The One Who Knows Goldensun's Past
A crisp crack of the bat echoed through a baseball stadium in Tokyo.
The Korean national team's training was in full swing.
Crack!
Crack...!!
Seong-muk's hits scattered left, center, and right.
Under the batting coach's guidance, he was sweating buckets as he took swing after swing.
"Hey, Seong-muk...! Don't grip the bat so tight! What did I tell you?"
"Freedom in bat control comes from soft wrists...!"
"Okay, let's do 50 more...!"
"Hoo, hoo...!"
Hundreds of balls littered the outfield.
The endless batting practice finally wrapped up after those extra 50 swings. Seong-muk let out a breath, looking utterly drained.
"Great work...!!"
He bowed politely to the coach and stepped out of the cage, where Choi Seok-ho and Ma Cho-won—up next—greeted him.
"You're crushing it, Geum Seong-muk."
"Kuh, my rival lives up to the name...!!"
The two marveled openly.
Thanks to his stat upgrades from the spring tournament, Seong-muk was now showing solid batting power even without activating his Solar Divine Vein.
'Still a long way to go, though.'
He felt the need to train even harder.
Of course, from batting coach Um Jae-seung's perspective, Seong-muk's current form was already tense enough to keep anyone on their toes.
'It's been ages since I've seen a guy absorb lessons this fast.'
And Seong-muk wasn't just focusing on hitting.
He was training as a pitcher too, yet still shining in batting practice.
The coach had expected him to become a star hitter for Korea, but now he wondered if Seong-muk might reach the lofty heights of a Hall of Famer.
Anyway, with the day's training done, Seong-muk followed training coach Jin Yu-jun.
"Alright, one, two, one-two..."
Following the coach's cues, Seong-muk went through cooldown exercises and stretches. After dual pitching and hitting sessions, his body was fired up—proper cooling down was essential.
As he assisted with the stretches, Jin Yu-jun swallowed hard.
'...What an incredible body. Talent overflowing.'
At 193cm tall, with shoulders broad as the Pacific, solidly developed muscles, and perfect balance—no weak points anywhere. A physique that could handle both pitching and hitting flawlessly.
He'd cared for countless players' bodies, but he'd never seen one brimming with this much raw potential.
'No wonder the batting and pitching coaches are so eager about him.'
The coach tended to Seong-muk meticulously.
Once the thorough massage wrapped up, he wiped the sweat from his brow and said,
"Whew, all done. Good work, Seong-muk."
"Thanks, Coach. Hey, could I ask a favor?"
"A favor?"
"Mind if I try that over there?"
"That...?"
The coach turned to where Seong-muk pointed, his eyes widening slightly.
"Cryotherapy? You want to give this a shot?"
"Yeah, I'd like to try it."
The massive cylindrical machine Seong-muk indicated.
Called cryotherapy, it involved stepping into the chamber where thick white mist billowed out, dropping the temperature to -140°C to soothe sore muscles.
It was famous for being used by soccer star Cristiano Ronaldo after training.
The coach was genuinely surprised that Seong-muk had brought it up.
"Huh, interesting. Most players your age don't show interest in this machine..."
"Not many chances to try it, and it's only recently become commercial."
The price was brutally high relative to the benefits.
There were alternatives, but in this world, each unit cost hundreds of millions of won—too steep even for wealthy schools.
You'd rarely find one outside a national team facility.
Jin Yu-jun nodded readily.
"Sure, if you want to give it a go."
Following instructions, Seong-muk stripped down and entered the chamber.
Thick extreme-cold mist began billowing up.
"Ugh, cold!"
The brutal chill enveloped him.
It was the lowest temperature his body could handle.
Despite the bone-chilling freeze, Seong-muk gritted his teeth and endured.
'No choice—gotta revive the Solar Divine Vein fast!'
Before joining the national team, Seong-muk had consulted Seo Hyeok-jun about quickly reactivating his dormant Solar Divine Vein.
Seo had sighed about the Overflow abuse but dropped a key hint.
'The fastest way to boost yang energy generation after generation? Stimulate the lower body with yin energy.'
'Heard there's a fun machine at the national team facility.'
'Use it daily—no skipping. Recovery will speed up nicely.'
"Grrgh..."
It felt like being tossed naked into central Siberia.
Still, Seong-muk held out.
Vrrr!
The chamber opened, spewing thick mist outward.
Seong-muk's stimulated muscles flushed red, asserting their presence as he staggered out.
"Good job, Seong-muk!"
"Sigh... tough stuff."
"No kidding? This model's high-spec, so it hits harder. Pros usually go other routes for recovery—no need to push this..."
"Nah, I'll keep at it. Appreciate it!"
"Uh? Oh, sure. Got it."
Jin Yu-jun scratched his head at the sudden enthusiasm.
Seong-muk was quite pleased with his first go on the machine.
Twitch!
A faint signal stirred in his previously dormant lower body.
'...Impressive.'
The power of the sun began to stir again.
This machine was about to become Seong-muk's dedicated Solar Divine Vein therapy tool for the foreseeable future.
###############
The next day, the full national team roster assembled.
Manager Shin Cheol-hyeong announced the key decision ahead of the Mongolia match.
"Geum Seong-muk, you're starting against Mongolia."
"...!"
"Think you can deliver?"
"Yes, sir...!!"
Seong-muk bowed deeply at the manager's declaration.
Shin Cheol-hyeong nodded in satisfaction.
'If his velocity had climbed higher, I'd have given the Japan game to Geum Seong-muk...'
Japan had many lefty hitters, so deploying their sole lefty starter prospect made sense.
But right now, Seong-muk couldn't muster his Seoul-top-tier 160km/h rising fastball that had defined him.
He was still a formidable lefty, but with plenty of 160km/h righties available, it wasn't worth forcing him into Japan duty.
Hence, Mongolia.
No pushover either.
The Mongolian team boasted a slew of home run hitters.
Any average pitcher going toe-to-toe would eat big damage nine times out of ten and regret it.
Without precise control, disaster loomed.
Shin Cheol-hyeong singled out Ma Cho-won.
"Ma Cho-won, you're up after Geum Seong-muk in the Mongolia game. Stay ready."
"Yes, sir!"
Ma Cho-won nodded vigorously.
Seong-muk asked the slumping Ma Cho-won,
"...Don't you have schoolmates on the Mongolian team?"
"Oh, you remember! Yeah, Borgin and Altan anchor their core lineup."
"Those guys had scary raw power. Gotta watch out."
"Heh, I'll spill all their weaknesses I know. No worries...!"
"Oh ho, I'm counting on you?"
Ma Cho-won thumped his chest confidently.
Seong-muk played along, then glanced away.
"…………."
National team catcher Hwang Tae-gang stared intently at him.
What the hell happened back at Bujeon High that he always looked at him like that?
And with Seong-muk starting against Mongolia next, syncing with main catcher Hwang Tae-gang was a headache.
"Seong-muk, let's grab some bullpen balls. Tae-gang, catch."
"...Yes, sir."
At pitching coach Bae Jun-ho's call, the pair slipped away from the team. As the three walked side by side, Bae clutched his rumbling stomach.
"Ugh, gotta hit the john—go ahead, kids! Argh!"
The coach bolted for the bathroom.
Leaving Geum Seong-muk and Hwang Tae-gang alone.
"........."
".........."
Awkward silence hung heavy.
They walked wordlessly.
Hwang Tae-gang broke it first.
"Geum Seong-muk."
"Yeah."
"Got nothing to say to me?"
'...Not really?'
Seong-muk swallowed the near-truth and mustered something plausible.
"...Let's have a good game?"
"Good game? Ha!"
Thud!
Hwang Tae-gang slammed Seong-muk against the wall and grabbed his collar.
His hands trembled as he glared.
"Geum Seong-muk, you bastard...!"
"……!!"
Seong-muk's eyes went wide.
No way it'd escalate to collar-grabbing.
Did Hwang Tae-gang harbor that much grudge? Seong-muk swallowed and asked carefully,
"What's up?"
"What's up? You pretending not to know?"
"........"
"We've known each other 10 years—10 years! My so-called friend transfers without a word, ghosts every message...!!"
"....!"
"Forget it. What's the point? You treat friendship like dogshit—ptui!"
Hwang Tae-gang spat and turned away fuming.
Seong-muk grabbed his shoulder.
"What?!"
"First off, I'm sorry. All of it."
".......!?"
Hwang Tae-gang jolted back, stunned.
Did he just hear an apology from Geum Seong-muk?
"D-Dreaming or what...?!"
"No dream. Sorry I ghosted your calls—had my reasons."
Seong-muk realized Hwang Tae-gang hadn't been on bad terms with his past self. He apologized to calm him down.
"Ahem, reasons? What kind?"
"Well..."
Seong-muk spun a tale.
Couldn't say he transmigrated into a game, so only one excuse fit.
"Wha—amnesia...!?"
"Yeah, don't remember a thing before March this year."
"This is insane. How does that even...?"
Hwang Tae-gang clutched his head.
Still suspicious, he fired off questions.
"Your first glove—I picked it. Blue and beat-up. Forgot?"
"Uh, no clue."
"That stationery store after Little League? Sold Pikachu stuff and slushies. First time hearing it?"
"Sorry, draws a blank."
"Still got that transforming robot in your room? Birthday gift from me—tossed it?"
"Think I saw it, but you gave it?"
"Tch... You're no actor, so it's not bullshit. Ah!"
"……?"
"Don't tell me you forgot her too. Seo Ye...—"
Hwang Tae-gang clamped his mouth shut.
He shook his head.
"Sorry, shouldn't have said that. Better off forgetting it anyway."
"………?"
Seong-muk caught on—it was about Seo Ye-bin. Clearly some messy history.
'Not spilling, huh.'
Seeing his demeanor, Seong-muk dropped it.
Rebuild rapport first, ask later.
"What, you two waiting?"
Bae Jun-ho approached, adjusting his pants.
Seong-muk and Hwang Tae-gang straightened up with a start.
"Yes, sir...!"
"Waiting to go with you, Coach!"
"Heh, I like that attitude."
Slap!
Bae threw arms around Geum Seong-muk and Hwang Tae-gang, leading them to the bullpen.
##################
Thwack-!!
"Nice!"
Thwack--!!
"Great ball...!!"
In the bullpen, catcher Hwang Tae-gang received Seong-muk's pitches.
He kept marveling.
'This is Geum Seong-muk's real stuff...?'
Seong-muk's once feather-light fastballs were coming alive, packing serious velocity. A rising fastball with real bite. He swallowed hard.
'And it gets faster, rises more...?'
Those in the know now understood.
When Seong-muk's lower body swelled, his pitches turned monstrous.
'...Problem is, he said it won't stand for a while.'
Seong-muk had admitted overdoing it in the spring tournament.
That explained the Mongolia start over Japan. Tae-gang got it.
'But Mongolia's no joke either.'
Asia's premier home run factory.
Warriors from the steppes were all naturally burly; let your guard down, and homers flew daily.
Mongolia had even massacred Korea that way before.
Tae-gang welcomed Seong-muk's quantum leap from Bujeon High days, but knew it wasn't enough to overpower their lineup alone.
Then pitching coach Bae Jun-ho, watching intently, stepped in.
"Hmm, Seong-muk. Try this."
"………?"
A simple toss of advice. Nothing fancy.
But the results were game-changing.
Thwack!
"……!"
Thwack!
"………!!"
With each pitch, the shift became clear.
Seong-muk and Tae-gang stared at the coach in awe.
"How's that? Should rattle those Mongolian bastards, right?"
A halo seemed to glow behind the coach.
Seong-muk slapped his knee.
'Came to the national team for a reason...!'
The world was vast, full of masters.
Even Seong-muk, who'd dipped into MLB, was reminded anew.
To safely advance, they had to win Mongolia. As the spearhead, Seong-muk grew stronger by the moment.