Toward 160 km/h (2)

Day five of the Velocity Increase — Hard quest. First thing in the morning, I stepped onto the treadmill at the gym near my house to knock out the first task: a 10 km run.

"Haa…"

The gym was nearly empty that early. Just two office workers stopping by before work, one young woman, and me.

Only day five, and my body was already starting to scream. A 10 km run, twenty long tosses, three hundred strength-training reps, and then 157 km/h. How insane it was to repeat this every single day — only the Status Window that had handed me this quest seemed not to understand.

As I started running and felt my heart rate climbing, I muttered without thinking.

"I still have to do this nine more times…"

The familiar blue window floated before my eyes.

"Haa… still a long way to go."

I bumped the speed from nine to twelve. My feet drove harder against the accelerating belt. Complaining wouldn't help. Until I finished this morning's 10 km, the day couldn't even begin.

After finishing the morning run, I went home and rested for a long while. I showered, loaded up on protein and carbs, stretched at a leisurely pace — and still the fatigue buried deep in my body refused to settle.

Around noon, I dragged my aching arms over to the training center.

Haa… these don't even feel like my arms anymore.

Three days of accumulated fatigue had left them stiff beyond mere soreness — hard as stone. My shoulders pulled tight; my elbows creaked. On any normal day I would have taken at least one day off, but cracking this quest left no room for that kind of luxury.

The moment I opened the training center door, I spotted my senior at a table inside, black plastic bag spread open, shoveling jajangmyeon into his mouth.

"Mmmph… mmph… here for… mmph… training…?"

His mouth was so full of noodles I could barely make out the words.

Just swallow first, man…

I snorted a quiet laugh and gave him a light greeting.

"Yes. Gotta throw again."

He paused his chopsticks, still chewing, and nodded.

"Mmmph… right… but you… mmph… arm okay?"

I rolled my right arm once and answered.

"Honestly? Not great. Just… locked up."

He finally stopped chewing and forced the noodles down with a hard ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠swallow.

"Cough! Haa… hey. You're here to hit 157 again today, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Well… I have to."

He shoved the jajangmyeon bowl aside and looked me up and down, expression hardening. Half irritation, half worry.

"You keep this up and you're going to wreck that arm for real. You know what goes first when you throw day after day? The shoulder. The shoulder. Once the shoulder's gone, you're done. Tommy John would be the better option, you get me?"

"Haa… I know."

"If you know, why do you keep throwing?"

"I told you. The Status Window gave me a quest."

"If you don't want to talk about it, just say so. Don't hide behind that weird excuse."

"I'm serious, hyung…"

He let out a long sigh, set down his chopsticks, and pressed both hands against his temples.

"…Even if I tell you not to throw, you're going to throw anyway, right?"

I hesitated for a moment, but the answer was already decided.

"…Yes."

At that, he quietly stood and started setting up the equipment. Behind his back I slipped a painkiller from my back pocket, swallowed it, and began working the arm that three days of abuse had turned to stone — slowly, carefully, as gently as I could.

I rolled my shoulders in every direction, kneaded the deltoids soft, turned my neck, loosened the traps, bent and straightened the elbow over and over. Knowing the arm was in bad shape, I took far more care than usual — and the more carefully I worked it, the more clearly I felt how rigidly the muscle had seized up.

…Damn. This is no joke.

Normally this much would have oiled the arm right up. Now, no matter how much I loosened it, all I got was creaking.

"Haa…"

I walked past hyung as he finished setting up, ball in hand, and stepped into the cage.

I didn't throw hard. I threw with precision and caution — checking angle, fingertip feel, release point — waking the body the way you coax something fragile back to life. The arm would start to free up, then catch on some motion with a heavy, grinding pain. Every time it did, I steadied my breathing and locked onto clean mechanics.

Where the front foot landed. The angle of hip rotation. The timing of the upper body coiling. The exact instant the ball left my fingertips. Today I fretted over units far smaller than usual. This wasn't about softening the body before a max-effort throw so much as reassembling an arm on the verge of coming apart.

I finished with one last throw at about eighty percent.

— Shiiing!

— Beep!

"…That's enough."

It wasn't fully loose. But there was no sign more work would help, so I decided not to waste any more time and throw as I was.

"Alright. Don't push it."

With hyung's worried words hanging in the air, I began a pure Full Power Pitch — no skill, just my own body.

"Hup!"

My body poured forward. My arm cracked like a whip.

— Bang!

— Beep!

The instant I confirmed the number on the display, I let out a short breath and dropped my arm.

…Done.

Maybe it was how meticulously I'd warmed up, or maybe the high-intensity routine of the past few days had tuned my body to this bullpen-pitcher rhythm. Either way, today the climb to 157 km/h came far faster than I'd expected.

"Hey. You okay?"

Hyung's voice came from behind me.

"Yeah… I'm fine."

I stepped out of the cage and drained a cup of water in one go.

"Hyung."

"What."

"I hit it really fast today."

"Is that something to brag about? I keep telling you just not to throw."

He looked at me with an irritated face, then exhaled a long sigh. Even while saying all that, he still let me keep throwing because he figured I must have a reason — and I was genuinely grateful for it.

"You keep this up and you're going to put yourself in the ground."

"I know."

"If you know, then rest already!"

I answered with a light smile instead of words. I was so drained even the smile came out weak.

And then—

— Ding!

"Oh. There it is."

Hyung gave me a puzzled look as I suddenly stared into empty air and muttered to myself.

"There what is."

"Status Window popped up. Said I cleared the quest."

I waved a hand to dismiss the window and carefully worked my cooling arm as I spoke.

"How long are you going to keep that bit going?"

"It's not a bit."

He sighed like he still couldn't believe me, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠filled a paper cup with water, and drank.

"Haa… fine. Bit or not, watching you move today — you're at your limit."

"I know. I'm done for today."

"Not 'for today' — just don't come at all, you lunatic."

Even as he grumbled, he snatched the glove out of my hand, tossed it onto the bench, and gave me a light thump on the head.

"I'm heading out."

"Hey. You've got ice, right? Put it on the second you get home. No weird heat-pack nonsense."

"Yes, yes."

"And don't come tomorrow."

I raised a hand in silent farewell and walked out of the training center.

And yet I have to throw again tomorrow… What excuse am I even going to use? The Status Window line isn't going to get me past him anymore.

On the way home I stopped at a convenience store for icing ice. I pulled two bags of crushed ice from the freezer and set them on the counter.

— Beep.

— Beep.

"That'll be 7,800 won."

I tapped my card against the terminal.

— Beep-ring!

The payment went through. I was about to slip the card back into my pocket when—

"Um… excuse me."

"…Yes?"

I looked up, ice bags in hand, and found a fairly cute convenience-store clerk looking me over, hesitating a little before she spoke.

"Are you… by any chance the baseball player Han Doyoon?"

"Uh… you know me?"

"Ah, I like baseball a bit. I thought I'd seen you somewhere…"

I managed an awkward smile around the ice bags.

"Ah. Yes. That's me."

She nodded and gave a small smile.

"I thought so… You've been pitching well lately."

"Ah… thank you."

After a brief pause, she added in a quieter voice.

"Um, if it's not too much… could I get just one autograph…"

I froze for a second.

"Want me to write a name on it?"

"Ah, no! Just… the signature is fine!"

"Sure."

I set the ice bags down for a moment, took the pen and paper ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she held out, signed on the counter, and handed it back.

"Here you go."

She accepted the paper carefully with both hands.

"Thank you! Fighting for next season!"

I picked the ice bags back up and gave a light nod.

"Thank you."

The moment I stepped out of the store, a pleased smile rose to my lips on its own.

…There are people who recognize me and ask for autographs now.

Whether it was the fallout from the doping mess or the performance I'd put up at the end of the season, I couldn't say — but the simple fact that someone knew who I was left me quietly proud.

Back home, I pressed the ice to my arm and lay down on the bed. A cool sensation seeped slowly through my skin. Feeling that chill, I sank into thought.

…Hyung's right. I can't keep going like this.

I'd scraped out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠157 km/h again today, but the throbbing deep inside my arm was already warning me tomorrow would be worse. Getting hurt didn't matter. If the quest failed, I could use a skill, and then Diamond Body would kick in and fix the arm.

The real problem was that at this rate, I was clearly never going to clear the quest at all.

I need a method.

I lay there with the ice fixed in place and thought for a long time.

And then—

"That's it! That's it!"

The idea hit like a flash.

I grabbed my phone right away and left hyung a short text.

The moment my thumb pressed the last character, a smile spread across my face.

Got it.