The Traitor
"Senior Jang Tae-wook said that?"
Right now, I was leaking information about Jang Tae-wook to a rival.
"Yeah. He was dead serious about it. You might want to start sweating a little yourself."
Park Ji-han's easy laugh crackled through the phone.
"We're already losing anyway."
True enough.
"But is it okay for you to tell me all this?"
I am not a spy.
"I figured you ought to know."
I am merely a guardian of fairness and balance.
"Thanks, Ji-hoo."
"It's purely for the sake of fair competition."
"Still."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Honestly, there isn't much I can do specially."
Park Ji-han spoke with quiet composure.
"I just have to keep working hard the way I always have. I can't control what happens out in the outfield."
"Wow… now that's a shortstop talking."
"Hahaha. I was going for it a little — cool, right?"
Well.
"Have you been reading a book of famous quotes or something?"
Was there even a separate collection of baseball player quotes?
"Ah, this is something Hyun-seo hyung said a little while ago…"
And just like that, the Ryu Hyun-seo praise session began. How he had adapted to the big leagues so fast and was wildly popular in Cincinnati. How the ROY was already a lock.
This guy…
Now that they no longer had to compete, he had turned into a full-blown Ryu Hyun-seo stan overnight.
I get it, though…
The moment someone crosses over to Major League Baseball, the national rule kicks in: they go from "that bastard" to "our boy." And since he had always looked up to that senior, it was only natural it hit harder.
"Anyway, he's seriously an incredible hyung, you know?"
Park Ji-han kept going, fired up — then:
"Ahem."
Sensing that the conversation had drifted off course, he cleared his throat and steered it back.
"Anyway, I'll try harder too."
"Oh, what a dramatic drift."
"…I'm especially looking forward to this All-Star Game myself."
He was deliberately pretending not to hear what I just said.
"Wouldn't it be fun for classmates to play against each other?"
"I'll give you that one."
If it happened, it really would be fun.
"I've never beaten Senior Tae-wook in the All-Star voting before, but things are different now."
All-Star voting was a popularity contest. Beating Jang Tae-wook — the franchise star of a popular team — had always been an uphill battle for Park Ji-han.
But now it was different.
I can't help but tip my hat once more. What a masterstroke, Gongmyeong!
"Yeah. Let's both give it everything. But…"
There was something I was curious about.
"How's the team atmosphere these days?"
The Suwon Wizards currently sat in fourth place.
Not terrible, but for a defending champion, the results have been underwhelming.
My benefactor of sorts, starting outfielder Shin Tae-yong, was mired in a slump. Wizard fans were apparently calling me the snowball that started the avalanche after they traded me away.
Well.
They were always a team with thin depth.
Maintaining last year's strong performance had been nothing short of Manager Kim Tae-sik's one-man circus act of sheer willpower.
But this season looked rough.
Kim Tae-sik's almost supernatural player management had only been possible because of the front office's full-throated support. And this year, the Wizards' front office had undergone truly massive changes.
The players' faith in Manager Kim Tae-sik was still rock-solid. The front office, though — that was a different story, and the cracks were visible even from the outside.
The young captain leading an uneasy team let out a long sigh.
"There's been so much going on. I'm exhausted, for real."
He couldn't even finish the thought.
After hanging up with my old classmate for the first time in a while, I stepped out of the locker room — and a voice stopped me cold.
"Ji-hoo."
"Ah — you scared me."
The owner of the voice was:
"Tae-wook hyung?"
Jang Tae-wook.
Don't tell me…
"…Did you hear that?"
"Of course."
"Umm…"
Watching me trail off into a low hum, Jang Tae-wook opened his mouth.
"I am a generous man, Ji-hoo."
"Pardon?"
"Even if you betrayed me, I am generous. Officially we are teammates on the same prestigious club, and privately we are close as brothers."
Top of the fifth.
Jang Tae-wook took a practice swing and settled his mind.
Runners on first and second. Two outs.
And the batter:
Me.
Jang Tae-wook stepped into the box. Unlike the unusually noisy hitter waiting behind him, he was the quiet type at the plate.
Every nerve had to go into the duel with the pitcher. Besides—
The ones who can focus while talking that much are the weird ones.
Even Kang Ho-san, who loved to clown around behind the plate, had let out a gasp of admiration last year after facing Gong Ji-hoo.
Back then I never even imagined I'd end up on the same team as Ji-hoo.
These days it had become almost routine to hear opposing catchers beg, "Please make Gong Ji-hoo shut up at the plate."
"…"
"…"
The Powderers' catcher, though, simply exchanged signs with his pitcher in silence. Gong Ji-hoo had said he disliked the guy for seeming rude, but Jang Tae-wook rather liked the Powderers' catcher.
Thwack!!
"Ball."
The first pitch was an off-speed offering that missed the zone. The pitch type was probably—
A slider?
One of the opposing pitcher's main weapons.
Is he nervous facing me?
Granted, Jang Tae-wook had been swinging a hot bat all series long. But a quick glance toward the on-deck circle, where a certain someone was crouched and waiting—
Going after me aggressively is the right call here.
If the count went south and he walked, that would put runners on every base with Gong Ji-hoo at the plate.
Thwack!!
"Strike!"
Just as I thought.
The Powderers' battery nicked the bottom of the zone with a fastball to even the count. Then—
Tick.
"Foul!"
He managed solid contact for a foul, but the ball had come in on a tough location.
In an instant it was two strikes, and the pitcher nodded with open satisfaction, a faint smile even tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Happy because he thinks he won't have to face Gong Ji-hoo, huh?
Once upon a time, young Jang Tae-wook had dreamed of being a home-run hitter. It was only natural for a hitting prospect to dream of that. The great Daegu Rhinos had historically been a hitting team — a home-run team.
But Jang Tae-wook had realized fairly early that he would never become one.
He hadn't despaired. He lacked the power to clear the wall, but he had an outstanding eye, tremendous contact ability, and blazing speed. For the Rhinos he loved, Jang Tae-wook would gladly become a contact hitter, a slap-and-run guy — whatever it took.
Still—
"I'm not a home-run hitter, okay?"
Whenever he watched the guy currently leading the KBO in home runs insist, over and over, that he was not a home-run hitter, a little irritation was inevitable.
Some of us can work our whole lives and never get called a home-run hitter…
The funny part was that Gong Ji-hoo wasn't putting on an act. He genuinely believed he wasn't a home-run hitter.
Of course—
I get what he means.
Gong Ji-hoo, putting up another monster season after last year's. People called him a complete hitter.
Outstanding eye, tremendous contact, and speed — and on top of all that, the power to clear the wall whenever he wanted.
A player without weaknesses. No — he had once carried the fatal flaw of a glass mentality, but he had overcome it himself and become a finished product.
"Home-run hitter" was too small a phrase to contain Gong Ji-hoo. He was never a guy who only hit home runs.
With a complete hitter sitting behind him, Jang Tae-wook felt no offense at all that the Powderers' battery was trying to finish the inning against him.
I would have done the same.
But that didn't mean he planned to go quietly.
Tick.
"Foul!"
Thwack!!
"Ball."
He cut anything he couldn't drive cleanly and laid off anything outside the zone, grinding out a stubborn battle at the plate.
The count that had been one ball and two strikes became three balls and two strikes. Full count.
Hoo…
Jang Tae-wook called time with the home-plate umpire, stepped out, and loosened up.
Good.
Without Ryu Hyun-seo, Park Ji-han was the king of KBO shortstops. But if he could just outplay Park Ji-han until the voting closed, there was no reason to get overtaken in All-Star ballots.
He gripped the bat hard and stepped back in.
And then—
Whoosh!!
A pitch that came right into the zone, as if the battery had no interest in dragging this out any longer.
Crack!!
The ball left the bat, cleared the infielders' heads, and dropped toward center field.
With two outs and a full count, the runners took off the instant of contact.
Ah…
Jang Tae-wook felt a flicker of disappointment — a ball that would probably end as a one-RBI single. But then—
The center fielder, unhappy with an ordinary hit, had botched the play completely.
The third-base coach windmilled his arm like a madman. The runner from second had already scored, and the runner from first was past third.
Jang Tae-wook, the batter, showed off those fast feet and touched second. The center fielder finally came to his senses and scrambled after the rolling ball.
Clumsy defense or not, the center fielder had a strong arm, and the throw came in hard and true toward the plate.
The replay of Jang Tae-wook scoring filled the broadcast screen.
He twisted his body to slip past the catcher's mitt and swept the plate clean with one hand — a slide that looked like a scene out of a movie.
The crowd erupted.
Having completed his little film, Jang Tae-wook thumped his chest and shouted toward Gong Ji-hoo.
"At this rate, today's MVP is me!"
Gong Ji-hoo smiled back.
"Yeah. Looks that way, hyung."
This was Daejeon — the dream ballpark where even an ordinary single could turn into a home run.
Just as Jang Tae-wook had said, he was named the game's hero.
And me?
I stepped in as the cleanup hitter, drew three walks, and managed one fly out. They really clenched their teeth and refused to pitch to me.
I'll take that.
Three times on base, after all. Even I couldn't hit singles and home runs every single day. Some days were just like this.
On the interview screen, Jang Tae-wook was making an earnest, almost desperate appeal.
"Well, the plan worked, but…"
There had been an obstacle — me — but in the end Jang Tae-wook had landed the hero interview. The fans' reaction was naturally glowing.
However.
"Ji-hoo. That was better than Park Ji-han, right?"
"…"
Uh.
"Well…"
"What is it?"
After checking the result of the Suwon home game, I offered Jang Tae-wook an apology.
"I'm sorry, hyung."
"Ji-han hit a walk-off home run."
"…What?"
And more than that—
"He also hit one in his first at-bat."
"…"
Unlike Jang Tae-wook's fake home run, Park Ji-han had hit two real ones.
Ah.
"Traitor."
The voice of Jang Tae-wook — who only yesterday had been boasting of his generosity — was ice-cold.
"Sorry."
The self-proclaimed guardian of balance had no choice but to bow his head.
The All-Star voting closed.
The Dream All-Stars ended with the entire infield occupied by the 2020 draft class — the result of the miraculous strategy of the Zhuge Liang of All-Star voting.