Throwing You My Sincerest Apologies

Squiiick, squiiick...

A soft grinding sound of something black rubbing against fabric drifted quietly through the Doubles' dugout, straight from Noh In-seong's hands.

"...What the hell is he doing right now?"

Sung Hyun-tak, the man who'd been forcibly retired from duty for the day and fused to the bench, edged closer out of sheer curiosity —

"Hey, leave him alone. Can't you see his eyes have gone all the way back?"

— but Jo In-soo, a man equipped with functioning survival instincts and a captain's armband, held him back.

"Those idiots over there are putting on a lovely little show of shortening their own lifespans all by themselves. Why the hell would we stop them?"

"Ah. So that's how it is, huh?"

Deep down, sure, In-seong was thinking something along the lines of please, you walking disaster areas who keep swinging your faces into my path, kindly die...

But regardless, this was a dangerous individual who'd swing a fist at his own teammates without a moment's hesitation — and he was currently furious on top of it.

From the captain's standpoint, where he'd be the one holding at least some of the responsibility if things went sideways, it was excellent situational judgment.

"Just admit you got scared and tell the truth. Pathetically. Like a person."

Of course, teasing was inevitable from Sung Hyun-tak, a man who'd made taunting people his professional trade whenever an opportunity presented itself —

"Your legs are the only thing injured, though. Everything above the waist is perfectly fine."

"Ah. I'm screwed."

His target was, after all, a man nursing a shin injury. A knuckle sandwich, served with an abundance of love, promptly cracked into Sung Hyun-tak's skull.

Incheon's manager, Jeong Yong-jun, was in a good mood. Genuinely, spectacularly good.

The Game 1 loss hadn't felt like a truly crushing defeat — more like losing a fight to one lucky punch.

To put it crudely, it was like a bout where an unforeseen fist caught him in the solar plexus and he went down unconscious.

Today, by contrast, far from taking any lucky shots, Incheon had actually drawn first blood and was holding a slim lead.

And to top it off, that hateful little brat was scrambling frantically to avoid him all day today — which was also deeply satisfying.

The way Noh In-seong had responded to today's pressure was more than enough to suggest that the brat had finally, definitively been cowed.

"Now the discipline is finally taking hold! Finally!"

His face was so openly delighted it felt like his insides had been flushed clean — a face he normally hid behind sunglasses, showing itself so freely it was practically begging the broadcast cameras to catch it.

Today, for once, he could feel the game flowing exactly the way he wanted it to.

"That's it, well done! Jeong-woo! That punk's scared out of his mind right now! Keep doing what you're doing!"

That is, until the next batter grounded out, shortstop Kim Jun-soo fielded it cleanly, and flipped the ball to second baseman Noh In-seong.

Before Song Jeong-woo, riding his momentum, could even fire up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the engines for another one of his violent slides.

Noh In-seong, having taken the ball from the shortstop, pivoted his body and fired a throw with everything he had.

"...Ghk...!!"

Song Jeong-woo spat out a single strangled syllable — as if he couldn't draw breath at all — and collapsed onto the white line leading to second base.

"...What?!"

And when the ball popped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back up, Noh In-seong — who'd sprinted in and completed the barehanded catch — wasted not a single heartbeat,

hurling it desperately to first base. But no matter how slow the runner heading to first was, the whole sequence had simply taken too long.

First base ruled the runner safe, and the double play was avoided — but nobody was in any state to be grading that play.

Song Jeong-woo was still lying there, on the white line.

"Jeong-woo! Jeong-woo! You okay?! The kid can't control his body!"

"Hey, his eyes rolled back! Get the medical team out here!"

STRETCHER—!! STRETCHER—!!

It was the moment the smile vanished completely from Jeong Yong-jun's face.

Anyone who reads the rulebook carefully would know this, but surprisingly, there is no provision covering a thrown ball striking a runner.

The most you get is: 'In such a case, play continues.'

In other words, 'getting hit by a throw, in any circumstance, is a loss — the same as taking a bad hop.'

That had been baseball, up until now. Right up until literally the previous play.

"Didn't I tell you? Did anyone hold a gun to your head and make you charge at me like that?"

The guy grabs me by the collar, so I have a civilized conversation face-to-face, and now the children are acting like they're dying. No, look, it's all fine and good, but you all should really think this through. Do you want to get carried off on a stretcher wearing this gorgeous face of mine too?

"What's this, you're next? Ji Yong-jae? Good, you've earned it — you also hit me with that god-awful tackle of yours."

The dog's owner, Jeong Yong-jun, had let a rabid dog loose on this field without a muzzle, so this cultured, well-educated citizen would simply have to perform a forced restraint on its behalf, wouldn't he?

"You can keep holding on if you like. If you want to be the next one pinned to the infield dirt, I won't stop you."

"......Damn it, why did God give a bastard like this this much talent?"

Ji Yong-jae let go of In-seong's collar as if throwing it away and stalked off. And not long after, he was ejected.

Naturally. You grab someone by the collar — of course the ejection order comes down. It's not like he'd exploited a loophole in the rules the way I did.

One thing is certain, though: you pulled that crap on me, and yet lightning didn't strike my head.

Apparently the God in charge of Earth isn't Zeus at the moment. Or maybe it's a regional lock, and he's only stationed over in Greece.

Noh In-seong walked slowly back into the dugout.

For the Doubles, naturally, it was a harmless episode — thank God that maniac is on OUR team — and nothing more.

Incheon, meanwhile, had gone absolutely deranged: their starting second baseman had only just returned from injury and was finally fitting back into the team, and now he was headed right back to the disabled list.

Even the crowd found it hard to take sides. Frustration piled up among Incheon's players — and yet every one of them quietly let it go.

The reason was simple. There was already a guy who'd picked a fight with that lunatic and gotten carted off foaming at the mouth, live on national broadcast!

'If a bench-clearing breaks out, that psycho will just play the victim this time and chuck a ball at whoever's annoying him.'

'So far he's only thrown at guys who hit him with dirty slides. I need to keep my head down and crawl.'

In this climate, what manager would order another player to rough up Noh In-seong again? Among the hitters, at least — not a single one.

Then order the pitchers to throw at him? Whatever the pitcher says, the one who actually catches that ball is the catcher.

"If a ball comes in at my head~ then the very first person to experience the new rule will be you. You, specifically."

"Noh In-seong, I'd prefer you keep the pointless commentary to yourself."

"Yes sir, shutting up now, teach."

It was hopeless. Bench orders are, as a matter of course, ignored at the field's discretion.

A ball that couldn't resist the catcher's urging bored straight into Noh In-seong's strike zone.

CRACKAAACK—!!

"That ball off Noh In-seong's bat is sailing high—!! Out of the park—!! Gone from this massive Jamsil Dome entirely!"

"Haha, Incheon's situation just keeps getting worse. This is a game they absolutely had to win, no matter what..."

As it vanished into the distance, it turned into a three-run homer that drove Incheon's win probability down to single digits.

One thrown ball, and Incheon was getting "thrown" all over the field — a genuine Parents' Day celebration, with gifts raining down continuously.

"Ah, but seriously, what excuse am I supposed to give when I get home?"

Not a shred of concern for the guy who'd been carted off — Noh In-seong was far too busy brainstorming excuses for his parents.

The game ended in an Incheon loss, as one crucial hitter left injured on a stretcher and another was ejected.

Drawing first blood was all well and good, but when the two men you lose are your leadoff hitter and a cleanup hitter, your offense isn't exactly going to keep churning.

The Doubles, meanwhile — even setting aside Noh In-seong's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠three-run bomb — had their entire middle of the order firing on all cylinders and racked up runs by the fistful.

Handing Incheon the miserable final scoreline of 11–2, they clinched at minimum a series win.

Plenty of people came looking for Noh In-seong for a postgame interview, but today was Parents' Day.

All anyone could do was watch as In-seong pulled a full no-show, heading home without so much as a glance backward.

"What do you mean he went home?! He's just ignoring everyone's curiosity and every single question?!"

"We had SO many questions for him today!"

The reporters, having drawn dead water, scattered to prep the next day's interviews — or, in reverse, went hunting for quotes from the Incheon side.

Even the league association sent someone over, hoping to have a word with him — but he was a man who'd never given a damn about the association in the first place, and they were ignored too.

"Mother. Father. This unworthy son has returned."

"Oh, good. In-seong, come over here. Tonight's dinner is spectacular, so have a seat at the table first."

"Our son brought home another win today, I see. I just plated the bulgogi, so give it a moment."

"Is there some genetic defect that makes it physically impossible for you to go a single day without causing an incident, oppa?"

Realizing the whole family was gathered around watching the baseball game, Noh In-seong immediately dropped into a humble crouch and began groveling.

"No, first of all, wipe that apologetic look off your face. It's not like we ever once told you to do anything like that..."

"If anyone saw us, they'd think we were terrible parents, In-seong."

Only after the conversation actually got going did Noh In-seong realize something. They weren't... really all that angry?

"In-seong, honestly, we never expected you to get through a game like today's without causing some kind of scene."

"I'd say today was out of your hands, too. It wasn't like you started it."

Only after watching his parents smile bitterly did Noh In-seong finally sink into his chair, at ease.

"We just worry, you know? That if things like this keep happening, you might actually get hurt..."

"If it ever looks like you might get hurt, don't worry about our feelings. Just think about your own safety first. That's all."

You and Siyeon are the two greatest treasures we have. So don't you dare get hurt.

Once the game had wrapped, at a leisurely hour, the Noh family gathered around the table and began their meal.

For Noh In-seong, it was a warm Parents' Day dinner that quietly gave him strength.

"So, oppa. Where's my present? I pinned a carnation on Mom for you."

"And that, right there, is why you're still a child."

I already bought them gift certificates and had them delivered. That is the privilege of adulthood, you whelp.

Why do you think the bulgogi hotpot currently going into your mouth is premium hanwoo beef, hm?

Siyeon's mouth flapped away like a fish on a dock, but Noh In-seong couldn't have cared less, far too busy stuffing his face with bulgogi.

It was a rare, harmonious moment for the entire family.

The next day, however, the warmth of that dinner had vanished without a trace, replaced by a merciless parade of interviews.

Interviews that laid bare, in full, Noh In-seong's core disposition: the fate of anyone who wasn't his own people simply did not concern him.

"Noh In-seong! A word, please!"

"When a mad dog roams a public park, shooting it dead isn't excessive force. It's just reasonable defense."

And I said a dog because it's not a person, it's a son of a bitch! A dog, people. A DOG! Woof, woof!

Three ribs gone — and he'd been told he was lucky as hell it hadn't pierced anything vital. Incheon's second baseman, Song Jeong-woo.

Watching the interview of the lunatic who had performed point-blank pitching practice against his body... his blood pressure spiked, and he was rushed back in for a re-examination...!!