Beeeep! Almost Missed My Stop
Beeeep!
'Damn, I almost missed my stop again because I was lost in thought.'
"Mister, mister, sorry, could you open the door please!"
"Kid, don't zone out on the bus—press the bell on time! You could cause an accident!"
"Yes, thank you!"
'Whew, with all this luggage, I nearly missed it.'
He'd been lost in various thoughts on the bus and almost passed his stop right in front of home, but he barely made it off.
Beep beep, beep beep beep, beep beep, beep beep beep.
"Son!"
"Tae-woong!"
"You're back?"
As soon as he unlocked the door and stepped inside, his parents and sister swarmed him with hugs.
"Mom! Dad!"
"What about me? Am I invisible?"
"Heh, yeah. You too, sis—hope you've been good?"
Because of the time difference, they'd mostly just checked in via KakaoTalk, so the family reunion felt even sweeter.
"Son, you must be hungry. Mom made a ton of your favorite bulgogi and kimchi jjigae."
"Yes! Smells amazing."
"None of that 'yes' nonsense—go wash your hands quick. The food's getting cold."
The moment Tae-woong got home, he devoured the feast laid out like his legs might break from the effort.
"Ugh, my stomach's about to burst."
"Son, was dinner good?"
"Yeah, Mom! It was so good."
After dinner, Tae-woong plopped on the sofa with his family to watch TV.
"Oh, right, so hamburgers there are cheaper than here but twice the size. Steaks too."
While chatting about random stuff from America during the news, Tae-woong's face suddenly appeared on screen.
Kang Baek-ho's interview clip played—a good five seconds of him looking stiff and awkward.
-Kang Baek-ho, Yang Chan-seop, Han Do-hee, Yoon Sun-bin, Kang Bin, Park Jun-hong, Seo Tae-woong, etc., all shining in spring training…
Like he was the dwarf tacked on at the end of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Tae-woong's face flashed by in the final bit.
'Is that me? It was less than half a second—too much?'
That's when his sister, munching strawberries like a champ, smacked his back and yelled in shock.
"Hey! Hey! Tae-woong, that's you, right? It is! It is! Huh? Say it! Is it?!"
"Huh? Where? Where?"
Tae-woong, stuffing strawberries into his dessert-stomach that was already on the verge of exploding, replied.
"Huh? I missed it."
"Stop stuffing your face!"
Of course, Tae-woong wasn't the main focus of the sports news, but his family's reaction was like he'd won Olympic gold.
As the news wrapped, the data screen returned, showing Tae-woong pitching from the evaluation games at the tail end of the rookie candidates—about a full second this time.
"Yeah, they gotta show at least a second so people know who it is. That's me. That's the California spring training camp we went to."
"For real? Weather looks insane. Korea's just endless snow."
"Our son's on the news?"
"Tae-woong, do they rebroadcast sports news?"
"Dunno."
"You can probably catch it on the NBC homepage."
"Really? Look it up! Take a screenshot at least."
Watching his family light up over their son and little brother flashing on national TV for exactly one second, Tae-woong couldn't help but grin.
March 13, 2018. Tuesday.
Tae-woong laid his head on the pillow the night before and slept like a rock, no dreams, waking up refreshed.
Two hours before his first spring training start as the opening pitcher.
After the team meeting with the manager and coaches post-breakfast, they were easing into stretching.
Out of nowhere, a mission popped up for Tae-woong again.
'Yes! This is it! I was wondering when it'd show.'
Matchup with a powerhouse Rookie of the Year candidate!
First Spring Training Game!
Prove your worth!
Achieve 5 scoreless innings!
Reward: 40 Points – Random Pitch Type
Muttering complaints about the mission, Tae-woong switched gears the second he saw the reward.
'A new pitch! And 40 points!'
40 points was on par with Yang Hyun-jung's signature slider—the ace who led the 2017 Tigers to victory, Korea's top dog.
Joy and suspicion hit Tae-woong at once.
'Wait, a 40-point pitch? For a beginner mission? Never seen that before. Too generous? No catch if I just take it, right?'
As he pondered, his body tensed up unconsciously.
"Ugh! Hey! That hurts! Stop! Easy!"
"Ah… sorry, sunbae."
Of all times, while he was riding his senior's back for stretching.
Tae-woong relaxed and helped with the stretch while eyeing the mission.
'40-point pitch… What'll it be? Four-seam? Two-seam? Nah, probably a breaking ball. Curve or changeup would be sweet.'
Then a system buzzkill appeared.
Rewards available only upon mission success.
"I know that."
He hadn't even finished the mission, but he was already getting ahead of himself—system shut him down.
'Why drop this now, though? Never at this timing before.'
He'd played the game for years, memorized mission patterns cold, cleared beginner ones dozens of times.
Best rewards? A few B-grade enhancement tickets at most.
And those weren't guaranteed—B-grade success rate was 9%, so ten tickets might net one success if lucky. Tae-woong mostly just saw failure messages.
'Dunno what's up, but I'll take the handouts while they last.'
As Tae-woong zoned out, stretching wrapped.
"Good work. Go get ready."
"Thanks for your hard work, Jae-gun hyung."
"Yeah, thanks. I'll snag anything coming to third—don't sweat it."
"Got it, appreciate it, haha."
Post-stretch, as Tae-woong drilled personal work in the corner of the field, another message followed the mission.
Strong performance in 1st team spring training.
Recognized as a top Rookie of the Year candidate.
Confirmed as the first starter for the 2018 season's opening spring training game.
"Why bring up old news now? Tech's futuristic, but reactions are Joseon-era?"
That alone wouldn't have surprised him.
What shocked Tae-woong came next.
Player 'Seo Tae-woong' has successfully proven his value.
Additional reward granted.
Game Manager (Game Manager) system unlocked.
"Game Manager?"
The message vanished, replaced by a man.
Western handsome face, around 2m tall like Tae-woong, solid build.
Familiar outfit: plain white baseball uniform top and bottom, black glove on right hand, white cap with black pattern and bold "A" in the center—unmistakable even from afar.
'Where do I know this guy…'
As Tae-woong stared, the man stood with eyes closed.
'Not a stranger, but…'
He remembered women's faces fine, men's not so much.
'Damn… feels recent… Ah!'
Now it clicked. Pre-regression, in Real Baseball Ace, the pitcher who topped the Hall of Fame over his own cheat-stat World Series champ character 'Seo Tae-woong'.
And post-regression, the one who helped optimize his hidden skill Pitching Balance.
Ace.
"Ace! Ace Brainard! Right?!"
The moment Tae-woong called the name, he opened his eyes and spoke.
"Welcome. First time with AI, huh? I'm Game Manager Ace. Relax and take it slow."
"Huh? What? Last time you said nothing—why so chatty now?"
Tae-woong jolted at the new experience, then again at Ace's snarky tone.
Hologram to full AI now…
"You alt-tabbing or what? You're Seo Tae-woong, right?"
Tae-woong got swept into Ace's rapid-fire pace.
"Uh? Oh, yeah, I'm Seo Tae-woong."
Ace kept going like that old viral chat AI 'Simsimi' from years back—totally human-like.
Ace clapped, and Tae-woong's stats appeared before him.
"Seo Tae-woong, huh… Left-hander, tall, long arms… Max velocity under 130 km/h? My curve hits 132. You pro or what? Explain this crap."
Now Ace was jabbing a finger right in Tae-woong's face.
"That time with the Pitching Balance skill…"
"Ah, yeah. Shut it. Heard your excuses."
Ace cut him off without breathing, unleashing a torrent.
'No need to breathe, so nonstop chatter? Definitely the system.'
"Hey, crap-ball pitcher. Focus! What're you gonna be with that?"
'Grow more here and I'm done for.'
Tae-woong, initially stunned by the sudden arrival, loosened up and cracked a joke.
Their chat continued—Tae-woong mostly listening as Ace roasted him nonstop.
"You talk too much."
'Who's calling who chatty?'
Game Manager Ace was weirder than expected.
Call him Ace from now on, but why such low stats? Wasting your size? Little league kid? Throwing with your feet? Snap.
'This is why they sue haters. Respect, Park Byung-hong sunbae. You're a saint…'
Felt like watching a pro-level hate commenter slamming him.
Tae-woong, never one to eat this much shit in life, was flustered.
His worst? Post-minors failure-drip after returning to Korea. Y'know, "worse than hate is indifference"—that was him. No expectations, no complaints.
"Hey! Hey! Focus! Crap-baller's spacing out?!"
And Ace was filthy mouthed. And fast.
Made sense—he wasn't keyboard-bound; he was a system spewing verbal diarrhea.
Half Ace's words vanished before hitting Tae-woong's brain.
"Huh? Too fast, missed most. Start over from the top."
Ace shot him a look like he'd aged 20 years and pissed the bed.
Ace thumped his chest like it was stuffy—system or not.
"Ugh… Can't pitch, can't comprehend—total crap-baller…"
Tae-woong was speechless.
"Okay, simple for the dim pitcher. Grow through missions and achievements—like me. Got it?"
'All that shit-talk then this bullshit? Who doesn't know that?'
Tae-woong bit his tongue in confusion.
"Grab the tubing band, crap-baller. Finish stretching."
"Yeah, gotta do what needs doing."
"Number one owl stretch. Left leg first. Go!"
"What drill is this? And you're obviously a draft dodger."
As he prepped to pitch, their banter rolled on.
Tae-woong reached a verdict on Ace.
One thing for sure: just from the talk, this guy's not right in the head.
'One thing's clear. If this dude were human, 100% defamation lawsuit—life over.'