The Secret Visitor
Mid-November. I was up on the mound at the Seoul Jeon-san High School baseball team's training ground, firing practice pitches.
“Good thing, Jeong-ui.”
The coach nodded as he watched me throw. “Even after quite the break, your balance hasn't crumbled. Lucky.”
I thought the same. After getting the all-clear on my knee, I'd started rebuilding my condition with stretching and runs. Thankfully, my velocity had dipped just a bit, but control was unchanged.
“It's been two months since you last threw, and practice pitches are already this good... You'll be back to Cheongryonggi form in a month, right?”
“Haha, yeah.”
Then Kim Na-seong, who'd been catching, came up.
“Na-seong, what do you think?”
“Jeong-ui's stuff looks great. As expected... there's something different about it when you're alone. Feels no different from before the injury.”
With the seniors gone, Kim Na-seong—now the starting catcher for Jeon-san High—nodded as he spoke.
“Yeah, lucky. Anyway, let's practice hard together and do well next year too. We'll build your condition more during winter training. Until then, focus on maintaining this balance.”
“Got it.”
“Yeah.”
That was when someone approached while I was throwing to Na-seong.
“Hey, who are you? Outsiders aren't allowed in without permission.”
A stranger had suddenly entered the training ground, so a first-year rushed over to block him.
“Hmm... This is Jeon-san High's baseball team, right?”
“Yes. But who are you? Wait, are you a scout?”
Since the Cheongryonggi, scouts had been showing up at practice a lot, so the first-year asked hopefully. But the guy looked too young to be a scout, sparking fresh doubt. Plus, the sunglasses made his face hard to see.
“Hmm... Isn't there a Kim Jeong-ui here?”
“He is, but he doesn't meet with scouts...”
The mystery man scratched his chin and grinned. “I'm not a scout. But I'm a baseball player—don't you recognize me? Ah, maybe the sunglasses? Yeah, that could be it.”
“Huh? Then who... are you?”
As the issue dragged on, eyes turned that way. Na-seong and I looked over, and soon the coach noticed too.
“Hey, what's this about?”
“Ah, are you the coach?”
“Yes. But why are you looking for Jeong-ui?”
“Oh, just have some business with him.”
With that, the man took off his sunglasses.
“Whoa!”
“Huh...?”
“Eh!”
People started recognizing him. I did too and walked over.
“I'm Kim Jeong-ui...”
He grinned at me. “So you're the punk who skipped the national team.”
The visitor was Choi Seung-taek, Korea's top catcher who'd won the World Series with the Chicago White Sox.
Fuck. He's here because of that...
Cold sweat beaded on my skin.
“...Sorry.”
I apologized, flustered. But Choi Seung-taek just smirked like it was amusing.
“Oh, and you called my Suseok High juniors nothing special. So I came to check your skills. You know I'm from Suseok, right?”
I'm done for. Totally fucked.
A major leaguer showing up was pressure enough—especially one from Suseok High. And his vibe said he wasn't just making a cameo.
The coach cleared his throat awkwardly and asked what he wanted. Choi Seung-taek spun a nearby bat lightly and chuckled.
“How about a light matchup? I'm curious. What do you say?”
His tone was so confident, like I'd agree no question.
But I didn't want to get dragged into it blindly. If he came this far, I needed something out of it.
“A matchup's fine, but there needs to be stakes. No real reason for me to do it otherwise.”
The air went still. Teammates and the coach stared at me in shock.
But Choi Seung-taek looked intrigued. High schoolers rarely talked back to pros like that—let alone major leaguers.
He narrowed his eyes, then grinned. “Oho, bargaining? Not betting on the outcome?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Win or lose is basically decided anyway. How's a high schooler supposed to handle an active major leaguer? A top-tier one at that.”
He snorted a laugh and nodded. “Fair enough. So what do you want?”
“Well...”
I caught my breath before answering. I'd known what to ask from the start. Opportunities like this were rare. Better to get real value than something personal.
“Share some tips with our team too, including me. Not Suseok-level detail, just lightly. Honestly, us first- and second-years are way below the graduating seniors. We've got zero edge now.”
Silence fell again. My request was more serious than expected. Some juniors looked stunned; friends eyed me like they were seeing me anew. They'd figured I'd be greedy for myself, not the whole team.
Choi Seung-taek stared hard. His gaze wasn't playful anymore—like he was probing my intent, weighing the proposal's worth.
Then he smiled slowly. “Alright, deal. But I won't go easy. You asked serious, so I'll check you properly. For pitchers, pitches; hitters, swings; catchers, mindset. I can point out a few. Not full Suseok treatment, but it'll help.”
I played it cool, but my heart raced. A major leaguer promising real advice. This could mean more for the team than the matchup itself.
He jerked his chin at me. “So show me what you've got.”
A bit later, I stared down Choi Seung-taek from the mound. Up close, it hit harder. He wasn't just big-name hype. Even his batting stance radiated pressure.
What is this feeling? Scary...
As I gripped the ball, nowhere felt safe to throw—especially near the ABS zone. I'd faced plenty of batters, but never this.
I focused on him. No excess tension in his shoulders, no looseness either. Just perfectly poised, like he could read my every pitch.
Is this what a real battle feels like? More like taking a test...
Still, I had a plan. Righty batter, so start with an outside breaker to mess his eyes, follow with a backdoor sinker for a strike.
Going straight at him might just give him easy timing.
First pitch: outside fastball. It tailed off the plate as intended.
Good, pull him way outside and...Gulp, uneasy...
Choi Seung-taek didn't flinch, just watched. Bat didn't twitch.
Tough nut.
Second: backdoor sinker. Looked like it might run outside like the fastball, then dove into the zone.
I trusted my release and fired.
Shiiiip!
It hooked perfectly, clipping the zone's edge.
“That's a strike!”
The coach, eyeing from second, made the call.
Choi Seung-taek nodded slightly, smirking. “Oho, pretty precise.”
Weird vibe. Feels good... but scary?
I shook it off. Next: outside slider, sweeping out from the zone. He watched again.
Something felt off. Most batters react at least once by now. But he seemed to know it all from the start, chilling effortlessly.
Nothing's working? He sees right through me.