped. But that'll make you grow. Kahaha."
"You...!"
"Get out. I'll overlook your insolence this once. Just chalk it up to a bad dream and focus on your studies like a good student."
".........."
"Nothing more? Then leave."
He waved me off dismissively.
As I left the office, he made a hasty call somewhere.
"Yeah, Manager Ko. Know a player named Seok Un-gang? He's transferring here. If you're game, come check him out. If you like him, we can revisit that contract from before..."
The sheer audacity of trying to sell off the player I'd slaved to recruit made me snort in disbelief.
"Pfft."
There was a reason I didn't blow up in his office and left quietly.
Venting rage like that is for third-rate thugs. Starting a scene would've made it impossible to salvage.
'Pulling this shit, huh.'
This body I possessed screams "delinquent" to anyone looking. I'm well aware of the social stigma and downsides.
That's why I'd tried proving I wasn't one—being extra polite to others, especially adults.
If this is the result, I have no choice but to change.
Right back to the image they'd branded me with.
'Maybe that's the real me after all.'
I'd never cared about anyone's gaze back in my pro days.
What's the most "me" thing to do now?
I knew the answer better than anyone.
Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz!
While in the chairman's office, the Tingly Sensor (F) in my lower body had gone haywire. Figures a dirty bastard like him would overflow with fatal weak spots.
'Who knew a trash skill useless mid-game had this kind of value.'
The era of scorn and hardship was over.
Now it was time to revert to "blond tanned thug" Geum Seong-muk.
'You're done for, you fucking prick.'
I'll strip you down to not even a speck of dust.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I knew he had weak spots—but how to uncover the ones hidden in his office? Simple.
'Sneak in.'
No way he'd hand over his office in broad daylight with a "Hey, poke around my corruption files while you're at it."
Sneaking in was the only option.
Not safe, though. Get caught trespassing? Instant expulsion and cops. No tournament means game over.
'Heard there are infrared lasers everywhere.'
Guilty guys always overdo security. You'd need night vision goggles to pass... but
Bzzz! Bzzz!
"...Too easy?"
Trusting just the sensation in my lower body, I walked, crawled, and jumped wherever it guided—and passed everything.
This skill's "weak point detection" is useless in baseball but insanely versatile otherwise.
At the office door, I slipped in the key I'd pocketed on the way out earlier and turned it.
Creeeak—
The door swung open effortlessly.
I was alone in the chairman's room.
"Alright, let's see just how filthy you really are."
Rummaging through the office, I found something that left me speechless in shock.
"Holy shit, you absolute psycho."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Lalala, heh ho..."
The chairman was in high spirits.
Some punk thug had handed him an S-grade prospect on a platter just to beg for a baseball club. Shipping that catcher off to another school meant a fat kickback coming his way.
He opened his office door in that cheerful mood and—
"Oh, Chairman. You're late."
Geum Seong-muk, perched on his desk, greeted him.
The chairman jumped like he'd seen a ghost.
"You—you... How the hell?!"
"Your room reeked of filth, so I came to clean up."
"You insolent little... Get out!!"
His face flushed beet red as he shrieked.
I calmly lifted a thick stack of papers in response.
"What's this?"
"What is th—that...? No way?!"
"Ding ding! Proof our chairman's been siphoning foundation funds like a pro...!!"
"Give it here! Hand it over!"
"Nuh-uh."
His bulky frame charged, but snatching papers from my overwhelming physique was a pipe dream.
"......Urk."
The chairman deflated, then spoke in resignation.
"Hoo, so this is the day. To meet my end chasing money."
His face turned deadly serious as he looked at me.
"Give me one day. I'll turn myself in."
".............."
It might look like a noble sinner repenting at journey's end, ready to pay his dues. But not to me.
"Chairman, I can hear your scheming from here."
"...!"
"Private school scandals blow over with time. A few graduating classes later, you're back scot-free. Lawyer up, drag to appeals, get probation, chill at home, done!"
"You weren't thinking that, right?"
"Wh-what...? I never—"
"Oh? Perfect then. Make the baseball club, we both win. Sound good?"
"Eeeeek...!"
The chairman's brow twitched violently.
He finally snapped.
"Fine! Blow it wide open, punk! Think one piece of evidence makes me your bitch?!"
Guess he crunched the numbers: creating a club was a bigger long-term loss.
High school baseball is a national pet project. Once official, you can't just disband easily—gotta keep recruiting specials, sinking at least hundreds of millions ongoing.
Other countries don't burn cash like this, but pride as baseball world #1 and pro-pipeline rivalries mean bidding wars for gear, coaches—costs skyrocket, ripping school budgets apart.
'Eh, not my money.'
They can earn more. I die if I don't clear the game.
Desperation levels differ. I'd smash any obstacle, no holds barred. This final card I'm playing? Part of that.
"Chairman, we really gotta go all the way?"
"Hmph! Think I'll keep bending to a thug like you?!"
"Didn't wanna go this dirty, but your call?"
"Dirty how? What're you—"
I pulled a video from my bag. His face froze solid; he collapsed into his chair. He knew exactly what it was.
Thud!
"N-no way! How did you get that...!"
Makes sense he's stunned. It was tucked in an old box on the top bookshelf. Without the sensor, I'd never have thought to look.
"Handy, TV and VCR right here. Shall we watch your precious memory together, Chairman?"
Whirr—!
The video started playing.
This was prime scandal fodder: a yaoi scene.
Nothing wrong with the act itself.
Lovers doing it is natural.
Problem? Only guys in it.
Grainy quality pegged it at ~20 years old. The chairman—arms and legs bound—on the receiving end.
["Ooooooooh......!!"]
["Who do you think you are?"]
["I'm a disqualified-male sow-pig who cums from candle wax playyy!!"]
The tape showed the chairman and some anonymous "master" in raw action. Well-worn—clearly replayed often in this office.
"Whoa, didn't peg you for that."
Tap!
I flicked the family photo on his desk. Happy shot: lovely wife, two daughters.
"A family man like you—who screamed and moaned getting railed by dudes back in the day."
"...Please, my mistake. Not my family!"
"..........."
On his knees, groveling at my feet.
I slapped my forehead in disbelief.
"Ugh, no fun. Just expose it all?"
"Wha—!?"
"Guess I'm just an irredeemable thug. Baseball club's whatever now—dying to see your wife and daughters' faces hearing the 'sow-pig declaration.'"
"How can a person be so cruel...!"
"What saint were you?"
He trembled like I'd summoned the devil. I whispered sweet final options in his ear.
"Last chance. Shut up and make the club, or expose your kink to the family?"
"I-I..."
"Pick fast, you pig bastard."
"Hiiik...!!"
And so, through utterly peaceful "negotiations," I got baseball club approval. My face beamed as I left the office.
Gripping the video, I grinned.
Now I get why fans gripe about clinging players: "Bet that GM's got a gay yaoi tape on him."
'Damn effective.'
Insane results—known only to those who've tried!
Anyone who tries screwing me over will pay dearly from here on. I'll squeeze him dry till his slush fund's gone.