Chapter 54
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 54
Chapter Title: Cheon So-young (6)
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"You know... the season's ending soon, right?"
Hearing her awkward casual speech made my heart tickle.
"Yeah."
"The team starts wrap-up camp in November. The other rookies will gather too. Have you... said hi to your fellow draftees?"
Said hi to my fellow draftees? Of course.
"Nah, haven't."
Why bother greeting those prickly guys? I got added to the group chat, but there wasn't anyone I particularly wanted to meet. Spending that time with my girls and having some fun was way more profitable.
"Sigh. Anyway, you're keeping up with training steadily, right?"
"Training steadily, yeah."
I was sticking to the workout and diet plan the pros put together. Pros really know their stuff—my body's definitely felt better.
"Looks like it. You've bulked up since before."
"Perks of the experts? Can you tell just by looking?"
"...Y-yeah, you can just tell."
Was her casual speech still awkward? So-young stammered.
"So, should we set a meetup date over text? When works for you?"
"Night time... I could make time tonight if I wanted."
Tonight? Not a bad idea, but I wanted to tease So-young a bit more. Plus, I needed time to sort my thoughts.
"Tonight might be tricky. Gotta scout a spot heavy with yin energy first."
"Figured as much? I'll look into it."
"No, I'll handle it. Can't trust if other people are really seeing ghosts—honestly, most seem like scams to me."
Places crawling with real ghosts? No thanks. I wanted somewhere dimly lit and deserted enough.
"...Got it. Thanks, then."
"Just trust me. I'll definitely exorcise that ghost stuck to you."
"Thanks, and..."
"And?"
"When we're around others, you know? Don't want personal stuff mixing into official spaces."
Sharp as ever there. But it didn't matter. If others asked why the casual talk, it'd just annoy me.
"Got it. See you later, Team Leader Cheon."
Whew, seemed like my improv worked on So-young. As I left the building thinking that, Hornsby appeared and approached me.
'What's this? Meeting that woman and you look pleased.'
'You know what happened inside?'
'What?'
I explained what went down to Hornsby.
'Hm, a meathead like you actually using your brain for once.'
'Not bad, right?'
'None of my business.'
Listening in then saying that—jealous, maybe?
'Heh, Hornsby, you jealous or what?'
'What'd you say, you monkey bastard?'
Tsk tsk, how pathetic is male jealousy! Leaving Hornsby radiating dark envy, I kept walking.
'...Crazy bastard.'
*
"Where's this place?"
"So-young, casual speech."
"...Where is it?"
Where else? An abandoned building I found online after that day. Plenty of half-built structures on Seoul's outskirts—easy find. We were up on the second floor now.
The autumn chill made eerie winds whistle through the gaps, heightening the creepy vibe. Occasional gusts sealed the deal.
"How'd you even know about a place like this... I mean, how'd you know?"
She seemed to be trying hard despite the awkwardness.
"Strong yin energy in the ground draws ghosts."
At "ghost," So-young pressed tight against me. Her arms trembled.
"Eek?"
I grabbed her shaking arm, and she turned with a cute squeak.
"Don't be too scared. Nothing here yet."
"Yet...?"
"Too early."
It was 11 p.m. now. Research said ghosts peak at 4 a.m., but waiting that long would tire us out. Planned to start the real "exorcism" around 2 a.m.
"Wanna sit for a bit?"
"Sit? Here?"
She looked uneasy. Fair—filthy enough I didn't want to either. Dust everywhere,
"Sitting might be iffy. Can you tell me when the ghost started appearing? Might help ID it."
She explained: At nine, went to the U.S. for baseball, suffered ghosts, got a talisman, ghosts vanished.
"So, at nine, you went to watch the World Series?"
"Yeah."
"World Series...?"
"St. Louis Cardinals vs. Detroit Tigers."
"...St. Louis Cardinals?"
"Yeah, started seeing it at the Cardinals' home stadium."
Cardinals' home—where I picked up Hornsby.
'Bad vibes there? Better avoid if I make majors. Once rich, maybe burn the place down.'
"Did the ghost ever talk to you?"
Hornsby kept chatting me up. Probably same for her.
"...Dunno. Don't remember."
Nine years old—prime ghost-fearing age. Made sense.
"Okay, then..."
"Ughhh."
Suddenly So-young shuddered. Bad memory surfacing, probably. I gripped her trembling hand tight. So soft...
"...?"
Her eyes said What are you doing? But I stared back innocently—no ulterior motives, just communing with ghosts.
"Gotta hear the ghost out. Touching like this lets their voice come through clearer."
"...For real?"
Skeptical glare. Time to double down shamelessly.
"So-young. Trust me."
"...Okay."
"First, I'll ask its name."
"Now...? You said wait a bit."
"Depends how close you and I get. Even weak yin, if we're near, I can try talking."
Fuck, no clue what I'm saying anymore. But whatever—it's bullshit anyway.
I offered my free hand. She extended hers. Gripped tight, solemn face, and said,
"Ready?"
"...Yeah."
"Here goes. What's your name?"
She stared tensely. Sweat from her hand wetted mine. Hm... drag this out a bit?
"No response?"
"Uh... seems not..."
"Sigh... maybe it senses you're not comfy with me yet?"
"Could be."
She was buying it hook, line, sinker. Natural—she sees me as a ghost pro.
"Stay like this longer? Might talk."
Now she was proactive. I nodded. Held hands, staring five minutes. Her face flushed. Eye contact that long embarrassed her.
Her fingers wiggled. Let go?
'Regretful, but time to unwrap.'
"Enough now..."
"Ricky, Ricky!"
"Huh?"
My shout widened her eyes.
"It says its name's Ricky."
"Ricky? And it speaks English?"
"Huh? Spoke Korean."
What? Not Korean like Hornsby? I'd tested: sharing senses with Hornsby, thinking English made me speak it.
Dunno the mechanics, but ghosts and humans share languages. Thought Ricky did too...
'Oops, wrong guess?'
"...Yeah, weirdly spoke Korean. Vague memory now. Definitely talked to me in Korean..."
Good, not testing me—just recalling fuzzily.
"Ricky, Ricky, Ricky. Who's Ricky?"
"No clue yet. What it wants. What it did in life."
"...Okay. At least got a name. Gotta search. Ricky surname or first?"
"Dunno? Just Ricky."
"Foreigner introducing as Ricky? Probably first name."
"...Still unclear."
She was geared to find every Ricky. Cardinals-linked Ricky. Time might reveal it.
'Block her? Or let it ride?'
I pondered. Should she know? Or not?
'Eh, let it go.'
Decided to let her. Hard to find anyway—might build trust contrasting my story later.
Then, footsteps—not ours. What? Real ghosts?
"Yo! This spot good?"
"Yeah, cops don't come here."
Male voices...
"...I-I'm not the only one hearing that, right?"
Panicked, she switched to polite speech.
"...People, probably?"
Has to be. Ghosts... scary. Fuck. Just an abandoned building—no real ghosts, right?
Thud thud. Night amplified footsteps. Ghosts wouldn't make noise. Phew, humans.
"Who's out this late?"
We released hands, headed to stairs. Phone flashlights swept the building.
'Three? Uniforms—high schoolers? Bags. Booze?'
"Chase 'em off?"
"...Nah, no need for fuss."
"Beat 'em a bit, they'll go home."
"Maeng-ho. You're our first-round pick. Can't risk off-field drama."
True.
-'AT Thunderbirds' First-Round Pick Ji Maeng-ho Assaults Pedestrians at Night!'
No thanks to headlines like that.
Click, flick. Lighter. Then shitty cigarette stench assaulted my nose.
"High schoolers smoking..."
"Happens."
She whipped around, glare stabbing. ...Ouch.
"You don't smoke, right?"
"...No."
Her team leader mode startled me into submission.
"Ahem, they're setting up drinks here. What now?"
Drinking meant 2-3 hours minimum. Cozy exorcism date ruined.
"Wanna bail?"
Bail... As an active high schooler, 100% trouble. Kids drinking here aren't normal. Pretty girl like So-young? Double 100%.
"Us leaving? Instant fight."
"...Probably."
She got it. They finished smokes, footsteps returned—toward us.
"Coming this way."
"Hide first."
So-young led me away from stairs to a corner piled with debris. They hit the second floor same time.
"Nice here."
"This spot?"
"Cool. Yo, nothing to lay on the floor?"
"Fuck laying, just chug."
"Call some girls?"
"Girls? Fuck, what?"
"Huh? Why you bitching?"
"What?! Find floor shit yourself!"
"Pfft, moron. Fine, I'll call easy lays."
They phoned someone, set up drinking circle in the center.
"Sneaking out quietly ain't happening..."
"Wait, then. How long high schoolers drink?"
"Haven't with friends, but... at least an hour?"
She checked her watch.
"Hour... Sigh, we planned late anyway. Fine. Wait till they pass out."
"Roger."
We stood amid debris, waiting. But girls arrived; party endless.
One hour, two. Fuck, they drink forever. Booze, smokes—cigarette haze everywhere.
"Drunk enough. Wanna go beat 'em?"
"...No. Absolutely not. No scandals."
Wanted to, but she blocked hard. Endured another 30 minutes. Still no leaving. Now guys groping girls everywhere.
'Fuck! I'm holding back!'
"Ugh, when they leaving."
So-young fidgeted, muttering. Face beet red—not used to this. Head turned, legs shaking.
"Hah... legs hurt..."
Over two hours standing—tough. I'd sat an hour ago. She looked wrecked.
Pat pat. I sat cross-legged, patted thigh.
"...Huh?"
"Sit. You look beat. Floor too dirty?"
"H-how there."
"Stand then."
Rejected at first, but legs shook worse over time.
'Jeez, frustrating.'
Pulled her hand, sat her on my thigh.
"Kyaa...!"
Covered her scream-mouth.
"What?! Heard something weird?"
"Oppa, scared?"
"Bastard's wasted. Fuckin' drunk bitch."
"Wasted my ass, I'm fine. Eh? What's under you?"
Fuck, close call.
"Shh."
Sweet shampoo and perfume wafted from her hair. ...Addictive scent. Sniffed discreetly.
"Gonna take longer anyway. Sit. I'm fine."
"......"
Physical vs. mental strain—she picked physical. Butt settled on my thigh.
"Ngh."
"...Heavy?"
Shy voice, worried about weight.
"Not heavy, just sudden..."
"...Got it."
Her butt on my thigh. Wanted to explore softness more, but superhuman restraint.
'Pulled back well before. Hold. Keep meeting, someday...'
"Say if numb."
Shy whisper. Couldn't see face, but embarrassed for sure. Time passed; legs went numb-ish.
"So-young..."
Tried holding, but called her name.
"...Yeah."
Grabbed her side, lifted. Soft side-flesh through shirt.
"Hngt."
Shame-groan from guy touching side... Even post-Jo Eun pullback, it stiffened me below.
Felt her soft side, shifted to other thigh. Luckily, unnoticed.
"...Cold."
Her mutter pierced the quiet minus kids' noise.
'One step further?'
Arms around her diagonally seated body.
"Ng? What now?"
"You're cold."
"...Let go."
Quiet, mindful of others. Not forceful. Back off? Not manly. Ignored, held firm.
"...Warm."
Reluctant admission. Success?
Her neck flushed. From me? Or kids groping? Ambiguous.
Sharing warmth, they started sharing too.
"Kyaa..."
Quick hand over her scream-mouth. On my thigh, perfect view of their acts.
"Ngh, this."
"Sorry. Natural reaction..."
Watching them bang refilled what I'd emptied—poking her. Normally she'd slap; situation excused it.
"...Deflate quick."
"...Trying."
Tried hard, but
"Haaang! Haaang!"
Moans killed it. Silver lining: she stayed quiet.
"Wow... high schoolers fast these days."
Her small mutter crystal clear. Thigh under her dampening?
'Came here perfect! Thanks, high schoolers.'
Shifted numb-leg positions hourly during live amateur porn, finally escaped.
Oh, parting shot: her post-live-sex face was priceless.