Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Recruit an S-Rank Catcher
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I had a gut feeling that it was time to form a baseball team, so I set out to find the Foundation Chairman. Since this was a private school, everything involving money had to go through him, the owner. Even during vacation, he often came to work at Munhyeok High School, so I headed there to track him down.
"You're fully booked?"
"Yes, no openings for the foreseeable future."
Meeting the chairman wasn't going to be easy.
The secretary's vibe was basically telling me to buzz off right from the start. As the top dog of the school, he wasn't someone a mere student could just waltz in and meet on a whim.
'If the front gate's blocked, just sneak in through the doggy door.'
So I chose a different approach.
"Hello, Chairman...!"
I'd snuck a peek at the secretary's schedule when inquiring about a meeting and timed my arrival perfectly for his golf outing with other bigwigs.
The chairman, with his generous belly and bald spot crowning his head, looked flustered by the sudden appearance of a student.
"Chairman, what a coincidence!"
"Oh... how did a student find out about this place...? Ahem, nice to see you anyway."
"I have something urgent I really need to discuss. Could we talk for a moment?"
"Haha, I'm a bit busy right now..."
"Then I'd love to visit at a time convenient for you. Would that be okay?!"
"Ahem..."
"Would! That! Be! O-KAY?!"
"Fine, make it happen..."
He was dodging my eyes, clearly just trying to escape the situation. But I wasn't the type to let it slide that easily.
"Oh man, Foundation Chairman Yu Ji-woong. I'm always inspired by your positive influence."
"Isn't that Park Gyu-tae, the company president? Congrats on going public. I hear you played a huge role."
The schedule I'd glimpsed also listed his golf buddies, so a quick Google deep dive let me butter them all up.
Successful people in their fields crave recognition. Even a thug who never cracked a book feels a rush when some punk knows his name and kisses ass. They were all eating it up like clowns ascending to heaven.
"Heh heh, who knew our school had such an outstanding student."
"Almost misjudged him by his looks, but this kid's going places."
"Don't know the details, but the chairman here's not so stubborn. He'll hear you out."
Everyone but the chairman was all smiles, cornering him with no escape.
"Ugh..."
Thanks to that, about two days later, I smoothly secured a one-on-one meeting. This time, I finally stepped into his private office.
"Phew, alright, Geum Seong-muk. Crashing my golf game—what's on your mind?"
"That was purely coincidental..."
"You think I'm an idiot? Get to the point."
"...Haha."
He wasn't a pushover, that much was clear.
I straightened my expression and cut to the chase.
"I want you to create an official baseball team at Munhyeok High."
The chairman's broad forehead wrinkled.
"Don't we already have a baseball club?"
"I mean an official team. One with school funding, aiming for nationals."
"............"
He pushed off the sofa and paced the office slowly.
"Baseball, baseball... Great sport, undeniably the world's most popular, right?"
"But it's not that simple. You were on a team before transferring here, so you know how this works."
"...Yes."
I knew exactly what he meant.
Even in this baseball-obsessed world, an official pro-aspirant team—not just a club—devours massive funds.
That's why I'd come to him: full backing. Good results recoup the investment, but failure means big losses. That's the gamble I was pitching.
"I'll deliver top results."
"How? Records say you transferred here after a nasty injury, to a school without a team."
"Fully healed. No issues."
"Sure, let's say so. But baseball's a team sport."
"I'll bring teammates who can take on nationals."
I added that even this school could scrape some together.
"Nationals? Ha ha ha...!"
He burst out laughing.
Probably sounded like naive high schooler delusions to him.
"No idea how connected you are, but even I, who knows zilch about baseball, would recognize a true blue-chip prospect. Can you really deliver one?"
"What's your benchmark for 'recognizable'?"
"Hmm, let's see... Ah, here it is!"
He grabbed a magazine from his desk, licked his thumb, and flipped pages before handing one to me.
"Latest high school baseball mag. This page ranks top 20 prospects."
"20th place..."
"That's my line in the sand for a real player. Think you can snag one?"
".........That's."
Absurd demand. 20th was first-round draft caliber.
But it included freshmen to seniors.
Cutoff higher than a typical pro draft. His demeanor said this was his final concession.
"Yeah, of course not. So head on back..."
"Deal. I'll bring one."
"What...?"
Stunned he didn't expect acceptance, he frowned before chuckling and sinking into his chair.
"Heh heh, bold dreams of youth. Guess we're done—off you go."
Click!
Negotiations with the chairman were over.
Stepping out, I realized the real headache had just begun.
"...Fuck, easier said than done. How do I poach these guys?"
Scanning the top 20, every name was a freak talent that'd make your eyes pop.
No S-grades missing from their stats.
Mostly S-grade potentials, stats hovering C to B—way above my level.
'Tch, 1-10 are toast...'
All aces from powerhouse schools. 11-20 had some wiggle room, but they'd need serious incentives to jump ship.
Any gem I eyed was long scouted by others. Scouts aren't blind.
"Phew..."
One faint hope stood out.
'Prospect rank 12, Seok Un-gang.'
Prime position: catcher. And unattached to any high school.
His status: monk.
Affiliated with Shaolin Temple's Korean branch.
Just 18, high school age, but still training at the temple—no official game logs.
Only official outing: Hong Kong national team. Yet ranked 12th on raw talent.
Consensus: full seasons would've landed top 5. Even on a weak team, he'd make nationals viable. Monster catcher.
Why's a monk playing baseball?
'Shaolin lore is straight-up wild.'
Don't forget: this world's baseball-mad.
Even Shaolin monks, famed for martial arts, got hooked.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Shaolin Temple pursues true Buddhist enlightenment through baseball.] [Hitting embodies Emptiness and Dependent Origination. To strike the ball, empty attachments (Emptiness) and feel one with the bat (Dependent Origination).] [Pitching embodies Non-Attachment Giving. Once released, the ball's fate rests with the hitter—pitch with selfless mind and accept the outcome fully.] Thus, visit Shaolin, and you'd see monks playing baseball instead of kung fu.
'Only branch outside China is here in Korea.'
Shaolin pride of the Chinese world. Branches only in greater China, but exception for baseball powerhouse Korea exchange.
Can't underestimate monks—their regimen's brutal, churning out beasts. But as true clerics sans greed, few go pro.
Seok Un-gang shone brightest among them. Recruitment simple:
"Show me a pitch too great for me to catch."
Throw 30 as pitcher to catcher. Fail one catch, you win him.
Sounds easy—national aces swarmed thinking 'I'm special,' all crashed out.
'...Problem is, my one flashy success was luck.'
He snags everything clean.
Even tricky bouncers or high heat.
Raw power needs insane velocity or spin stats—tough in high school arc.
'Only viable shot's him, that's the issue...'
Seok Un-gang: 'Extremely Difficult.' Others: 'Impossible.'
No alternatives.
"Sigh..."
Needed to sort my tangled thoughts.
Only the Deok-su pitching cage, visited daily for 3 weeks, could calm me.
"Grandpa, hi."
"Hol hol~~"
Curve and slider stats maxed at B via training—could skip now. But pitching demands daily reps or you lose feel.
Body still adjusting to my form too.
Splash-
'Straight heat's no-go. Velocity climb takes time.'
Max still shy of 140.
Geum Seong-muk's blocked meridian setback stung.
Curves ripped into the net successively.
Anyone seeing my prior pathetic break would applaud the leap, but it wasn't enough.
"This break won't cut it. Slider same. Against that guy—"
"Damn right. Won't work."
"...!!"
Whoa!
Grandpa popped up—heart skipped. Wait, bigger deal.
"What? You talking about him, Grandpa?"
"You rotten punk, treating me like a moron!"
Grandpa geared to rage—
"Huh...? Guh..."
Back pain hit; he crumpled. Cleared throat, continued.
"Dunno your deal, but you're far off. What're those trash breakers for?"
"Ahem..."
I knew my limits best—no retort. B-grade junk couldn't fool S-rank league sluggers.
Past life ace? Irrelevant now.
"Here, grip this."
"Pardon?"
Hand out, he slapped a ball in, tweaking fingers into a grip.
"Mm, perfect."
"This grip..."
"Wanna learn a breaker from me?"
"...!"
Eyes widened at the offer.
Deok-su was just a senile NPC in-game. Now volunteering coaching?
'Not a bad deal.'
Hidden gem himself.
Spotting ideal pitches for pitchers boosts training—clearly pro pedigree.
Game: coaching spikes proficiency over solo. Worth trying.
'Bad coach tanks it—gotta pick smart.'
I could judge that.
Resolved, I bowed.
"Please teach me, Grandpa."
"Hol hol, sure."
Then it hit: forgotten perk.
'I can view status windows?'
Most baseball helpers viewable. Deok-su's stats would gauge his value.
Acted fast.
Needed name first.
"Awkward calling you Grandpa forever. Mind sharing your full name?"
"Deok-su, you know."
"C'mon, last name too."
"………………..."
Deep thought.
"Ma. Ma Deok-su."
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ You may view Ma Deok-su's status. Proceed? 'Ma Deok-su...?'
Uncannily like an American legend.
Not coincidence.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Legendary player discovered.] [Retired player. Stats based on peak 5-year prime.] ⚔ STATUS ⚔ 👤 Name: Ma Deok-su 🏳️ Nationality: South Korea 🎂 Age: 73 🏟️ Team: Former Busan Cups ⭐ Keywords: Control Wizard (EX), Professor (S+), Master (S+) 💪 Stamina: S+ ⚡ Velocity: A 🎯 Control: EX 💥 Power: S+ 🌀 Breaking Ball: EX "...Whoa."
Reason he dismissed B-breakers. Sky-high ego justified.
Jackpot.
#####
After 1:1 crash course from legendary hidden pitcher Deok-su Grandpa, I confidently hit Shaolin Temple's Korean branch.
"Fuck, temple in mountains—layers on layers."
After steep climb, a massive sign loomed overhead.
Shaolin Temple A sweeping monk spotted me, sized me up, nailed my intent.
"Here for Un-gang? Up these stairs."
"Wait, hold up."
Stairs galore—like prior trek was nothing. Summit lost in clouds.
"This isn't Shaolin? Up there?"
"Just the gate. Main temple's above. Amitabha."
Clear bell tolled from cloud-shrouded peaks.
Dong-
Dooong-
"Bell...?"
"Pure, crisp tone suggests Un-gang's batting practice."
"Batting? That's a bell."
"Wrapping bat in silk to ring the bell. Un-gang's natural strength carries it here."
"........."
Training methods bonkers too.
New game-unseen details hammered home: different world.
'Whatever.'
First time.
Meeting a pre-known game character.
Heading to: Seok Un-gang!
Glared at endless stairs.
"........."
This crossed the line.
"No escalator?"
"We wish. Denied."
"Tough gig."
"Amitabha."
Bonded with monk, I sighed deep. Climb this, legs gone before pitching...?