At the Peak of Popularity
"Boston, LA, San Francisco. Pretty much all the big-money teams have called. Makes you wonder if the Kingdomz might ring next."
Jack's voice carried a hint of amusement over the line. Yoo Min-hoo chuckled in response.
"You know as well as I do that the Kingdomz aren't calling, Dad."
Jack Brown nodded in agreement at those words.
The New York Kingdomz. Major League Baseball's most storied franchise, with the deepest pockets. Holders of the most wins on the planet, the league, and the World Series—they kept their throne through one simple method. They leveraged their vast wealth aggressively, sparing no expense to sign top talent year after year, preserving their status as kings.
They embodied the modern baseball truth: money was king.
But even their fortune wasn't infinite, and talent pools were finite. Right now, the Kingdomz had no need for Yoo Min-hoo. For years, they'd poured money, effort, and time into bolstering their pitching. First, they targeted active major leaguers. But they weren't the only deep-pocketed team. Others with massive resources competed fiercely, and even cash-strapped clubs fought tooth and nail to retain their franchise stars.
Free agency had its limits. So the Kingdomz shifted to the amateur draft and trades, building their farm system's pitching depth. The result? A crop of promising rookie pitchers honing their skills in the minors. This year alone, they'd snagged high school righty David Jim in the first round.
In that context, there was no reason for them to chase Yoo Min-hoo.
"So, have you made up your mind?"
"Yes."
Yoo Min-hoo nodded at Jack's question from the other end of the phone. Five teams had made offers so far. Four laid out concrete contract figures, while Oakland had backed off without hesitation. Yet Yoo Min-hoo seemed set on Oakland.
Jack hadn't heard the details, but it puzzled him. Oakland wouldn't throw around absurd money, and they certainly wouldn't match Boston's top-dollar bid. He'd mentioned it to Yoo Min-hoo, but the kid insisted he'd go to Oakland as long as the offer wasn't insulting.
Personally, Jack would've loved to see his son join Boston, where he himself was a retired legend with a permanent number. But if the boy wanted Oakland, he wouldn't stand in the way.
"Did you board the plane yet?"
"Just about to."
Jack was finally heading to Korea. He'd always wanted to go with his son but held back, not wanting to stir up unnecessary fuss around Yoo Min-hoo. Now, though, the timing was perfect. The high school tournament season was over, Yoo Min-hoo's rehab had progressed enough that he didn't need a specialized setup, and most importantly, Jack wanted to wrap up his future before the year ended—with his son signing that contract by his side as a father.
"Mom will pick you up at the airport."
"Got it."
The call ended. Yoo Min-hoo set his phone on the desk, leaned back in his chair, and let out a soft sigh.
Next year, it really begins.
Right after regressing, rehab had consumed him—no time to think ahead. His left shoulder was fully healed now, and the love calls from MLB teams kept coming. Everything had changed for him.
Lost in thought, he pondered.
What kind of player should I become?
In his previous life, his path had been forced. Switching from lefty to righty, analyzing hitters' weaknesses, playing mind games—it wasn't choice; it was survival.
But now? He had options. Talents aplenty. Paths diverged.
That's why he'd picked Oakland over the richer offers. Sure, they were poor, but their farm system investment rivaled any of the 30 MLB clubs. It wasn't just cash—they built top-tier coaching, nutrition, medical care. An environment optimized for minor leaguers' mental and physical growth.
Their medical staff was unmatched. Knowing Oakland's future trajectory—and with his injury history—Yoo Min-hoo found it irresistible.
Once Dad gets here, we can talk seriously.
For now, waiting patiently was best.
As October rolled in and the college entrance exam loomed just a month away, the third-years' stress mounted.
Yoo Min-hoo was worlds apart from their academic agony.
"I'm exhausted..."
During break, Park Soo-yeon sighed. Yoo Min-hoo glanced at her.
"Take it easy with the studying."
"Can't—with Suneum next month."
To the clueless Yoo Min-hoo, her intensity felt alien. Korea's must-go-to-college culture was foreign to him.
"Must be nice for you. MLB teams practically begging to sign you. Even the underclass girls have been chatting you up lately."
"Is that so?"
He shrugged. Yeah, more people were approaching him lately. He'd even fielded a couple confessions.
"Ho-seok was popular in school too."
Park Soo-yeon grumbled. Good baseball player, fun guy, solid personality, decent looks—enough to turn heads.
She stole a glance at Yoo Min-hoo. Tall, handsome. He'd stood out from day one, but now he was a phenomenon.
(Notably, staying in Korea had shot him up another 6 centimeters to 189cm—an unexpected bonus. Pre-regression, he'd topped out at 185cm, barely growing 2cm during rehab amid stress and grueling schedules. Those extra 4cm were a pitcher's dream—reach and leverage advantages galore.)
Anyway, eyeing her weary face, Yoo Min-hoo offered a wry smile.
"Hang in there."
She groaned affirmatively and nodded.
After school, skipping baseball practice (an off day), Yoo Min-hoo headed home.
Mom's probably picking up Dad. House should be empty.
Arriving, he spotted a familiar face waving enthusiastically.
"Whoa, long time no see."
Lee Ho-seok greeted him brightly. Yoo Min-hoo grinned.
"Weren't you at the dorms?"
"Training schedule wrapped. Off till November."
Lee Ho-seok flashed a toothy smile. Yoo Min-hoo nodded. Pro futures league was done; he'd been holed up in team dorms for their program.
"Man, you're a bigger deal than I thought."
Lee Ho-seok marveled. Yoo Min-hoo smiled bitterly.
"Never meant to hide it."
He shrugged. Lee Ho-seok shook his head.
"Fair enough. Personal reasons, I get it."
They walked toward home. At the gate, Lee Ho-seok halted.
A taxi idled out front; a man was stepping out. Blonde foreigner, towering frame—192cm of prime athlete. Jack Brown, MLB's legendary power hitter with 567 career homers.
"Your dad?"
"Yeah."
"Looks just like that guy I know."
Lee Ho-seok muttered in awe. Retired for years, but the face was iconic.
Yoo Min-hoo replied flatly.
"It's who you're thinking of."
"Huh?"
Lee Ho-seok blinked dumbly.
"Dad."
Yoo Min-hoo waved. Jack turned, spotted him, and approached.
Lee Ho-seok gaped.
"Who's the kid?"
"Yeah. This is Lee Ho-seok. Signed pro this year. Catcher."
"Ah, the friend Mi-hyun mentioned."
Jack nodded knowingly. Yoo Min-hoo turned to his buddy.
"This is my dad. Probably who you think."
"Jack Brown?"
"Yep."
"Gah!"
Lee Ho-seok yelped in shock.