The Worst Guest in History
First things first: Noh In-seong got exactly what was promised — a two-million-won fine and a five-game suspension.
Yes, the fine was steeper than last time. But they'd sent one player to the hospital instead of a weekend farm team, after he'd tortured two men on the sacred mound.
You'd think it was a bargain price for that, honestly.
"Whoa, watching the replay seriously gives me chills. Blood just streaming down."
"...Ugh, I've lost my mind. Should've just poked your eyes out like you do."
Thanks to a lunatic who'd made an even bigger impact than Noh In-seong had, the hate train had largely been derailed onto someone else's tracks.
Countless baseball fans were aghast at this brand of foul play no one had ever witnessed before.
It was a first offense for bench-clearing assault, the opponent had grabbed him by the collar first, and he'd expressed being "flustered" after the crime(?) — and on top of that, he'd left the field quietly. That's how he squeaked by with a mere seven games.
Had Noh In-seong pulled this same stunt, he'd have been sitting out until next year.
"Boo-hoo, Su-jeong and the baby really shouldn't have to see that footage..."
"Oh, look at the doting husband. Save the whining and go tend to your wife like a good boy."
That sullen lunatic was Noh In-seong — the man nobody could fathom what possessed to bite a human being in the first place.
Noh In-seong was a professional athlete about as far from "self-reflection" as you could get.
It wasn't that he lived for the taste of his own brilliance, and he did follow the rules to a reasonable degree. But humility and contrition — the destined lot of every Korean athlete — were things he'd walled himself off from almost entirely.
"He swung at my head first, that's why I took him down. What was I supposed to do, not?"
And for extra shamelessness, he insisted his response to a lethal weapon aimed at his skull was "subduing" the attacker — plain self-defense, thank you very much.
That "subduing" process, naturally, had involved an extensive showcase of leg-lock hell and assorted amateur submission holds.
"Good heavens — what on earth did they go through to end up with muscles like that?"
"From what I hear, he squeezed and twisted their legs for ten straight minutes on the mound."
"Torn muscle fibers, two broken toes... Aigoo, what is this now."
The fact that the two foreign players had been forced to stress-test the absolute structural limits of their joints — that part In-seong, ever himself, saw no reason to mention.
"If it stings so much, don't pick fights next time. Just take the one-touch nap like a civilized man."
The ones who hadn't trained in martial arts, or who hadn't picked the fight repeatedly — those he'd let go peacefully.
Though the second baseman who'd raised his spikes at him was, presumably, still moaning in pain somewhere.
Would he care? You show someone a sharp object, you're getting change back. That's just how transactions work.
"Ah... well, I mean, at the very least I showed everyone a display of... violence..."
The association had hoped that, during his suspension, In-seong would at least perform the pantomime of remorse.
"If I'd been truly violent, they'd have sent a mortician to the stadium instead of a medic. Now pipe down."
With the punished man himself thinking like that, any notion of quietly reflecting on his sins was dead on arrival — he was already out hunting for money-making gigs.
"This one's a bastard I hate, this one's a scam paying pocket change, hmm?"
Well, now... this one's a bit different. Think I can handle it?
Noh In-seong flashed a grin and locked in his next schedule.
"Yes, this is Noh In-seong. You want to use a time bomb like me? Wow, you people have gone completely insane."
"......"
Needless to say, not a single word of gratitude was spoken.
Not that the PD had expected any.
The invitation that arrived was from a sprawling sports channel that broadcast both baseball and soccer. And with In-seong conveniently on break for beating a man senseless, the person who'd come to fetch him was none other than a PD from one particular program.
"No active pro suddenly takes work mid-season. It only works because Noh In-seong is exactly that shameless."
As it happened, a Korean soccer star playing overseas had crashed out of cup competition and was sidelined with an injury to boot. The channel had been racking its brains over what to fill his dead cup-match airtime with — and then opportunity knocked.
The finance department had, of course, objected. "Are you serious? This paycheck for one player?"
"Forget the paycheck, you moron! Ratings gold is walking right up to us, and you're counting pennies?!"
The issue was resolved when the department head — a sports fan himself — beat some sense into the bean counter's skull.
A young genius in the middle of rewriting every record in Korean baseball history under his own name.
A show featuring that genius? Nobody who watched Korean baseball would dare miss it.
Admittedly, watching the guy's antics, one did wonder, isn't he a lunatic every single time?
But for a debate format, you don't need a smooth talker. You need showmanship.
"Frankly, the crazier he is, the better this debate gets. So it works out."
Always WWE — Episode 34: "Soccer vs. Baseball — Which Is Tougher?"
The department head muttered to himself, staring at the title on the proposal in his hand.
Always WWE was the channel's new variety show, devoted to debating things nobody needed to debate. Ratings had done respectably for a stretch, but lately the numbers were sagging — the program needed radical surgery.
"All right. Time to burn our prize item."
He was playing his trump card, gambling everything on a ratings reversal.
Soccer versus baseball: a hallowed, ancient tradition of Korean sports, handed down from time immemorial. Light the fuse and the controversy alone would draw in droves of viewers, setting the perfect griddle for them to brawl amongst themselves.
"Heh heh. Burn, baby! Burn bright!"
It was no accident that so many people tried to stoke conflict. This was the time-honored debate topic of the official Nertube channel of the Korean soccer league and every other view-count jester with a sports hobby.
Until now, the soccer side had dominated these arguments, holding forth breathlessly about who suffered more, whose sport was the truer sport:
"Come on, you guys have it so relaxed out there you can literally snack mid-game!"
"Does your heart rate even go up? Wow, so easy."
"...Sigh. Fine. You win. Happy?"
But that dominance had only held as long as the baseball side was willing to roll over and take it.
The moment tactical asset Noh In-seong was deployed, baseball had dropped its doomsday weapon.
From the baseball side, I came alone.
Strictly speaking, they'd wanted to bring a few more, but I'd vetoed it.
"The only people you can book for this are guys whose entire combined careers couldn't beat one of theirs. Why bother?"
"......Fair point."
"Don't do it. It's pointless."
Think about it — why would anyone with a genuinely great career do broadcast TV? You do broadcasts because something's wrong with your career.
Korean baseball was stuffed with players whose résumés earned them broadcasting gigs, sure — but the truly accomplished ones mostly went into commentary or coaching. Doing TV meant you were either one of those, or an entertainment freak of nature. Nothing in between.
The soccer side, meanwhile, had rolled up with a genuinely dazzling lineup of trash-talkers.
"Pleasure to be here. Oh my, what's this curtain for? Can't see a thing back here."
A broadcaster and former midfielder who'd made several appearances for the Korean national team.
"It's been a while. Truly an honor to reunite over such a topic."
A former national-team defender turned Nertuber, grinning ear to ear.
"The baseball guest is dead tonight. Baseball? I've dissected you all before — you've all watched it."
And a comedy Nertuber who'd ridden soccer commentary to massive fame. Quite the glamorous turnout.
"Now, today's guest was not easy to book. Whatever you all do — mind your manners."
At the PD's warning, everyone scoffed.
But when the curtain concealing me dropped and their faces all scrunched up at once, I felt pretty damn good.
"...Oh, we are fucked. They brought an active player?"
The comedy Nertuber had it right. At least, they weren't going to steamroll me like the old days.
"Yeah, you're all fucked. Yep. That's right. Big brother's here, and big brother's about to wreck every last one of you bastards."
That was how Noh In-seong greeted the strangers he'd never met: by slicing a soccer ball open with a box cutter.
The debate that followed descended into filth beyond anyone's imagination.
Ratings were climbing fast. The problem was that this was live.
"You're all just words on a screen — that's the most say you'll ever have in my life. Keep it coming."
A lunatic leaning his chair nearly all the way back while hurling abuse at the viewing public was more than enough to earn a broadcasting commission warning. And when he nearly flipped the middle finger, the host had to frantically wave his hands in interception — but that went without saying.
So, did he at least debate politely and logically?
"See, baseball's so leisurely you can just eat whatever in the middle of a—"
"Yaaawn. Honestly, this is boring me. Is eating snacks during a debate not allowed?"
Crinkle!
Easy for him to say — the bastard tearing open a bag of chips on live television.
"...Hold on. Where did you even GET snacks?!"
"Where do you think? We're the sport where snacking is legal, remember? And a debate's a contest too — so it's a sport, isn't it?"
Mocked for his snacks, he committed the atrocity of actually eating them.
"Soccer players bulk up on fat to build short-burst strength, so—"
"So THAT'S why your body's a scrawny piece of trash. Aigoo, you anchovy bastards, honestly."
"...Are you finished?!"
"Ugh, I smell a BMI roast coming. Get lost. I refuse to exchange words with men whose muscle mass is in freefall."
Flexing his muscles at the camera, contempt as standard-issue.
"Oh please, that's just water muscle, it's all mixed with fat anyw—AAAAAH!! AAAAHHH!!"
"Now, gentlemen, allow me to demonstrate the centrifugal force capable of separating that fat right out of you. Round and round we go!"
"AAAAH! MIND MY HEAD!"
Responding to the comedy Nertuber's quip, In-seong fired up the centrifuge — also known as the Giant Swing — and began dislocating souls.
A blubber-bellied 120-kilo man, seized by one hand and spun through the air like a propeller, broadcast live to the nation.
Nobody could call his strength into question now.
And now, time for the ritual highlights of every Holy War.
"The World Cup semifinals—"
"Funny, we don't seem to have an Asian Cup title yet. We win the Asian Games all the time, though?"
"...Excuse me, how many countries even send baseball teams to the Asian Games?! That's a roster-stacking difference, not a real title!"
"Well, we've got the snake head — you're the bacteria in a dragon's tail bone, you bastards!"
Committing the ultimate foul of rubbing salt directly into open wounds, soccer took the decision loss.
"What about playing overseas—"
"Ah, so you're saying that no matter how many baseball players go abroad, it never carries the same prestige. Yeah, I've heard that one."
"N...no, that's not what I meant at all."
Whenever a remark drifted close to something genuinely contentious, In-seong would inflate it to absurd proportions and bludgeon the debate into a draw by sheer threat.
Finally, the soccer side lost all restraint and detonated itself.
"But soccer's development system is far cheaper and more widespread than baseball's, so even fringe prospects—"
The comedy Nertuber froze mid-sentence. Something was very, very wrong.
"Yeah. Yeah, you are. All of you. Down there. Under me. Good, good."
Noh In-seong — the number one WAR in Korean baseball history, two years into his debut — sneered openly at his opponent.
"Has a single one of you, two years after your debut, rewritten the entire historical record of Korean soccer? Anyone?"
"..."
"Does the current candidate for Korea's soccer GOAT even play in Korea at all?"
"......"
Silence, obviously. On infrastructure and player development overseas, soccer's gap was the deeper wound.
A country that staked its national soul on soccer and a country whose prospects had to fight their own fellow sports for scraps simply did not burn at the same temperature.
"Honestly, your entire league couldn't afford my marketability. All that yapping for nothing. Pro sports is about money, isn't it?"
"GOD, I knew that line was coming and it still kills me!"
Under this merciless bombardment — technically, absolutely not allowed — every soccer guest bowed their head.
That was the difference between a sport that survived on government subsidy and one that didn't. And the gap in raw funding between them was measured in entire orders of magnitude — a difference even a child could grasp.
For once, baseball had landed a spicy, searing punch straight through the mouth.
Naturally, having scorched the earth this thoroughly, Noh In-seong still had to smooth things over.
Otherwise his own Nertube comment section would have to stay closed twenty-four hours a day.
And if that happened, God only knows what horrors that bastard Jung Byung-wook and Joo Han-chul would commit to fill the void.
The move was to crack the door open, let his victims survive with a shred of dignity, and end things by graciously extending a hand from the baseball side.
Which was precisely why he'd tormented them worse than usual first.
People feel genuine disgust and fury when a normally decent person treats them like dirt even once. But when a lunatic who's always insane acts kind for a single moment? Image rehab, instantly.
"But honestly — do we even need to fight each other? Aren't we doing this whole thing wrong?"
And so, when the debate ended in what was effectively a decision victory for In-seong, having lit an even bigger fire than before —
He extended his hand.
"...What are you talking about?"
The shredded and the broken looked up.
After all, they'd be going home to face an army of mocking commenters. In that moment, a faint ray of light breaking through the gloom felt very real indeed.
"Think about it. If you and I join hands, we basically ARE Korean sports, all of it."
"...Well. True."
The devils of the sports-entertainment world fell hook, line, and sinker for that gentle, whispering voice.
"So let's hold hands, sing kumbaya, and then stomp out every other sport together."
Carve up the prospects between us. Hunt down the other physical sports — basketball, volleyball, all of them.
A sweet and vicious proposal came slithering into their ears.
"We're a sport. You're a sport. So why are bastards who can't even post results calling themselves sports?"
"...Y...yeah!"
"Agreed. Baseball IS a real sport, I believe that now!"
"So no more fighting between us. Let's build exchanges instead — and make the leftover bastards' lives hell."
In a honeyed voice, Noh In-seong offered the defeated a brand-new road.
"Why would guys playing once a week in a regular season fight guys who only get Mondays off?"
Baseball played more games, so the odds of extra fans coming over were higher. And with countless more Holy Wars scheduled from here on out, the odds of landing future guest spots went up too.
And most importantly — nobody better dare use this Holy War format for their own yakking ever again.
What was the very first ceremony In-seong had performed today, after all?
"All right, everyone — one big SIUUU and we're calling it a show! One, two, three!"
"SIIIIUUUUUU—!!"
The world's most masculine celebration, performed by a self-proclaimed GOAT having a full-blown identity crisis.
Truth is, this bastard just really loves doing celebrations.
Noh In-seong, as it happened, was quite fond of soccer.
That was all.