The Third Journey (2)
“Now that your elbow’s back, what do you think Doyoon wants most? To throw a ball, of course.”
Cheon Sojin’s words, delivered with that casual air that somehow still cut straight to the heart of things, hit me right where I lived. I seized the opening at once.
“……You’ll let me throw?”
“I’d love to, but unfortunately I don’t have that authority.”
Right. She was Operations Team Leader. She’d said the same thing the last time I’d whined about it—no authority of her own.
“……Yeah.”
She must have seen my face fall, because she hesitated a moment, then lifted her head as if she’d made up her mind. After a short sigh she looked me straight in the eye.
“Doyoon.”
“……Yes?”
“Do you want to throw that badly?”
It wasn’t a simple confirmation. Her gaze felt like it was testing the truth of me.
“Yes.”
I answered with everything I had.
“Haa. All right. Then I’ll talk to the general manager for you.”
My eyes went wide. My heart gave a sudden, hard thump.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
She smiled and nodded.
“So wipe that look off your face. Today’s supposed to be a good day, isn’t it?”
The corners of my mouth lifted on their own. I shook off every worry from earlier and answered cleanly.
“Yes!”
“I solved your problem, so will you listen to one of mine?”
My chopsticks stopped halfway to my mouth. Cheon Sojin set her water glass down beside her plate, thought for a second, then spoke quietly.
“I’m still so young, you know. Sometimes I feel this…… distance with the other staff at the club.”
“Distance?”
“Ah, don’t get the wrong idea.”
She laughed and waved a hand.
“It’s not that anyone hates me or treats me like some parachute hire. Everyone’s kind. It’s just…… the people at my level are way older, and the people my age are way below me in rank.”
Her voice trailed off as she dipped her head a little. The usual image of her—the mischievous fox who loved teasing people—was nowhere in sight. Hearing her talk this seriously felt completely different.
“There are other reasons too. So I don’t really have anyone I can talk to freely.”
A faint tremor rode the end of the sentence. Her expression stayed as composed as ever, but underneath it I could feel something like loneliness—the kind that stays one step apart even when you’re surrounded by people.
I hesitated, then said,
“……For someone who says that, you seem pretty comfortable with me.”
“Come on, that’s different.”
She shook her head with a small snort of laughter.
“I joke around with the other staff too. But…… there are things you only say to a friend. I can’t do that.”
She set her chopsticks down and looked at me. Her eyes wavered for a second.
“Work’s hard lately, this person is stressing me out—just those little things. But saying them turns out to be really difficult.”
She smiled softly, yet her eyes weren’t smiling at all.
I fiddled with my water glass for no good reason and said,
“……Then I’ll be your friend.”
“……Really?”
Her eyes widened a fraction. Surprise and a strange relief mixed inside them—then settled just as quickly, the way someone decides inside their head that it can’t actually happen.
“Yes. You can tell me. We’re not that far apart in age, and I’m a player, so there’s no real hierarchy.”
She didn’t answer for a moment. She picked up her glass, then quietly set it down again.
“……Thanks for saying that, at least.”
She was smiling, but somehow a line had been drawn. The smile felt distant.
“No, I mean it.”
She dipped her head slightly and smiled again.
“Just hearing it is enough.”
Then she seemed to sink into thought, turning her gaze toward the window. Sunlight spilled through the glass and softly framed the beautiful line of her profile.
“……Doyoon.”
“Yes?”
She turned back to me. Her eyes had grown a little more serious.
“Are you really sure you can be friends with me?”
“Of course.”
I answered without hesitation.
“Then after the season ends.”
She paused. The hand holding her glass trembled faintly.
“If you still feel the same way then…… let’s be friends. You and me.”
Silence followed. The quiet music inside the restaurant sounded unusually clear.
Three days after the hospital visit, I was back to every drill except bullpen work. A week after that, today, the first bullpen session with my brand-new elbow was finally on the schedule.
Thwack!
“Nice ball!”
Thwack!
“Nice ball!”
Exactly as the Status Window had rated me, monstrous pitches exploded off my fingertips.
“Whoa, hyung. Why’s your stuff suddenly this good?”
O Daesik—once just my morning workout partner, now my bullpen catcher—pulled off his mask and walked over, eyes wide with surprise.
“I used to have Tommy John leftovers. They cleared up a little while ago.”
“That’s even possible?”
“The hospital said it was close to a miracle.”
And Daesik wasn’t the only one stunned by my pitching.
“Well look at that. Doyoon’s back.”
Kim Taehwan, who’d been watching from the side, clapped me on the shoulder.
“All thanks to you, Coach.”
“Me? You worked your ass off.”
Technically it was the Status Window, but I still gave the credit to him.
“I’m really glad. I never said it before, but after what happened to you I lost a lot of sleep.”
“Come on, that wasn’t on you. I pushed my way up there.”
Seeing my elbow healthy again seemed to ease something in him.
“Oh, right. The GM’s coming by soon.”
“The general manager?”
Daesik and I both whipped our heads toward Kim Taehwan, eyes round at the sudden bombshell.
Then—
Creeeak.
“Ah, looks like he’s here.”
The bullpen door opened and a man and woman walked in.
“Hello.”
An unfamiliar voice made me turn. The man who stepped through the door looked nothing like the “general manager” I’d always pictured.
He was young—early thirties at most. And startlingly handsome.
Clean jawline, neatly combed hair, cool eyes softened by an easy expression. One button of his dress shirt open under the suit jacket, a relaxed smile on his face.
Cheon Sojin followed right behind him. In a blouse and tailored pants today, she looked less like a team leader and more like a secretary.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
Coach Kim Taehwan hurriedly pulled off his cap. Daesik and I bowed as well.
“Please, at ease.”
The man waved us off first and dipped his head.
“Kim Ihyun, general manager of the Wonju Flyers.”
The gentle smile and nod made him look like a commercial model. Even his voice was soft; it was hard to believe this was the man who actually ran the club.
“Just dropped by to watch some training.”
Those few words shifted the whole atmosphere in the bullpen. Kim Taehwan cleared his throat, tense; Daesik snapped back into perfect posture and put his mask on again.
Then the GM’s gaze landed on me. He studied me a moment and gave a small smile.
“You’re Doyoon, right?”
He stepped forward and offered his hand. We shook lightly while he looked me over. Up close he was even more impressive. A face like that, at this age, as a general manager—honestly, I would’ve believed he was a celebrity.
Standing next to Cheon Sojin usually turned anyone into a squid, but this man didn’t just avoid looking like one; the two of them together looked like a scene out of a drama.
“How’s the arm?”
“Almost perfect now, sir.”
“Good to hear.”
He smiled brightly.
“Team Leader Cheon has told me a lot about you. Last week the two of you went on a da—”
Right then—
“Ah—ah!”
Cheon Sojin’s right hand, which had been hanging quietly behind him, twitched—and the GM suddenly yelped. Every eye snapped toward him. He was slightly bent over, staring at her in flustered surprise.
……What was that?
“General Manager, are you all right?”
Coach Kim Taehwan stepped closer. The GM quickly laughed and waved him off.
“Ah, yes yes. Just a cramp. Haha…”
……A cramp?
Out of nowhere?
I was sure I’d seen Cheon Sojin’s hand go for his side—
“Doyoon, shall we keep throwing?”
She turned toward me as if nothing had happened, voice perfectly calm.
……Maybe I imagined it.
The GM’s arrival had stirred things up for a moment, but the bullpen snapped back into training mode almost at once. Knowing he was watching put everyone on high alert.
I remembered what Cheon Sojin had said at the Japanese restaurant.
“Haa. All right. Then I’ll talk to the general manager for you.”
He’d even singled me out for a handshake, so he had almost certainly come to see me.
Pop! Pop!
O Daesik pounded his mitt with a fist and bellowed,
“All right, let’s go, hyung!”
That was the signal. With the general manager watching, bullpen work began.
“Hup!”
I put everything into the first pitch.
Thwaack!
“Nice ball!”
Daesik stretched the mitt forward and shouted deliberately loud. The heavy crack of leather made my shoulders tighten with extra power.
Thwaack!
Thwaack!
Thwaack!
Thwaack!
Four four-seam fastballs in a row, then I snuck a glance toward the GM.
But the atmosphere between Cheon Sojin and him was a little…… strange.
He said something; her eyes went round and she jabbed him in the side with a sharp poke. The motion was so natural it almost made me flustered just watching.
At her poke the GM beamed and leaned slightly toward her. There wasn’t a shred of awkwardness between them. She scowled and muttered something; he only smiled as if he found it adorable.
……What?
They looked way closer than I’d expected.
As general manager he was her boss, yet nothing about her attitude said “superior.” More like old friends—or something even closer.
And when she finished speaking, he suddenly reached out and ruffled her hair with a fond look, as casually as if he did it every day.
Her eyes went wide again; she scowled and gave his shin a light kick. He flinched and grabbed his leg, but even then he couldn’t stop laughing.
……What the hell are those two?
There was no way that looked like a boss-subordinate relationship.
Last time she’d told me she had no one she could open up to.
It definitely wasn’t jealousy, but watching them left a small, uncomfortable knot in my chest.