Daejeon's Princess (1)

Crack!

"Strike three! You're out!"

In the top of the ninth, cleanup hitter Kim Dongseong had crushed a go-ahead grand slam. Right behind him, fifth batter Ji Gyeongjun followed with a back-to-back home run of his own. It felt like the entire Daejeon Hawks lineup was finally venting every ounce of frustration they had swallowed earlier against the Lakers' starter, Enrique.

The weekend series between the Daejeon Hawks—suddenly the talk of the league thanks to Lee Hajun—and the Seoul Lakers had begun with back-to-back homers and ended the exact same way.

"One last word for the fans, please."

"This team is truly strong. We ask for your continued support next week as well."

The hero of the grand slam, captain and cleanup hitter Kim Dongseong, could not keep the smile from leaking into his postgame interview. Since joining the Hawks, when had he ever felt this confident? When had baseball ever been this much fun?

"Skip, today's win was just—!"

"…"

Head coach Yu Jinho, a man with two high-school-aged children, was bouncing around like a kid himself. Everything was clicking. When they were ahead, defeat felt impossible. When they trailed, a comeback always seemed inevitable. In the decisive moments, this team simply felt like the one with the edge.

"It's still too early to celebrate."

Manager Park Taesik, however, remained hungry. The Daejeon Hawks were currently the most heavily invested franchise in the league, and their parent company's owner wanted a championship. At the welcome dinner when he had been hired, the owner had made that ambition plain.

Even if our steps are slow and deliberate, keep walking toward the summit.

Whatever else might be said, Park Taesik knew those words had been sincere. He himself understood the potential of this roster; sweeping a legitimate contender was nowhere near enough to satisfy him.

Still…

He looked out over his players—the rock-solid veterans, the free-spirited young guys who still did every job a professional was supposed to do… and Lee Hajun, the one the front office had brought in without so much as a proper discussion with him. When they had shipped out Park Dohyun, the pitcher who kept causing headaches at the workout facility, Park Taesik had second-guessed the move more than once in meetings with the general manager. Then an absurdly perfect gift had fallen into their laps, and the team was coming together far faster than anyone had expected. Or perhaps they were becoming a club that never would have existed at all if they had simply stood still.

"Everyone, our players gave us an outstanding performance today—but this is not over yet."

The Hawks fans packing the stands were not thinking about Monday morning in the slightest. After a dopamine-soaked comeback win, none of them wanted to leave.

"Our pride, the Hawks, can soar even higher! Let's keep cheering with everything we've got until the day we reach the fall classic!"

Even in the sweltering heat, the cheerleader captain's voice stayed razor-sharp, electrified by the thrill of the comeback. The fans roared back. For baseball supporters who rarely got to enjoy a single fully sane day, no gift in the world could match a victory.

"Man, today was actually pretty rough, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it really was."

Still dripping sweat before his shower, Hajun answered Jin Yeongil. Yeongil himself had contributed big, retiring the Lakers' tough hitter Lim Hyeseong and locking down an out for the team.

"Just because tomorrow's an off day doesn't mean you get to go wild."

Kim Dongseong, fresh from his confident interview, walked in and delivered the warning.

"I almost blew it out there. Thanks for bailing me out, everyone."

Ace and pitching staff leader Yu Seungjin followed up. Six innings and four runs was nothing to write home about for a starter, but it was hardly a disaster either. The atmosphere around the Hawks was good enough that jokes like that could fly freely.

"After this, how about some Rift?"

"Hyung, you're Bronze. No way."

"My peak is Silver, what are you talking about?"

"We're in Jamsil—if I don't stop by the department store my wife is going to kill me."

"Mine actually tells me to save the money."

"I'm jealous. Seriously jealous."

The series was over. For a little while, everyone drifted back into their own lives.

I'm pretty wiped today.

Hajun felt the same. He had no particular urge to go out; he just wanted to protect his sleep schedule and bank as many extra hours as he could.

How do you even manage stamina properly?

It had only been about a month, but this was the first time Hajun had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ever played full-time as a position player. On top of that, shortstop was the most physically demanding defensive spot after catcher, and as the leadoff hitter he took more plate appearances than anyone. Unlike the slow power guys who could just stand on base, he had to keep moving the moment he reached, constantly pressuring the defense. He was probably one of the highest-workload players in the entire league.

"Lee Hajun, fighting!"

"Hang in there next game too!"

On the way to the team bus, Hajun ran into fans. As always, he signed carefully for every single person who asked.

"You must be exhausted—thank you so much."

"It's nothing. It's Sunday, after all."

When a player went out of his way to offer fan service first, the fans usually tried to shoo him off, insisting he must be tired.

How could something like this ever feel tiring?

Unless they were the type who collected autographs the way some people collected baseball cards, most fans never approached him on their own. But now so many people were coming up that it was impossible not to feel happy. Fan service had sometimes been called an afterthought in the past—something he had always wanted to do properly but never quite could. Today, once again, Hajun finished the work he had always been thirsty for before he finally left the ballpark.

"Batting first, Lee Hajun! Base hit! Lee Hajun!"

At the Daejeon Hawks' home ground, Hawks Park, the game against the Daegu Warriors was underway. It was already Thursday, August 8th. Just as the relentless midsummer heat refused to break, Lee Hajun's bat refused to cool off either.

Batting average .409, on-base percentage .481, slugging .615, OPS 1.096. Three home runs, fifteen steals, twelve RBI, twenty-five runs scored—those had been Hajun's July numbers, good enough to put him in the conversation for Player of the Month. If not for Steven of the Seoul Grizzlies, who had smashed fifteen homers in July alone while calling cavernous Jamsil Stadium home, the meteoric Lee Hajun would have walked away with the monthly MVP award.

Bottom of the eighth, score 4–6. Hawks fans were hungry for the insurance runs that would put the game away.

Crack!

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

"Waaaaaaaaaah!"

Center fielder Woo Jaechun's shoulders sagged the moment the ball left the bat.

Every breaking ball Park Heungmin threw that left the zone had been fouled off. Facing a hitter who was clearly on time, the pitcher lacked the guts to challenge him head-on and also lacked the courage to intentionally walk him into a bases-loaded, two-out jam against the next man up, Jays. Half-measures almost ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠always produce bad results. The pitch that sank just a hair below the zone became a clean single up the middle.

Of course, Jays had been raking ever since arriving in Korea, so there was a reason they couldn't simply put Hajun on without a second thought.

Lucky break.

Hajun had thought the opposing pitcher's breaking stuff had a pretty sharp bite; if they had gone full-on soft-toss mode he might have rolled over one. That was why the half-hearted pitch that floated down looked like pure prey.

A four-run lead. The pitcher had failed to hand a two-run cushion to the top of the ninth.

Pop!

"Strike three! You're out!"

The game ended without further drama. In the top of the ninth, Hawks closer Ko Minjae retired the side in order.

A second-half winning percentage north of .800. A team that had been scraping along at a .300 clip right up until the All-Star break was transforming a ruined season into a miracle season.

"Ah, the game's over already. When am I ever going to get back here?"

"Tickets are impossible to get these days."

"Still better than not winning this often, right?"

The orange whirlwind was in full force. Home games at Daejeon Hawks Park and road games in the capital region had become nearly impossible to snag tickets for. Even the long-time powerhouses—first-place Gwangju Kings and second-place Daegu Warriors—could not generate this much buzz right now.

"What's the secret to starting every single game even in this brutal heat?"

"I truly love baseball. Every moment I get to play makes me happy, so I never get tired."

Hajun answered with a sly little smile. At some point these interviews had started to feel natural.

Five at-bats, four hits, two RBI, two runs scored, two steals—that was Lee Hajun's final line for the day.

A low murmur of excitement.

"Huh?"

At Daejeon Hawks Park, where the weekend series against the Busan Clippers was about to begin, Hajun was in the middle of pregame work when he noticed a cluster of teammates. Why were they all wearing those goofy grins?

"I'm so nervous I don't know what to do."

"She's been my bias forever."

"Weren't you into someone else?"

"Shut up, I switched."

"What's so funny over there?"

Hajun walked over and asked. These were all serious professionals—why the vacant expressions?

"Tomorrow's first-pitch thrower is Han Seoa."

"Ah…"

That made perfect sense. Han Seoa. Even though Hajun had always paid more attention to male baseball players than female celebrities during his school days, he still knew the name. Born in 2004, the same year as him—still young. Yet she had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠debuted in her third year of middle school and had stayed at the very top ever since. Within Evelyn, one of the signature girl groups of the 2020s, she was widely regarded as the standout visual member.

Most famous entertainers threw first pitches for Seoul teams, but this would be Han Seoa's third ceremonial pitch since debut—and every single one had been for the Daejeon Hawks.

"I'm suddenly really glad I ended up on this team."

"Right? Right?"

A Daejeon native, she had long been considered the celebrity face of Hawks fandom.

On days my schedule ends early? I watch Daejeon Hawks games while I eat.

In recent years, as professional baseball gained traction among younger fans—especially women—celebrity and influencer fans had popped up everywhere. Some hardcore supporters resented the ones who seemed to jump on the bandwagon with zero prior interest. Han Seoa, however, had been open about her love for the team since the days when people were calling baseball a dying sport, right before the global pandemic. That was why Hawks fans held a special affection for her.

Inviting someone who, despite never playing the game, had become something of a team symbol was a calculated move by the front office—an attempt to make the Hawks' second-half rampage shine even brighter. With the club already drawing more attention than ever, adding a famous female celebrity could only fan the flames higher.

She really is something else.

Listening to his teammates, Hajun thought about it. He himself had been a high-school prospect. He had come to the pros and hit a wall. Now, thanks to some unknown power, he was finally lifting his head again. Han Seoa, meanwhile, had stayed at the summit the entire time his own life had been tossed by waves.

"She really feels like she's from a completely different world than us, doesn't she?"

Hajun brushed the dirt off his uniform and laughed as he said it. He said "us," but deep down he was mostly talking about himself.

"Dude, that's exactly why you have to get a good look this time."

"It's been two years since she last came. Miss this and there's no guarantee you'll get another chance."

His teammates seemed more interested in tomorrow's pregame ceremony than in today's actual game.

Well, for now…

Hajun found the whole thing amusing too. But right now, the stronger desire was simply to perform well today—and throughout the rest of this weekend series.