Hell Camp (1)
Departure day arrived, and before the sun had even risen we all gathered at the airport and set out. The early hour kept everyone's energy low, but their faces were bright all the same.
"How's your condition?"
"Great. I feel like I could play a game right now."
"Tsk. That'd be a problem. Build your body too fast and the season will wreck you."
"C'mon, hyung. Figure of speech. I've been resting plenty."
A few short greetings passed between us, and then we went straight into check-in. Personal gear had already been shipped ahead, so the process wrapped up quickly, and before long we were boarding the plane. The moment we settled into our seats, the fatigue of moving since dawn caught up with everyone; without a word, they closed their eyes. I did the same and drifted off for a while.
When I opened my eyes again, we were already in Okinawa. After clearing immigration at the airport, we climbed straight into the waiting vans.
Until now, every time I'd arrived in Okinawa it had been February. I'd already gotten my body ready on my own, then joined the team camp on the club's schedule. Maybe that was why. Same place, same air, same scenery — and yet January's Okinawa felt strangely unfamiliar.
By the time the vans pulled up in front of the lodging, noon had already come and gone.
We collected our keys from Kwak Daehwi's personal trainer, who'd arrived ahead of us, and scattered to our assigned rooms. The position-player group — Kwak Daehwi, Kang Daegeun, and Park Taejeong — shared one room, while the pitcher group of me and Gang Junseong, plus catcher Kim Gyeongmo, took another.
The lodging wasn't flashy so much as clean. No unnecessary decoration — just what you needed, set neatly in place. The rooms were fairly spacious, too; living here wouldn't be a problem.
In one corner, the luggage we'd shipped ahead was already waiting — boxes with each of our names on them. We finished unpacking and were taking a short break when —
Knock, knock.
The door opened and Kwak Daehwi stepped in.
"Finish unpacking and be down in the lobby by two. Orientation only today, so just bring yourselves."
"Yes, sir."
"Yessir."
"Got it."
A little later, when we headed down to the lobby, Kwak Daehwi and the position players were already waiting.
"Everyone's here. Let's go."
Under Kwak Daehwi's lead we ate lunch first, then toured the gym near the lodging and the practice field a five-minute drive away, one after the other.
The gym wasn't far from the lodging. It was a space built purely for training, fully stocked with equipment. One look told you this wasn't a civilian fitness center.
The field was close, too. The moment we stepped out of the van, the main field, the secondary field, and the bullpen all came into view at once. The layout was simple enough that the traffic flow mapped itself in my head immediately.
When we gathered in front of the field, the trainers and coaches who'd come with us gave brief introductions and a short rundown of their roles for the camp. That wrapped up the day's schedule. As the atmosphere started to settle, Kwak Daehwi stepped forward with the evening sun at his back.
"Training starts tomorrow. That's it for today. But before that, I've got something to say. It's important, so I'd like you to listen carefully."
He cleared his throat and went straight into it.
"Last season, we finished last. I'm not going to make excuses. I've got responsibility in that, too. The standings don't lie."
He shifted his gaze and continued.
"Even so, I saw potential. Kang Daegeun. Park Taejeong. Kim Gyeongmo. And Han Doyoon. You guys."
In a calm voice, meeting each of us eye to eye, he spoke.
"I've been with this team for fourteen years already. Embarrassing as it is, in all that time we've never won a championship — and we've only made the postseason once, back in my second year. I'm thirty-four now. I still think I can help the team, but honestly, I don't know how much longer this body will hold up. Time doesn't take anyone's side."
Kwak Daehwi turned his head and looked at Gang Junseong.
"Senior Gang Junseong here was originally planning to leave the team after this year. With retirement not far off, he said he wanted to spend the end of his career in his hometown, Busan."
Gang Junseong smiled without a word.
"I held him back. Asked him to give us a little more. There was only one reason. Because you guys were here."
"Before my strength runs out — and while Senior Junseong has agreed to pitch in — I want to put up a result that actually means something."
His eyes came back to us.
As if on cue with Kwak Daehwi's words, we naturally wrapped our arms around each other's shoulders and formed a circle. Standing close enough to feel one another's breathing, we looked into each other's resolve.
"So. I'm counting on all of you this year."
Kwak Daehwi looked at each of us in turn.
"All of us, together — let's soar."
After a brief breath, he shouted short and clear.
"Fighting!"
"Fighting!"
No one said much more. There was no need to put our resolve into words. Our eyes were already saying enough.
After Kwak Daehwi's speech, we headed to a Korean-style barbecue place near the lodging.
For somewhere so close to a camp facility, it was better than expected. The place was already packed; without a reservation, we wouldn't have gotten a table.
"Aren't we overdoing it on day one of camp?"
Watching the meat vanish and the empty plates pile up, Gang Junseong spoke with a worried look. There were only six of us, but we were all solidly built baseball players — the rate at which food disappeared was no joke.
"It's the first day. Gotta feed them full."
Kwak Daehwi grinned as he answered.
"Starting tomorrow, we run them into the ground."
Whether they knew what was coming or not, the four rookies were still completely absorbed in the meat.
"Aaaargh!"
One week into Kwak Daehwi's camp. Today, like every day, groans erupted from every direction.
Every morning started with weight training. Once we finished the lower-body and core-focused routine, we headed straight to the field for running. With our lungs already burning, we used a short game of catch to settle our breathing; after lunch, body-balance training followed immediately.
The position-player group repeated basic movements while holding their center of gravity on one leg. Single-leg squats. Land and freeze. Change of direction. Simple motions — but the moment you fell, you started over from the beginning.
The pitcher group had it even harder. Hold your balance on one foot, take the pitching motion into slow motion, then freeze right before release. Same rule: if you couldn't hold it, back to the start.
"Hold it right there."
We gritted our teeth and tried to follow the trainers' instructions, but it wasn't as easy as it sounded. Even Senior Gang Junseong, now thirty-nine, was no exception. Every time his balance wavered, the motion reset to the beginning, and without a word he repeated the same movement again.
"You okay?"
I'd lost my balance and fallen; I carefully asked the senior still standing ramrod straight. Gang Junseong raised a hand and shook his head.
"I can still hold."
His breathing was rough, but his tone was calm. As if it was no accident he'd lasted as a player this long — a stark contrast to Kang Daegeun over in the position group, who'd already flopped onto the ground several times declaring he couldn't do it.
I planted myself on one foot again. Drove force into the sole, locked my hips, and took the motion slowly. Steady the breath. Feel the center. It threatened to tip, but this time I held it — just barely.
"Okay. That's enough."
The trainer said it short.
After balance training, as the sun began to sink, the finishing runs began.
Finishing runs were split between pitchers and position players. The pitcher group cleanly ran ten laps and was done; the position group had no set number. Just run to the limit of your stamina — run, and run, and run some more. Once every last drop of energy had been wrung out like a dry rag, the day's schedule was over.
"Come on, come on! Daegeun! You can still run! One more lap!"
Kang Daegeun, still left out on the field, tried flopping down like he was spent — but there was no escaping Kwak Daehwi's hawk eyes.
"KRAAAAAH!"
Hauled back to his feet, Kang Daegeun let out a howl and forced his legs to move again. Everyone except Kwak Daehwi and Kang Daegeun had long since finished training and was in the dugout, drinking water and resting.
"…Looks like he got hit with the 'annoying him' penalty, huh?"
"Hah… Yeah. Seems that way."
Watching from the dugout, we nodded at the same time.
From the first day of camp, Kang Daegeun had been especially dramatic about how hard everything was. He complained a lot, and whenever he got the chance he'd quietly drop the weight on the bar or skip a rep in balance work. He might have thought no one would notice — but he'd picked the wrong opponent.
Kwak Daehwi, who'd spotted Kang Daegeun's slacking instantly, had put him under dedicated surveillance starting day two. Running, weights, field work — no exceptions. Other players could drop out once they cleared the set standard; for Kang Daegeun, there was no end in sight.
"Your breathing's still fine."
"Huuuh, huff. S-Senior. Huff. I-I really can't. I'm gonna throw up…!"
"Yeah, yeah. One more lap and then you can go rest. Hurry up."
Kang Daegeun whined without pause, but Kwak Daehwi just smiled and never once eased the pace. Thanks to that, from the first week of camp Kang Daegeun ran more and got put through more than anyone else. Trying to slack had landed him on the hardest route of all.
"You'd think he'd just shut up and work out after this much. He never stops chattering."
Kim Gyeongmo, already finished showering, came into the dugout toweling his hair as he spoke.
"Right? The more he talks, the more Senior Daehwi notices he's still got energy and keeps piling it on."
"Still, you've gotta give him credit. He complains every single day, but the one who's always left standing at the end is Daegeun. His stamina's ridiculous. Right?"
I nodded at Kim Gyeongmo's words and looked out at Kang Daegeun circling the track again. His breathing was ragged and his form had broken down badly, but his feet never stopped. You could hear the grumbling — but there was no sign of giving up.
"Hey, Doyoon — aren't you tired? Even ten laps isn't nothing, but you look fine every day."
"Ahaha…"
Caught off guard by Senior Gang Junseong's question, I gave an awkward laugh, conscience pricked.
Well —
Lower-body muscle fiber overload damage recovered.
Risk of minor hamstring tear resolved.
Knee joint compression fatigue eased.
…
Full-body lactic acid buildup cleared.
Because of Diamond Body, my body was recovering in real time. While everyone else was gasping, staggering, legs gone so soft they couldn't find their footing, I only got a little winded. The skill made the recovery rate different — so the pain I felt was different, too.
What if I'd come here with the quest still active? That would've been a disaster.
If I'd had a Growth Center quest activated, I wouldn't have gotten the skill's effects either — and I'd have had to endure this hellish training bare, just like everyone else. Just thinking about it sent a chill down my spine.
On the final lap, Kang Daegeun staggered and collapsed into a sit.
"Haa… haa…"
He no longer even had the strength to talk; the mouth that never stopped moving had finally gone still. Only his chest heaved as he dragged in air.
Kwak Daehwi looked at him and said, short:
"Good work. Go in."
At that single line, Kang Daegeun flopped flat onto the ground, and the rest of us caught our breath in our own spots, trembling with dread as we thought about tomorrow.
This hell camp had only been going for a week.