No Ill Will (1)
"Hajun."
"·····"
"Lee Hajun."
"Ah!"
Lee Hajun snapped out of his daze at the dinner table.
"What were you thinking about so hard?"
"Nothing, just…"
It really was nothing. He had simply been replaying today's at-bats in his head and thinking about tomorrow's starting pitcher.
"Getting excited about facing your old team?"
"Not really."
Hajun answered his father curtly. When nothing special was going on, father-son conversations tended to go exactly like this.
"You're doing well in a new uniform, but that was still the team that drafted you, wasn't it? When you run into people connected to them, try to be polite."
"Well, yeah…"
What an obvious thing to say. But Hajun understood what his father really meant. Setting baseball aside, he just didn't want his son catching unnecessary flak wherever he went. If anything, Hajun was grateful for it.
When a child left for another team and started hitting well, some parents might have badmouthed the old club — complaining about why they never gave him more at-bats. Hajun's parents were not that type. They were the ones who led the charge every day in recognizing and celebrating their son's performances, yet they never made a fuss about it in front of him, afraid it might go to his head.
"You looked good today."
"·····"
"Reminded me of your elementary school days."
Back in elementary school, Hajun had been the team's ace and its core hitter.
"Do we have to go all the way back to elementary school? I hit pretty well in middle school too."
"Did you?"
"Are you sure you're my dad?"
A snort of laughter. For the first time in a while, both of them smiled at the same time.
"More importantly — any pretty girls around you?"
"·····"
His mother, back from doing the dishes, chimed in.
"I hear baseball players are popular."
"Well, about that…"
Hajun couldn't tell whether his mother actually knew what she was talking about or was just teasing him. Over the past few years, professional baseball had drawn in a younger crowd — young women in particular — and because of that, players who got into trouble over women had become prime targets for the media and fans alike.
This season alone, there had been a story about an active pro going to a hotel with another woman while he had a girlfriend; news of a married player two-timing his wife with not one but two other women; and a report of a player pressuring a woman he'd slept with for one night into getting an abortion. The season wasn't even over, and the exposés kept coming. There was a running joke that reporters now followed the Instagram accounts of players' wives and girlfriends just to dig up stories first.
"I haven't even properly established myself yet. Come on."
Hajun shook his head. No matter how much people around him hyped him up, and even knowing the secret no one else knew about him, right now he just wanted to focus on each game, each at-bat.
"Still, you're young. You should have some fun while you can."
Unexpectedly, his father — usually the one emphasizing professional diligence — backed up his mother's comment.
"I'm good."
Embarrassed, Hajun took a sip of the coffee his mother had given him.
What are they on about at this point.
Back when he'd first broken into the Lakers' first team after signing, he'd watched plenty of teammates who'd sweated it out with him in the minors lose their heads over women. Plenty of them had more talent than he did.
Yo, Hajun, training's done — let's hit Gangnam.
The new cheerleaders this year? Faces are looking solid.
Yeah, and they're still pie in the sky.
The '06 and '07 girls are straight-up fortresses. Same deal on other teams.
Ah, damn, Park Daeun's barely answering — bet she got a boyfriend.
I still haven't gotten anywhere with her, ugh.
Nah, it's because she got reamed by the cheer captain for showing up late to dance practice after drinking. She's keeping her distance.
One DM and you've got girls lining up to grab drinks. Why take the hard road?
If you can't date cheerleaders, what's the point of playing baseball? Hahaha.
Guys drunk on being young baseball players in a Seoul-based franchise. Eventually the captain had had enough and laid down the law in no uncertain terms — no private contact with the cheerleaders, or else. Get caught sleazing on female fans over social media and you're dead. Hajun still remembered the thorough dressing-down. Personal freedom was one thing, but once the biggest fan sites started calling people out, even the parent company upstairs started making noise.
Hajun, you catch the Worlds finals last night? Maker, man—
Yeongil hyung, I don't really know games…
Come on, you're a guy in your twenties too — you don't know Dae Seunghyeok?
"·····"
Of course, not every player was like that. Hajun had never thought of himself as particularly close to Jin Yeongil, and yet they still got along comfortably — and looking back, that hyung had his quirks, but he was oddly innocent when it came to this kind of thing.
It's not like I have zero interest in that direction.
Hajun was a healthy young man. Back in his Lakers days, when a young female celebrity came to throw out a first pitch, he'd hurry over to watch her warm up. When a cheerleader who was his type walked by, he'd wait for the right moment and glance back. For a while baseball had been going so poorly he couldn't spare the attention, and now it was going so well he simply didn't bother.
Still, not right now.
Finishing his coffee, Hajun reminded himself of what he needed to focus on.
"Anyway, make sure you greet the manager properly when you see him. And if the Lakers fans welcome you, be sure to thank them."
His father said it on his way into his room — the kind of man who always offered a few words of advice like a blessing, then stepped back. Hajun thought that this household, so steady even when his baseball career rose and fell, was something close to a blessing.
CRACK—!
This was a strange pitcher. Back when he'd just been playing for fun, he hadn't paid attention — more accurately, there'd been no reason to. But the guy wasn't throwing simple patterns. He was mixing things up just enough to make solid contact difficult.
Thud!
Hajun produced a massive fly ball that dropped just in front of the wall. But there was no fielder. No crowd. This was Lee Hajun's personal ballpark, after all.
Hit the incoming pitches
Pitches: 19 / 20
"Alright. Last one."
Twenty pitches still felt like too few. Couldn't it let him take a few more swings?
CRACK—!
He was greedy, sure — but Hajun still gave it everything he had.
Pitches: 20 / 20
"Hoo…"
Hajun had completed the mission once again. There was a time when earning ten points instead of twenty would have left him hollow and irritated. Not anymore. The reason was solid enough.
Points to next stage: 4,560 / 50,000
"A long way to go. Really."
Far too much still left before the goal. Unlocking the Silver skill set had taken 10,000 points. The next one — Gold — required 50,000. And the points he'd accumulated to earn his current skill set had reset the moment he acquired it.
Training Mode has ended.
[ Exit ]
"·····"
Still, there was nothing to be done about it. He knew well enough that this was a gift far beyond what he deserved.
"I'm heading out."
Hajun said it toward the mound where the pitcher — already gone after throwing his twenty pitches — had been standing.
"Ugh, this is why Seoul drives me crazy."
Jin Yeongil, who had somehow become an honorary provincial resident in just a few months, grumbled as he complained.
"At least we left early. That's something."
Friday, a weekday. It wasn't rush hour, but this was Seoul — and the Gangnam side of it, no less. The traffic was brutal. The Daejeon Hawks team bus, bound for the Lakers road series, pulled into Jamsil Baseball Stadium a few hours before first pitch.
"Huh?"
"Man, feels like there are more of them every time."
The Daejeon Hawks were a popular team by default. On the road — especially in the capital region — fans waiting for autographs always gathered when the bus unloaded.
"Sorry, I'm starting today."
"Ah…"
Today's starter, Oh Junseo, turned down autograph requests with a deeply apologetic look. A casual fan might have been put off, but regulars who knew the drill generally didn't bother asking the day's starting pitcher.
"Hahaha…"
A player who'd been about to decline, then spotted a little kid and signed anyway.
"Sorry to bother you when you're busy."
"Hahaha, busy? Please."
A player who'd been about to walk past with a cool expression, only for his whole demeanor to flip the moment a model-aura female fan appeared.
"Sorry."
"·····"
Some players refused firmly. Others walked past without any response at all.
"Lee Hajun!"
"Over here!"
As the team kept winning and his own numbers started to show, the number of fans asking Hajun for autographs had truly exploded.
Ahem.
Being human, a mix of emotions crossed his mind. But with so many different kinds of fans showing up, he kept a consistent expression and signed diligently, careful not to give anyone grounds to claim he was playing favorites.
"I want to be like you when I grow up, hyung."
"You've gotta be better than me."
He offered a kind word to a kid who looked like he played Little League, then handled a female fan who seemed a few years older with careful tact.
"My Instagram is…"
"Sorry, I don't really have an account."
It was summer, and her outfit left quite a bit of skin showing — an outfit that suited a rather full upper body. Hajun had to make a conscious effort to keep his eyes from drifting downward.
"Better now than your Lakers days, right?"
"Hahaha."
Questions that were hard to answer properly, he deflected with a laugh.
"Please keep cheering for us, everyone."
And finally, he turned to the fans with those words.
Perfect.
Even he had to admit it had been clean.
He drew in a long breath of air. At home, in his dreams, and as a public figure — having finished what needed doing, Lee Hajun stepped into Jamsil Baseball Stadium, the place where his professional career had begun.
Just as his father had said, this was the team that had made him a pro.
"·····"
He swore there was no hostility in him. But people don't move on reason alone — and the desire to show them who he was now surged through him, raw and eager.