Return as a High School Student
Yoo Min-hoo had moved to the United States when he was seven years old. It was because of his biological father's work that the entire family relocated. His father, Yoo Kyung-seok, was an enormous baseball fanatic. When they moved, one of the things he loved most was being able to watch games at Major League ballparks—that pretty much said it all. Thanks to his father, Yoo Min-hoo naturally grew to love baseball as well.
And eleven years later, today, Yoo Min-hoo had returned to Korea with his mother, Kim Mi-hyun.
“Min-hoo, do you remember this place?”
Kim Mi-hyun asked with a gentle smile as they unpacked the moving boxes.
“Not really.”
“Well, it's been ten years...”
Kim Mi-hyun nodded understandingly, gazing at the house.
It feels like almost twenty years have passed to me.
Yoo Min-hoo swallowed the words that nearly escaped his throat.
The year was 2026. The day after he'd received his release notice from the team, he woke up back in 2016. It was the moment he'd wanted to return to more than any other in his life. He'd thought thousands, even tens of thousands of times, that if he could go back to that time, he wouldn't rush things. He'd take it slow, put in the work, and rehab perfectly.
And it had actually happened.
Yoo Min-hoo still couldn't tell if this was a dream or reality. But no matter what, he resolved to do his absolute best not to repeat the same mistakes as before.
Back then, the doctor had advised him to stay away from baseball and pressure. It wasn't uncommon for top prospects who got injured to spiral even worse under the weight of expectations. Kim Mi-hyun had even considered leaving the U.S. temporarily and returning to Korea for a change of scenery.
Of course, Yoo Min-hoo had stubbornly refused his mother's idea at the time. His head was filled only with thoughts of rehabbing as fast as possible to regain his form and live up to the hype. Even his father had suggested taking a break from baseball, but he hadn't listened.
Looking back now, he couldn't believe how stupid he'd been to ignore his father's advice.
I was young back then.
Yoo Min-hoo murmured inwardly with a wistful expression.
“But this house feels a little familiar.”
When Yoo Min-hoo asked his mother with a puzzled look, she smiled warmly.
“Of course it does. It's the house we used to live in, remember?”
“What?”
“It luckily came up for sale, so I snapped it up quick. This place is full of good memories.”
Watching his mother lost in nostalgia, Yoo Min-hoo nodded in understanding.
“I wonder if any of the old neighbors are still around.”
That might be wishful thinking.
Ten years was a long time—things change. The neighborhood felt utterly foreign to him now. Hoping the neighbors he knew were still there was greedy, as he'd said. After ten years, they might even fade from memory.
Shaking his head, Yoo Min-hoo scanned the surroundings before turning to his mother.
“Mom, I'm gonna take a quick walk around the area.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
There was still time before they'd finish unpacking. Yoo Min-hoo shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled down the street. Kim Mi-hyun watched his retreating figure silently, then tilted her head.
“He seems... really different.”
Just a short while ago, her son had been insisting he needed to rehab right away. Yet suddenly, he'd agreed to listen to her and his father, choosing to return to Korea and escape the pressure.
It didn't quite feel like a simple change of heart. It was more like...
“He feels grown-up.”
It wasn't about his looks. His whole demeanor had shifted. It felt a bit strange, but seeing her son look more at ease relieved her. Until recently, he'd seemed like he was running from something, on the verge of tripping over himself.
As Kim Mi-hyun stared down the alley where her son had vanished, a voice called out.
“Oh? Looks like new neighbors moved in.”
It was the voice of a boy about her son's age. She turned to see a student in workout clothes looking puzzled at the moving truck. When their eyes met, he bowed politely.
“Hello! You must be the new folks moving in. I live next door.”
His cheerful, friendly greeting made Kim Mi-hyun smile and start to respond—then she tilted her head. He looked familiar. Suddenly remembering his name, she clapped lightly.
“Oh my! Aren't you Ho-seok? Lee Ho-seok.”
Lee Ho-seok looked surprised that the unfamiliar lady knew him.
Walking with his hands in his pockets, Yoo Min-hoo tilted his head back to gaze at the sky. He still couldn't wrap his head around this sudden regression. Who would believe it? “I went to sleep and woke up ten years in the past”—people would think he was crazy.
Is this a dream? Or were the last ten years of my life the dream?
Lost in such philosophical thoughts, he let out a hollow chuckle. But he couldn't afford to stay confused. More than anyone, he wanted this second chance—and it had come.
Under the sunset sky, he stopped, stared at his left hand, and clenched it into a fist.
If someone asked if he'd given his all in his previous life, the answer was absolutely not lacking. Yoo Min-hoo had bled and broken bones in his efforts. After switching from lefty to righty in college, he'd climbed all the way to Triple-A in the minors—a remarkable achievement. But his right shoulder gave out from overuse too, and the team deemed him unable to continue playing professionally, releasing him.
He'd worked harder than anyone, but he lacked experience.
Don't use the left arm until it's perfectly rehabbed.
He placed his right hand on his left shoulder, murmuring inwardly. That shoulder had been ruined by impatience. He wouldn't make the same stupid mistake twice.
But even so, he couldn't rest as a player. Personal fitness training had its limits. He needed to keep his game sense sharp through actual matches.
Removing his hand from his left shoulder, Yoo Min-hoo looked down at his right. He knew its limits clearly. Top speed: 87 mph—about 141 km/h. That was his max; average was 84-85 mph. His control was precise enough, and he had decent breaking stuff, but compared to his left, it fell short. Crucially, it lacked the punch to compete in the big leagues.
Before the injury, he'd been a power pitcher topping 153 km/h as a high school sophomore. Factoring in velocity gains as an adult, plus his solid control, the left arm had given him far better odds of making the majors. But in reality, it was his right arm—not the ruined left—that had sustained his career.
And now, he had to bet everything on this right hand once more.
One more time, right hand—I'm counting on you.
Bitterly smiling to himself, he shoved his hands back in his pockets. His path was set. All that remained was to aim for the top again.
Having sorted out his thoughts on the future, he took a deep breath, turned around, and headed back. He'd thought about exploring more, but the streets were still unfamiliar. Besides, dinner would be soon. It was mid-February, and the air was chilly.
Speaking of which, school starts again in March...
His high school grades back in the U.S. had been decent, and he'd gotten along well with friends. But that was American high school; he didn't know much about Korean ones.
Well, people are people everywhere.
He looked like a high schooler on the outside, but inside was a 28-year-old man. Plus, he'd played in the minors amid all sorts of personalities and races. No need to worry about social stuff.
Stretching lightly, he hummed a tune as he walked home.
By the time Yoo Min-hoo got back, the movers had finished and left. In the kitchen, Kim Mi-hyun was humming while preparing a simple meal. She seemed happier than when he'd left for his walk, which puzzled him a bit.
“Something good happen?”
As Kim Mi-hyun turned off the stove, she smiled and replied.
“The people next door from before we moved to the U.S.—they still live there!”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You were close with their kids, remember?”
“Vaguely.”
She was right—they had been tight. He dimly recalled the neighbor kids from his childhood.
“One was my age, and the other a year younger, right?”
“Yep, exactly.”
Kim Mi-hyun nodded, pleased he remembered, then said,
“Dinner's almost ready, so go wash up.”
“Got it.”
While Yoo Min-hoo washed his hands, she set the table. By the time he sat down, everything was ready.
“I still can't believe we're back in Korea like this. Tomorrow, I should visit my parents. And your dad's side too.”
Kim Mi-hyun gave a wry smile, paused, then continued.
“But... are you really okay with this?”
“Huh? With what?”
“Living in Korea, I mean.”
Everyone around had said Yoo Min-hoo needed a break from baseball pressure. He'd been a media darling in the U.S.—standout stats among high schoolers. Starting sophomore year, MLB teams had come calling. Pundits predicted a first-round pick as a senior. And his family background drew even more eyes.
Staying in the U.S. would've meant hounding reporters. In his previous timeline, the press frenzy had been suffocating, fueling his impatience. That's why he'd boldly chosen Korea this time.
“I can rehab here too, you know.”
“Even so...”
U.S. facilities were superior.
“It's better for my peace of mind.”
Kim Mi-hyun's expression turned a bit odd. Her son had seemed different for the past month. Not a whole new person—just suddenly much more mature.
Her husband said the injury changed his mindset, but...
Resting her chin on her hand, she tilted her head.
“Your dad wanted to come to Korea too.”
“If Dad came, it'd be no different from the U.S. setup.”
Thinking of his father, Yoo Min-hoo shook his head, and Kim Mi-hyun burst out laughing, nodding in agreement.