VS Seoul High [3]
As I stepped into the batter’s box, I could feel Park Donghwan glaring holes through me.
Hmm… Is this because I stole that hit earlier?
Apologize? Please. If he was that mad about it, he should have hit a home run himself.
“Thanks for your hard work.”
“Yeah.”
Thanks to the ABS, the umpire only had to call balls and strikes, but it was still best to stay on his good side. Skip the greeting and I might eat a questionable swing call later. Better to bow my head while I could.
If that doesn’t work… I’ll just have to make a show of force.
For example, pretending to check the runner while aiming a throw at the umpire’s head, or “accidentally” failing to glove a pitch so it drills him instead.
“You the new ‘Wing’ who transferred to Haneul High?”
“Oh, right. I forgot to put it on. Thanks for the reminder.”
I glanced at my shoulder. Sure enough, the ‘Wing’ Epinel had given me was nowhere to be seen. It was probably sitting neatly inside the equipment case I’d received from Kim Sihu.
I’ll put it on later.
“Just so you know, that guy’s stuff is no joke. If the pressure of wearing the ‘Wing’ is too heavy… want me to groove one right down the middle for you?”
“…..”
What a load of crap.
-BOOM!
“Ball!”
“Haha, you didn’t bite. This time I’ll really throw it down the middle.”
-BOOM!
“Ball two!”
“…..”
I silently gripped the middle of the bat, then took one deliberate step back out of the box—just in case of a wild pitch.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Park Donghwan growled, clearly annoyed. Understandable. My posture was basically screaming, Your pitcher is so pathetic I’ll draw a walk even if I stand here like this, lol.
“Since it’s a walk anyway, let’s keep it comfortable. Wouldn’t want a loose ball hitting me.”
“….”
-BOOOOM!
“Strike!”
Professor (L)
The ball’s trajectory and landing point are displayed as solid lines proportional to the fielder’s defensive ability.
(The trajectory disappears if you do not watch the ball for more than one second.)
The countdown started the moment the pitcher began his windup. One second was more than enough.
It’s a ball. Might as well tick it lightly…?
-Crack!
With a clean, pleasant sound, my bunt dropped perfectly between the third baseman and catcher. Bunt successful. Time to run.
-Patter patter patter!
A flustered Park Donghwan scrambled after the ball and prepared to throw to first, but I had made ugly, intentional contact. The ball was guaranteed to be awkward. Even though he grabbed it and fired toward first, I was already only a few steps from the bag. His throw—made without full commitment—sailed high over the first baseman’s head.
The runner on first reached third easily. I coasted into second without a problem.
After that…
Seoul High: 0
Haneul High: 4
Haneul High’s merciless lineup exploded.
… … …
Kim Sihu was dealing, calmly carving up batters and chewing through innings.
-Crack!
He issued the occasional walk, but he still dominated through the fifth.
Even if they reach base, he turns them into double plays… a shutout is still on the table.
He had faced fourteen batters and recorded fourteen outs. He was closing the inning efficiently… or so I thought, until one player stepped out radiating overwhelming pressure.
“……..That one needs to be handled carefully.”
The batter was Lee Byungkyun. He approached the plate with a fierce resolve not to hit into another double play. The intensity seemed to rattle Kim Sihu, who began throwing ball after ball.
Yang Uijin took off his mask, walked to the mound, and spoke to the visibly shaken first-year.
Still, he’s only a freshman.
No matter how arrogant he was, he was still just a first-year. Treating him like a sophomore or junior was ridiculous. Watching Yang Uijin treat me with that angelic smile while giving Kim Sihu such a cold look made me wonder if that was why the kid had become so twisted.
When I glanced at Kim Sihu again, his expression looked surprisingly refreshed. It didn’t seem like he’d been scolded. Yang Uijin had probably told him something like, You can do this. Get this batter and the rest is easy. Walk him, give up a hit—do whatever you want.
Only then did Kim Sihu look satisfied as he began pitching again, but—
-CRAAAAACK!
The future owner of a History-grade skill, Lee Byungkyun, crushed the ball. It slammed into the left-field fence where Lee Hyunbin was playing and shot toward the foul line.
No matter how fast I am, I can’t get there in time…
Even without activating it yet, Lee Byungkyun’s Red Hare skill was clearly no joke. He flew around the bases at terrifying speed and reached third.
Lee Hyunbin’s quick throw from foul territory arrived too late. Lee Byungkyun touched third without issue.
After that, Kim Sihu’s mentality collapsed. He issued walks and hits in succession. The 4–0 lead evaporated. The score was suddenly tied, 4–4.
“Time.”
Coach Kim walked slowly but deliberately toward the mound.
It’s a pitching change.
A player wearing a pitcher’s glove walked beside him. The atmosphere on the mound was icy.
Well, after getting shelled like that, it’s natural to be rattled.
“Sihu, that’s enough for today. Woojin, take over.”
“Yes, sir!”
The pitcher called in to cover for Kim Sihu’s meltdown was Jung Woojin—a sidearm pitcher with a nasty two-seamer.
“……Damn it.”
Kim Sihu trudged back to the dugout, frustration written across his face. He looked small.
Overcome it. If you can’t overcome this, you don’t deserve to be Lee Taehyun’s rival.
If he survived this trial, he would bloom another History-grade flower—Big Unit. He would grow strong enough to follow that path all the way to the majors. I had to believe he wouldn’t break here.
Jung Woojin took the mound and threw with everything he had, but Seoul High’s lineup was relentless. They really were the mass-production model of Haneul High. Jung Woojin allowed one more run before finally escaping the top of the fifth.
The score was now 5–4. We still had two offensive chances left, but the dugout had gone deathly quiet. Everyone had felt Lee Sanghwi’s overwhelming stuff in their bones.
“Come on, don’t choke! We keep fighting and we win!”
Third-year captain Oh Hanil managed to lift the mood a little, but the atmosphere was still heavier than when we had been leading 4–0. Oh Jihun grounded out weakly, and we already had one out in the bottom of the fifth.
“Come on, trust me.”
-Crack!
Yang Uijin’s sharp single woke the dugout up. He reached first. Lee Surin and Lee Yuta both fouled off pitch after pitch with stubborn patience and drew walks.
Bases loaded, one out.
Before I knew it, the lineup had cycled back to me.
-Thump!
“Strike!”
-Crack!
“Foul!”
The second yellow light flashed. The count was 0–2. Advantage pitcher. If Yang Uijin had been at the plate, the coach would have called for the putaway pitch immediately. Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t going to make it that simple.
Three straight balls outside the zone. I didn’t move an inch. The count ran full.
I quickly glanced at Coach Kim. He tilted his head, then seemed to understand. He began gesturing wildly—taking a clear bunt stance. Yang Uijin widened his lead off first.
A left-handed pitcher like Lee Sanghwi would find it awkward to check the runners. A mistake could mean a balk or a wild pitch that scored a run. Throw something mediocre and I might bunt successfully or hit a sacrifice fly. Either way, the game would be tied.
Both Lee Sanghwi and Park Donghwan must have realized I had to be turned into a double play at all costs.
“Looks like they’re going for a squeeze. Won’t be easy, though. They’re probably just fishing for a sacrifice fly anyway…”
They were probably wondering whether my stance was a real squeeze or a bluff to pull the infield in before swinging away.
They knew the bases were loaded, so there was no steal threat. Lee Sanghwi lifted his leg high and began his windup. He was essentially saying, Bunt if you dare.
But when he wound up like that…
It passes one second. I can see everything clearly.
Lee Sanghwi’s pitch came screaming in. At that instant, I pulled my body back and shifted into a full swing stance.
The blue trajectory line was crystal clear. A two-seam fastball meant to induce a ground ball, just as expected. If I had bunted it, we would have likely ended up with a double play or a runner thrown out at home while I reached safely—netting only one out.
But a pitch whose path I already knew?
It was nothing more than a perfect batting-practice ball.
“It might be presumptuous coming from a first-year, but……”
My grip tightened with real force.
-CRAAAAAACK!!
The bat nearly shattered from the impact. The ball Lee Sanghwi had thrown—
-BOOOOM!
“Today, you guys are the challengers. Not us.”
It drew a perfect blue arc across the sky and smashed into the scoreboard.