So What?
Ever since I was little, my father had always drilled the same lesson into me.
"Hajin. A man has to be honest. You don't tell lies that can hurt other people. You understand me? My boy?"
And I heard this one often enough, too:
"You're a man—why are you so scared all the time? You've got to learn to speak your mind with some guts!"
So at the end of today's interview, I did exactly what my father taught me.
Honestly. Without a single lie. With courage. I laid out exactly what I thought.
And yet… well… maybe I had a little too much courage.
I could tell just by looking at Yoon Jia, the announcer standing next to me—she'd gone completely pale and didn't know what to do with herself the entire time I was talking.
Ah, and the caster had pretty much the same reaction. Midway through he looked like he was trying to cut me off… so I just ignored him and kept going.
I also heard some muffled snorting in the background. No idea what that was about…
The second I finished, Yoon Jia scrambled to wrap up the interview.
The moment the cameras were off—
"B-brother-in-law. A-are you going to be okay? Saying something like that?"
Our first meeting hadn't exactly been smooth, but Yoon Jia had always found me entertaining, so we got along fine. And since she and Han Song-yi had grown close enough to act like real sisters, at some point she'd started calling me brother-in-law.
"What's the big deal? I didn't say anything that wasn't true."
"Still… ah, well. You're not wrong, brother-in-law. None of it was a lie. That's probably why Commissioner Jeong was laughing so hard."
"Huh? He was?"
"You didn't notice? He looked like he was dying trying to hold it in. You heard that snorting, right?"
"Ah~ so that's what that was."
"Anyway, you were incredible today. Seriously cool."
"Thanks. Let's all hang out sometime—the three of us."
"Yeees~"
I sent Yoon Jia off and turned around, only to find my teammates standing there looking half-catatonic. Every one of them was holding a drink or a water bottle… they'd clearly been planning to douse me with the stuff.
"What are you all doing?"
My voice snapped them out of it, and their faces immediately crumpled.
"…You absolute maniac. Who does an interview like that…"
"Haa… damn it. I was so shocked I forgot to even throw this."
"Oh, right. This… feels a little weird to dump on him now, doesn't it?"
"I don't think this is really the time for a celebration dump, guys."
Everyone had something to say, and the noise was giving me a headache.
"Let's just head in. What are we gonna do about it now? Heh heh."
"You're laughing? You think this is funny?"
"Heh heh heh."
What was I supposed to do? I'd already said it.
"Hey. Honestly? That felt damn good. Heh."
Ko Mandeok whispered it to me out of the corner of his mouth, then bolted. The way he moved almost looked like he was trying not to be seen associating with me… probably just my imagination.
Right after that, Marte and Shane both gave me a thumbs-up at the same time. Whether it was for the game or the interview, I had no idea—but either way, it meant I'd done well.
Honestly, walking back after that interview, I'd braced myself for a full dressing-down from the manager and the coaching staff. I'd been a little tense… but surprisingly, they just said things like "good job" and "you worked hard," then quietly left.
"I always figured you'd pull something like this one day. Haha."
Only Taeseong hyung stuck around long enough to say that and chat for a bit. He seemed to find the whole thing hilarious.
Out on the field, my interview had completely killed the timing for any celebration, so it fizzled out—but once we got into the locker room, I got the full treatment.
No wonder Taeseong hyung had been deliberately holding me back…
Thanks to him, I was the last one into the locker room, which meant I walked straight into the ambush of water and sports drinks they'd been saving up.
After a long stretch of congratulations, I finished my shower and was packing up my stuff when the manager called me in.
"When you wake up tomorrow, go straight to the hospital."
"Excuse me?"
"Everything's already set up. Just go get checked out."
"I'm not hurt anywhere, though?"
"…… You'll understand when you get there. So you're going. No excuses. Got it? And don't come here tomorrow!"
"Yes, sir."
Something about his tone made me think he might actually be a little pissed, so I answered fast and practically fled the manager's office.
Then, outside the exit, while I was signing autographs and taking pictures with the fans who'd gathered—
"Oppa! Oppa, did you know you got another nickname?"
A female fan asked me mid-autograph.
"…Again? Wh-what is it this time?"
My nicknames so far… Killer Bastard, Crazy Bastard, Lunatic, Boy Breadwinner? I still didn't get the "boy" part, but roughly that range.
"Guess~"
"Cra…zy Bastard?"
"Oh? Correct!"
Haa… yeah, I'd pretty much figured.
"And there's another one."
"……?"
"Perfect Lunatic."
"…… What even is that."
Did it mean I'd gone perfectly insane? Or that I was the lunatic who threw a perfect game?
They were our own fans, sure, but their nickname game was… not great.
"Everyone's calling you that. Not just us—other teams' fans too."
"……"
I spent a brief second weighing Crazy Bastard against Lunatic. Both were garbage, but maybe the second one was slightly less terrible…
After finishing all the autographs, I headed to what had basically become my designated parking spot, where Ho-min was waiting for me.
"Hey~ our Perfect One?"
"That's right. I am the man who threw a perfect game."
"And our certified Lunatic, of course."
"……"
"That nickname stuck perfectly. Now there's not a soul left who doesn't know the real you. Heh heh."
He kept spouting nonsense while hustling me into the car.
As we pulled out and I stared out the passenger window, I couldn't help feeling a little cheated.
"Hey. Real talk, though. First perfect game in Korean history, and somehow I'm getting zero respect for it?"
"Crazy Bastard. If you wanted respect, maybe don't do an interview like that."
"What did I say that wasn't true? I answered that interview with pure sincerity!"
"Oh, please, Lunatic. You really are a lunatic. Even if that's how you honestly feel, you don't just openly trash the guy like that."
"Trash him? Tch. If he didn't want to get roasted, he should've put together a fair roster."
"Ugh… you know what, never mind. I'm done."
We got home quickly. I changed clothes and came back out to the living room.
I pulled some simple side dishes from the fridge, heated up some soup, and was just about to dig into a meal when Ho-min brought over the laptop he'd been staring at and shoved it in my face.
"Look at this. Absolute chaos."
"What now?"
The screen showed a community board. Scrolling down with the mouse wheel, I could see the place was on fire over me and Manager Min Gucheol.
But… loud as it was…
"Hey. This doesn't look that bad for me?"
"Most of it's roasting that old man, yeah. But plenty of people are coming after you too."
"This is nothing. And look—other people are already attacking on my behalf."
The majority of the posts were tearing into Manager Min Gucheol. Just from a glance, maybe eighty percent or more? The rest were roasting me.
The people going after me had a simple argument: some young punk with no respect for an older manager.
My numbers this season were too good, and now I'd gone and thrown a perfect game on top of it, so they couldn't touch my skill. That left them trying to pick apart my character… but the second one of those posts went up, the rebuttal comments flooded in by the dozen.
Especially this kind:
Posts like that, hammering Min Gucheol's nonsensical roster decisions, were everywhere.
"Atmosphere's looking good."
"You think this is good?"
"What's wrong with it? Everyone's taking my side."
"…And everyone else? From now on, every single thing you do, they're going to come after you like this."
"Let them. What's it to me? Not like this is the first time I've been cursed out."
"…… I genuinely can't tell if this guy has an iron mental game or just no thoughts at all."
After a light meal, I poured myself a drink and settled onto the couch.
The TV was running a review broadcast of today's game, and right then my highlights started rolling.
The caster shouting in shock at 163 km/h. The crowd going completely insane when I sealed the perfect game.
Moments I hadn't even seen myself were playing out on screen.
And then—my interview.
"Huh?"
"……"
"They're actually showing that? I figured they'd cut it for sure."
"They might've just trimmed the ending."
"You think?"
But no—whatever MBS was thinking, they aired the whole thing unedited.
"Here it comes."
The interview was winding down.
Yoon Jia's final question.
"Kang Hajin. One last question."
"Yes."
"Kwon Jong-jin will be missing the Olympics due to injury. You've never been particularly hungry for an Olympic berth before, have you? You didn't make the final roster, but another opportunity could still open up."
The question ended.
"Uh… honestly, my expectations for the Olympic national team were pretty high, but… I'm sure there were good reasons I didn't make the final roster."
"I-is that so?"
"Yes. People always say experience is critical in big games and international competitions, right? Looking at this final roster, they clearly prioritized players with a lot of experience. And I, well—I have zero experience in those kinds of games."
"Riiight…"
"So I figure Manager Min Gucheol put his faith in the more experienced seniors over someone like me. Which does leave me wondering where exactly a player like me is supposed to get that experience… but the manager must have made the right call. Nothing I can do about it."
I finished with a little shrug. Hmm… I looked pretty decent on camera.
"…… Excuse me?"
"And my numbers probably weren't good enough to satisfy Manager Min Gucheol either."
"……"
"Sure, I'm leading the league in ERA and strikeouts, but I'm lagging a bit in wins, aren't I? On the hitting side, there are plenty of guys with more home runs and higher batting averages than me. And my defense is trash, so."
"Kang Hajin, you're a pitcher—"
"If I were posting a sub-1.00 ERA instead of just the ones, and if I pushed my mid-.300 average a little higher—closer to .400—then Manager Min Gucheol would've called me up without a second thought. So really, it's just that my ability isn't good enough."
"Uh… the open spot right now…"
"I'm sure that spot will go to some other se!nior! play!er! with a whoooole lot of experience and outstaaaanding talent. Because my a!bi!li!ty! just isn't there."
"… Th… yes!"
"Ah! And my shoulder might not be in great shape, so even if they did pick me, I probably couldn't do the Olympics."
"… That was Kang Hajin, everyone!"
The interview ended.
"Haa… you maniac… watching it again, you've completely lost it. That's what you call an interview? Outstaaaanding? Sub-1.00 ERA? .400? Holy shit, for real—heh heh heh."
"What? Was I wrong? If I had a sub-1.00 ERA and was hitting .400, that old Dragons geezer could throw every tantrum in the book and he'd still have to take me. And since he values experience so much, he's not taking any juniors anyway, right? Am I wrong?"
"…… And what's this about your shoulder maybe not being okay? You scheduling an injury in advance?"
"Well… a player gets a feeling sometimes, you know? Like something's about to go wrong. It's a sixth sense regular people don't have—a ballplayer's ghost sense."
"…… You're full of it."
So what? What are you gonna do about it? I'm serious.