Unfulfilled Dreams
Unfulfilled Dream's ratings hit 13.6%. That was the peak baseball viewership recorded in episode 6, when Kim Seongchan stepped down. Compared to the 27% spike during the Busan Minions game, it was nearly half—completely halved.
Common sense-defying skills like mine had drawn in baseball fans and grabbed attention, but...
Kim Seongchan's feral attitude had triggered female fans' traumas, tanking the ratings into the abyss. In the end, PD Na pushed me back as the main focus ahead of the match against the pro team, Seoul Twins' second squad. They'd aimed for ratings with a push-pull dynamic among three hot guys, but Kim Seongchan's ugly jealousy led to failure and a white flag.
The other guy—the musical actor? Eh. Just set dressing. His baseball skills were average, and he barely said a word.
"You really only trust me, Han Jimin?"
"...I'll do my best."
As soon as prep for training started, cameras glued themselves to me.
"Leg day again today?"
"It's the core of pitching."
After filming the dull but essential leg workout, they shot me learning the two-seam from Rozelaine. Then they pulled her aside for an interview—probably asking about the two-seam I was picking up.
Anyway...
Baseball (Pitcher) - B Rank
Evaluation: Overwhelms hitters with precise control and stable velocity. Calmly manages crises. Excellent breaking ball usage and complete game capability. High synergy with stamina skills.
Maybe because the skill's still B-rank? My top velocity wouldn't break 155 km/h.
A bit disappointing.
The major leagues in my old world chucked 160 km/h like it was nothing—not just 155. So 150s weren't gonna cut it for satisfaction. My body wasn't fully pro-level yet, and strictly speaking, my baseball experience was barely two months.
Thwack!
"Nice ball!"
I fired off two-seams I'd learned from Rozelaine back-to-back and checked the speed gun.
"149...? Whoa! Insane!"
Lee So-jeong freaked out at the speed gun. And for good reason—149 km/h two-seam? Disappointing for me, but in this world's KBO, it was a monster pitch. Hardly anyone threw 150 even with a four-seam, and two-seams averaged 5 km/h slower.
But that wasn't all. The two-seam, optimized for grounders, flies like a four-seam then drops in front of the hitter. That slight drop dodges solid contact—if control slips, it can turn into extra bases more than a four-seam. But thanks to the skill, my two-seams had serious tailing action at the end.
Four-seam, two-seam, splitter. Three sinking pitches? Hitters' heads would spin.
"Who the hell hits this? Unnie, can you?"
"...Never saw anything like it in my playing days."
Veterans sidled up, chiming in. But even their praise left me unsatisfied. I'd rooted hard for the Hanwha Eagles despite skipping MLB. Plus, Lotte's Sajik Stadium was right by home—I'd gone a few times. And devoured baseball novels.
150 km/h two-seam? To be the novel protag, it'd need 10 more. Four-seam at 165 minimum. Hell, one 170 to shock the world.
Pro averages 15 km/h lower? This world's standards didn't faze me.
Plus 170 km/h? There must be achievements for that.
If only I could check achievements—no way yet. Still, meaningful results should net solid IP. Started to screw over Kim Seongchan and seduce Lily, but baseball/sports yielded sneaky IP hauls.
Lily conquest going smooth.
I glanced her way; she caught it, blushed, and looked off. When I refocused on pitching, her sneaky glances returned. Pure crush vibes.
Skinship progressing steadily—no need to rush.
Seeds planted. We'd advanced past last time—kissing included. Not crossed the line yet, but deep embraces and heavy petting were fair game. Lately, even got her mouth on my dick. She resisted out of shyness, but opened up easier than expected—not zero interest.
Baseball goddess—or Minions diehard—always added that line. Knew it was nonsense, though. What pro team scouts an amateur like me, not even college level? My main gig's singer-songwriter, actor, producer anyway. Sure, lefty throwing 150 might tempt a team...
Pro ball for me? Nah.
Even if a pro club called, future plans wouldn't allow it—unless insanely generous.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Long time no talk."
"Yeah. What's up?"
"We only call when we need something?"
"...Kinda feels that way, but not today, unnie."
"Feisty. No men around?"
"Cut the crap or I hang up."
"Whoa, don't! Anyway, gimme Han Jimin."
"......Pardon?"
Cha Serin clutched her throbbing head at her counterpart's out-of-left-field remark. She wanted to hang up, but couldn't. The caller's status.
Seo Juah, Minionz Group's third-gen heir—spanning energy, semiconductors, IT, biotech. Minionz boasted world-class energy/chemicals dominance, Korea's #2 conglomerate by assets. Dwarfed BOZ, even its parent Seoyeong.
Of all people...
Seo Juah, Minionz heir. Cha Serin, Seoyeong sidelines. Their unlikely tie? Seoyeong crown prince Lee Jaehun—he'd chased Seo Juah relentlessly. Similar ages led elders to push a match. Didn't stick—Lee Jaehun fell short in her eyes.
"Unnie, you know what my company does?"
"Duh. Makes idols. I'm a Blaz fan."
"...How many albums you buy?"
"None?"
"......"
Cha Serin rubbed her temple again at the shameless reply.
"So why our actor? Drama, Foxy album, variety... Don't tell me?"
"Finally getting it?"
"No, no. I'd rather not know."
"Nope. I need Han Jimin."
"He's an entertainer. Not a ballplayer."
"Agh! Don't care! If Minions miss fall ball this season, Mom might actually kill me!"
"......"
Minionz chair's baseball obsession was infamous in business circles. Last season, splurged on national-team FA. Still bombed fall ball. How many years since Minions playoffs? Remembered articles of furious Busan fans burning flags outside the stadium.
Han Jimin was this good?
Cha Serin had watched Supreme Baseball due to ties—stunned by his pitches. But never dreamed it'd drag Seo Juah calling.
"So? Introduce him or nah?"
"......"
Sounded childish, but real threat. Even without, the gap made it feel like one.
"Can introduce. But player contracts? Not my field."
"Perfect. Just show Mom and fans. Thanks! If it works, I'll treat proper."
"Got it, unnie."
Cha Serin hung up, wheels turning fast. Linking via Han Jimin to Seo Juah/Minionz could ease BOZ takeover. But no forcing him—alienating the blue-chip newbie was killing the golden goose.
What if he actually goes pro?
She smirked bitterly. Needed him to seize BOZ ASAP. Foxy album success tied to her future too—his role essential.
She hit the intercom. "Get producer Han Jimin."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Korea's top sport? Baseball. Soccer rivals it, but sans World Cup, no contest. E-sports for teens/20s only. Stove season had teams crunching numbers like mad.
Especially perennially last-place Busan Minions—dire straits. Chair's direct order: fall ball this season, no excuses. Grasping at straws, they chased S-rank talent— all noped out, picking futures over overpays.
That's when board eyes landed on Supreme Baseball's Han Jimin.
"Baseball needs a star player."
"...And that's me?"
"Yes. I'm convinced."
The woman nodding wore a beaming smile. Dead serious.
Minionz third-gen, Seo Juah.
29. Diehard baller—even hit internet communities.
"Cha Serin told me. Actor, producer—super busy?"
"Yeah, so full commitment to baseball..."
"40 billion won salary. Guaranteed #2 starter. Skip rotation? Free schedule—produce albums, whatever."
"......Pardon?"
Conditions so wild, ulterior motives suspected.
"One catch: Every time lineup expands, two weeks full pro training."
"That's it?"
"Yep."
Made sense despite limits. I eyed her dubiously; she shrugged.
"Minions championship? Like my love life. Dream on, never happens."
"......"
"Group, fans—at breaking point. Fall ball this year."
Amateur like me? But Seo Juah's face was pure earnest.
Started baseball for IP farming, but things veering weird.