Chapter 52
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Cheon So-young (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
[Right fielder's walk-off error!! AT Thunderbirds suffer agonizing defeat! Their fall baseball hopes vanish just like that. The Thunderbirds drink the bitter cup of postseason elimination yet again this year, as the Hwasan Falcons' fiery spice brings them to tears!]
[To miss a ball like that.... The right fielder, Jang Hyun-ho, really needs to reflect on this. It's harsh to say, but these careless plays add up, leading to the disgrace of failing to reach the postseason for twenty straight years...]
Ring ring. The TV clicked off. An elderly man in a hospital gown hurled the remote in anger. Though his illness was plain to see, his eyes burned with sharp clarity. He was Cheon Sang-yeop, chairman of the AT Group.
"Another year down the drain. Tsk. We even hired a foreign manager, and still nothing. How many years has that coach been with us now?"
"Year two, sir. I'm sorry. His contract ends next year—should we let him go?"
"No. Doesn't matter who we bring in; it won't work. Don't apologize, So-young. What fault is it of yours, my dear girl? Your old man feels bad for saddling you with that affiliate."
"No, Grandfather."
Sitting by the bedside was Cheon So-young, the treasured granddaughter of the AT Group.
"So-young, I don't have much time left. I wanted to see the Thunderbirds win a championship before I go, but it looks like that won't happen."
"Grandfather! Don't say that! You're still healthy. You'll definitely get better!"
"So-young, I know my own body. Even if I hold on, it'll be five years at most."
"Grandfather...."
Tears welled up in So-young's eyes. Cheon Sang-yeop gently stroked his granddaughter's head. The rough hand felt warm, but noticeably weaker than before.
"Tsk. I thought I'd achieved everything, but this had to happen out of nowhere...."
Regret laced his words. Even as owner, Cheon Sang-yeop was just one more devoted Thunderbirds fan.
Back in his youth, at Dongdaemun Baseball Stadium during a Korea-Japan matchup. Up until that day, Korea had suffered humiliating shutouts, completely dominated by Japan. But in that tournament, they claimed their first historic victory over Japan in the rivalry and went on to win it all.
In an era when Korea lagged behind Japan in every field, that game was enough to ignite the hearts of the Korean people. Cheon Sang-yeop, who had witnessed Japan's defeat at Dongdaemun firsthand, became utterly hooked on baseball.
When his group rose to contend for first and second in Korea, he finally acquired the team he'd dreamed of since his younger days.
In their first year under his ownership, the AT Thunderbirds won it all, and the '90s became the Thunderbirds' era—so dominant that it wasn't an exaggeration. Cheon Sang-yeop's love for the game deepened even further.
But that 2002 Korean Series changed everything. In their clash with Hyeonseong, the Thunderbirds—and AT Group—began their slide. Including this year, they'd failed to reach fall baseball for twenty years, relegated to eternal runner-up status behind Hyeonseong Group.
That was why Cheon Sang-yeop's feelings toward the AT Thunderbirds were a tangled mix of love and hate.
He'd wanted to sell, but memories like that home run over the fence that sank Japan in his youth, or the throne they'd claimed in their first year together, kept drawing him back to their games. The Thunderbirds had become part of his life—he couldn't let go.
"Grandfather! I'll make sure you see a championship."
"A championship? Hahaha. That's a good one. This team won't win until the earth ends. I root for them out of affection, but I'm sorry for dragging you into cheering for a loser like this."
Her grandfather always softened when baseball came up. So-young wanted to comfort him.
"No. I can do it!"
And she wanted to prove herself.
"Sure, sure. Every executive said the same thing before heading to the Thunderbirds. They all failed. So-young, I gave you that team so you could live easy. No succession battles, no corporate politics—just freedom from the headaches. Live comfortably, So-young. That's my one wish. I've told your uncles the same."
Live comfortably, her grandfather said. Could she be content with that life? So-young couldn't. She wanted to compete as a true member of the AT Group. Her lips moved to voice the words she'd held back until now.
"What if—what if I lead the AT Thunderbirds to a championship?"
So-young's resolute expression reminded Cheon Sang-yeop of his own younger self.
'Like blood runs thick, huh?'
The frustration of another postseason miss washed away before his granddaughter's bold ambition.
"...Think you can do it?"
"Yes."
"It's harder than turning around AT Electronics. Still think you can?"
"Yes. Believe in me."
"Hahaha, that's the spirit. A child of the Cheon family needs that kind of fire."
Now's the moment! So-young seized her grandfather's good mood to finally speak her mind.
"Grandfather. If I lead the Thunderbirds to victory, will you grant me one request?"
"If you bring a championship, I'll grant any request. Haha, if I see that before I go, I'll die happy. What's the request?"
"...I want to compete with my brothers and sisters."
"What?"
"If I have what it takes to win with the Thunderbirds, doesn't that prove I can lead AT to the top in Korea?"
A Thunderbirds championship was a miracle no one thought possible. The one who pulled it off would clearly have what it took to steer the group. Sure, running a conglomerate differed from managing a ballclub, but as the saying went, all paths led to the same truth—they converged in the big picture.
The group leader didn't need to micromanage; they needed leadership to set the direction. And to claim industry dominance? That took even greater luck.
A Thunderbirds title, where everyone else had failed, would prove her leadership and fortune in spades.
Cheon Sang-yeop, who had once stood at the pinnacle of Korean business, knew it well.
"Hahaha. But you're starting late. You know that, right?"
"I do."
"And you can't afford more delays. My health's failing. Five years at best—could be next year, the way things are going. The later you start, the less backup you'll have from me. You get that?"
"Don't say that, Grandfather. You'll pull through!"
"Thanks for the words. But you still need that championship before I go if you want my support. Think you can?"
"Yes. Watch me. In three years, I'll usher in a new Thunderbirds dynasty—and join the succession fight."
"I'll always cheer for you. Even if I left you scraps, you're my top priority."
"I know, Grandfather. Thank you always."
"So, how much support do you need?"
By "support," Cheon Sang-yeop meant cash beyond operating costs—for landing big free agents. He wasn't the type to skimp on club funds.
"I'm eyeing 25 billion won in FA spending."
"25 billion? Never heard of a Korean player worth that much."
"Ki Sang-ju's coming back to Korea. That's who I want."
"Ki Sang-ju? The guy who went to the majors three years ago? Hancheol's Ki Sang-ju?"
Ki Sang-ju. Pro baseball's top hitter before his MLB stint. A precise bat that hit over .330 every year, with power to launch 20+ homers even in batter-unfriendly Jamsil.
In his first two MLB seasons, he posted mid-.200s averages and double-digit homers as a starter. But year three, chronic defensive woes and exploited weaknesses dropped him to early .200s, prompting his return.
'His stats I saw myself: 55/55. Bad luck kept him from peaking. A little faith from the manager, and he'd still be there raking. Lucky break for me. Luck... is on my side!'
A few days ago, fed up with his manager's distrust and clubhouse bullying, Ki Sang-ju announced his return through his agency. So-young could only call it fortunate.
She was confident in signing him. SY Agency—the same one that helped him go to MLB in the first place—represented him now.
"Yes. Preliminary talks are nearly done: six years, 15 billion."
"Makes sense for a title run. What about the other 10 billion?"
"A solid starter's hitting the market. Plays in a pitcher-friendly park, so he's underrated. In Jamsil, he'd definitely step up."
"The starter coming available now..."
"Jang Yun. Six years, 10 billion—he'll come to us."
"Jang Yun, Jang Yun. Ah, that guy. Tsk."
"Don't trust Jang Yun?"
"He's solid, but not overwhelming. No better options?"
"Hehe, then it'll be fun watching to see if my picks pan out."
"If you're that sure, you must have your reasons. Anyway, let's talk it over."
"Thank you."
"More importantly, how'd the rookie draft go? I've been swamped and only caught glimpses—no real updates. How many picks?"
"We got some gems. Even scouted a rough diamond off the street. They'll be our future core."
"I'll put in a good word with the president."
"No need—he already listens to me. Expect big things next year."
"Right, cough. Urgh!"
"Grandfather! Are you okay?!"
The call button was pressed, and the attending physician rushed in. After checking Cheon Sang-yeop, he instructed rest and ushered So-young out.
'At least I spoke up today. Slow and steady. One step at a time!'
After bidding her grandfather farewell, So-young clenched her fist with firm resolve. Starting with a Thunderbirds championship, she'd march step by step toward AT's throne.
"Ha.... So that stalker threatened to sue?"
"Yes. She looked up baseballs and Pilates center members to track down Maeng-ho's info. What should we do?"
Headache incoming. So-young rubbed her temples. So much to handle, and now the first-round pick was facing a lawsuit.
"So, the Pilates instructor Ji Maeng-ho attends was being stalked, and he decked the guy on his way home? The stalker claims he was just holding flowers?"
"Yes. But the instructor says it was a knife."
"CCTV?"
"None nearby, so no way to confirm."
"Perfect. Tell legal to handle it. Time to show them the long arm of Korean justice."
In fights like this, the side with deep-pocketed lawyers always won. Even in criminal court, the stalker's odds were slim—with prosecutors on the company's payroll.
"Ah, should I loop in the team's legal?"
"The team? That won't cut it. Contact headquarters legal. Say it's on my orders."
"Headquarters?"
"Yes."
No time to waste on trivia. HQ would squash it effortlessly. Dealing with lowlifes was easier than swatting bugs.
Bugs scared her more, honestly.
"Let them taste real justice. Suing when she's the stalker? Ridiculous."
"Right? If we spin it right, could be great PR. 'First-round pick catches stalker'—something like that."
"Good idea. Run with it."
"Got it."
No spare time for nonsense. If they pushed back, crush them.
"Oh, on your way out, bring the GM. I need to talk."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll step out then."
"Thanks. Good work."
Click. The door shut. Alone now, So-young reviewed her plans once more.
'Sign Ki Sang-ju and Jang Yun, then package Jang Hyun-ho—who overlaps positions—in a three-way trade for prospects rotting in other teams' farm systems. If they break out with Ji Maeng-ho, postseason next year is a lock.'
Once those prospects exploded, go for the title! Two years at soonest, three at latest! So-young dreamed sweetly as she awaited the GM.