Chapter 9 - Lungs About to Burst? Nah, They're Tougher Than That
"Huff... Are you messing with me right now? Ugh, I'm seriously gonna die. Just 2km left."
Sweat poured down Seo Tae-woong's body like rain as he ran. He felt like he was on the verge of death, but stopping never crossed his mind.
But even with his iron will, his limits were creeping in—dry heaves started wracking him.
After regressing, he'd tried building basic stamina to avoid repeating his past mistakes, but it clearly wasn't enough yet.
Running effortlessly beside him was his teammate and super rookie, Kang Baek-ho.
"Hey, Seo Tae-woong. You keep this up, you'll end up going to hell instead of Korea after spring camp."
"Huff... huff... Shut up, asshole! I'm dying here. Hack! Ptoo!"
Splat.
A thick loogie stretched unbroken from Tae-woong's mouth straight to his knee.
"Agh, my eyes."
"Ptoo! Quit whining, man."
"Heh heh heh, yes sir. I'll take my leave first, milord. Run at your leisure."
Kang Baek-ho pulled ahead, leaving Tae-woong behind.
Monsters are monsters. How the hell does he have stamina like that?
Unlike Tae-woong, whose breath was catching in his throat, Baek-ho looked fresh as ever, not a hint of fatigue.
This was right after high school graduation—back when, if he was being precise, Tae-woong had trusted his raw talent and neglected stamina training.
It wasn't certain, but that was definitely one of the reasons for his failure.
Frog in a well. If I'd just stuck to running or leg workouts consistently, I wouldn't have been that bad.
Tae-woong could barely keep going, throat parched as he spat loogies nonstop.
Meanwhile, Baek-ho called back casually from up ahead.
"How much farther we running?"
"Just... a bit more! To that grass field!"
"Sigh... Dumbass. That's why I told you to train harder normally."
"Shut it! I'm dying!"
"Heh heh, serves you right. Keep this up, you'll pop a lung even in the States. Oh, lungs... now I want some blood sausage outta nowhere. They sell that here?"
This psycho. Stuff his mouth with salt.
"Done! It's over! Really!"
"Huh? What's over? Retiring already?"
"Shut up!"
Running (150/150km)
Beginner Mission 3: Bask in Arizona's warm sunshine and run like the wind!
Run 150km (7-day limit)
Reward: Max velocity +1km/h
Pitcher Seo Tae-woong(?)
Affiliation: KBO ? AT Wiz
Max velocity: 125km/h
Control: 41
Pitches: Four-seam (35), Two-seam (25), Curve (25), Changeup (25), Slider (30)
Skills: Pitching Balance 1
125km/h... This is good, right?
Tae-woong had run 150km over five days. The moment the mission reward popped up, he collapsed right there.
"Huff... huff... Graaah! Ptoo!"
Spit erupted from Tae-woong's mouth like a fountain.
"Ugh... gross as hell, seriously. You got a sprinkler in your mouth or what? Spitting loogies nonstop. You a hydra or something?"
Kang Baek-ho, who'd been running ahead, plopped down next to him.
"Man, first time here and the weather's killer. Back in Korea, I'd be bundled in a puffy jacket and long johns. No chill, no fine dust—air's amazing. Don't wanna go back."
As Tae-woong lay there massaging his legs with a massage ball, Baek-ho, fresh from a shower, flopped onto the bed and said.
"Is Arizona weather always this nice? Perfect breeze every day, warm enough—ideal for training."
"Yeah, around this time it is."
"Always? Seo Tae-woong, when the hell have you ever been to Arizona?"
Tae-woong froze at Baek-ho's words, remembering he was only twenty.
"Nah, I just Googled it. Checked on the plane 'cause I was curious."
Having visited the US multiple times pre-regression for pitching form tweaks and surgeries, Tae-woong scrambled an excuse.
Kid, I've been to the States dozens of times.
It had been a week since the two arrived in Arizona for the first-team spring camp.
Thanks to all the travel chasing pitching coaches pre-regression, he adjusted to the jet lag fast and dove straight into training.
Unlike his old body, worn down by injuries and age where even light movement hurt, his fresh young frame held up to intense workouts without much fatigue.
The coaches and manager noticed, cementing his image as a dedicated, desperate rookie.
Making the first-team camp meant high expectations from the staff—and shining there was basically a ticket to the opening roster.
The second camp in LA would feature exhibitions against KBO, NPB, and nearby minor league teams, a perfect stage to show off without pressure.
He still couldn't wrap his head around why this was happening to him.
But if it was real, he couldn't waste this second chance.
Tae-woong trained like tomorrow was his last day.
Not literally the last, right? Yeah, it'll be fine.
After two weeks of training, today was the blue-white intrasquad game, splitting the roster in half.
Top of the 7th, Tae-woong's blue team clung to a one-run lead in a nail-biter.
His chance came.
"Send Tae-woong out next. Two innings, no matter the pitch count."
"Yes, Coach!"
"Don't go over 60 pitches though, kid! Hit it, you're out."
"Of course."
Whew, stay calm. Stay calm.
He warmed up lightly in the bullpen and headed to the mound.
The nagging thoughts in his head vanished like they'd never been there, replaced by pure white space.
Joy—that was all. Joy at being back on the mound.
The cool breeze, the earthy scent rising from the mound, the rosin bag's texture on his fingers.
And the height of the mound, letting him look down on everyone.
Yeah, this place. Where I love most, crave most.
Tae-woong snapped out of it, smoothing the dirt with his spikes.
Before him: the catcher's sign and mitt he'd longed for.
Slow and steady. Just throw what I can, properly.
As he caught his breath, a new mission appeared.
Beginner Mission 4: Show that rookie's fire!
1 scoreless inning!
Reward: Random skill
"What? A skill? Can I trust this? Regular season's still far off—giving a skill now?"
"No! No way! No! No! Please! I beg you!"
"Thank you, System... sir. I won't forget this grace."
Whew... damn, can't even talk carelessly.
On a warm February day in 2018, Tae-woong became the first human to apologize to a holographic, intangible game system.
One ball, two strikes. Favorable count for the pitcher.
The ball curved sharply from far outside the strike zone, dropping in.
Thwack!
The batter reacted desperately, but sadly, bat missed ball.
Whoosh!
"Strike three!"
Tae-woong's curve sailed over the lefty's head and dived into the dirt.
Catcher Lee Hye-chan snagged the bounce in front of the plate effortlessly.
Pop! Pop!
Then, to boost the rookie's spirits, he smacked his mitt and yelled.
"Nice! Keep it going!"
"Oh, no..."
Rohas, at the plate, had whiffed badly on the curve that looped big over his face and dropped.
The coaching staff watching Tae-woong's pitches smiled at the better-than-expected results.
"Kid's got guts. Even vets struggle with that."
"Yeah, control's solid, dives deep inside with balls, changeups have bite... Tune the tempo control, you'd swear ten-year pro."
"Little polish, and he'd hang in the majors right now."
"Everything's good. Control, fastball zip, off-speed bite—the velocity's the issue."
"Right? Mid-130s would be perfect..."
"Jeong Coach, check the radar gun?"
"Of course. Max this inning: 125km/h."
"Hm... Bears' Woo Hee-gang hits around 130, right?"
"Yes, Manager. Hee-gang consistently does 129-133."
"Our hitters aren't sharp yet, so they might time slow stuff now—but will it play in the regular season?"
"Hard to say. Stats swing pre- and post-season all the time, so..."
Jeong Coach answered honestly.
The two fell into thought, eyes on Tae-woong still dealing.
AT Wiz had finished dead last three straight seasons.
To escape, they'd revamped coaching last year and invested heavy in FA and imports this year.
Still, finer details lagged behind rivals.
The lineup would thrive if FA third baseman Hwang Jae-geon and super rookie Kang Baek-ho delivered, but pitching was the headache.
Outside ace Fairband, starters and bullpen were thin—no reliable lefty starter either.
Manager Kim Jin-woong had publicly named finding trusty lefty and sidearm arms as spring camp goals.
Thus, slow-velocity lefty Seo Tae-woong—with suddenly sharp control and stuff—caught the manager and pitching coach's eyes, landing him here.
His velocity alone made his pro draft status baffling—borderline minor-league fare.
Yet, minus speed, he showed pro-level competitiveness, as the coaches saw.
Smooth, compact delivery.
Big-breaking stuff poking holes in timing erased the "slowball" demerit from their minds.
Even Rohas, Wiz's lineup anchor, couldn't handle the curve's drop.
Manager Kim Jin-woong picked up the paused chat.
"One or two innings ain't enough data. Keep watching."
"Got it. I agree."
Final verdict pending, the game rolled on.
Thwack!
Tae-woong's four-seam twice dove deep into the zone behind lefty Lee Jun-young's body.
The ump—watching intently—rang it up.
"Striiike!"
"Whoa."
Veteran Lee Jun-young flinched back, mistaking the trajectory for a hit-by-pitch.
Ball looks slow, but that path...
He'd backed off the first one coming behind him.
But the 122km/h four-seam on the same line fooled him again.
199cm frame, arms a tad longer than average.
From a lefty's view, the ball only became visible late—like it was thrown from behind him.
"Damn, insane. How do you even hit that? Mess up, and it's backing you."
Lee Jun-young grumbled to the catcher, stepping back half a pace more.
"Go easy. Intrasquad game—why dive that deep? Cut me some slack."
He wiped cold sweat, addressing catcher Lee Hye-chan.
"Haha, tall guy with long arms—trajectory's no joke. Comes from way out there, freezes you. First time catching it yesterday, shocked me too, heh. Good thing he's ours."
"Ours my ass. After the game's over, yeah. I'm not on the Wiz, what am I, a chump?"
"Jun-young hyung, kidding! Heh heh."
"Alright, time's short—get on with it."
"Yes."
At the intrasquad ump's coach's word, Lee Jun-young ended the chit-chat and stepped in.
No balls, two strikes.
A rookie's 120km/h slop wasn't sending a 20-year vet back to the dugout meekly—pride wouldn't allow it.
Skip the big hits today, just slap one. I got 20 years in—can't fold to a 20-year-old rookie.