The Legend's Final Lesson
Bujeon High baseball clubroom.
The immovable ace, Cheon Ji-uk, was trembling with rage after receiving a text message.
🖕
"Kuh... heh... hehehe..."
A humiliating message from Seo Ye-bin.
But right now, he was burning with passion instead.
"Yeah, Seo Ye-bin. It's no fun if it's too easy!"
Cheon Ji-uk's desire to dominate and conquer blazed even stronger.
If Ye-bin had seen this, chills would have run down her spine.
He'd acted all refined while bedding plenty of women behind the scenes, but none ignited his conquest lust like her. In time, he'd even tame that fiery personality of hers, he vowed.
Behind him approached the Bujeon High coach, Yang Hyeok-jae.
"Ji-uk, you aren't shaking, are you?"
"Haha, Coach. Have you ever seen me shake before an important game?"
"True, can't say I have."
Cheon Ji-uk pushed up his glasses with a smirk.
Yang Hyeok-jae chuckled too.
"The media's been comparing you and that Geum Seong-muk guy nonstop, saying you two have a lot in common."
"Ha, ridiculous. Me resembling that trash?"
Cheon Ji-uk's face twisted in genuine disgust.
He'd treated him worse than a beast even on the same team, and no matter how high Seong-muk rose, he still dismissed him.
And Coach Yang Hyeok-jae felt the same.
My choice back then was right. My eyes couldn't have been wrong. I didn't make a mistake.
He believed Seong-muk's feats would soon scatter like a mirage. No—they had to.
"Pfft, what nonsense. Bluntly put, that national team spot he snagged? If not for your injury, you'd have done even better!"
Cheon Ji-uk paused at that.
Seong-muk's perfect game against the US flashed in his mind.
Could I do that? Against the US?
He pondered deeply.
His mind spat out 'impossible,' but...
Tch, just a lucky fluke.
Rationalization complete. His invincible logic for any situation.
"Oh, and I saw this too—they compared your circle changeup to his."
"Guess they've got nothing better to do."
"Right? His so-called circle changeup is obviously some bastardized mishmash he picked up somewhere."
Yang Hyeok-jae laughed, recalling how Seong-muk had floundered at Bujeon High, desperate for a decent breaking ball but failing. Sure, he was patching things together now, but it'd all pop against Bujeon's powerhouse lineup.
Compare that to Cheon Ji-uk.
Bujeon's full support, plus millions spent on private coaching.
His circle changeup especially—a pitch he'd poured a fortune into, his greatest pride.
"Geum Seong-muk would faint if he knew the secret behind your circle changeup."
"Yeah, probably. Mine comes straight from Busan Cups legend Ma Deok-su's secret technique, after all."
Cheon Ji-uk brimmed with pride in his circle changeup. He didn't know where Seong-muk got his, but the roots were worlds apart, he was sure.
“Pfft-choo!”
Ma Deok-su sneezed.
His ears itched today more than usual.
“Sniff, who's talking about me?”
Dismissing the unlikely thought, he scratched his ear.
He was at the pitching training field, overseeing the pitchers.
Paang!
Pang!
The mitts popped endlessly.
Ma Deok-su loved the sound.
Come to think of it, after retiring, I briefly coached someone...
Too long ago; memories fuzzy.
But one thing stuck clear.
Guys I taught for just a day went around bragging about 'Ma Deok-su's circle changeup.'
At least the one who'd adapted it throughout his career was commendable.
But the private coach who'd advertised 'Ma Deok-su's Circle Changeup!' and leeched off him? Not so much.
Half-baked at best.
No way he'd shared the core with day-trippers.
Even so, it was enough for top-tier league changeups—which irked him, so he stopped teaching after.
Seong-muk was the exception; otherwise, it'd never have left. He rubbed his stiff back from travel.
“That meathead Myeong Sinu—can't even win a draw, making this old man suffer?”
Munhyeok High coach Myeong Sinu had failed another stadium draw.
They were headed to distant Busan.
Busan...
The city he'd long called home, loved by fans.
As Cups legend, returning weighed on him.
In the end, I couldn't keep my promise. Wonder if anyone even remembers...
The 105-year 'Seagull Curse.'
Busan Cups winless since before his birth.
He'd vowed to break it before fans, but even legends can't carry a team alone.
“Tch, enough reminiscing...”
He turned to the pitchers.
They impressed him.
After five grueling hours of travel, no complaints—just diligent work.
Sejong Tournament quarterfinals.
Only eight schools left from thousands; they all felt the weight.
Fielders hit fungos under Myeong Sinu's coaching; pitchers got close instruction under his eye.
Paaang!!
“Mm, good.”
Hassan Iqbal now wielded Allah's Incarnation like his own.
Last game's heroics had boosted his stats with experience.
Hassan Iqbal's control stat has risen: C+ → B!
Hassan Iqbal's two-seam stat has risen: A → A+!
A full two ranks up.
Hassan had gained much in this short span.
Next, Park Chan-jun.
He'd been shelled last game at Cheolwon due to bad calls.
Desperate for change, he'd tinkered wildly—disrupting his knuckleball mechanics.
Ma Deok-su wasn't a knuckler expert, but he could fix that much.
“Hup...!!”
Paang!
“Tsk tsk, now that's decent. Keep it like that.”
“Yes, thank you!!”
Park Chan-jun bowed deeply.
Ma Deok-su moved to Ri Dong-hyeok pitching nearby.
Whirric!
Paang!!
“Nice ball!”
The backup catcher praised.
Ma Deok-su watched silently.
Ri Dong-hyeok had thrown nothing but sinkers for a dozen pitches, checking form.
“Hoo...”
Something dawned on Ma Deok-su.
He stepped right beside him.
“Hey, Ri Dong-hun.”
“Ah, Coach Ma.”
“About your sinker...”
“If it's advice, I'm sorry, but I can't accept.”
“Oh ho, look at you.”
Ma Deok-su stroked his chin, surprised. He asked sternly.
“You sure? You'll regret it.”
“Yes, thank you, but no.”
“Tsk tsk, fine, no advice then. But your sinker—it's the People's Sinker, right?”
“............?!?”
Ri Dong-hyeok jolted, eyes trembling.
He'd never told teammates that name. Seong-muk knew from the original game, but an outsider like Ma Deok-su? Unthinkable.
“H-how did you...?”
“My hometown's Hwanghae-do. Pre-division, we mingled with your Deok-su Yi Chongnyeol-gong clan.”
“.........!!”
Ri Dong-hyeok's eyes widened again.
Never expected a compatriot here. Hands shaking, he asked politely.
“Coach Ma, do you remember those folks' names?”
“Hmm? Let's see—Ri Yeong-gon, Ri San-cheol, Ri Baek-chun...”
“Forgive my ignorance, elder!!”
Ri Dong-hyeok bowed low in Korean dialect.
Genealogy expert, he recognized them instantly—his great-uncles, all true heirs to the People's Sinker.
“My skills are lacking, but could you evaluate?”
“Tsk tsk, said you didn't want it earlier.”
“I was foolish. Punish me on my knees if you must.”
“Nah, no need...”
Ma Deok-su scratched his neck.
Hands behind back, he spoke.
“Your People's Sinker ain't bad for self-taught, but it'll hit a wall.”
“As I feared. What should I do?”
“Come closer.”
He beckoned Ri Dong-hyeok, whispering softly.
“W-what...?”
“Tsk tsk, you're young—mull it over. Can't have it all handed to you, eh?”
Ri Dong-hyeok flustered.
The advice was too abrupt to grasp now.
No way he'd say that lightly.
The only man alive who'd seen the People's Sinker and could advise? Ma Deok-su. He couldn't ignore it.
“...I'll etch your words into my bones today. I'll chew on them and make them mine.”
“Tsk, do as you like.”
Nothing else to critique. Ma Deok-su moved on.
Pwaaaang!!
A thunderous pop.
Only one Munhyeok pitcher hit like that.
Pwaaaang!
“...Excellent!”
Seok Un-gang caught it, satisfied.
But Seong-muk felt a twinge of regret mid-pitch.
Tsk, so close.
His fastball and velocity stats, both A+ base, teased S. Post-tourney, one might hit it—but he wished sooner.
As he toed the rubber for the next, watching Ma Deok-su asked abruptly.
“Hey, Geum Seong-muk.”
“Yes?”
“If you could learn one thing from me, what?”
“P-pardon?”
“Time's short.”
"........"
Seong-muk recalled Deoks u Pitching Field recently.
Unease flashed like lightning.
His complexion's off lately...
Serious-faced, silent.
Sensing it, Ma Deok-su barked.
“Hey! What nonsense you thinking?!”
Whack!
“Guhk!!”
Switch to Seong-muk's ribs again.
Ma Deok-su boomed, flexing robustness.
"Three games left in Sejong. Only two you start! What can you learn in this pinch?!"
“Ah, during this tourney.”
Seong-muk realized his mistake, scratching sheepishly.
“Um, gimme a sec to think.”
Answer by end of day.
Ma Deok-su tsked, turning.
“Do what you want, tsk tsk.”
After eyeing all pitchers, he exited.
Confirming alone, he unleashed held-back coughs.
“Cough, cough...!!”
Violent, unending for minutes.
Finally stopped.
Blood stained his sleeve.
He sensed his condition worsening.
“Wonder if I've got time.”
He gazed skyward.
Dazzling summer sun.
To it, he murmured low.
“...Just a bit more time. Not much.”
Ma Deok-su's flame flickered near end.
He desperately hoped it lasted through the tourney.