The Bet

Last night, after the drinking session wrapped up, I jolted awake in bed—and nearly jumped out of my skin. Han Seon-ah was lying right there next to me.

I carefully lifted the blanket to check if I was still dressed. I remembered downing a ton of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠booze yesterday, but how I'd even gotten home? Total blackout.

“Phew...”

Thank God—we were both fully clothed. No major mishaps last night, it seemed.

“Aigoo...”

Relief was relief, but my pounding headache wasn't going anywhere. My stomach was churning too. No clue how much I'd drunk, but the vibe had been electric—that much stuck.

I slipped out of bed without waking her and started boiling some pollock soup. My freezer was stocked to the gills, courtesy of Mom's care packages, and dried pollock was always on hand. I shredded it up and got it simmering. Years of solo living had honed my cooking skills to decent levels.

Added green onions and seasonings, and soon a milky broth bubbled up, filling the place with a rich, savory aroma.

“Mmm... what's that smell...? Food?”

Seon-ah stirred, rubbing her sleepy eyes as she peered at me. Her hair was a mess, makeup all gone for a bare-faced glow, but she was still stunning. Her face seemed to shine in every light.

“Yeah, pollock soup. Go wash up.”

“For real...? Sounds amazing... Wow, Jin-ho, is there anything you can't do?”

Her face lit up at the words, and she showered me with praise before shuffling off to the bathroom.

While she cleaned up, I prepped sides to go with the soup. By the time the table was set, she emerged—looked like she'd just brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face. Hair swept back casually, but still gorgeous.

“Whoa... let's dig in!”

She flashed me a grateful smile and scooped up a spoonful.

“Ahhh! My gut's already settling. Hey, barkeep—hit me with a bowl of makgeolli.”

“Pfft. What're you on about? Eat your soup. Stomach okay?”

“It was killing me. But this? Poof—gone.”

“Good to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hear.”

I took a sip myself. The creamy broth slid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down, soothing my wrecked insides like magic.

“Huh... not bad, if I do say so.”

“Told ya. No worries when we get married, huh?”

“W-what...?”

Her casual bombshell hit like a fastball; I nearly choked.

“Marriage too soon? Start with dating, then?”

“Quit messing around...”

I clammed up, cheeks burning.

“Tch... not messing.”

She pouted cutely, and I was speechless. She'd been in and out of my place like it was hers forever—like we were newlyweds. We both knew each other's feelings; one word from me, and things could skyrocket. But that felt distant still. I'd just carved out a spot in life; my future wasn't set.

The meal dragged awkwardly in silence until she broke it.

“So, what's on tap today? Training grounds again?”

“Yeah, gotta check on the guys...”

“Sigh... can't do a thing with our busy hotshot manager.”

“Wasn't busy as bullpen catcher, huh.”

“Pfft... true. When's the last time we hung out proper?”

She had a point. Since meeting her, it'd been nonstop training for pro ball, army stint, then grinding ever since. Barely any us-time.

“Season ends—wanna trip somewhere?”

“Where? Sea sounds perfect.”

Her eyes sparkled.

“Beach...? Winter's brutal, though.”

“Overseas! Warm spot, play around.”

“Overseas...?”

Blindsided again.

“We've never done a real trip. C'mon, once.”

“Uh... yeah, let's make time.”

“For real?? Yes!!”

She beamed like we were boarding now. It was so damn cute, I caught myself getting excited too. About traveling together.

We bantered nonsense through the rest of breakfast.

...

Seon-ah had no plans, so I left her at my place and headed to training. Around noon, players trickled in. The Eagles' facility buzzed lately—good results firing everyone up, players and coaches alike.

I'd been eyeing No Kwang-su and Lim Young-gi especially. They'd dipped toes into first-team action and shown promise.

Low stats still, but sky-high growth ceilings compared to vets who'd maxed near potential. Maintenance mode for them; development for these guys. So I focused on No Kwang-su, Lim Young-gi, and Kang Hyun-jun.

No was drilling eye discipline and adapting well. Blazing speed and glove made him pinch-runner or defensive sub material. He executed on base fine—issue was getting there, thanks to weak contact and eye. Training heavy there.

Lim Young-gi was the real headache. Note said drop the arm angle, but he'd raised it this year chasing velocity—old pitching coach's doing. Current coach, Jeong Cheol-min, thought the same. Sidearm's gotta stay low; going overhand kills the edge. Half-assed hybrid left him meh on the mound, bench-bound. I saw the spark in his window, pushed him up.

But Jeong wouldn't budge.

“Coach Jeong, arm angle down—I've said it.”

“Nah, Manager. You a pitching expert? Why harp?”

He crossed arms, legs akimbo—zero interest.

“Have I ever been wrong on my coaching calls?”

“That's different. Kid's got no velo—drop it, and what?”

“We run Yoo Kwan-hee as starter 'cause of his heat? Use the guy's strengths, don't hybrid him.”

“What strengths? Spill.”

“Breaking stuff. Sidearm changeup, slider.”

“Ha... no talking to you.”

Logic bounced off him.

“Bet, then?”

“What bet.”

“Drop to sidearm, train a week, start him. Blocks five innings under 3 runs? You follow my lead from now.”

“And if not?”

“Pitching's all yours.”

I went bold; he pondered. Good upside for him.

“But train proper—no half-assing.”

“Duh. I'm a coach—ain't sabotaging kids!”

He snapped.

“Deal. Week. Tuesday start next—I'll have him ready.”

“Got it.”

Whew—finally got Young-gi back low. Now, could he deliver in a week? On him. The window said yes; I trusted that over all else.

And so, the week of my bet with Coach Jeong dawned.