Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: The Status of Our Recruitment Target Pitchers...?
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The status of the pitchers we're recruiting...?
The day after announcing the baseball club's establishment, I called Manager Myeong Sin-u aside. And I dangled a tempting bait to reel him in.
"Hah! Huff... There's a decent pitcher we can recruit right now?"
The manager, hooked, had rushed straight to my house and was now panting for breath.
"Yeah. We've got some time before the entry test, so let's go together. I need your help convincing their parents, too."
"Oh, really? I've got a knack for winning over parents."
"Wait, didn't they fire you from every school you coached at before...?"
"Shut it, kid!"
The manager bristled at the sore spot I'd prodded.
In truth, we both already had a rough idea.
The odds of a decent pitcher showing up for this baseball club test were slim to none.
Unlike hitters, who could have talent but get overlooked easily, pitchers held higher value. Even if they could only handle garbage innings, they'd get snapped up by weaker clubs without much trouble.
So holding an entry test this late—long after normal recruitment periods—was like rummaging through a dumpster.
That said, we couldn't skip recruiting pitchers altogether. Including me, we needed at least four for the regular tournament roster. Finding three more might be greedy, but we absolutely needed two to make tournaments run smoothly.
That's why my plan was to scout pitchers from abroad. There had to be players who'd come to Korea chasing dreams of playing in the world's top league, only to get sidelined by various issues.
And the one I was targeting this time was one of them.
"So where is he, this pitcher?"
"Pretty far. Some mountain valley in Gangwon Province?"
"Cough..."
And so began our long drive in Manager Myeong's beat-up car.
But it wasn't all misery.
Baseball was fundamentally a pitcher's game.
High school baseball, where an ace could carry the team by the scruff of its neck, even more so.
Heading out to snag a good one felt like Liu Bei's joyous quest for Zhuge Liang.
"Seong-muk, this the place? For real?"
"Yep. Keep going."
"This is a mine...! You're saying our guy's really here?"
We'd arrived at a mine in Taebaek City, Gangwon Province.
It was famous for anthracite coal.
But it was so remote that even after parking, we had a long hike uphill. That's when it happened.
💥 BOOM----!! 💥 A thunderous roar shook the mountain like lightning had struck.
"Damn, that scared me!"
Manager Myeong Sin-u staggered in shock.
I just grinned.
"Looks like we found the right spot."
The sound came from nearby.
Pushing through the woods, we saw a tall, innocent-looking Arab youth standing there. The problem? What he held in his hand—
"B-Bomb...?!"
It was a timed bomb.
With the fuse already lit.
The manager's legs gave out, and he collapsed. The youth seemed startled by our sudden appearance in this deserted spot.
But he quickly composed himself and hurled the bomb hard into a nearby small cave.
💥 BOOM----!! 💥
The bomb exploded with a deafening blast, and rocks tumbled down, sealing the cave entrance.
The Arab youth wiped his sweat and looked our way.
"Who are you? How'd you get here?"
He spoke flawless Korean, without a hint of awkwardness.
I approached slowly and answered.
"We're looking for someone. May I have your name?"
"Ah, I'm Hassan! Hassan Iqbal!"
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ You can view Hassan Iqbal's status. Would you like to view it? [Yes / No] Found you, Hassan.
I hit yes and pulled up his status window.
⚔ STATUS ⚔ 👤 Name: Hassan Iqbal 🏳️ Nationality: Pakistan 🎂 Age: 17 📏 Height: 186 cm Skill: Allah's Magic Wand (A) Velocity rises by one rank in crisis situations.
Potential Keywords: Fireballer (S+), Steel Stamina (A+), Straight Ball (A+)
Pitching Stats (*Potential) / Right-handed Three-Quarter
💪 Stamina: B (*A+) 🎯 Control: C ⚡ Fastball: S (*S+) 💨 Velocity: C (*A+) 🔄 Breaking Ball: D 'That fastball is brutal...'
This guy would go on to become Pakistan's national team pitcher.
Right now, he was scraping by in Korea as a foreign worker with his family, but in the game's late stages, he'd debut in the Korean leagues in his late 20s. With his insane velocity, he'd become a fan-favorite bargain-bin signing.
'Short prime is the only issue.'
In the game, he missed out on proper training during his crucial 20s.
Minor injuries from manual labor and accumulated shoulder damage forced him into early retirement.
Players lamented how his talent vanished without shining.
Maybe knowing his story made me feel a special attachment.
'This time, I'll raise you right. Hassan.'
As I thought that, a mustachioed middle-aged Arab man came charging out in a rage.
"Hassan! Didn't I tell you not to give your name!"
"Ah, Dad..."
"Who are you people! It's dangerous—get out!"
The father's Korean was accented, and he seemed utterly unapproachable right now.
That's when Manager Myeong Sin-u stepped up.
"Sir, could we talk for a moment?"
"............?"
The manager approached Hassan's father with a gentle smile. His consistently soft tone soon had the man softening up and chatting away.
'Manager Myeong's impressive. I figured he wouldn't spill easily about being an illegal immigrant.'
They were illegal foreign workers.
That's why he'd been so guarded about his son revealing his name. The bomb thing? They were subcontracted by a company exploiting illegals.
He'd fled civil war in Pakistan. Learned guns and bombs to survive. No wonder father and son both handled explosives like pros.
"So, we can't let our boy go. Sorry."
Hassan's father bowed apologetically.
Hassan wore a lost, heartbroken expression.
He clearly burned to play baseball and hated holding his dad back, but their status was the chain around their ankles.
But the manager and I had come prepared with a knockout argument.
"Sir, Korean law guarantees education rights even for children of illegal immigrants."
"Huh?"
"When did Hassan come to Korea?"
"When he was 7, so 10 years ago."
"Perfect. Recent changes shortened the long-term residency requirement for schooling from 15 to 10 years. And since we're a private school, the paperwork's simpler."
"...!!"
Father and son exchanged stunned glances.
But soon, worry creased their faces again.
"But what about tuition...?"
"We offer full scholarships to promising students."
"F-Full?!"
"And we'll support your father with a proper work visa, too—financially and otherwise. Will you join Munhyeok High?"
"Y-Yes! Please!"
"Dad, I can play baseball?!"
The pair hugged, tears streaming. With Hassan's father successfully won over, Manager Myeong sighed and turned to me.
"Seong-muk, we convinced him like you said, but is this okay? We don't have unlimited full scholarships. And we haven't even seen him pitch..."
"Wanna catch a few? If he's no good, we back out."
"As if. After all this, how could we?"
The manager scratched his head.
But curiosity won out.
"...Still, let's see him throw."
"Knew you would."
I asked Hassan to pitch a few. Being left-handed, I lacked a glove, so Manager Myeong caught.
Pop! Pop!
"Ready? Fire away!"
The manager smacked the worn catcher's mitt Hassan’s dad had used.
Hassan eyed him and asked me,
"Seong-muk hyung."
"Yeah?"
"Can I really throw hard? What if the manager gets hurt?"
Ha, this guy's got confidence overflowing.
I'd pegged him as a total innocent, but he trusted his stuff. I grinned; the manager's face hardened.
"Full blast! Give it everything!"
He'd survived 15 years as the Padres' shortstop, a defensive cornerstone. His pride stung at a kid worrying he'd get hurt.
"Got it."
Hassan loosened up, spinning his right shoulder.
I readied the radar gun I'd brought just in case.
He wound up big and unleashed the first pitch. The manager knew instantly: something was wrong.
💥 KABOOM----!! 💥 "Guh!!"
The blindingly fast ball slammed into the glove, shoving the manager back.
"...Ugh, Seong-muk. How fast?"
His hand throbbing, he yanked off the glove and shook it wildly.
"155."
"What...?"
"155 km/h, Manager."
"Holy shit."
Speechless, he gawked at Hassan, who scratched his head sheepishly.
Then he added,
"...Seong-muk, wanna smooch?"
"Go ahead if you wanna get fired."
"Tch..."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Hassan's recruitment wrapped up smoothly, with the manager handling the details.
Next target: another pitcher.
This time, I went alone.
The guy guarded his secrets too closely; a group would just spook him.
I headed to a Cheonan ballpark hosting an adult league game. My target was set to pitch as a mercenary.
'Heard adult leagues are monster dens.'
Don't underestimate the Doki Doki Baseball world I was in. This wasn't your average Korean adult league.
Here, failed pro hopefuls aiming for Korea's top league swarmed them.
Rumor had it a Korean adult all-star team could crush most nations in internationals.
Legends abounded: a hardware store Kim blanking Germany's nationals with a no-hitter no-run, an oden vendor Park smashing back-to-back homers off Japan's ace.
And dominating that monster league at a young age? Ri Dong-hyeok.
Thwack-!
"Strike... out!!"
Ri Dong-hyeok cleanly fanned the side to end the game.
His underhand fastball topping late 140s, deceptive sinker, and vicious inside slider proved he didn't belong here.
ERA: 0.00.
Miraculous stat from a dozen-plus merc gigs.
"Dong-hyeok! You're the best. Killed it again!"
"Nah. Your defense lets me throw freely."
"Aw, humble too? You'd have shut 'em down solo. That sinker danced!"
The uncles showered endless praise like doting fans; he smiled and took it.
"Ah, Kim— what's that nickname for slick underhands?"
"Nuclear Submarine?"
"Yeah! You were total Nuclear Submarine today, Dong-hyeok!"
"...!"
He beamed at the rest but flinched at that, face stiffening.
"...Haha, thanks."
He recovered with a delayed smile.
"Still in high school, right? Why no club?"
"Yeah, as an ex-pro hopeful myself, he'd get top draft picks easy..."
"No big reason. I just like playing casually with you guys."
"Sniff...!"
The uncles clutched their hearts.
Midlife fragility melted by his warm words; wallets flew open.
"Stuffed it extra thick. Good luck next game, Dong-hyeok."
"Thanks."
He bowed, waited till they left, then peeked at the fat envelope with satisfaction.
"...This'll last the month."
"Ri Dong-hyeok."
".........!"
He jolted at the voice behind him, stuffing the envelope away. Pure guarded instinct.
The speaker? Geum Seong-muk, naturally.
"Let's talk."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Recruitment?"
"Yes. We're scouting talent."
"…………."
Ri Dong-hyeok bowed his head, silent.
His answer was a firm no.
"Sorry, but I'm not joining any club."
"If it's tuition, we can cover full scholarship. Our chairman's serious about prospects."
True only for me and the manager, but name-dropping the bigwig built trust.
He hesitated—money was tight—but shook his head.
"Not about money. Personal circumstances I can't discuss."
"I see..."
"Sorry you came far. I'll be going."
He bowed and turned.
I smirked and called after him, dropping the secret he hid desperately.
"Where's the rush, Comrade Ri Dong-hyeok?"
"……!!"
His steps froze.
Turning, his face was stone.
Like, How do you know?
"Who the hell are you?"
His voice dripped killing intent, but I sneered back.
"Or since you're that North Korean pig's bastard, should it be Kim Dong-hyeok?"
"……!!"
He lunged like a bullet.
💥 KABOOM! 💥 Grabbed my collar, slammed me against the wall.
"...You bastard, from the Party?"
His blazing eyes burned with deep-seated hatred, like a grudge etched in his soul.
"…………."
I shut up.
Not for any other reason—his status window had popped up.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ You can view Ri Dong-hyeok's status. Would you like to view it? [Yes / No] 'Yes.'
⚔ STATUS ⚔ 👤 Name: Ri Dong-hyeok 🏳️ Nationality: Democratic People's Republic of Korea 🎂 Age: 19 📏 Height: 178 cm Skill: Nuclear Submarine (S) Ground ball rate rises when batters swing.
Potential Keywords: Baekdu Bloodline (A+), Control Master (*S), Adaptable (*S)
Pitching Stats (*Potential) / Right-handed Underhand
💪 Stamina: C 🎯 Control: B+ (*S) 💨 Velocity: B+ ⚡ Fastball: A (*A+) 🔄 Breaking Ball: A (*S) My third recruitment target, Ri Dong-hyeok.
The game's top underhand pitcher—and the illegitimate son of that fat cat living large in North Korea.