Park Haeun (3)
Honestly, the first time I saw Park Haeun… she just looked completely ordinary. Yellow hoodie, pajama pants still on, slippers dragging behind her. Hood pulled deep over greasy hair she was trying to hide, eyes fixed on the floor the whole time like she was painfully shy of strangers.
The one thing that stood out was how close she came to pure mania the moment baseball entered the conversation. As a player there were plenty of points I couldn’t fully relate to, but I could tell crystal clear that this person was genuinely obsessed with baseball—and with the pitches I threw.
But now—
The Park Haeun standing at my door felt nothing like that first impression. I almost wondered if she was even the same person.
Round eyes, a tiny face, and features so sharp and clear it was amazing they all fit on something so small.
She was definitely on the short side, yet her head was so petite that at a glance the “small” part barely registered.
In a word, she looked like a fairy straight out of a storybook.
Park Haeun stepped carefully inside, greeted us, sat at the table, and immediately struck up a lively conversation with my mother.
“It’s a little embarrassing, actually. I only became a fan yesterday…”
Mom shot right back.
“Why would that matter? Since when does being a fan have a minimum time requirement?”
Park Haeun blinked in surprise, then gave a quiet little smile. Mom kept going.
“Just from the way you were talking about Doyoon’s pitches earlier, I could tell. Anyone whose eyes light up like that—who’s going to claim they’re not a fan?”
Mom smiled, thoroughly pleased.
“If anybody hears that and still says ‘not a fan,’ bring them to me. I’ll set them straight.”
Park Haeun looked momentarily flustered, then ducked her head in shy embarrassment. After that it became pretty much just Mom and Park Haeun’s private conversation for a while.
“So Haeun, how did you end up loving baseball this much?”
Before I knew it Mom was casually calling her “Haeun.” Getting that friendly with someone she’d just met was peak Mom behavior.
“Um… I don’t really know myself.”
Park Haeun toyed with the rim of her cup as she spoke.
“My dad was a huge baseball fan. We used to watch together… and at some point I got curious. Why can’t batters hit that pitcher’s stuff? Which batter would hit it best…? I started looking those things up one by one, and before I realized it baseball had become ridiculously fun.”
The expression on Park Haeun’s face while she talked about baseball was exactly like a girl carefully confessing her first love.
“Oh my…”
I could practically see little hearts sparkling in Mom’s eyes.
And right then—
Slap!
“You. Your fan is sitting right here and you haven’t said a single word? You were zoning out again, weren’t you?”
Mom’s backhand to my shoulder snapped me out of my thoughts.
“Ah—no… you two were talking so well, why suddenly…”
I’d just been sitting quietly because there hadn’t been any room to jump in. Honestly, it felt a little unfair.
Mom paid zero attention to whatever face I was making and immediately turned back to Park Haeun.
“Haeun? Isn’t there anything you’re curious about with Doyoon?”
Park Haeun’s eyes went round with surprise.
“Uh… there is, but…”
Her voice trailed smaller and smaller. Her fingers fidgeted carefully on her knees.
“Then ask already. His break ends tomorrow—if you don’t do it now there won’t be time.”
Park Haeun looked even more cornered and snuck a glance at me.
“Ah, well… it’s kind of a sensitive question…”
I had a pretty good idea what she meant. Almost certainly the doping controversy. I gave a small nod.
“…It’s fine. Go ahead and ask.”
At that, Park Haeun drew in a deep breath. I could see those small shoulders tremble just a little.
“Th-then… really, really, it’s not that I think Player Han Doyoon is, you know, that—I’m just curious…”
Her voice kept shrinking as she forced the words out.
“How bad was the Tommy John aftermath… and how exactly did you recover, please tell meee…”
“…”
I just stared at her after that. Park Haeun read my expression and hurriedly added,
“Ah—no, I mean after the articles came out I looked into it… looking at the release-point differences I understand why the velocity went up, but I still can’t figure out how the Tommy John complications got better…”
As she struggled through the explanation her hands were rubbing each other like a pair of chalkboard erasers. I found the whole thing kind of cute and just kept watching her.
“I-I’m sorry…!”
When I stayed silent and kept staring, Park Haeun bit her lip hard like she was about to cry any second. The reaction was adorable, so I’d been watching a little longer than I should have, but now I figured I’d better stop. At this rate she really would cry.
“It’s fine. Really fine. The team’s going to put out a statement soon anyway.”
Leaving out anything about the Status Window, I carefully walked her through everything the hospital had told me.
“Oh… oh…”
Park Haeun’s eyes sparkled as she listened. She nodded, then widened her eyes, then locked in with the kind of focus that looked ready to take notes—like a student determined not to miss a single line of an important lecture.
That sincerity came through loud and clear.
It felt like she genuinely cared about the balls I threw and about my entire pitching life. That passion wasn’t exaggeration or performance; it showed in every expression, every look in her eyes.
I’d signed autographs and taken photos with fans a few times before, but this felt completely different.
…So this is what a real fan is like.
Seeing that made me feel unexpectedly good.
Until a little while ago I hadn’t understood why Mom kept bringing over people who made me uncomfortable, or why she kept forcing me to talk. Now I got it a little.
I wanted to keep talking with this person who sincerely loved baseball—and my pitches.
“Wow… so that kind of thing actually happens. I’m really glad.”
“Yeah. Even the hospital called it a miracle.”
“Then, recently Player Doyoon’s location has been, uh, um…”
From the way her words trailed off and the look on her face, it was painfully obvious what she wanted to say.
“A complete mess?”
I shot back with a deliberately blunt, teasing phrasing. Park Haeun startled and waved her hands wildly.
“Ah—no! That’s not what I—!”
“Then how was it?”
I deliberately made my expression even more serious. Watching her fluster somehow made me want to tease her more.
“A-anyway!”
Park Haeun’s face went red as she stammered.
“I-it got a little worse, right? That… maybe the feel changed during recovery and that’s why?”
I finally let out a short laugh. Truth was it had nothing to do with that. The pitches had been drilling dead center because of Blockhead Thrower, and the recovery had been instant thanks to Diamond Body.
But I couldn’t exactly say that, so I fudged it.
“That actually makes sense.”
I nodded vaguely and kept going.
“I mentioned earlier—until they carted me off holding my elbow I didn’t even know I was recovering. Hearing you put it that way, yeah, maybe. Pretty sharp.”
“Right? I knew something felt off. From the second half the location numbers just spiked.”
And just like that, a real baseball conversation between Park Haeun and me got rolling.
Except—
“But… that’s because you’ve never actually caught the ball yourself. It’s different. Totally different. A good fastball comes alive one more time with a bang!”
“So the feel and the actual phenomenon are different. The trajectory you imagine and the real trajectory don’t match, so you’re misreading it…”
The more this woman talked, the more we just didn’t line up.
I was the one who actually played the game and felt it that way, yet she kept insisting I was wrong.
“Fine, next off-season I’ll just show you. Even from behind the net, watch once. It really does come alive one more time, okay?”
This wasn’t going to work with words alone. She was never going to believe it unless she saw it herself. The moment I said that—
“Huk…! R-really?!”
Park Haeun’s eyes doubled in size. For a second I glimpsed the same manic spark I’d seen by the recycling bins, her gaze overflowing with pure expectation.
But only for a second.
She shook her head hard, snapped back to reality, and immediately started arguing against me again.
When the atmosphere started looking like it might overheat, Mom—who’d been quietly listening from the living room—finally stepped in.
“Oh my~ Look at the time already. It’s ten o’clock. Ten.”
Clear signal that this conversation was ending right here.
Park Haeun checked her phone.
“Ah… you’re right.”
The heated debate cooled off in an instant.
Mom continued smoothly.
“Doyoon, walk Haeun home.”
Park Haeun waved her hands.
“Ah—no! It’s right upstairs. I can go by myself.”
Mom shook her head right away.
“Aigoo, you don’t send a girl home alone at night. Even if it’s just upstairs.”
At that single line Park Haeun paused, then couldn’t argue anymore and simply nodded.
“…Then… please…”
As we walked down the hallway and up the stairs, the Park Haeun who’d been glaring and arguing earlier vanished, replaced by the quiet, soft-spoken version from our first meeting.
Neither of us said a word the entire way to her front door.
We exchanged awkward goodbyes once we arrived.
“Th-then go on in.”
“Yes, yees… please go carefully…”
But on the way back home after dropping her off, a strange sense of dissonance flickered through my head.
Come to think of it… she’s that pretty, so why am I not nervous at all?
Objectively speaking, she had the kind of beauty you might only see once in a lifetime. And yet after the single moment of surprise when I first opened the door, my heart hadn’t raced even a little—which was weird.
I thought about it for a second and the reason turned out to be simpler than expected.
This is because of Team Leader Cheon Sojin.
The kind of beauty you might only see once in a lifetime—I’d already been looking at it for two straight months. Ever since transferring to the Flyers I’d seen Team Leader Cheon Sojin’s face at least five times a week. I’d even eaten alone with her. Somewhere along the way I’d built up immunity to pretty people.
Come to think of it, the Team Leader hasn’t contacted me at all.
Remembering Cheon Sojin after forgetting about her for a while brought that strange feeling back. Of course she and I weren’t anything. Still, I’d been holding onto a small hope that we were somewhere past team leader and player, somewhere short of friends—but maybe that had just been my own delusion.
All I’d heard was the indirect word through the manager that they were “preparing an official response.” Not a single direct message from the Team Leader herself. A bitter taste lingered at the corner of my mouth.
Yeah. Team leaders and players don’t usually run into each other much anyway. Up till now she was probably just being friendly to help me settle in. And opposing my first-team debut… from the club’s perspective that was probably the right call.
I tried to tidy the thoughts away like that, but the uneasy feeling still wouldn’t leave.