A Sleepless Night's Resolve
"What the hell?"
The Seoul Jeon-san High School director stood frozen in the dugout for a moment. He'd clearly sent the coach up to replace the first-year pitcher, but the coach hadn't made the change.
"Why didn't you switch the pitcher?"
At the director's sharp words, the coach caught his breath and replied calmly. "Jeong-ui's eyes changed. I figured we'd let him keep going for now. You can swap him out later if he can't handle the back of the lineup."
The director's face twisted in confusion—he couldn't wrap his head around it. "What does that even mean?"
"Just... watch for a bit."
With a small sigh, the director followed the coach's advice and turned back to the game. Right then, Kim Jeong-ui unleashed a pitch from the mound. The director glanced at it casually at first, then scowled. He had no choice but to. The velocity on the scoreboard was completely different from before.
134 km/h.
Kim Jeong-ui's average was around 125 km/h. This was nearly 10 km/h faster. For an underhand pitcher, anything in the 130s was pro-level stuff. It was no longer the batting practice tosses he'd been throwing—it was a whole new animal.
The director's eyes locked onto the mound. What happened next was hard to believe. Suseok High's big middle-of-the-order hitters were all completely timed up—strikes sailing in, bats whiffing through empty air. Strikeout after strikeout. Even the hottest hitter of the day, their cleanup man, went down swinging after a quick chat with the catcher.
Kim Jeong-ui looked like a different pitcher entirely.
A moment later, the director muttered under his breath. "Three straight strikeouts against their heart of the order... Even Seok-hyeon couldn't pull that off, right?"
"Doesn't matter if they're the heart or not. Whoa... At this rate, we could leave Jeong-ui in for the ninth."
The coach nodded as he spoke, and a strange energy began to ripple through the Jeon-san dugout. The score was still down by two, but if the bats could muster just one more push, they might actually pull this off. The opponents only had the top of the ninth left, and it was their bottom of the lineup. With this momentum, Kim Jeong-ui should handle it easily.
But Jeon-san still had the bottom of the eighth and ninth. Given how the lineup had performed so far, two runs in two innings didn't seem impossible.
If we get three... we could even take the lead...
Even the director's mind was racing with calculations. A tiny, but unmistakable, spark of hope that they could win flickered to life.
But it didn't last.
Movement from the Suseok side. Their dugout suddenly buzzed, and a pitcher was warming up in the bullpen.
Oh shit, that's...
The changeup sign went up right away. They'd thrown in their precious third-year ace, no holding back. Sensing the shift in momentum, Suseok didn't hesitate. That was the mark of a top-ranked team.
Seeing it, the Jeon-san director grimaced. This won't do.
He quickly gathered the batters in the dugout. "Batters, listen up. Pay attention. This is our chance. From what I've seen, Suseok can't score any more runs."
He pointed at the Suseok players. "And this new pitcher's tough, but not unbeatable. Two runs ties it. Three wins it. Then we take it. We've been scratching out one run every inning, right? Let's dig a little deeper and climb higher."
"Yes, sir!"
The Jeon-san players roared back in unison.
By the time the game ended and I got home, Mom spoke up first. "Son, how'd the game go?"
I paused for a second, then gave a short reply. "We lost."
She looked a bit flustered at my curt tone. "But you did well, right?"
It felt like she knew something, but that question hit wrong. "...If I hadn't given up runs, we'd have won. I allowed two and that's why we lost."
Final score: 10-9 loss. The lineup had clawed back one run over those last two innings against their ace... but that was it. Seoul Jeon-san High School's run in the 2027 Golden Lion Tournament ended today.
Mom went quiet for a bit, then ventured carefully, "I see. I got some tasty food—want some?"
I shook my head. "Nah, not hungry."
Then I headed straight to my room and shut the door.
"Didn't you say he didn't do bad?"
At her son's cold demeanor, Kim Jeong-ui's mom turned to her husband with a jab. Was your info wrong?
"He didn't. Six strikeouts in two innings."
Kim Jeong-ui's dad, Kim Jeong-seok, replied.
"Then why's he acting like that?"
Kim Jeong-seok let out a short chuckle. "Told you. He gave up two runs. Got hit around a lot. Wild pitch led to a walk, and it forced in a run."
"So he did suck?"
"For a guy coming back after a year off, on just a month of work? That's solid. Guess his standards are high."
After a brief silence, Kim Jeong-seok added, "Feels like he's actually playing baseball now."
I flopped onto my bed the second I got to my room. Exhausted from the game. Closed my eyes.
But sleep wouldn't come. Body was beat, but my mind was on fire.
The emotions from the field lingered. The moments when my control failed and I got tagged for hits. When the hits kept coming and runs scored. When I kept missing and walked guys. When that walk turned into a force-out run.
Haaah...
Lying there with my eyes shut just brought back the face I'd tried to bury. Yoo Sera.
And naturally, Lee Seung-min walking with her, chatting happily. The fact they were dating replayed in my head, and my stomach churned. Chest tight, irritation bubbling up. A different kind of disgust from losing the game.
"Haa..."
I let out a long sigh. No clue how to deal with this.
Finally, I sat up. Figured I'd zone out with some anime, no thinking.
"Yeah, screw romance. Time for anime."
Muttering self-deprecatingly, I fired up the screen.
Tournament prep had eaten my usual two hours a day for a week straight with night practices. But not tonight. Game wrapped at 5 p.m., quick team dinner, now home. Tonight and all-day Sunday tomorrow—pure free time.
I let the anime roll, staring blankly. But no real thrill. Just needed something to empty my head.
Planned to watch till I crashed, but hours passed, no drowsiness. Outside darkened bit by bit; clock said dawn. Still no sleep.
Had to focus back on the screen.
I ended up pulling an all-nighter on anime till morning. Stepped out for the bathroom, and the living room light was on.
"You didn't sleep?"
Mom looked at me.
"Nah... just a rough night."
No energy to elaborate. Bathroom break, back to my room. Fired up more anime like nothing happened. So zoned out I barely registered scene changes.
Then, blackout sleep hit like a coma.
Woke up, grabbed my phone quick. 5 p.m.
Grrrrr...
Sat up; hunger slammed me. Shuffled to the kitchen, grabbed three ramen packs, dumped 'em in a pot. Water boiled, noodles softened. Ate straight from the pot, scarfing it down.
Back to the room, more anime. Full-on shut-in mode.
Stumbled on one by chance. About a guitarist named Julia. Crazy talent, betrayed and booted by her bandmates, hits rock bottom. Eventually picks up the guitar again, joins a mediocre band, starts from scratch.
Watched at first without much feeling. Then, couldn't look away.
Julia gripped that guitar all day. Repeated tough parts hundreds of times, hands screaming, never stopped. All for her own success, no one else.
And on stage? Always peaked. That drive looked insanely cool.
Somewhere along, she was carrying her band's expectations too. Made me think of yesterday. The seniors watching me after the game. Lost today, but maybe the guy to bring the win next time.
Finished the anime, sat there blank for ages. The afterglow wouldn't fade.
Julia ended up winning the contest—not just with the new band, but leading it. She hadn't planned to, but that's how it shook out.
I wanted that too.
Glanced at the clock without thinking. Monday, 5 a.m.
Suddenly, my head cleared. Knew exactly what to do.
Practice. Like Julia.
Remembered a video: MLB guys do about three hours of team practice, but to survive, they grind solo at dawn. The ones who push when no one's watching last longest.
Julia too.
I stood up. Grabbed workout clothes, headed to school.
Arrived. 6 a.m. A full hour earlier than I'd planned with Sera.
Changed into gym gear, started running. Fundamentals for pitcher training.