Stealing the Spotlight
AT Wiz had pulled off a walk-off win in their away opening game, no less against the previous season's champions and their ace. The night filled with joy flew by in an instant, and the sun rose the next day.
"Kang Baek-ho... he's seriously on another level."
Tae-woong, left alone in the locker room, checked his smartphone for a moment. As expected, the fans' reactions were explosive. Baseball news seemed to be half-full of stories starring Baek-ho.
After today's game ends, I'll get there too...
Ace appeared next to Tae-woong, who was sitting on a mat scrolling through his phone.
"Yeah, no."
He quickly clarified to avoid a misunderstanding, but it really wasn't that. He was just worried about not winning Rookie of the Year.
Tae-woong, who had been responding half-heartedly, shot to his feet and stepped toward Ace. He wanted to grab his hand tight, but as always, his hand passed right through Ace's body.
"What? A mission?"
Satisfied with Tae-woong's intense reaction, Ace's tone turned a bit smug.
"Ugh! I wanna be on the front page too! I want the attention!"
Ace teased Tae-woong mercilessly before finally issuing the mission.
Today's protagonist is ME, ME!
You're dying of envy over your teammate's exploits? Dominate the main sports news tonight!
Reward: Random skill grant
*Failure: All pitch ratings -5 for next 1 game
"Hey, you crazy Ace bastard! If you're giving a mission, just give the sweet reward—why pair it with a penalty?"
But a mission was a mission. If he couldn't back out, he'd claw his way to that reward no matter what.
"A skill for success? How good could it be?"
Back when he'd been obsessed with Real Baseball Ace, grinding seasons in his spare time, missions popped up maybe three or four times per season at most. And skill rewards? Almost never. Getting even one was a jackpot.
Yet here he was: missions coming left and right, plus the hidden skill Pitching Balance from the start. Three skills already in the early season. Tae-woong's brain was firing on all cylinders with premature joy, as if he'd already cleared it. The penalty? Didn't even register.
"Even a rat hole gets sunlight someday! It's finally my turn?"
Ace whispered softly at the sight, barely audible.
"What'd you say, punk?"
"Pretty sure I heard 'rat pup' or somethin'..."
Tae-woong, buzzing from what had to be the perfect mission reward, looked at Ace, who was staring back intently.
"Ace, you'll hook me up with a good skill for the reward, right?"
Ugh... this dogshit game system Ace. Can't stand seeing anyone succeed.
Tae-woong flinched.
"Huh? No? Totally not?"
Caught red-handed, Tae-woong rubbed his hands humbly.
"Aigoo, no way, sir Ace. Me? Never."
Sports news main spot, huh...
To claim the main sports news slot, he'd need the most standout, impressive performance among all players in today's five games.
"At least it's not overlapping with Olympics or World Cup season—small mercies? Still feels tall order."
"A method? Spill it. We're in this together."
Ace extended one finger, pointing at Tae-woong's face, then slowly lowered it—past his chest, stomach, a bit lower. Tae-woong's eyes followed the fingertip down.
"Where the hell are you pointing?"
As Tae-woong vented his worries, Ace grinned wickedly.
"Dude, my mental age is pushing 40— that's your advice?"
"W-Well, yeah."
He couldn't really argue. Tae-woong desperately needed another pitch or skill. Sure, they came easy now, but who knew when the next one would drop. Stockpile skills whenever possible.
But selling out human dignity? No way.
"We won! Yang Hyun-jung! Tigers! Woo-hoo! They're all dead!"
"Jealous? Close 'em then! I wanna revel in this freedom! New York Herald Tribune!"
Just as Tae-woong was bouncing around the locker room like he was performing some secret ritual, the door creaked open.
Click!
"Tae-woong, you ready...?"
Peeking in was Jeong Myeong-eon, the pitching coach, there to check on his starter before the game. What greeted him? Tae-woong, in nothing but his underwear, sprinting around screaming.
"Uh... yeah. Lookin' good, Tae-woong. Confidence overflowing—nice to see. Whatever loosens you up, go for it. I'll head out."
Tae-woong locked eyes with the departing coach and grabbed at him desperately.
"Wait! Coach, it's not...!"
"It's fine. Think I haven't seen weird habits in my coaching days? Just be careful outside the stadium. SNS and all that—huge headaches. Got it?"
"Coach! Coach!"
"Don't get photographed!"
"Hold on! It's not...!"
Fully uniformed now, he rushed after the coach—but the door had already shut. He dashed into the hall. Empty.
Shut up. So damn embarrassing.
March 25, 2018. The second game after the regular season opener, Wiz vs. Tigers game two. Following Fairband, temporary No. 2 starter Tae-woong took the mound.
Gaon Tigers' starter: Yang Hyun-jung. The 20-win pitcher who led Tigers to the top in 2017, snagging regular season MVP, Korean Series MVP, and Golden Glove. Currently one of KBO's top lefties.
Tae-woong? The patch-job rookie filling in for injured Napert. A classic crafty pitcher barely cracking 130 km/h.
Peak ace vs. debut rookie. Fans and teammates alike held low expectations for Tae-woong. Just hold the line early—maybe 4-5 innings with minimal damage, keep it from tilting right away.
But you never know till it unfolds. The game went completely opposite to predictions.
"Yes! Nice, Rohis! One more! Another homer, let's go!"
Today felt like a day to ride the hitters' coattails.
Just do my part. 6 IP, 3 ER.
Hey! This is teamwork, teamwork!
"Woooah!"
Tae-woong high-fived Rohis returning from his homer, sharing the joy. His mission: headline the sports news main slot. Even as a hyped rookie, mediocrity wouldn't cut it.
End of fourth, score 5-1. He'd allowed just 1 run. Good vibes today.
Scratch that. This guy's coasting—makes me uneasy.
"Strii~ke! Out!"
Top of the fifth. Tae-woong set down the top of the order—Yim Gi, Burnadana, Kim Jun-chan—in order. Crisp mechanics, identical arm action from grip to release. His changeup, mirroring the fastball perfectly, fooled the hitters.
With Tae-woong dealing, Wiz bats kept pounding. Bottom fifth, 1 out, bases loaded? Sacrifice fly to the warning track added another. 6-1.
Tigers couldn't adjust to Tae-woong's pinpoint stuff, facing the same corners two or three times per at-bat. 67 pitches through 5 IP, 1 ER. Average starter throws about 15 per inning—he was under.
At least two more innings in the tank.
As Tae-woong caught his breath in the dugout, Yang Hyun-jung continued.
Thwack!
Top sixth. Tae-woong climbed the mound again. Today: four-seam fastball, slow timing-curve, occasional changeup. That mission-reward curve? 40 points shining bright. Dropped later, bigger/sharper arc, more spin. Hitters couldn't touch it—weak contact even on contact. No more bombs.
Big-breaking curve plus fastballs probing corners wrecked timing. Hence the second-inning homer: led with curve, got cocky, three fastballs in a row to Choi Hyung-oh.
Showboating always backfires.
Up now: cleanup Choi Hyung-oh, fresh off that homer. Sign exchange with catcher Lee Hye-chan dragging—then Jeong Myeong-eon headed to the mound.
What? Just 1 ER—pulling me?
Curse him out. Curse.