Manners (3)
“Ugh…”
Byun Jaeyu groped through his hazy memories with a foggy mind.
‘Why the hell am I rolling on the ground?’
Right, he'd definitely targeted Jeong Hanseong for today's game. For the win. But.
‘…It didn't go according to plan.’
Top of the second.
Byun Jaeyu's first at-bat.
“Hey. Must suck being Jin Yuha's lackey, huh?”
To his taunt as he stepped up.
“Totally.” “Huh?”
The young catcher squatting at home plate had nodded vigorously out of nowhere. It threw him off.
“That guy's not fully human yet, you know? He calls me ‘ball receiver.’ It's seriously tough.”
Unaware or not of Byun Jaeyu's fluster, Jeong Hanseong launched into gossiping about Jin Yuha.
“You know what? Actually…”
And then.
Thwack!!
“Strike!”
“…Huh?”
While Byun Jaeyu got distracted by the chatter, a fastball plunged right into the heart of the strike zone.
“Jin's still okay, though. He's good at baseball.” “What the hell are you pulling?” “Huh? What'd I do?”
Jeong Hanseong tossed the ball back to Jin Yuha and immediately tapped the pitch comm.
Thwack!!
“Strike!”
Vrrr!!
“Swinging strike three!”
Byun Jaeyu's plan to stall at the plate and rile up Jeong Hanseong sank without a trace.
“Fuck…”
Muttering curses under his breath as he trudged to the dugout.
“What? You went down that easy?”
Yang So-yeol's question—their starter—only amplified Byun Jaeyu's humiliation.
“Didn't go as planned, huh? Fine, I'll show 'em.”
So when Yang So-yeol confidently beanballed Jeong Hanseong at his at-bat.
“Urk!!”
And Byun Jaeyu saw him crumple in agony, he honestly felt a thrill.
Sportsmanship? Fair play? None of that existed. Not from the start.
Some fans might bitch about ‘dirty baseball,’ but that was just clueless noise from non-fans. Prove it with results, and the same people would slobber, ‘But they play ball great!’ There were always plenty.
Thwack!!
Though he hadn't expected Yang So-yeol to beanball twice.
‘Bet that deflated him good?’
Couldn't hurt.
But.
“Hey, you okay where it hit? What a mess… This game's gonna suck all day.”
Bottom of the fifth. Second at-bat.
Jeong Hanseong, facing him at home plate, was unchanged. Meaning.
“Eh, could happen. Boosts my on-base percentage for free—kinda a win.”
Far from deflated, his face was utterly nonchalant.
“Ha…”
Irritating. So.
Whoosh!!
To the fastball screaming into the strike zone.
Vrrr!!
He swung hard on purpose, letting go with one hand for an exaggerated follow-through.
Bam!!
Naturally smashing Jeong Hanseong's head with the bat.
“Argh!!”
Byun Jaeyu felt smug watching him scream and collapse.
‘Rookie punk, know your place.’
He hadn't even worried about retaliation.
‘Jin Yuha's in a normal spot right now?’
Four innings perfect, extending his scoreless streak live—Jin Yuha wouldn't risk a beanball. Plus.
‘That guy's not big on others' business.’
Pre-game, when Baek Jihun flinched at them and Park Cheongwon got sharp, Jin had just focused on his own stuff. Only fired back when Yang So-yeol targeted him.
‘Yeah, I remember up to there, but…’
After that? Blank.
Suddenly, Byun Jaeyu himself was rolling on the dirt, back throbbing like cannon fire, field swarming with players.
‘He beanballed. Sparked a bench-clearing.’
He could guess from context.
“Heh…”
Hauling himself up slowly, Byun Jaeyu chuckled.
‘Kid's still green. This means we win today.’
Anyone could see it was intentional. Jin Yuha'd probably get ejected.
Titans lose their ace in a flash; Dragons' starter Yang So-yeol fine. Game one theirs. Byun Jaeyu's scheme worked.
‘Provoke Jeong Hanseong, Jin Yuha flips out, my back hurts like hell, but…’
Result as desired.
Snap!!!
Way too complacent.
I'd heard once that KBO bench-clearings were like WWE.
League so tight-knit, no one seriously tries crushing the other team. Even in heated spots like this.
But.
‘Is that a bench-clearing?’
O'Dore blasting Batista's jaw: 2016. Dad folding Padres players in half: 2025. Yankees ace Eric McClain beaning a Red Sox batter's dome, mass brawl: probably 2038.
That was bench-clearing to me. So.
“This psycho!”
Dragons players charging the field, zero thought they'd eat dirt? Pathetic.
Thud!
Leadoff Egennam shoved me, face twisted in rage. Didn't budge.
Huge physical gap—classic old-school leadoff vs. me.
‘One.’
Grip!
“What the—?!”
No. 2 hitter, fan-whirling, grabbed my collar.
‘Two.’
Whoosh!!
Dragons starter Yang So-yeol bolted from dugout, fist cocked at collar-grabbed me.
‘Three.’
My mentor-family? Bench-clearing gods. Taught me plenty—including this.
— “Howard. Key's minimizing suspension. You're ace material.”
Uncle Jack Gordon said.
— “What? Less beating for less punishment? Bullshit. Just build it up right.”
Ace suspension kills the team—minimize via buildup to brawl.
— “Endure exactly three. Think three strikes—you're ballplayers.”
Three before brawl erupts, three during.
— “Everyone sides with you then. More if you're a stud.”
I followed Gordon's advice to the letter.
‘Perfect. Pitcher's out here.’
Green light now.
Bam!
Ripped collar free, slammed him mound-first.
“Hngh!”
Short scream as he planted.
Thud!
Shouldered first pusher Egennam.
“Grah!”
Height diff smashed my shoulder his face—whatever.
Finally.
“You fuck!”
Dodged Yang So-yeol's cursing haymaker.
Snap!!!
Full-swing slap.
“Aaaah!!”
Dwarf pitcher airborne, tumbling three rolls. White sparkles trailed each.
““...””
Bickering clusters on the field froze silent.
“Whoa…”
Baek Jihun senpai murmured awe.
“Ejected!”
End of my day.
‘Kinda bummed. Byun Jaeyu passes out from one pitch to the back?’
Didn't even clip his head—why so fragile?