Miracle Recovery
Two weeks had passed since Seo Tae-woong's discharge from the hospital and his return home. Even when he first went for outpatient treatment, he'd had to hobble around on crutches, but it only took four days to hand those back to the hospital. His recovery speed after that surpassed normal levels entirely.
"This is straight-up cheating. Experiencing it firsthand makes it ridiculously obvious."
Ace: Doesn't it make you feel all warm and fuzzy with gratitude toward me, like some Madecasol ointment sprouting new skin?
"Eh, not sure. I do feel a twinge of regret that you're a hologram instead of a real person..."
As in their banter, the effects of the ointment-like Madecasol—with new skin sprouting reliably—were tremendous. It wasn't like an RPG healing potion that cured you instantly upon consumption. Still, Tae-woong's recovery outpaced typical cases by leaps and bounds. The doctor's reaction, sitting across from him, made it all the clearer.
"Even for someone young, is this recovery speed even possible?"
Twenty-five years into his medical career, this was the doctor's first encounter with a case like Tae-woong's. Even with prompt treatment, other patients would just be finishing traction therapy and starting weight-bearing exercises by now. But Tae-woong had blown past that phase and fully recovered.
"This doesn't make sense... And the detailed scans show nothing abnormal..."
Tae-woong hated interrupting the doctor as he muttered endlessly over CT scans and other results, but every minute counted toward his return.
"Um, Doctor?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry. Got lost in thought with you right here..."
"So, can I start regular training now, just with Pilates?"
"Well... I'd like to monitor a bit longer, but the diagnosis shows no issues, so it should be fine. Just don't overdo it for a few days, to be safe."
"Thank you. I'll head out then."
After leaving the hospital, Tae-woong grabbed a quick lunch and headed straight to the Pilates studio linked with the team. At the entrance, he took a deep breath in and out.
"Huuuuh. Haaaaah."
Ace: Scaredy-cat pitcher, you chickening out? Why do this every damn time?
"How many times do I gotta say it? It's not fear, it's embarrassment. Embarrassment. Why'd they pick the biggest, most crowded place...?"
As Tae-woong said, the team-affiliated Pilates studio was the largest, most famous, and busiest in Suwon. And even if Pilates had gained popularity, most members were women over men—especially here.
"Dozens of women, even the instructor's a woman. I'm the only guy! And these skin-tight yoga clothes... nowhere to look."
Ace: Tsk... Pathetic.
"Today, just do the essentials quick, eyes on ceiling and floor only. You got this, Tae-woong? Yeah, I got this."
Ace: Guy's ID ink barely dry and he's losing it.
Tae-woong chanted to himself and stepped inside.
"Hello. Instructor, please take good care of me today."
"Tae-woong, you're here. Ready to start?"
"Yes. Let's do it."
Two hours later, Tae-woong sighed in relief as he bowed and exited.
"Instructor, I'll head out. Thanks for the hard work."
"Sure, Tae-woong. Take care."
"Phew, nailed it today too."
Ace: Heaven on one side of the door, hell on the other.
"What nonsense is that? Hell to heaven."
Ace: Totally warped. Blech.
Soon after, Tae-woong took a taxi to Wiz Park and headed to the locker room. With the team and coaches away on a road trip, the empty room let him grab his gear easily. Then a familiar voice called out.
"Tae-woong, you here?"
"Oh, Seung-min hyung. Heading out? Lots of gear."
"Yeah, got business with the second team. Loading up the car."
"Huh? I'm heading down today too."
"Thought you were tomorrow."
"Nah, going today to loosen up a day early. Was heading to Suwon Station anyway."
"Cool, ride with me then. Train or car, it's 2-3 hours either way."
"Sweet, saves me the station hassle."
"Hop in. Got a new car."
"Weekdays mean no traffic—got here faster than expected."
"Yeah, 20 minutes early. Let's hit the office."
Upon arriving in Iksan, Tae-woong stopped by the Wiz second-team office with staffer No Seung-min to greet the coaches and staff. While Tae-woong chatted, No wrapped up his tasks and dropped him at the dorm.
Pulling his bags from the trunk, Tae-woong said, "Seung-min hyung, thanks for the drive. See you next time."
"Yeah, recover quick and get back to Suwon. Grab a meal. Two weeks max, right?"
"Should be. Drive safe."
Ace: Time to sweat it out?
"Watch your wording. Could be misunderstood."
Ace: ...Can you handle daily life?
After waving off No, Tae-woong started light walking on the nearby trail to loosen up, then ramped to a jog. Sweat soaked him fast. The big diurnal temperature swing made the night air chilly.
"Huff, huff, hack! Ptui!"
Breath fogged as he braced his knees, panting.
Ace: Stamina's dipped for sure.
"Huff... Can't be helped. No running during traction."
Ace: True... Even a few days off shows. Item sped recovery, but two weeks is two weeks.
"Guess so."
Tae-woong accepted it. He'd overcome shoulder arthroscopy, Tommy John elbow surgery, ankle bone shard removal, hamstring strains—major, long-haul injuries. When he returned after a year off, the frustration dwarfed this.
Back then, it felt like plummeting into an endless abyss from a dark basement.
His first return after 18 months on the mound earned him "human victory" praise. But second and third injuries came; everyone urged quitting, said he'd never make the first team again. He didn't quit. Results sucked, as they predicted, but every mound moment was precious—no regrets. Compared to that, this was easy. 1-2 weeks ramp-up would restore stamina enough.
"Gotta build running gradually. Can't throw my stuff like this."
Ace: Technically not your stuff fully. You throw, but no system? Bust. Speak right.
"Shut it."
Ace: Hey, together!
Tae-woong resumed running.
"Huff, huff."
His breaths filled the empty trail.
A week into base training and stamina work, Tae-woong answered a summons to the second-team manager's office.
Knock knock.
"Manager, it's Seo Tae-woong."
"Yeah, come in. Lunch?"
"Yes, just ate at the cafeteria."
"How's the body? Don't push too hard or the injury flares."
"Yes, keeping it moderate."
"Good. Time for bullpen sessions soon?"
"Pitching coach said start tomorrow."
"Got it. Go rest. Off-day—no overdoing, or tomorrow's soreness kills your throws?"
Ace: Manager nailed it. Quit baseball, open a fortune shop.
"Haha, no way. I'll head out."
Click.
Tae-woong brushed off Ace lightly, bowed, and left.
Ace: What's the plan for the rest of the day?
"What else? No car. Back to room, analyze minor league pitchers' footage."
He watched clips nightly of pitchers he'd model after—except game days.
Ace: Watching MLB guys doesn't make you throw like monsters. You know that? Don't delude.
Thud thud.
Tae-woong plugged in earbuds wordlessly and walked to the dorm. Ace trailed, nagging, ignored till arrival.
Ace: Hey, listening? Hey! Dumbass pitcher!
Nearly a month since Tae-woong's injury sidelined him from the first team. Changes hit him and Wiz alike. Biggest? Their ranking.
Portal sites' baseball pages showed team standings 1-10 at a glance. Wiz led solo after beating Bears on Tae-woong's start. Now? That "1" felt distant before "Wiz."
"Was top... Dropped this far in a month?"
He recalled slipping to third after a loss on his second-team arrival day. Avoided checking since, fearing distraction, to focus on basics.
Ace: You skipped news two weeks—must've lost a ton. Losing their best?
"Still, this is brutal. 1st to 6th how?"
Tae-woong hammered the dorm laptop keys frantically, scanning Wiz headlines.
No need clicking each—recent ones screamed worsening news.
"Change is good... but only downward? Problem."
Ace: Yeah, what time machine? Plummeting like a waterfall curve.
"Waterfall curve too much?"
Ace: Too generous? Eephus pitch level?
Short roast over, talk resumed.
"Hitting slumps end eventually. Defense tanking huge. Starters solid."
Ace: Short version: back to first team? Bullpen.
"Damn, forgot that."
Ace: Memory like a goldfish.