I'm Disappointed, Protagonist

I stared silently at Daeji High School's dugout.

"I'm sorry, Taehyun."

"It's okay. Some of the batted balls went to tough spots."

Tough spots, sure—for the level these Daeji kids are at.

The Daeji players... Even though it wasn't the main entry selection season yet, I hadn't expected them to display such a pathetic level of play.

"Still, reaching the semifinals in your first national tournament! That's an incredible achievement!"

"It's all thanks to Ayul!"

"Hey, don't suddenly come so close...!"

That guy... I can't quite remember his name... Wasn't he one of the three hopeless cases?

Right now, Daeji High School had about three troublemakers. As the national tournament progressed, conflicts with them would be resolved or their causes removed... The problem was that those removals happened in their second year of high school, after the freshmen arrived.

First, the one who joined the baseball team just to impress Kang Ayul. The guy who'd just tried to approach her. After getting rejected when he confessed, he'd quietly participated in games until right before the weekend league match, when he suddenly declared that if she wouldn't date him, he wouldn't play. Of course, that game was won thanks to Manager Ryu Eunseong's quick decision to insert a freshman and Lee Taehyun's clutch performance, after which Taehyun expelled him, so it passed...

Second, the classic bus rider—a slippery snake trying to ride Lee Taehyun's coattails to transfer to a powerhouse baseball school. Ah, this one was a bit pitiful... He'd been ordered by another school's scout to spike Taehyun's water with laxatives, got caught red-handed by Kang Ayul, and was immediately kicked off the team. Even the school that had promised him a transfer knew his limits; instead of scouting him, they dropped him like a bad habit. After that, he vanished as if he'd transferred for real.

Seeing him claim satisfaction with a semifinal finish, it was clear he wasn't going anywhere big anyway. Acknowledging the semifinal result was one thing, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but getting crushed 18-0? That was unacceptable.

Finally, the troublemaker who'd already given up on his pro dreams but joined the team anyway, annoyed that others were trying to knock ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the national tournament door, and decided to destroy Daeji's baseball club from the inside. This one would later witness Lee Taehyun's sincerity, have a complete change of heart, and stay on as a starter. For now, he was nowhere to be seen in the dugout—probably sulking after the loss.

Just looking at the list, they were filthy, irritating guys capable of spawning diseases that hadn't even existed before... Unfortunately, we couldn't release them immediately. Each was the sole starter at shortstop, center field, and third base respectively. Even Manager Ryu Eunseong seemed to let it slide; kicking them out would mean they couldn't participate in the national tournament.

Poor things.

No matter how brilliantly Lee Taehyun pitched or how many grounders he induced, the defense couldn't handle them, resulting in seventeen runs allowed. Only one of those runs came from actual hits. The defense had completely imploded on the other seventeen.

On top of that, catcher Choi Younghoon still can't fully receive 120 percent of Taehyun's pitches, so he's limiting his output. It's not the overpowering stuff from the original story—it's pitch-mix baseball. But if the defense is this broken, that strategy obviously falls apart.

It made me seriously wonder how they'd even managed a tie against Seoul High, where Lee Sanghwi and Lee Byungkyun were holding the line with that kind of performance.

If Kim Sihu had been the starter... maybe one to three runs?

It was a game Kim Sihu would have won even if he'd allowed sixteen runs. For the first Cheonji matchup, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it had been disgustingly boring.

"All right, let's line up."

We left the away dugout and headed over to shake hands with the Daeji players.

"...Sorry for showing you this kind of performance. Haha."

"It's fine. The defense played like garbage, so there's no need to blame yourself."

A sharp glare came my way.

Oh, immediate death stare?

I'd said it loud enough on purpose for everyone to hear.

"Honestly, aside from second base, today's defense was... pretty terrible. I don't know how you even made it to the semifinals."

".........."

Lee Taehyun stared at me with an expression that asked what exactly I was trying to say.

"I told you not to blame yourself, but... it is a little disappointing. The pitches you threw today were a bit lower quality than the ones you threw back when you faced Haneul High's second team. Is it a catcher issue?"

"...Th-that's...!"

Lee Taehyun panicked. The reason was simple—Choi Younghoon was standing right next to me.

It needed to be said. Better that I say it than let the others hear it secondhand.

If I called him out this openly, he'd probably start telling Taehyun to throw at full power in front of the pitching machine during practice. One necessary evil was enough.

"I had high expectations, so it's a bit of a letdown."

"............"

Choi Younghoon turned and walked away without another word, as if he'd understood the implication.

"Yeah, they really were a bunch of trash rejects."

...Kim Sihu?

Why are you popping up here? I was planning to stop after that and leave.

"Hurry up and go. It's time for the MVP interview."

"Ah, right."

Damn it. If things went like this, Sihu was definitely going to mercilessly mock Taehyun...

I quickly muttered in a voice only Kim Sihu could hear.

"Hey, don't say anything. The guy has his reasons."

"...Got it."

"Then I'm off. See you in the next game, Taehyun."

I waved at Lee Taehyun, then quickly headed off for the MVP interview.

"Ah, Seojun, you're here?"

"Yes!"

I had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a connection with commentator Kim Sunwoo from our time on Strongest Baseball. We weren't exactly neighborhood buddies, but we did exchange occasional texts about how things were going.

"You were absolutely dealing today."

"Really? Hearing that from the guy who threw a shutout at Coors Field—the pitcher's nightmare, that hitter-friendly ballpark for the Colorado Rockies—feels pretty good."

"Haha, you little rascal. It's interview time now. Head on in."

"Will do."

After exchanging a quick high-five with commentator Kim Sunwoo, I finished the short, formal interview about my thoughts on setting the record of 81 pitches and 27 strikeouts—the first perfect game with the most strikeouts in high school baseball history...

Come to think of it, I also set the record for the first perfect game in high school baseball.

Anyway, whether the media had decided to push me or some conglomerate had threatened to shut them down if they ran any weird articles about me, there were no sharp pieces or hostile interviews about me in sight. Ego-searching didn't feel particularly useful anymore.

"Seojun, you need to go greet the fans."

"Ah, right. Hey, Kim Sihu! Get over here!"

At Yang Uijin's call, I dragged Kim Sihu away from his conversation with Lee Taehyun and...

"Thank you as always for coming out to watch Haneul High's games!"

We bowed together to the spectators who always came to our games, then I approached Kim Sihu, who wore a complicated expression.

"Did something happen with Lee Taehyun?"

".........Haa."

"What? Did you fight? Why do you look like someone died?"

"It's nothing. Just... I still don't understand what you saw in him back then."

What is he even talking about?

I gave Kim Sihu's head a light tap after he kept spouting vague nonsense, told him not to sue me for assault, and headed back to the bus.

"Oh, by the way, get me a new glove."

"You already broke it?"

"No, the color just doesn't suit my taste."

"........"

"You know I'm joking, right?"

I'd decided to get a new glove once a year.

... ... ...

Meanwhile, rewinding time just a little to the moment Lee Seojun headed off for his interview with light, excited steps.

"...Honestly, I don't like you."

"I feel the same way."

Sparks flew in the space between Lee Taehyun and Kim Sihu's eyes. Given their bad history, the reaction was only natural.

"But separate from that, I rate Lee Seojun's ability extremely highly. He'll definitely wear the Taegeuk mark in this WBC. That guy will."

"......"

"And from past interviews... it seems your goal, Lee Seojun's goal, and mine are the same."

When Kim Sihu said that, Lee Taehyun couldn't find any words.

"That's why, until this pathetic game today, I actually thought pretty highly of you. You managed to score a run off me in that practice match, and Lee Seojun himself rated Daeji higher than Seoul High in yesterday's briefing. I saw you as a worthy rival—someone good enough to wear the Taegeuk mark alongside us."

At those final words, Lee Taehyun's body froze solid. Was it because he'd shown such miserable performance after Lee Seojun had expected so much and prepared so thoroughly?

"But... I can't help thinking this. Was Daeji High School really a threatening enough opponent that Lee Seojun would abandon hitting entirely and pour everything into pitching?"

"...!"

"I don't think so. And I'll show him that."

Kim Sihu pointed his finger directly at Lee Taehyun.

He recalled an earlier conversation.

"Lee Seojun is the only player I've ever acknowledged as better than me. The fact that someone like that rated a guy like you higher than me doesn't sit well. I'll shatter those expectations completely."

With that, Kim Sihu walked over to Lee Seojun, who was waving at the spectators as if the conversation hadn't been worth his time.

"And if you can't live up to the expectations Lee Seojun had for you with skill like that... you should quit baseball. Half-assing it as a two-way player won't just keep you off the national team—you won't even be able to beat me, let alone Seojun."

After saying that and boarding the bus, Kim Sihu watched Lee Seojun complain that the glove color didn't suit his taste and demand a new one. The thought that crossed his mind was...

......Did I really need to say all that?

In Kim Sihu's mind, Lee Seojun's image was beginning to shift from "a trustworthy teammate who plays baseball better than me" to "a guy who's a little insane but, for reasons I can't explain, definitely plays baseball better than me."