Chapter 30
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Blue Dragon Cup (5)
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“Hey, did you get the call?”
“Huh?”
I was in the middle of reviewing footage of the opposing starting pitcher on my laptop to analyze him ahead of the Blue Dragon Cup finals when Won-ho dropped by the dorm.
“Hey, Senior.”
“Hey. Looking good in practice lately, Jin-hyung. Mind giving me a minute alone with Maeng-ho?”
“Oh… Sure thing.”
At Won-ho’s request, my roommate Jin-hyung stepped out, and Won-ho plopped down casually on the bed before picking up the conversation again.
“I got a call from Silla. You didn’t? The first-round draft’s coming up right after the Blue Dragon Cup.”
Ah, that.
“I got one too.”
“What? From who?”
“AT.”
“No way! Congrats, Ji Maeng-ho! Makes sense—they couldn’t pass up a guy crushing homers like that. Though Jamsil’s a bit of a letdown, huh?”
“Letdown? Way better than heading to some backwater province.”
“Fair point.”
“Congrats to you too. Silla Triggers sounds solid.”
“Thanks, man.”
It wasn’t every day that a single school produced multiple first-round draft picks. And since this was the last draft ever, they were broadcasting it on TV, so the chairman was probably over the moon right now. Getting Korean Physical Education High School’s name plastered all over the airwaves would draw in way more applicants to Hanchego and boost the school’s prestige.
“Coach knows, right?”
“Yeah. Met with some team reps earlier. You going to the finals? What’d Silla say?”
“Probably just pitching through the Blue Dragon Cup, maybe 30 pitches max now? You’re a hitter, so no biggie.”
“True.”
“Let’s push hard and win this Blue Dragon Cup together, then.”
Won-ho flashed his usual bright smile in response.
“Hey, how’s it going with Hyun-ah?”
“Ugh, don’t even ask. Ever since I confessed and got shot down, I’ve been so wrecked I can’t even get it up right. I swear she was into me too.”
“Really? That sucks. I thought you two were a perfect match.”
Won-ho’s face looked genuinely down as he talked about his dick not cooperating. Most baseball players deal with blisters on their fingers from throwing, but poor Won-ho had them on his dick instead.
‘If it’s that bad, why not let Hyun-ah go?’
‘Rogers, you nuts? Why would I let go of my dickhouse? Hyun-ah’s my dickhouse till we’re old and gray.’
‘Heh heh heh. Guess I said something crazy.’
“Anyway, forget that—did you see what Jang Woo-ju posted on Insta?”
‘Stolen Golden Lion Tournament... Not letting the Blue Dragon Cup slip away.’
Jang Woo-ju was the ace pitcher for tomorrow’s opponents, Gwangju Future High School—the star of the footage I was watching right now. He was the top candidate for the Future Buffaloes’ first-round pick, rumored to be a once-in-30-years talent. He’d sat out the Golden Lion Tournament due to injury, but he’d dominated the Blue Dragon Cup and carried Gwangju Future to the finals.
His top fastball clocked 161 km/h, shattering high school baseball records, and he was no slouch at the plate either, batting over .400. There were whispers of him heading to the majors, but we’d find out at the draft. But why the post?
“I don’t do SNS. What’s it say?”
Won-ho showed me his phone and opened his Insta.
“‘Stolen Golden Lion Tournament... Not letting the Blue Dragon Cup slip away.’ What the hell?”
“Damn. He’s salty he got injured and missed it, so he’s not counting it. That’s straight-up disrespecting us.”
Some high school baseball title. Not like it was the World Series. What mattered more was Won-ho’s DM inbox.
“Dude, why do you have so many messages?”
“Oh, wanna see? All from fans.”
He showed me. Mostly from girls. Strip out the cheers, and it was all “let’s meet up” DMs. And their profile pics? Hotter than expected.
“Whoa, what’s this?”
“Huh, uh-oh?”
Swiping through, I spotted some sending cleavage shots.
“Didn’t know I had these. Gotta delete ’em quick.”
Objectively, I was better looking than Won-ho. But him pulling messages like this…
‘You fucking monkey bastard! If you had these, you should’ve tapped that shit already! How many girls have you wasted, you devolved ape?’
I had no idea. Insta made it this easy to hook up? And girls sending tit pics? Mind blown. I’d been pent up since I couldn’t bang Hye-jin noona lately, and here was the hookup highway!
“Hey, Won-ho. That thing…”
“Yeah?”
“How do I make an Insta?”
“Why the sudden interest?”
“Gonna go pro, gotta connect with fans, right?”
“Pro mindset. Download the app first.”
Kuh heh heh heh. Female fans, you’re all mine!
‘160? Let’s see it. My passion for baseball doesn’t show up on the radar gun.’ …What the hell is this?
So-young smirked as she checked Ji Maeng-ho’s Insta. She’d been scouting rookie personalities ahead of the draft when she stumbled on his profile.
The photo screamed contrived—some bat swing that looked familiar, total high school ball boy vibes.
“Didn’t peg him for it. Kinda cute. Anything else?”
No luck; it was his first post. A bit worrying, though. Sure, pro teams were playthings for the chairmen, but the marketing boost from the ball clubs was huge.
Take AT—they’d built an image of great benefits through the AT Thunderbirds. That’s why they drilled player training to avoid image issues. One dumb SNS slip could tank the team’s rep.
“Alright. New to SNS, huh? Maybe give him a heads-up?”
They’d train him anyway once he signed, but who knew what drama could pop off in the meantime? She decided to educate him herself. Logging into her official account, she fired off a DM to Maeng-ho.
Hey, Maeng-ho. You know you gotta be careful on SNS, right? Please don’t post anything controversial.
‘Hmm, official account should get through. Lots of AT posts here.’
Right as she thought that, a reply pinged back.
Baseball fan? Profile pic looks like a girl—wanna come to the Blue Dragon Cup tomorrow? First time chatting with a fan, wanna meet up^^ Hit me if you’re coming.
‘What?’
So-young blinked in confusion. Obvious flirt attempt. Beyond awkward—borderline ridiculous.
“No company posts here?”
She double-checked her feed. Plenty screaming “AT Thunderbirds staff.” Profile pic was her in sunglasses, sure.
“Still, my tone was professional, right? And it’s this late—still on Insta?”
Bad pick? Cold sweat trickled down her back.
‘No personality issues…! Okay, twenty-year-olds love girls. Fans… Wait. Potential’s 80. Yeah, just crush baseball. Probably hyped for fan chat. Don’t jump to conclusions.’
She decided to trust Maeng-ho. But trust needed verification. Switching to her burner, she sent a bolder DM.
Maeng-ho fan! How do I meet a baller like you?
‘Please, no reply.’
But Maeng-ho fired back instantly.
Skip guys like me—meet the real deal? Got time?
‘Sigh. Fine. Love all the girls you want. Just win rings.’
So-young shook her head and quietly hit block.
“Hey, Jin-hyung. You on Insta?”
“Yeah. Who isn’t these days?”
“Then why’s my profile suddenly invisible? Tsk, body was fire, now poof.”
Maeng-ho frowned, scrolling the feed of the girl who’d DM’d him. His fave pics vanished.
“Ah! Probably blocked? Made it yesterday and already?”
“Fuck. Blocks me? Bitch is crazy. Face rings a bell, though. Kinda familiar?”
“Everyone looks the same with filters these days. Don’t fall for the scam, hyung.”
“Maybe. But she DMs first then blocks? Psycho?”
Maeng-ho had no clue she was that Cheon team leader he’d seen.
Not face blindness—her icy vibe in person clashed with the beaming photos, plus filters like everyone else.
“Hyung, Insta’s full of weirdos. I get gross pics too.”
“Nudes?”
“Nah, disgusting shit. Find the creep, I’ll kill him.”
Got it. Insta crawls with freaks. Maeng-ho nodded.
“Fuck, I’ll track this bitch and smash. Dares play me?”
Fine to understand, but forgiving the mood-killer eve of finals? Nah.
‘Idiot. Go to sleep.’
‘…Yeah.’
“Yo, Ji Maeng-ho! Dark circles? Up late?”
“Uh, just extra practice.”
“Tch. Manage your condition better. No issues today, right?”
“Of course!”
“Good. Go smash ’em!”
“Yes, sir!”
How’d he know? Coach’s experience ain’t up the ass, huh.
“Alright, everyone here? Like I said, Jang Woo-ju hit 160, but could be hype—not every pitch. You know. Stamina and control ain’t polished. Foul it off, grind. Got it?”
““Yes, sir!””
“Won-ho, counting on you again. You know I trust you.”
“Got it.”
“Hm. Today’s game sets your bonus: 300 mil to 350, even 400. Last one—empty the tank.”
“Yes!”
“Let’s go!”
“Heart of Korean athletics! Hanchego! Fight!”
Chant done, leadoff hitter to the field. Three minutes later, all three back in the dugout.
‘Yeah, you little shits. Wasn’t expecting shit anyway.’