A Date with Cheon Sojin

Back in my dorm room, I unpacked my bags and found myself replaying the training facilities I'd just seen.

At least the facilities are solid, contrary to what I was worried about. Training shouldn't be a problem.

Even with those impressive facilities still fresh in my mind, my head was occupied by a single thought: someday, I was going back to the Seoul Wales.

Last year and the year before that, I already racked up enough registered days for two years. If I fill this year too, that's three total… Barring anything special, I'm looking at a minimum of five years with this team.

Not that I planned to throw a fit and demand a way out. I'd do this the pro way — give everything I had here, earn free agency eligibility, and return to the Wales in glory.

And who knew? Cheon Sojin had said it herself earlier. The first survival strategy of a cash-strapped franchise: trade a ready-to-contribute player for a prospect. That player could end up being me.

…Which meant I first had to do something about this useless Status Window.

I'd long since given up on erasing Blockhead Thrower. At this point, I'd settle for any means of raising my attributes the way a normal status window would let you.

How could it stay this quiet after the tutorial quest? I'd trained, I'd pitched in games, I'd even fired up OOTS on the off chance it was linked somehow — nothing changed. It was stuck exactly the way it had been the day I first received it.

Ah, forget it. Just forget it. I'll raise my game the old-fashioned way — by working my ass off.

I cut short the dead-end fretting, changed clothes, and headed straight down to the dorm lobby.

With the entire roster and coaching staff out on a road trip, the place was completely empty. So for now, Cheon Sojin had offered to give me a quick tour herself.

When I stepped into the lobby, I spotted her sitting in the lounge. She was so absorbed in a stack of papers that even as I walked right up, her eyes never left the pages.

Watching her concentrate like that, something suddenly —

Welcome to Flyers Baseball Park, Han Doyoon.

That proud, radiant smile, and the warm sunlight pouring in behind her — for a moment, the scene from earlier replayed in my head like a frame from a drama, just as beautiful as it had been then.

Ha… I keep thinking about it. That moment earlier.

Remembering the way she'd smiled so proudly while calling the club's facilities the best training complex around made an unexpected guilt start to creep in.

Here I was, standing in front of someone who clearly loved the organization she worked for, already planning my exit five years down the line.

Of course I intended to give it everything while I was here — if only for my own sake — but the twinge of conscience was hard to shake.

Come on. Feeling sorry now doesn't change anything. It's not like I'm going to stay past five years.

I forced the guilt out of my head and replayed the last exchange I'd had with Cheon Sojin before heading up to my room.

I'd basically been steamrolled into saying yes.

Honestly, I really, really didn't feel like it.

I was already wiped from barely sleeping. One hour of car-nap sleep wasn't going to cut it.

…But I'd already said I'd come down, so I might as well get it over with.

I changed clothes and headed to the club lobby, where Cheon Sojin was still sitting in the lounge.

Knock, knock.

"I'm here, Team Leader Cheon."

I tapped the desk. She jumped and hastily shoved the stack of documents out of sight.

"J-jeez! When did you get here?"

"Just now. What were you reading so intently, though?"

"Nothing important. Let's start the tour first."

…What was she looking at that she had to hide it that fast? And she looked seriously flustered, too.

"Eek!"

"Wh— hey! Are you okay?"

And now she'd tripped and nearly fallen.

Was she actually all right?

Well, look at her.

The woman who'd been flustered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beyond recovery a moment ago was now guiding me through the club facilities as if nothing had happened, smooth as could be.

This place — Flyers Baseball Park — had just about everything under the sun. The most impressive piece was a state-of-the-art pitching machine, the only one of its kind in the country. Feed it a pitcher's data and it would recreate and throw that pitcher's repertoire. The more I watched it work, the more incredible it seemed.

"Han Doyoon, aren't you curious what your own pitches look like from the batter's box? Want to give it a try?"

I'd seen my pitches before, of course — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but only ever from the mound. Watching them from the box was a completely different feeling.

I was starting to understand why hitters kept squaring them up so easily. Ahem.

"…And this is the recovery room. If anything hurts, come here right away. Even if nothing hurts, stop by at least once a week. Injuries are something you prevent before they happen, understood?"

By the time we'd thoroughly walked Flyers Baseball Park, it was past six in the evening.

"Doyoon, are you hungry?"

Spending a full half-day wandering around together had worn away most of the tension between us. Somewhere along the way, the way she addressed me had shifted from "Han Doyoon" to just "Doyoon."

"Yeah, a little."

"Then one last stop — the cafeteria? Come on, hurry! Our ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠club's food is seriously next-level~"

I followed Cheon Sojin into the cafeteria and found a surprisingly spacious room. At a glance, it could easily seat fifty people.

Long tables ran down the center in a row, and to the left, food was laid out buffet-style. Maybe it was all the walking, but the savory smell of rice hit me as especially delicious.

We sat across from each other and traded small talk over the meal.

"Team Leader, did you join the front office because you love baseball?"

"Of course. I really, truly love baseball. When I was a kid, I practically lived at the ballpark."

"Oh — so you're a Flyers fan?"

"Nope. Not a Flyers fan."

Cheon Sojin answered playfully, eyes curving into a smile.

"Which team I root for is a secret. Heh."

"Come on, then why take a job with the Flyers?"

"…Hmm. Good question."

She thought for a moment, then smiled.

"Destiny?"

"See? You are a Flyers fan."

"I'm really not."

"Then which team do you root for?"

"That… I'll tell you later. Later."

She deflected smoothly and pivoted the conversation.

"What about you, Doyoon? Why did you become a baseball player?"

"Me?"

I set down my spoon and thought for a second.

"I loved baseball like crazy from the time I was little, too. I practically lived at the ballpark myself."

"Aww, come on~ Kids your generation who say that? There's a dozen of them on every block."

Cheon Sojin tilted her head slightly, smiling.

"Besides that — any other reason?"

"There is one, yeah."

I scooped up a spoonful of rice, chewed slowly, and let the silence hang.

"What is it?"

She leaned forward a little. The anticipation was written all over her face.

"Ah, this one's kind of embarrassing."

I scratched the back of my head for no good reason.

"Oh, don't be like that. Just tell me."

She nudged her chopsticks toward me, pressing.

That slightly coquettish, eager voice. Looking at that face, that voice, that expression — I felt like I might actually spill it without meaning to, so I turned my head away as I answered.

"You haven't told me which team you root for either, Team Leader."

"That's different!"

Her eyes went wide as she fired right back.

"Does it make any sense for someone collecting a paycheck from the Flyers to go around announcing which team she roots for?"

"Hmm… fair point, I guess."

At my lukewarm response, she puffed out her cheeks in mock injustice.

"So just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tell me already. Why did you want to become a baseball player?"

"Aigoo, I'll tell you later too. I've got my own reasons for keeping quiet, you know?"

"Hmm… okay!"

Cheon Sojin crossed her arms, wagged a finger, and put on a magnanimous, sly tone.

"Then if you tell me, I'll put in a good word with the GM at your next salary negotiation. How about that?"

"Hmm, that's a little weak."

"Tch. Fine. Don't tell me if you don't want to."

She stuck out her lower lip, grumbling, then added playfully:

"I'm going to badmouth you to the GM."

"Whoa — is that even allowed?"

"That's up to me, isn't it?"

"That's low."

At that, Cheon Sojin puffed her cheeks out even fuller and glared at me.

The expression was so cute I genuinely couldn't tell whether she was serious or joking.

…Somewhere along the way, it felt like we'd gotten pretty close.

When I'd left the dorm earlier, all I'd thought was, I'll figure out the facilities just by living here — why bother with a tour? Pure annoyance. Looking back now, I was glad I'd come out.

Cheon Sojin's profile caught my eye as she quietly cleared her tray without a word.

In that moment, the air of this unfamiliar team felt just a little less foreign.