The Flattery of a Schemer (2)

"He really is something else."

"Put generously, you could call it sharp analytical ability... but put harshly, isn't he just a guy who cuts corners and has a hard ceiling?"

Bottom of the fourth. In the Seoul Twins dugout, leading 2-0, the manager and infield coach were trading observations as they watched the game unfold.

"But seriously, can scouting analysis really be this accurate? We have analysts on staff too, and we can adjust the shift whenever we want. We've never gotten efficiency like that."

"There's a difference between executing instructions blindly because someone told you to and reading the situation yourself and moving on your own judgment."

The subject of their discussion was Go Hyeong-jun.

When they'd first heard he was the biggest name in college ball, they'd thrown him straight into the minors, but his rookie-league numbers had been distinctly middling. And yet now he was showing them something considerably better. No — beyond simply "better," on defense alone he seemed to be giving them ninety percent of what Jo Sang-goo, the incumbent starter, used to provide.

Part of him thought, what a weird kid. Should he say the kid looked no different in the minors than he did here in the first team? Normally that would be hard to pull off — first-team opponents hit harder and the ball came off the bat faster.

The problem, though—

Crack!

—"Straight through the middle of the diamond! The second baseman pounces on it and fires to first! Barely, barely in time — out!"

—"Choi Jae-chun is fast, no question. It's still a frustrating out, but honestly, the fact that he even had a chance to beat a ball like that says something about him."

—"And the Seoul Twins shut it down cleanly yet again this inning!"

But no matter how he looked at it, the kid's raw tools were trash.

Just now, for instance: a grounder had trickled into the zone near second base. Before the pitch, the batter being right-handed, the shortstop had eased off the bag a touch — crowding second that closely was awkward for covering a steal. That created enough distance for the shortstop to sprint toward center, and naturally the second baseman slid over to cover. Fine so far. Good positioning, textbook.

The problem was what happened after the catch. Sure, throwing off an off-balance plant made it harder, but the velocity on that throw to first — was that acceptable? Seriously, high schoolers known for having cannons were probably throwing harder than that.

He was the kind of player who'd have to fill in as a utility infielder, which meant long-term he needed to hold down short or third in a pinch too... Could his uncanny positioning really paper over that? Hard to say.

And that positioning had a downside as well.

Whether through data analysis or a fielder's split-second read, no one could predict the direction of a batted ball with perfect certainty. Balls flying off in completely unexpected directions were simply a fact of baseball.

Which was why quite a few KBO first-team fielders leaked balls they should have swallowed up, betrayed by that kind of extreme predictive defense.

Granted, even accounting for that, the defense was better now than before. But this wasn't a rational, statistical problem. The issue was the pitcher.

Pitchers were sensitive creatures — if a borderline pitch got ruled a ball and they felt it could have been called their way, they'd wobble. So what happens when a fielder lets a ball he should have handled get through, and it's not even an error, just a base hit?

For some men, that would land like a magnitude-nine earthquake straight to the psyche. It doesn't matter how many impossible balls a guy happens to snag. The human brain is wired to register losses far more keenly than gains.

"Hyeong-jun-hyung's got good stuff today, huh? Keep this up and you'll steal the starting job."

"No. Still a long way off."

"Don't be so modest. The way I see it, playing behind you is the most comfortable I've been all season."

And yet here was the pitcher himself, insisting the kid deserved the praise.

Kim Yi-seon had always had a tendency to get clingy with people he warmed up to, and this time he'd apparently gotten genuinely close, because he was parked right next to the kid, chattering away.

"Anyway, all that matters is that we've got someone usable right now."

Second base was the vacant spot, after all. As a stopgap at second, there was no better option on the roster.

Up to that point, the manager and coach nodded along in agreement — then quietly resolved to hold off, just a little, on the opportunities they might otherwise hand the kid's competitors.

Kang Min-ah was, at that very moment, intensely combing through footage from all twenty cameras, pulling every clip that contained Kim Yi-seon and Go Hyeong-jun.

With the analysts' permission, she was running replays on every frame that struck her as even slightly suspicious.

What she found made her exhale slowly.

"What on earth is this person..."

The man's eyes were locked on Kim Yi-seon. Aside from the moments when the catcher flashed a sign and the instant the ball met the bat, he was watching Kim Yi-seon. Always.

Even at the plate he wasn't studying the opposing pitcher or taking swings in the dugout — he was watching Kim Yi-seon resting on the bench. It was unsettling enough to spark wild thoughts. Thank goodness the oblivious lump hadn't noticed a thing.

The way the man clung to Kim Yi-seon was chilling. This couldn't stand. The fifth inning had just ended — cleaning time.

The players would be stepping out of the dugout for a brief break, which meant this was the only window to approach him. However off-putting and strange the man seemed, she couldn't rest easy until she met him face-to-face and learned what exactly he wanted from Kim Yi-seon.

As luck would have it, Go Hyeong-jun was standing apart from Kim Yi-seon, alone. He'd drifted over toward her brother this time, which made her brow furrow — but it was, in any case, perfect timing for a conversation out of Kim Yi-seon's earshot.

"Min-ah? What brings you to the ballpark?"

"I need a word with this gentleman. You don't mind, do you?"

Her brother — every bit as oblivious as Kim Yi-seon, and blessed with precisely zero situational awareness — she simply ignored, and called Go Hyeong-jun out directly.

He feigned surprise for exactly a moment before replying, brazenly, that of course he'd come along.

Leaving a bewildered Kang Min-hyuk behind, she led Go Hyeong-jun to a suitably out-of-the-way corner.

"Of course. You've no doubt guessed why I asked you here."

The instant they were out of her brother's line of sight, he abandoned his polite face entirely and put on something far more self-assured. He knew exactly why she'd come. Obviously.

"Naturally. Hmm... what should I call you? Sister-in-law?"

And even at that moment, that viper tongue of his, angling for her favor.

She cut through the flattery coldly, as if even that one term of address gave her no pleasure whatsoever.

"Just call me Min-ah."

"Then — Min-ah."

After clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders, he launched into his defense with remarkable composure.

"First, let me say this much: whatever you're angry about is a misunderstanding."

"And which part, exactly, is the misunderstanding?"

"I only ever offered advice on the things Yi-seon himself asked me to help with. I never took the initiative to propose anything on my own."

Go Hyeong-jun shrugged. But Kang Min-ah's glare didn't soften an inch.

"Haah... And fine, I'll admit it — in the course of giving advice, I did nudge Yi-seon along a bit, dug for information, leaned on the internet and people around him for hints. But I haven't done any of that since you told me to stop."

He said it as though he were the wronged party, and yet the content itself was somehow deeply unpleasant to hear. Since I told you to stop?

"I told you to stop? I don't recall ever saying such a thing to you."

"Oh. Ah... well. I suppose you weren't aware, then."

With that, he pulled out his smartphone and smoothly turned the screen toward her. A messenger window.

"With a watchdog who issues warnings this fast, what mischief do you imagine I could possibly get up to?"

...Lee Ye-eun was, without fail, a monster every time she learned something new about her. It wasn't even a DM — how did she get this man's phone number and message him directly?

Her absurdity-buying disbelief loosened the tension just enough for Go Hyeong-jun to press his advantage and keep talking.

"I know what you're worried about. You're afraid I'll grab Yi-seon by the scruff and shake him for my own gain, yes? I swear to you — Yi-seon will not be harmed. Not by me."

"And how can you be so certain of that?"

Even if the man never caused Kim Yi-seon any actual harm, keeping someone like him at close quarters could invite a reputational mess. She couldn't fathom why a person like this played baseball in the first place. Why not just go into politics and be done with it?

But even against Kang Min-ah's open hostility, Go Hyeong-jun answered with the serene ease of a man utterly unbothered.

"Well, if I don't lay it out honestly, you won't believe me, will you? All right then. I'll tell you exactly, candidly, what I want."

And then a gleam crawled into his eyes — naked, ravenous desire. For a beat, Kang Min-ah flinched and found herself stepping back.

"Baseball may be unusually individualistic compared to other sports... but it is still a team game. A player's evaluation can shift enormously depending on his teammates."

He stated the obvious in a flat voice, but beneath it something coiled and violently eager was writhing.

"So a fielder ought to play alongside the best pitchers he can. And on the Twins, the best pitchers are your boyfriend and your brother. This may be straying off topic, but that's precisely why I'd rather not be enemies with you."

"I see. And?"

And so he latches onto Kim Yi-seon and Min-hyuk to freeload his way through the rotation battle, does he? Kim Yi-seon already got branded a front-office favorite because of Seo-hee — did he really need more of this?

She couldn't stand by and watch it happen. Few people would ever curse him for it, but why should Kim Yi-seon have to swallow abuse over someone else's ambition?

But the words that actually came out of Go Hyeong-jun's mouth were not quite the answer she expected.

"Which is why I get close to those two and analyze them down to the subtle quirks nobody else could ever see! Beyond the baseball — everything about them, personally, down to the bone!"

Madness glittered across Go Hyeong-jun's whole face.

"If I can play a game that fits those two perfectly, then the pitchers themselves will feel more comfortable with me, and on days those two start, the manager and coaches will consider me a little more for the starting nine. We'll get grouped into the same training drills more often, and then our timing grows even tighter, and—"

On and on his argument went.

"...And so, in the end, the point is this: implant the understanding that when it comes to Kim Yi-seon and Kang Min-hyuk — and by extension every pitcher on the Twins — I am the only fielder alive who can move in perfect bespoke sync with them. Truly, there is nothing to lose in it at all."

Go Hyeong-jun snickered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like a villain who'd just unveiled his sinister master plan.

Was any of this a lie? Kang Min-ah found herself convinced it probably wasn't. If this were a lie, then the man was playing baseball to win an Academy Award. At that level of commitment, being taken in might practically be polite.

And the moment she accepted it was true, a single thought followed on its heels.

Isn't that normally called 'building chemistry with your teammates' when you train for it?

...More wholesome than she'd expected, honestly.

The game ended in a comfortable 4-1 win. The single run surrendered hadn't been charged to Kim Yi-seon — it came after Manager Jeong Jin-haeng, sensing the game was already in hand, brought in a long reliever in the eighth and had him attempt a multi-inning save.

Watching that, the fans frothed at the mouth — 'Randong-nim spinning the roulette wheel again, absolute lunacy' — but hey, a win's a win.

Kim Yi-seon, for his part, got to cruise through a full seven innings for the first time in a while — a far cry from the manager's usual minute-by-minute inning and pitch-count management. Thanks to someone, the defense was reading and settling into position with him far more smoothly than usual, which had shaved his pitch count down considerably.

Sang-goo-hyung, the former second baseman, had defended well enough in his day, but the player whose glove followed Kim Yi-seon's intentions most perfectly — of course the man showered Hyeong-jun-hyung with praise. It went without saying.

And so Kim Yi-seon, riding high off the win, ran straight into Kang Min-ah, who had come out to the stadium.

Having pitched today, all he should be thinking about was rest — but no, he decided he wanted to go on one of those drives he'd recently become obsessed with, and before she knew it, Kang Min-ah — who had come to the stadium for entirely different reasons — and even Lee Ye-eun, dragged out of her house, were all standing at Han River Riverside Park watching the night skyline.

Maybe it was the pandemic, but there was hardly anyone around; the riverside park lay quiet and empty. Only the streetlamps stood lonely sentinel, casting their pale glow over the water.

"Min-ah! Should we pitch the tent here?!"

And there was Kim Yi-seon, delighted as a kid on a field trip, getting ready to set up camp. Wasn't there something about how on the day after a start, he didn't have to report to the team dorm and the manager wouldn't say a word?

There might be no precedent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— no rookie had ever locked down a rotation spot from his debut season before — but if that was the case, why on earth did the team make him live in the minors dorm at all? The rules were loose as a rubber band.

She was sighing at the car window over his utter lack of self-awareness when Lee Ye-eun quietly slipped into the seat beside her.

"...So. What was this about."

"You went to the game today, didn't you?"

A face smiling in that slow, knowing way, as if she already had every answer.

Think it through, and this was really just Lee Ye-eun resolving things ahead of her yet again. Prod her like this and she had no choice but to snap back — her pride wouldn't let it slide.

"I did. Unlike some people, I don't have a talent for manipulating others from behind the scenes."

"True enough."

Look at her, gliding right past it with that innocent act. She'd thought Go Hyeong-jun was shameless, but no one out-shameless Lee Ye-eun.

"I told you, didn't I? He's not the type to actually do harm. You just got your feathers ruffled for nothing."

"Oh, so now you worry about my feelings too? What a day of firsts."

"Because when you're upset, that idiot over there gets all deflated trying to read the room for you."

With that, she turned to face her directly and started talking properly — all the usual playfulness stripped away.

"There are so many people like that, you know. You nudge someone's mood just a little, smooth it over, and suddenly they act like you've committed some enormous sin."

"Isn't it, though?"

"Obviously not. Unless there was some actual coercion or threat involved, changing someone's mind is their own choice, isn't it? Nobody made them feel anything."

Somewhere in her voice, Lee Ye-eun seemed to be recalling the past.

"Anyway, it always goes the same way. You decide it's a bad thing, but you can't quite stop doing it, and then the chuunibyou hits full force and you end up playing villain — going around thinking, 'I am a bad person.'"

"That sounds like it comes from experience."

"Yeah. It does."

She'd meant it as a tease, but Lee Ye-eun accepted it with startling ease.

"Up through middle school... honestly, right up until fairly recently, I was like that too. I mean, I do feel a little guilty, you know? All this stuff I do behind Kim Yi-seon's back."

That was unexpected. To think Lee Ye-eun had a conscience about it. She'd assumed the girl simply acted on impulse, guilt be damned.

But she swept the somber mood away in an instant, and what came next was pure absurdity.

"But after all this agonizing and all this experience, turns out it doesn't matter. Think about it — how many years have I known that idiot? Did I honestly not know I was steering him exactly where I wanted? He likes it. He consented. That's all it is."

"That is a rationale only criminals come up with."

'He likes it, so it's fine' — how did that connect to that? The leap in logic was dizzying.

"We both like it, so who cares. And honestly, you enjoy managing Kim Yi-seon too, don't you? Every single time."

Lee Ye-eun murmured it like a confessor digging through old sins — the abduction-and-keeping incident, the time she'd shut him away in the house — whispering, you secretly loved it, didn't you?

She wanted to say no. But her conscience pricked her, and she couldn't quite bring herself to deny it.

"Your problem is you insist on clinging to that useless conscience of yours. Just look at Seo-hee-unnie over there. She pushed and pushed and pushed until she got her way, and now Kim Yi-seon — who used to panic if she so much as bought him a meal — strolls around like it's the most natural thing in the world."

The Kim Yi-seon her finger pointed to was pitching a tent in shoes Han Seo-hee had bought him, wearing a watch Han Seo-hee had bought him and a necklace Han Seo-hee's mother had bought him, using camping gear Han Seo-hee had bought him.

There was a time he'd complained that expensive gifts made him feel like a kept husband. Now he'd apparently grown comfortable enough to just say, Noona, buy me this.

"So my advice is: relax, and stop holding yourself back."

Lee Ye-eun's whisper was, in every sense, the temptation of a devil.

After a brief silence, Kang Min-ah answered.

"Anyone listening would think you were doing this for my sake. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this an invitation to become your accomplice?"

Right. Kang Min-ah's cool, rational mind was not so naive as to fall for candy-coated nonsense like that. This was Lee Ye-eun, still guilty about her own conscience, proposing that everyone jump into the swamp together so no one had to feel bad alone.

"Which is why, from now on, I'll just have to take a little more personal care in properly managing Yi-seon-oppa myself."

And so Kang Min-ah concluded that she, too, needed to 'manage' Kim Yi-seon.

Not for any other reason. As this whole affair had reminded her yet again — she simply needed to protect Kim Yi-seon from sinister schemes like the one she'd just witnessed.

In any case. That was that.