The Long-Awaited Second Korea-Japan Clash!
The day of the decisive battle had dawned.
Crowds gathered at Wembley like drifting clouds.
Their purpose was clear.
To witness the Korea-Japan matchup live!
"Any tickets left?"
"Sorry, sold out completely!"
With sky-high anticipation, tickets had sold out in a flash, leaving fans stomping their feet in frustration as they turned away.
For this crucial game, the heavy responsibility of starting pitcher naturally fell to Geum Seong-muk.
What was he doing after arriving at the stadium first?
"Mmm, it's the best, as expected."
Sitting in the dugout, devouring his bento box.
Seong-muk eagerly shoveled down the lunch Olivia had made for him.
The one difference in the bento? A blatant heart-shaped decoration on top now.
'The effect duration's gotten longer too.'
The taste and effects had both leveled up.
Finding the reason wasn't hard.
Chef: Olivia
Grade:2 star ★★
Effects:
[Stamina rises one grade for the day of consumption.]
[Skill duration increases 35% on consumption day.]
[Stamina consumption reduced 25%.]
Affection toward target:90% (True Love!)
Cooking Skill:S
Affection had jumped from 80% by a full 10% after a series of events. Sure, you could question why it wasn't 100% after they'd even kissed, but system-wise, hitting max right now was impossible.
'From what I remember, it only unlocked at marriage-level commitment...'
Marriage? Felt like someone else's story for now, to Seong-muk.
He decided to be content with this.
"Gulp, thanks for the meal."
Legal doping complete!
Seong-muk packed up the bento container, then pulled a wad of papers from his crossbody bag.
"Alright, let's give it one last read."
It was the breakdown of the Japanese team, provided by the national team's analysts.
Compiled by top-tier talent, it was high quality—but it didn't quite click for him.
'Tch, Do-yeon's is way better.'
He'd considered asking her personally, but using outside data solo might cause confusion, and she seemed swamped with her own work anyway. So he hadn't.
Flip!
Turning pages.
He pulled out the section on Ryu Ji.
[Takahina Ryuji]
[Power: Top-tier, Contact: Mid-upper, Plate Vision: Top-tier. Extreme caution target]
[Weakness: None]
"...What a monster label."
Tsking his tongue, Seong-muk wondered if they'd raised a tiger cub. Anyway, scaling the massive mountain that was Ryu Ji was key to advancing.
"Ugh, time to loosen up."
Still, he'd done everything he could.
Now it was time to clash head-on.
And only the stronger side would survive.
Flip!
1. Fukuda Akira 2B / L
2. Ito Tsubasa LF / R
3. Mori Kaito RF / R
4. Takahina Ryuji 3B / L
5. Okabe Shinnosuke 1B / R
6. Yamazaki Taichi DH / R
7. Todo Hiroto C / R
8. Asakura Sota CF / L
9. Yagi Junpei SS / R
"Play ball...!!"
The game kicked off with the umpire's call.
On the mound, Seong-muk dusted the rosin bag and dropped it.
In the box: Japan's leadoff, Fukuda Akira.
Contact A+, Speed S—a swift-footed player Korean scouts were watching closely.
'Underestimate Seong-muk and you're in trouble.'
Words Ryu Ji had drilled into his teammates until their ears rang.
They hadn't listened at first.
Ryu Ji? Some guy who'd popped up in Korea a month ago, never on youth reps.
But now? Different story.
With Ryu Ji pounding homers every game like a team bus, his words carried weight. Caution toward Seong-muk spiked.
'Gotta get on somehow...!'
Akira gripped his bat tight.
Per analytics, Seong-muk wasn't at peak condition. Even Ryu Ji agreed.
Avg velocity in his prior Mongolia start? Just 150km. Akira figured that was hittable.
'Here it comes...!'
Big windup from Seong-muk.
Akira took back, arm fully extended—and froze.
Thwack--!
"Strike...!!"
-156km
"Wha...!?"
Data was wrong.
Seong-muk's fastball, expected mid-150s, clocked 156km on the first pitch.
Akira couldn't hide his fluster.
Seong-muk grinned.
'Surprise gift, you bastards.'
Ahead of Japan, he'd grinded hard training—and unlocked this status message.
[Velocity stat strengthened: A → A+!]
'Heh, finally feels like a legit power pitcher.'
Now, even without Solar Divine Vein twists, base velo hit mid-150s. Way easier to carve up hitters.
Thwack...!!
"Strike...!"
Two strikes.
Time for the signature.
Whoosh!
".........!"
Akira's timing utterly stolen by the circle changeup's movement. His bat whiffed empty.
"Strikeout...!!"
"Wooo...!!"
"Kuh..."
Akira trudged back, head down.
But he wasn't alone.
Teammates followed suit.
Thwack-!!
"Strikeout...!!"
"Woo...!!"
Thwack!!
"Striiike three!!"
"Wooooh...!!"
Three strikeouts, top of the 1st shut down.
Seong-muk returned to the dugout amid roaring cheers.
"Yeah, figured you'd handle it."
Ryu Ji smirked, heading back from the on-deck circle. But he had no plans to lose. This Japan squad was stacked too.
Crack!
"Out...!!"
"Kuh...!"
No. 3 Choi Hyeok-su popped to infield for the third out.
Japan ace Kato Tsuyoshi dealing.
He'd let up a homer to Seong-muk in qualifiers from complacency, but he packed an S-grade fork—a power arm Korea couldn't take lightly.
Top 2nd.
Japan offense again.
Leadoff: Cleanup Takahina Ryuji.
The fateful duel was finally here.
"........."
"........."
On the mound: Geum Seong-muk.
At the plate: Ryuji.
No greetings exchanged.
None needed.
No words—just raw skill clash.
The purest hello.
"Hup...!!"
Thwack--!!
"Strike...!!"
Seong-muk grabbed a count.
Ryuji dug in, shrugged his shoulders.
Next two pitches in a row.
"Ball......!"
Sweeper and circle changeup off the zone. Tempting balls for most—but Ryuji didn't twitch.
'Tch, he lays off those.'
No choice but to challenge inside.
Seong-muk loaded the fastball.
But Ryuji was sitting on heat.
Crack!
"Argh...!"
"...So close!!"
'Stings...'
Ryuji grimaced after the foul homer.
Not regret—the vibration buzzing his palms twisted his face.
'No point regretting anyway. Pushed it off my inside corner.'
Course, pitch type—all as predicted.
Yet timing just a hair off.
But Ryuji had locked in from that pitch.
Elites like him didn't need long.
'Seong-muk, if that's all you've got...'
Ryuji pointed his bat straight at Seong-muk.
A message.
'You'll lose to me, guaranteed.'
No words exchanged, but Seong-muk got it instantly. He grinned.
'Sure thing. Think I prepped just this for you?'
Grip shift in the glove.
This pitch—first time in a game.
The secretly polished new pitch was ready at his fingertips.