Daejeon's Princess (2)
CRAAACK!
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
“Lee Hajun! Lee Hajun! Lee Hajun!”
Singles really are so much better.
Hajun smiled as he peeled off his gear. He had drawn walks in both of his previous at-bats. As a leadoff hitter who cared about getting on base rather than swinging at everything, earning free passes was a good thing. But even a simple single, when there were no runners on, carried a completely different kind of satisfaction—the pure pleasure of driving the ball yourself and creating the hit.
The game had been so one-sided that personal stats were free to take center stage.
“Oooooooh, victory to the strongest Daejeon!”
It was only the bottom of the fourth and already 1–8; the contest had tilted completely. Even the traveling fans of the Busan Clippers—Korea’s most popular team—were being thoroughly drowned out by the home crowd of the Daejeon Hawks today.
CRAAACK!
No Hawks fever was complete without their foreign slugger, Jays. As a center fielder he thrilled the crowd with spectacular defense, and while his batting average sat under .300, he piled up home runs and steals and posted an on-base percentage over .400—an OPS machine through and through.
He could act like a complete goofball at times, but in the cage Jays was all business, and that two-run shot proved it. The Busan Clippers, who had sat above the Hawks for the entire first half, were now just another ordinary eighth-place club against this version of Daejeon.
“Whoa, look at this!”
“What? What is it?”
“Kim Jongbeom just hit a go-ahead three-run homer!”
“Oh, nice!”
A buzz rippled through the Hawks stands. For some reason the crowd was talking about a game happening somewhere else—the one at Gwangju Kings Field between first-place Gwangju Kings and sixth-place Incheon Dolphins. In the bottom of the eighth, Gwangju’s Kim Jongbeom had launched a three-run homer to flip the score. The Daejeon Hawks fans, sitting 1.5 games out in seventh with their own victory already looking locked in, had turned their attention to Gwangju.
This season the bottom three teams had been unusually weak, so mid-table winning percentages were higher than in previous years and the race for fifth had looked fierce. The Hawks’ current surge was shattering even that picture.
CRAAACK!
Clippers batter Yun Gyesang had gotten all of a fastball. But unless the ball cleared the infielders’ heads, a premier shortstop still had a chance to make a play.
The ball had looked certain to shoot through the middle of the infield, yet Hajun went down, gloved it cleanly, and fired to first in one fluid motion.
“Out!”
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Another joyful blowout for the home fans. In the top of the ninth, when they had already been reduced to singing, Lee Hajun’s spectacular defensive gem yanked their attention right back to the diamond.
Barely two weeks earlier, Hawks fans had been full of regret—if only they had won a few more in the first half. The second-half winning streak was already washing that disappointment away. No matter the situation, their team looked ready to break through, and that feeling was spreading through every supporter.
“Lee Jaein, how are you feeling today?”
“I’m just····· nervous I might mess something up.”
“Park Sihye?”
“Feeling great. A lot of fans are going to be watching today, right?”
“Lee Hajun?”
“The fans really showed up earlier than usual today. We’re definitely going to win.”
Daejeon Hawks’ YouTube channel, HawksTV. The moment training ended, the cameras were already rolling. The person who would draw the most eyes today was about to appear, and the marketing team had poured everything into the day, so everyone was giving their absolute best.
“She’s here, she’s here.”
A car pulled up outside. Everyone already knew who it was.
“Kyaaaaaaaaaaa!”
“Unnie, you’re so pretty!”
“Look over here once!”
Total chaos out there.
Hajun waited with his teammates, smiling at the noise drifting in from outside. Early-arriving fans had staked out spots just to catch a fleeting glimpse of her as she passed. Celebrities had thrown first pitches plenty of times back in his Lakers days, but he couldn’t remember anything quite this wild. She was an idol with unmatched influence among younger fans, and at Hawks Park she was someone special.
“Hello!”
“·····”
Han Seoa. Even people who didn’t follow the younger generation’s music still knew the name—the most famous member of the idol group Evelyn had arrived. Front-office staff stepped forward one by one to greet her, and Seoa, free of any of the arrogance people expected from a star, kept smiling and returning every greeting.
A low murmur rose among the players.
“Quiet down, quiet.”
Kim Dongseong gently reined in the younger guys. Of course he understood exactly how nervous they were.
“Hello!”
“Hello!”
The young players raised their voices and bowed deeply as Seoa walked past.
“Oh my? Hehehe.”
Seoa laughed in mild surprise and hurried on toward the bullpen, where she needed to practice her ceremonial first pitch before the game.
“Huh?”
“Dude, you startled her.”
“It wasn’t me—you were standing way too close.”
“Oh come on.”
Conversations that HawksTV would of course edit out. The players held a pointless little trial over the Seoa who had already vanished past them. Since they would get another chance to meet her, they all headed over to the practice area.
“I thought you’d been here once before.”
“It never gets any easier no matter how many times I come, hmm·····”
When Seoa puffed her cheeks while speaking, every player and staff member present let out an involuntary sound of admiration. The team’s two young 160-kilometer pitchers, Lee Jaein and Park Sihye—the duo the club was pushing hard—took charge of coaching her. Neither was new to first-pitch instruction, but with more than ten times the usual number of eyes on them, both were tense.
“Like this?”
THWACK!
A pitch with zero command whatsoever.
“Amazing.”
“You’ve got real talent.”
CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!
“Ah, this is so embarrassing—what do I do?”
When every single person in the space burst into applause and cheers, Seoa covered her mouth and laughed at the absurdity of it all.
“She’s adorable.”
“Too cute.”
Whispers rose from every direction. Age and gender didn’t matter; everyone felt the same. The only exceptions were the married players who were silently praying that HawksTV wouldn’t commit the shameless crime of filming her smile and then actually airing it—everyone else wore the exact same expression.
“·····”
Whoa. She’s unreal.
Watching from a little farther back, Hajun was stunned. She was wearing the same Hawks cap, uniform, and cleats as him and his teammates—perfectly ordinary clothes—yet somehow she still glowed. How could a face that small hold such sharp, vivid features? And it wasn’t the intimidating kind of beauty; she radiated that fresh, bright energy unique to young idols. Soft voice, constant smile—she was the textbook definition of what an idol should be.
No wonder so many people love idols.
If he’d ever had a little more free time, he might have picked up the hobby himself—the kind where one smile from a shining woman on a screen could erase every bit of stress.
“Thank you both so much!”
“It’s an honor.”
“Thank you.”
Seoa’s first-pitch practice ended, and Lee Jaein and Park Sihye bowed repeatedly.
“All right, players, from now on—”
Then the manager appeared.
“Hey, hey, line up, line up!”
Time was short and excitement was high, but no one was about to ruin the moment. The players formed an orderly line on their own. The autograph session had begun.
“Lee Jaein, please don’t get hurt, and fighting for the rest of the season!”
“When we’re winning and Park Sihye comes in, I always feel safe!”
The two young pitchers who had coached her first pitch received their autographs and photos. Both had started the day nervous about the whole setup; now they left clutching their chests, completely overwhelmed by Seoa’s beauty and freshness. Because she was famous for loving baseball and being a passionate Hawks fan, Seoa spoke first to every player who approached while she signed.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking for your autograph? I watched every game while you were in the States. It’s an honor.”
“Hahaha·····”
“Your daughter is just too adorable.”
“Our daughter is a huge Han Seoa fan too.”
Yu Seungjin and Kim Dongseong also secured their signatures. They hadn’t been particularly interested at first and had only come to the bullpen at the marketing team’s request, but both privately decided they were glad they had shown up.
“Home-run king Park Jinhyeok, that last game was absolute fire!”
“Ji Gyeongjun, I’m so happy you joined our team—you have no idea.”
“Lefty-killer Jin Yeongil! Looking forward to more great work from you!”
Not only the star players but even Jin Yeongil, who had only recently arrived, received personal words. The players listening felt genuine delight realizing just how closely she followed the team. Seoa didn’t just talk—she threw her whole body into every exclamation and gesture—so every player who stepped up automatically found himself grinning ear to ear.
“Whoa, she even knows my name!”
“Hyung, keep it down·····”
Next in line after Yeongil, Hajun stepped in front of Seoa.
“Oh my, who do we have here?”
“Ah····”
An even bigger reaction than the one Yeongil had just received. Given who was drawing the most attention in the middle of the Hawks’ current storm, it shouldn’t have been surprising—but when it was actually happening to you, every rational thought tended to evaporate.
She’s even prettier up close.
Even for a celebrity who received the best care in the industry, how could her skin be that fair and luminous?
Hajun gulped. He couldn’t hide the tension on his face as he wordlessly held out the pen and paper.
“Hehehe.”
Seoa simply smiled and signed.
“Yes—our team’s genius hitter, and our number-one shortstop. I’ve really been loving him lately. He’s my bias.”
“Ah·····”
She finished the signature and handed the paper back as she spoke. Seoa’s profile listed her at 165 centimeters—tall for a woman—but standing in front of the 188-centimeter Hajun she looked like a small young woman. Looking up at him with a smile and locking eyes from below was, for a guy who wasn’t used to women, absolutely lethal.
“Lee Hajun, don’t get hurt, and go all the way to Rookie of the Year this season, okay?”
“····Yes! Thank you.”
Next came the photo. She tilted her head slightly and made V-signs with both hands. Behind the completely at-ease Han Seoa stood Hajun, frozen at attention, barely managing a smile.
My bias, huh.
It was probably just the polite thing to say, and he knew full well that saying things like that was part of her job. But Hajun’s body was honest—he could feel his heart pounding wildly.