Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Ji Maeng-ho (2)
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Suddenly, a woman's moan echoed through the air, startling me. I quickly turned down the volume and shut off my phone.
What the hell? What was that just now? Who the fuck does something like that in the equipment shed?
'Shit! It's sex, you dumbass! Don't you even know what sex is?'
'Hey, I know that much!'
'It's been forever since I had a woman! Hurry up and play it, you yellow monkey fuck!'
Rogers Hornsby was urging me on. And he had every right to. Ever since the day I met him, I hadn't watched any porn.
Of course, I wasn't impotent or anything. Most athletic teens were burning with lust, and I was no exception. But with a ghost constantly watching me, I wasn't about to jerk off like some pervert.
'Hey? You gonna watch or what?'
'...Let me think about it.'
But the person in that video was definitely someone from our school. Human curiosity got the better of me—I wanted to know who. I had no intention of spreading it around, but damn, I was curious. Still, not here.
'What the hell are you thinking about, you fucking monkey!'
'I'm not some exhibitionist! How am I supposed to watch that here? I need to head back to the dorm first.'
Battery was low anyway. This needed to be enjoyed comfortably. Hornsby seemed to agree with me for once and shut up.
Unable to contain my curiosity, I hurried back to the dorm. Luckily, no one was there. The guys were doing evening self-training, so they wouldn't be back for a while. Based on my two years of experience, this was prime no-mark jerk-off time.
Wait, not entirely no-mark. There was that lecherous ghost staring at me.
'Hey? What're you waiting for? Play it already.'
Having lived with me for a while, Hornsby had gotten somewhat used to modern gadgets and kept pushing me.
'Hold on. Gotta charge it first.'
I plugged my phone into the charger and opened the gallery again. The video over an hour long from earlier was still there.
So it wasn't a dream after all.
I hit play.
'What? Where is it?'
'Wait a sec.'
It had taken a good scroll last time to reach that scene, so it'd probably take a bit more for anyone to show up.
I fast-forwarded quickly. And there it was—the scene I wanted.
The shed door creaked open, light flooding in. It was the storage room for gym equipment, so only teachers or club students with the key could get in.
These kids are getting frisky way too young.
'Young? Back in my day, everyone lost their virginity by 15.'
'I don't care. Shut up so I can focus.'
'More focused than when you're playing ball?'
'......'
[Good, no one's around.]
A familiar woman's voice came through. Hmm... Someone I've brushed past during practice? But it felt even more familiar.
This voice... Hyun-ah...? Choi Hyun-ah?
It was Hyun-ah. No way. Hyun-ah masturbating here? Nah, had to be someone else.
'Heh heh heh. Face reality, you fucking yellow monkey.'
Footsteps echoed, and a silhouette appeared on screen. No denying it now. The girl was Hyun-ah. My first love, Choi Hyun-ah.
'Fuck, just one person? Not sex, just jerking off, huh.'
Hornsby was yapping something beside me, but it went in one ear and out the other. My mind was glued to the phone.
[Hurry up and strip. I'm in a rush.]
Hyun-ah closed her eyes, talking to the empty air like she was acting. Then she started undressing herself. Her hand moved downward. The angle didn't show it perfectly, but she was definitely masturbating.
Fuck... Hyun-ah masturbating.
[Won-ho should be good for this much, right? Come on, Won-ho! Come to me!]
While thinking of Won-ho, no less!
'Mouth says one thing, body's honest, huh. Gonna burst through?'
She was supposed to fantasize about me... Fuck!
[Now suck me off.]
She sat on the vaulting horse, grabbing her breasts. Straight-on camera this time. Her privates filled the screen. She'd shaved neatly along her bikini line. Then she lifted her breasts and started sucking them herself.
'Oh! Pussy at last.'
A sight I'd cherish forever.
Breasts. Hyun-ah's pure white breasts. Way bigger than they looked under clothes. And that pretty pink pussy! Those two views captivated me.
'Whoa shit! Inverted nipples! Sucking 'em out is a delicacy.'
'Please, just shut up. Please.'
'What? Crying? And your hand's still going?'
Yeah. Tears were streaming down my face, just like Hornsby said. But my hand kept stroking my dick on instinct. My first love masturbating to my friend!
One hand plunging into her pussy, mouth sucking her big white tits. Those fingers should've been mine... Fuck. Fuck. But when did Hyun-ah start liking Won-ho? Why?
'You idiot. Even I'd pick the ace over some perennial benchwarmer.'
'Hyun-ah's not like that!'
'Not like that? Then who's the slut moaning over there? Huh?'
Hornsby was right. That was Hyun-ah. The slut who liked my friend.
'Slut? Masturbating alone makes her a slut?'
'Shut up! Hyun-ah wasn't some slut who jerks off at school!'
'Heh heh. Acts like a nerd around the girl he likes, but with me...'
Even as I bantered with Hornsby, the video rolled on. Her fingers sped up. Hyun-ah masturbating to Won-ho!
Her pre-climax face was captured vividly. Then she squirted, arching her back. And I shot my load onto the floor.
'Hahahahaha! This guy's hilarious. Tears up and down? Impressive. Real impressive.'
Hyun-ah left the shed.
'Tch. Not much fun. Sex is where it's at. This is barely a snack.'
Why did Hyun-ah choose Kim Won-ho? I'd known her longer...
Height? About the same as me. Looks? Kinda bragging, but girls had scouted me on the street before—I wasn't ugly. Dick? She wouldn't know, but mine was way bigger than his in the showers.
Over 20cm, thick enough not to fit in a toilet paper roll. Used to be my complex as a kid, but now it was a point of pride.
'Still don't get it, you fucking yellow monkey? Who'd wanna fuck a benchwarmer?'
Hornsby was right. Especially among athletes like us. Kim Won-ho was a top draft pick ace.
Me? Perennial bench on our weak-ass team. To national team kid Hyun-ah, I was life's loser.
Not just her—anyone would see me that way. Forever, at this rate.
'Contract with me, and it'd be easy.'
'...You mean that?'
'Yeah. Does the greatest second baseman in MLB history look like he's bullshitting?'
Hornsby talked tough, but his skills were legit. I'd looked him up after first seeing him.
MLB's top second baseman ever. Best right-handed hitter. Over 9,000 plate appearances with a career OPS over 1. Monster stats. Two MVPs, two Triple Crowns. Three .400 seasons. Seven batting titles.
Nearly 100 years ago, but untouchable. Leagues ahead of his peers. If Babe Ruth ruled the AL, Rogers Hornsby owned the NL.
'What exactly would I get from contracting with you?'
He'd explained before, but I'd ignored it. Didn't concern me then. Now it did.
Talking baseball sobered up his flippant face.
'First, sensory sharing. You'll feel decades of my batting instincts. Defense? No worries. I played over 10,000 innings at second.'
Huge help for sure. Hitters predict based on experience—can't react to a pitch with human eyes.
'That's not all. Even in my era when walks weren't prized, I drew over 1,000. I could tell strike from ball by trajectory alone.'
Yeah, legend had it an ump once told a catcher protesting, "If that was a strike, Hornsby would've told you."
'And what's the most important thing in baseball?'
'Timing?'
They say "Hitting is timing. Pitching steals it." Timing ruled baseball.
'Right. To steal a hitter's timing, what does a pitcher do?'
'Throw off-speed stuff.'
Even 100mph fastballs get timed if that's all you throw. Hence breaking balls.
'What if you knew what pitch was coming?'
'I'd destroy 'em.'
'Heh heh heh. Look at me. Who else can see me? I spot the grip behind the pitcher, tell you the pitch. Catcher's mitt direction too—inside or away!'
Pure cheating. Knowing pitch, timing, location? You'd hit .400 easy! Way more tempting than vague sensory sharing.
But a voice inside whispered no. That ain't baseball!
'Fuck off, you fucking yellow monkey! What pride you got left? Master baseball, and sluts like her come by the truckload!'
His shout snapped me awake. Screw conscience. That wasn't what mattered.
I wanted to make Choi Hyun-ah regret masturbating to some other guy while dumping on me!
Make the coach who benched me regret it!
And... succeed in baseball like my parents wanted!
'That's it, you fucking yellow monkey! Contract with me, success is nothing! I'll etch your name in history! Become MLB's top second baseman! But...'
'But?'
'You gotta meet my condition.'
'...What's that?'
'Share senses when you fuck. You dumbass wouldn't get it, but poking pussy holes your whole life then going 50+ years without? Drives you mad. Heh.'
If it meant becoming the best, sensory sharing was fine. Ghost anyway—no one'd know. Better than loser life forever.
'Good attitude. Contract, and you'll naturally learn sharing. And...'
'And?'
'Clean up your cum off the floor.'
'......'
That day, I contracted with the sex ghost... no, baseball ghost.