Capsule Form
"Things are getting weird."
"Yeah. But it's good for you, right?"
"True enough. Still, I feel a little bad for Lee Chan-dong."
Our team was busy grinding through a long road trip, but I was home that Saturday, soaking up a comfortable rest.
Just yesterday, our fans and the Jaguars fans had been tearing each other apart online. Our side insisted the Jaguars had started it, so it was their fault—especially that throwing a beanball at a pitcher was completely out of line. The Jaguars fans shot back that no matter what, taking out two of their players with injuries was going way too far.
I had eaten a ton of hate in the process.
Then Saturday morning arrived, and the atmosphere flipped overnight.
Out of nowhere, some of the Jaguars fans themselves started tearing into Lee Chan-dong. Not our fans—theirs. The main thrust was that he had stupidly beaned me first and handed us the perfect excuse. The claim caught fire almost immediately and racked up massive support. Every so often someone posted that Chan-dong hadn't acted on his own, that someone had ordered him to do it, but those posts got buried fast. Buried would have been lucky—they got piled on with hate.
Meanwhile the real ringleaders, Kim Jin-tae and Kwak Jae-min, were getting nothing but cheerleading. Relay comments wishing them a speedy recovery and a quick return flooded the threads. Watching it made my head spin.
"Doesn't this feel completely off to you?"
"What does?"
"I mean… every now and then you still see posts saying the two guys I hit put Chan-dong up to it, right?"
Those were the people actually reading the situation correctly.
"Yeah."
"Look at the downvotes on those, though."
"…Damn."
"Is that really the kind of take that deserves this many downvotes and this much hate? While they're acting like they want Chan-dong's head on a pike?"
"Okay, fair… but why are you so worked up about it?"
"Because the actual pieces of garbage are getting painted as the poor victims, and it pisses me off. The real victim here is Chan-dong."
"You're sticking your nose where it doesn't belong…"
He wasn't wrong. There was nothing I could actually do about any of it right now.
"If you've got nothing better to do, just go crash."
Maybe I should.
After that last exchange with Ho-min I shut the whole thing out of my mind. My name had already dropped out of the conversation, and that was good enough for me.
Then that night the articles hit like a landslide.
Suddenly the whole narrative shifted under the weight of those pieces.
"What the hell is even going on anymore?"
"Somebody must've gotten pissed enough to tip off the press."
"Has to be. Says 'anonymous club source.'"
An anonymous source… who could that be? Had to be one of the players.
"Whoa… thanks to these articles, every story about the Jaguars' losing streak just vanished."
"You're right. They dropped every game this week."
Before the articles dropped, the feeds had been wall-to-wall coverage of the Jaguars' five-game skid and their freefall from third place all the way to fifth. Ever since the incident with us, the team atmosphere had been a mess and the losses had kept piling up. Those sudden headlines shoved all of that completely into the background.
And then the community reaction flipped too.
By night the entire mood had reversed.
Then Sunday morning:
Even the Jaguars decided they couldn't just let it slide quietly anymore. The article was the usual bland corporate speak—confirm the facts, possible internal discipline, etc.
"If this goes the right way, Kim Jin-tae might actually get released."
Ho-min jumped straight to release the second he saw the headline.
"You really think they'd go that far? He's a franchise guy. He's already going to miss a long stretch with the injury—they'll probably just paper over it."
"Nah. He's old, his production is just okay, his salary's fat, and now it's clear they can't even control him. Perfect chance to cut him loose. He's already eating hate, so the timing's ideal."
"Come on~"
"Franchise player or not, he never did enough to earn a number retirement. His whole career was just mid. I think it's possible."
"Hmm…"
Somehow getting hit once and hitting back twice was snowballing into something huge. Not that I felt sorry or worried—I just wanted them to finish their mess among themselves. As long as my name stayed out of it…
And right in the middle of all that, the Jaguars finally broke their losing streak.
"I'm outside your place right now."
"Ah! Yes! Coming out!"
It was honestly amazing how completely I had forgotten. Even on a Sunday, meeting the Hooded Woman once a month—or Jack, ever since he took over the deliveries—was one of the most important things in my life. I had somehow blanked on the fact that I was out of pills entirely.
Only when Jack's late-night call came through did the memory slam back into place. I bolted out of the apartment.
At the park bench in front of the complex, a massive frame sat waiting politely.
"Jack~"
I greeted him like I was seeing a long-lost friend. He handed over two tiny objects he had been holding—two little boxes that looked exactly like ring cases. I cracked one open. Inside, instead of the round mysterious pills I had always received, sat a single small capsule. One capsule per box. Two total.
"…Two?"
"Yes. One every two weeks."
"It's different from before…"
"I only deliver them. I don't know the details myself."
"R-right."
Having said everything he needed to say, Jack left almost immediately. I stood there alone, turning the capsules over in my hands again and again.
"Why… capsules, though?"
Not the usual pill form—capsules. Switching from traditional herbal to Western-style medicine felt so unfamiliar that I kept checking them.
"Can't wait for morning."
I forced my racing heart to calm down, went straight home, and dove into bed.
The next morning I carried a glass of lukewarm water back into the room and opened the box with something close to reverence. A small white capsule sat there waiting.
"Hoo… it'll be the same, right?"
Hoping the effect was identical—and, on the other hand, a little relieved I wouldn't have to taste that bitter medicine anymore—I popped it into my mouth and washed it down with a sip of water.
.
.
.
.
.
Two hours later.
"Augh, damn it. Why does my body feel like…"
"Feel like what? Something wrong?"
"No, it's not that… how do I even put this…"
"If something feels off, just go to the hospital already."
"…Hey! I'm gonna… go work out for a bit."
"What?"
"I'm heading out."
How was I supposed to explain it? My body was overflowing with power? My condition was just too good? I had no idea. I just knew I suddenly wanted to do something—anything. Run, lift, move. The urge to get my body working hit me hard.
"Hey! I'll drive you. Come on."
Ho-min scrambled for the car keys, loaded me up, and headed for the training complex.
"Huff… huff… huff… huff…"
"Hyung-nim, aren't you overdoing it?"
"Huh? Haa… what?"
"I said you're pushing too hard."
"Ah~ no, I'm fine."
"You've already been running for…"
I checked the clock. A solid chunk of time had already passed. Jeong Jong-seong had every right to try to stop me.
"Whew~ ah… okay, I can finally breathe."
"D-did you really want to train that badly? You could've just rested a few more days."
Jong-seong sounded completely stunned. Then he added one more line.
"I guess that's the kind of work it takes to become someone like you, hyung-nim…"
The kid was clearly laboring under a serious misunderstanding. That wasn't it at all.
"Hyung-nim! Want me to catch for you?"
"Huh?"
"If you're going to keep training, you'll want to throw too. I'll catch."
Uh… I hadn't actually planned on throwing.
"Ah, is that not okay? Senior Ko Mandeok isn't here today."
He was being so careful just about catching a few pitches… If I turned him down now, the disappointment would be written all over his face.
"Alright. Appreciate it."
And just like that, an unplanned bullpen session got added to the day.
"Yes, sir! I'll get ready right away!"
"Uh? Uh… yeah, okay."
A little too enthusiastic. Kind of a lot of pressure, actually…
The long run had my body fully warmed up, so I just did a little extra upper-body stretching and headed for the pitching area. Jong-seong was already there, completely set.
"I'll keep it light."
"Yes, sir!"
I settled into a four-seam grip and swung my arm through casually.
WHAP!
"Good! Killer stuff~"
Jong-seong's praise didn't even register. What the hell was this? I had clearly taken all the power out of it and thrown easy, yet the feel was…
WHAP!
WHAP!
WHAP!
"Hyung-nim, aren't you going full send right from the start?"
"……"
Yeah. I thought so too. I was definitely throwing easy.
Then I spotted Taeseong hyung heading our way from the far side.
"Hyung! Coach! Over here! Over here!"
He came over, speed gun already in hand, and took up a position off to the side.
WHAP!
"97 mph!"
"…What?"
"What? Something wrong?"
Something was very wrong.
"98 mph."
"98 mph."
"98 mph. Hey, take it easy."
I am taking it easy right now.
"Should I throw one for real?"
"What?"
"Never mind. Jong-seong, this next one's coming in a little harder."
"Yes, sir!"
WHAAAP!
"…103 mph? What the hell? Is the gun broken?"
Yeah. What the hell is this.
"I'm going crazy…"
What exactly did that woman give me?