Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Golden Sun's Fastball is Sealed
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Realizing my condition was Pitching Yin Blocked Meridian, I suddenly burst into a hollow laugh. Do Do-jin looked at me with worried eyes.
"Hyung, you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. My injury's way better than I thought. It used to be so bad I couldn't pitch at all."
"Oh, that's what it was...?"
I gave him a rough rundown of my history. How I'd gotten injured at the end of my first year, spent a long time in rehab, and transferred to this school without a baseball team.
Do Do-jin nodded like it made sense. He seemed a bit surprised that I was a pitcher from a prestigious high school.
Anyway, I'd checked my condition, so now it was time to get treatment.
'But first, maybe build some goodwill before I go.'
"Hey, Do-jin. Feels kinda one-sided with me just getting help."
"...?"
"Wanna do some toss batting while you're here?"
"I'd love to, but is that okay?"
"I'll allow it once. Give it a swing."
Pitching centers varied, but this one seemed to permit light batting practice.
Thwack!
Every time I tossed the ball, Do Do-jin's bat swung. After about ten tosses, I was pretty shocked.
'What the hell? No flaws at all...?'
His batting form was pro-level polished. Unable to hold back my curiosity, I asked.
"Nice form. Your team coach look it over?"
"Nah, someone else did. Our hitting coach is totally incompetent."
"Incompetent how?"
"All he preaches is uppercut swings! Raise the launch angle! Old-school crap like that."
"That's the worst. So who helped you...?"
"...Ah, my sister."
He looked a bit embarrassed. Made sense—being a high schooler ignoring the coach to learn from your own sister wasn't easy to admit.
"Your sister's got skills."
This wasn't flattery for points. His weight distribution front to back, hip hinge, swing path—all flawless.
As an analytical genius up on the latest baseball theory, it wasn't surprising she'd refined him like this.
"Haha, yeah...?"
"So, Do-jin, what were your high school league stats last year?"
"Ugh..."
He'd been grinning until I hit the bullseye.
"Ah... Batting average around .230, 13 hits, 7 strikeouts..."
Lousy stats for his talent. He'd gotten plenty of chances thanks to decent defense and baserunning, plus a weak team.
Low strikeouts and good BB/K were positives, but they didn't make much impact. Left alone, he'd fade into obscurity.
'Form's not the issue, so... hmm.'
Considering possibilities, I had a hunch.
"...Takeback."
"Pardon...?"
"Make your takeback more compact."
Takeback—the prep motion where the batter pulls the bat back as the pitcher delivers. I was sure this was it.
"Shorter."
"This much?"
"More!"
"Hyung, won't this lose power...?"
"Aren't most of your outs weak contact without power?"
"Huh, how'd you...!"
"Your bat speed isn't elite, so you need compact. Hitting the sweet spot matters more than extra motion. Cut the waste, and the ball will fly through the infield fine."
"...Ah, yeah."
"Everyone's form and swing differ. Blindly pulling back full isn't one-size-fits-all. This plays to your strengths. Trust me once."
"Hyung..."
No one had pinpointed and praised him like this; he looked touched. I averted my eyes, awkward.
"Ahem, focus on that and try again."
"Got it, hyung...!"
Toss batting resumed.
Thwack!
Crack!
With each pitch, Do Do-jin's face lit up with ecstasy.
A tiny tweak from my advice, but he felt the big difference.
"Hyung, this is insane! How'd you spot it in one glance?"
"I'm a bit of a baseball know-it-all."
"Seriously, thanks. I'll repay this favor...!"
He bowed deeply again.
Normal folks would've brushed it off with "Haha, no biggie!"
"Ho, really?"
"......Pardon?"
"If you insist on repaying, guess I can't stop you."
I wasn't normal.
Never had been, and as Golden Sun now, even less so.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I left tense Do Do-jin with one simple request.
'Munhyeok High's getting a baseball team soon. Come try out.'
'That's all? For real?'
'Of course. Just visit like sightseeing.'
I made clear transferring or staying was his call. Just nudged him to try out.
I had faith.
By official team formation and tryouts, I'd snag at least one jaw-dropper. That'd shake him.
'Think you'll hold out without transferring? You're our second baseman locked in, Do Do-jin.'
Already bagged one solid player. Heading to Jongno 3-ga Station.
'Exit 12—that guy's there.'
The only one who could fix my Pitching Yin Blocked Meridian was there. En route through Jongno, a massive billboard blared an ad.
📰 Breaking News [Blue-White Chef] 'Ultimate chef cook-off! Watch on Netflix.' "Tch, now I'm hungry."
Once a gourmet hitting high-end spots, now I was broke as hell.
Petty cash swiped from those punks would tide me over short-term. Long-term? Starving to death was a real worry.
'Damn, no time for jobs.'
Geum Seong-muk had parents, but abandoned young—no contact, no handouts.
Every spare second went to training; no wasting on part-time gigs. Thoughts deepened as I neared my goal.
"This is it."
Jongno 3-ga Exit 12, per my info. Spotted him instantly—a middle-aged man exuding odd vibes in the corner.
"Excuse me. Seo Hyuk-jun, sir?"
"That's me. Who are you?"
He was blind.
Couldn't see. But the only one to heal my Pitching Yin Blocked Meridian.
I approached politely.
"Geum Seong-muk, sir."
"I see. How do you know me?"
"Do you still do acupuncture, sir?"
Seo Hyuk-jun's acupuncture was renowned.
Until he went blind.
"Haven't touched needles in ages. Losing my sight kills any chance at treating people."
"Mm, fair."
Not easy, as expected.
But no backing down.
"Doesn't it make other things clearer now?"
"..."
Silence, then a headshake.
"Plenty of skilled folks besides me. Go to them."
"Has to be you."
"...........?"
"I'm serious. Check my shoulder—you'll see."
"Heh..."
Sensing my desperation, hesitant Seo Hyuk-jun nodded slightly.
"I'll check once, but you need to bare your upper body."
"...Then the restroom."
Too many eyes here; we moved.
Click-
Into a station restroom stall, locked in. I stripped my upper half without fuss. He pulled something from his bag, squeezing it onto his hands.
"What's that?"
"Liquid to better sense your qi and meridians. Let's begin."
Splat!
His hands stuck to my torso, probing from shoulders everywhere.
"Hmmm......"
Lost sight, gained hyper senses—peering into the unseen.
A weird feeling like something stirred inside persisted.
Examining, he suddenly reacted in shock.
"Heavenly Pitching Body, even Heavenly Hitting Body! First time seeing talent like this."
His genuine interest puffed me up briefly.
"Geum Seong-muk, you need to reflect. Managing talent this poorly."
"That bad?"
"Yeah, worst blocked meridians I've seen. Even neglecting hard, it's rare."
"What caused it most?"
"Guessing: overtraining without prep, heavy drinking/smoking, irregular sleep, wild yang qi fluctuations. Repeat that, and Pitching Yin Blocked Meridian makes sense."
"Kuhm."
Geum Seong-muk pulled it off.
'You punk, what the hell were you up to?'
"Past is past; I get your desperation coming here. Burying this talent hurts Korean baseball."
"You mean...?"
"I'll treat you, Geum Seong-muk."
"Whoa!!"
I cheered inwardly.
No treatment here? Shoulder-crippled Golden Sun for a year, then bye-bye. Fixed? Nothing stops my rise.
Amid joy—
Knock knock-
Door rapped.
"Open up!"
Station attendant's brusque voice. I opened casually.
'What the fuck...?'
Crowd stared at our stall.
"Got a report of public indecency. Weird moans from guys' stall."
"Eh-hey, indecency? I'm not that guy, uh?"
Realized: still shirtless from exam. Sweaty too. Those odd back sensations made me groan-like sounds.
Yeah, that'd do it. Suspicious stares galore.
"...Oof."
I was wronged.
Fucking really.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Seo Hyuk-jun and I got reamed by the attendant. "No more misunderstandings!"
"What a needless mess."
"...Yeah."
Before parting, I told Seo Hyuk-jun I wanted breaking ball practice until treatment day in three weeks.
He nodded, rummaged his bag, handed me something. Took it gladly—then recoiled at its ugliness.
"Wait, isn't this for, uh, SM play?"
A gag bit for the mouth.
Looked just like adult toy for weirdos.
"Looks that way, but nothing better. Bite it while pitching—seals qi leakage."
"...Insane."
Training with this? Laughter bait. But no time for pride.
I bit down, thanked him, and parted.
Sun dipping low outside.
'Head home, rest.'
Promising hard training tomorrow, turning a corner dazed—
Wham!
"Ow...!!"
Big collision.
I staggered lightly; opponent somersaulted down.
"You okay?"
Checked—huge surprise.
'Whoa...?'
White girl my age, stunning. Beige ponytail, killer curves.
Cold aura though—like ignoring strangers as invisible. Odd presence for her age.
Felt familiar despite first meet.
'Ah, the billboard!'
Netflix Blue-White Chef ad—not lead, but mid-sized pic matching this girl.
Olivia something. Name fuzzy.
"..........!"
She flinched at my hand, thug vibes screaming—guarded hard.
I bowed apology first.
"Sorry. Should've watched where I was going."
Me bowing eased her.
"...No, my fault too."
Slight foreigner accent, but near-perfect Korean apology.
Stuff spilled in crash; bending to grab—sharp tingle hit my head.
'Ah fuck, right—that...!'
My gag was missing.
"W-wait...!"
"This?"
She picked the obvious SM gag—face soured.
Stomp stomp-
Smack!
".........Here."
Face crimson, she marched up, shoved it at me, snatched her stuff I held, fled.
Crushing shame; I clutched my head.
"Ha, fuck. What a day."
Then—
Tingle!
Lower body reacted.
Not lust surge...
'This—Tingly Sensor...?'
That odd weakness sense when pounding punks—vivid, from ground. I looked down.
".........What the?"
A thick file folder.
Stuffed with papers.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Gone... why...?"
Olivia Ramsey was baffled.
The docs she'd erase from existence—vanished.
One possibility.
"No way...?"
Bumping that blond thug—swapped stuff. Freaked by perv toy, overlooked her papers.
Grit...
"...Must find them."
Hands trembled.
Those files held her fatal secret. Mishandled, it'd stain family honor. Somehow track that guy.
Then...
'How to silence him quietly.'
Seal his lips.
Very peacefully(?).