We're Heading to Busan!

Busan, the Ball City of Busan.

The city known as the home of baseball had boasted an insane passion for the game since time immemorial.

Unfortunately, the team's performance hadn't kept pace with that fervor. For 105 years, they hadn't won a championship, trapped under the infamous "Curse of the Gulls."

That was Busan.

And yet, amid all that, one high school had filled the pride of Busan's citizens.

The strongest high school team in Gyeongsangnam-do.

Bujeon High, the cradle of Busan's baseball talents, was the star of the show.

Whenever Bujeon High played a game in Busan, crowds of middle-aged fans swarmed like a plague of locusts, snapping up every ticket in sight.

This time, it was even bigger—the Bukhang Dome, home of the Busan Cups, hosting the Sejong Tournament quarterfinals. The nearly 30,000 seats sold out in a flash to the rush of Busan baseball fans.

"Ugh, the Munhyeok High fans couldn't get many tickets this time..."

Noah slumped dejectedly.

Ticket wars were brutal enough, but the distance was the real killer.

'We barely chartered buses to get to Cheolwon...'

Busan was basically off-limits.

It was like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠going from one end of Korea to the other. Even for a baseball-crazed school like Munhyeok High, few students had the spare time, and even fewer parents would allow it.

The few who made it arrived and gaped at the massive grandeur of the Bukhang Dome.

A true Busan landmark.

They'd demolished the old egg-shaped stadium at Sajik and built this beast from the ground up. You could tell just by looking that they'd poured serious cash into it.

Inside, there was even a casino just for foreigners. Word was, the Bukhang Dome had turned into a tourist trap devouring overseas visitors.

And in this Bukhang Dome, one team was already there practicing.

Crack!

Thwack!

Bujeon High players swinging bats like madmen.

Every one of them was a flashy hitter, and right now, they were zeroing in on a single pitcher to prep for the game.

"Alright, next up: 170 km/h."

The machine ramped up at the coach's call.

But the batters smashed it effortlessly, ball after ball.

"Whoa, handling that heat like it's nothing...!?"

"Bujeon High's golden generation really is on another level, huh?"

Munhyeok High players watching from afar, stunned.

A few batters stood out especially.

"That's Fujii Arata...?"

"Insane batting skill."

Arata, told the pitch direction in advance, sent the ball exactly where it needed to go. Incredible contact ability.

"Heard he missed the Japan national team due to injury?"

"Yeah, guy's been famous in Japan since he was a kid."

Ryu Ji nodded at his teammates' questions.

A monster contact hitter sidelined by an arm injury—the coach had been gutted.

"And that's Gunnar Johansen?"

"Viking descendant, right?"

Gunnar Johansen, whipping his long braided blonde hair as he smacked balls. Norway's baseball prospect, heir to the Vikings who ruled the North Seas.

The story was legendary: the guy from the icy North Sea fell for Busan's warm waves on a visit and transferred in to stay forever. Even now, he was spotted shirtless surfing the beaches whenever he got bored.

Crack!

Thwack!

"...Brutal."

Johansen timing even the high-velocity heat perfectly.

True to his Viking blood, the power was unreal.

And shoved to fifth for his recent hot streak was yet another killer hitter.

Thwack!

Crack!

"What the—?"

"Since when does he hit like that?"

Hwang Tae-gang on fire, sending every pitch over the Bukhang Dome fences.

'Thanks, Seong-muk.'

Hwang Tae-gang glanced at Seong-muk in the enemy dugout.

His step-up owed everything to his best friend Seong-muk's repeated advice on the national team.

That's why this former 5-6 hole floater was now locked in as cleanup for the Sejong Tournament.

'...But he's not catching today.'

Seong-muk stroked his chin.

The culprit was obvious.

'Cheon Ji-uk, it's gotta be you.'

Bujeon High ace Cheon Ji-uk.

He'd never meshed well with Hwang Tae-gang.

Seong-muk had lasted longer because Hwang Tae-gang was by his side. Even after leaving, Hwang had clashed with Ji-uk over it—"That's not cool, man."

Of course, benching a national-team-caliber catcher like Hwang wasn't an option.

Usually, they just treated it like business and formed the battery. But today, Ji-uk started a backup catcher and slotted Hwang as DH.

'That'll be your mistake.'

Probably pulled him out of catcher to spite Seong-muk's friendship. But Hwang wasn't the type to mix personal and pro.

If anything, as one of the few who knew Seong-muk best, he could lead even more brutally against him.

'If you wanna screw yourself, go ahead.'

Munhyeok High kicked off practice, crowds filling the Bukhang Dome. As seats started packing in, game time approached.

Handshake time between teams.

Geum Seong-muk and Cheon Ji-uk at the front, players shaking hands.

"......"

"......"

The two locked eyes in silence.

Finally, their left hands clasped.

Crunch!

"Ngh...!"

Seong-muk won the grip contest.

Ji-uk winced briefly but schooled his face.

"Pretty humble interview, Geum Seong-muk. Should I say thanks?"

Ji-uk sneered.

In the interview about leaving Bujeon High, Seong-muk hadn't thrown shade. If he had spilled dirt, Ji-uk would've been in hot water.

Seong-muk smirked back.

"If I'd spilled everything, you'd get your ass handed to you and whine excuses. 'Argh, I was winning till the media swayed opinion!'"

"What'd you say?"

"Why stir shit now when I can win without it, right?"

Ji-uk trembled with rage, eyes flashing murder.

"You'd better prepare. Busan'll be your grave today."

He yanked his hand free and stormed off.

He vowed to punish Geum Seong-muk.

Whoooosh!!

The massive dome ceiling parted with a deep rumble.

Built right by the sea, the Bukhang Dome was a retractable-roof marvel, designed to open or close at will.

"Whoa, that sea breeze is hitting hard."

"Not too hot—perfect."

The crowd buzzed with awe.

After the national anthem, Bujeon High's fielders took the field. Top of the first: Munhyeok High batting.

"Play ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ball!!"

The ump raised his hand, game on.

Busan fans' roars echoed through the dome.

"Cheon Ji-uk! Cheon Ji-uk! Cheon Ji-uk...!!!"

Ji-uk glanced at the stands, spotting Seo Ye-bin watching not far away.

'I'll show you, Seo Ye-bin. That I'm a way better man than that orphan scum!'

Ji-uk wound up huge.

Heat blasted from his fingertips.

Thwack!!

"Strike!!"

Choi Adam jumped.

The board flashed 161 km/h straight heat.

He got the measure in one pitch.

'Strongest starter I've faced yet...!'

Ryu Han-ul had been tops till now, but Ji-uk's stuff was harder—and he was a lefty, huge bonus.

Thwack!!

"Strike three!!"

"Argh!"

Adam whiffed on three pitches.

Ji-uk retired Do Jin and Ryu Ji on grounders next.

Fired up, Ji-uk was maxing out from the jump.

In the dugout, Ma Deok-su stroked his chin watching.

"Hm, that circle changeup feels familiar...?"

Was age blurring his eyes?

Anyway, bottom of the first: Seong-muk's turn.

"Whew."

Sea breeze wafted through the Bukhang Dome.

Seong-muk felt like he'd returned to a welcoming hometown.

Of the 30,000 fans, few cheered for him. But today, he sensed a solid outing.

"Alright, let's go."

Bulge!

Three-stage shift right from the start.

Usually saved for mid-game to spare stamina, but today Seong-muk fired it up immediately.

'Base stamina's S now, plus Olivia's lunch buff on top.'

Insane endurance.

He could go full throttle from the jump.

"Damn, Geum Seong-muk. You've bulked up, huh?"

Cheon Ji-uk's right-hand man, Park Gyu-tae.

A slick opportunist with nationwide flair for mind games.

Of course, he'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠helped isolate Seong-muk back then.

Great baseball player, hyped leadoff prospect—but irrelevant to Seong-muk now.

Thwack—!!

"Strike!"

"...!!"

Park Gyu-tae startled.

The Seong-muk he knew didn't throw like this.

Crack!

"Foul!"

Thump!!

"Ball...!"

Sweeper tails outside.

Park Gyu-tae exhaled in relief.

The big four-pitch count.

His bat chased the fastball.

Thwack—!!

"Strike three!!"

"Whoa...!!!"

"Ugh, shit."

Park Gyu-tae scowled off the field.

Next, Han Byung-jin stepped up and asked.

"How's Seong-muk's stuff?"

"Hate to admit it, but it's fucking good. Just see a lot of pitches."

"Hm, got it."

Han Byung-jin, another of Ji-uk's lackeys, aimed to punish Seong-muk for his boss.

Thwack!!

"Strike three!!"

"Whoa!!"

Bat whiffed—three pitches, done.

Advice to work counts? Useless.

Next: Japan's prodigy hitter, Fujii Arata.

"Please take care ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of me!"

Arata bowed politely.

Just a first-year, never overlapped with Seong-muk at Bujeon.

So Arata respected him purely as a player. The guy who'd bumped Ryu Ji—national team pillar—from cleanup.

But now facing pitcher Geum Seong-muk.

Arata was purely shocked by the stuff.

Thwack!!

"Strike...!!"

Crack!

"Foul!"

"Ngh!!"

Sting raced up the bat.

S-grade contact, yet brushed off by sheer stuff.

'Incredible, this guy!!'

Seong-muk's pitch drew awe.

Third pitch incoming.

"......!!"

Ball dives outside, evading the bat.

Seong-muk's signature circle changeup.

Thump!!

"Strike three!!"

"Whoa...!!"

"Excellent start, Geum Seong-muk si-ju."

"......"

"Geum Seong-muk si-ju?"

"Ah, zoned out a sec."

"?"

Seong-muk clocked something from the three batters.

'They prepped well.'

All K'd, but timings weren't off.

Tailored prep to hunt him specifically.

'I'll show you—still just dancing in Buddha's palm.'

Seong-muk hadn't shown half his game yet.

Confident, he descended the mound for offense.

No matter how they twisted, he'd handle it coolly.