Territorial Disputes and Aftermath
After that surprisingly touching confession, I figured everything had been settled and I could finally return to my normal daily life.
"Yi-seon oppa. Open your arms."
"Huh?"
"Come on. Hurry."
The moment I awkwardly spread my arms and stood there, Min-ah charged in and wrapped herself around me. More to the point—aren't you rubbing your entire body against me a little too blatantly?
"There. All done."
And so, after being hugged like a giant teddy bear for ten solid minutes while she marked her territory all over me, she held out a shopping bag.
"Here. I brought back the salad for today, plus only the side dishes you seemed to like from everything you finished."
"Oh. Um, thanks."
I accepted the food with a dumb, dazed expression and let Min-ah lead me by the hand to the dorm cafeteria. She was so natural about it that you'd think she was a dorm resident herself.
Kang Min-hyuk watching the whole scene from the side made my conscience sting for no good reason. At this rate, was I really going to take a punch to the face?
"Yi-seon! Today I made your favorite—...Min-ah, you're here again? Without even telling me?"
"Oh my, hello, sunbae. Permission? I got it from Coach. I'm not an outsider, after all."
The moment Ye-eun, who'd come in with a bright smile, locked eyes with Min-ah, the atmosphere turned awkward in record time.
Without a word, Ye-eun pulled out the food she'd made from the kitchen and set it all out, then sat down beside me—on the opposite side from Min-ah.
"Min-ah. Isn't your perfume a little too strong? Honestly, at this level it's a nuisance to everyone around you."
"Is it? No one else has said anything."
Min-ah. Could you maybe stop hugging my arm and provoking Ye-eun while you say that?
Desperate to clear the air somehow, I bellowed across the room to round up the other members.
"Hey! Food's ready, let's eat! Eating is training too, you know. Everyone needs to bulk up—got it?"
Whether they caught the desperation in my voice or not, one guy, then two, crawled out of hiding. They'd been avoiding the table, presumably self-conscious about the two girls squaring off like that, but my pleading eyes managed to drag them into their seats. Thank you. This is what a team is.
And through all of it, that bastard Kang Min-hyuk sat there glowering at me with disapproving eyes. Hey, jackass. Worry about Lim Song-ah watching you enviously from your side first.
The two of them spread out the side dishes they'd each prepared—though honestly, eighty percent of what Ye-eun brought was actually made by her mother. I know her cooking skills, after all—until the table was absolutely covered.
They both seemed to be trying their best not to pressure me, but when I'd left some of Ye-eun's side dishes unfinished a while back, she'd hidden somewhere out of my sight and moped about it. What can I do? I have to eat everything.
So there I was, enduring a sensory assault I'd never even experienced in the army in my past life, forcing food down bite by agonizing bite. That's right—I need to bulk up anyway, so I should eat plenty.
How on earth things had come to this went back, roughly speaking, to the day Ye-eun and I made up.
The day after reconciling with Ye-eun, the very first thing she did was rewash every single piece of my clothes.
I didn't understand why that was her opening move upon entering my dorm room for the first time, but Ye-eun said she was taking care of me, so I happily watched her do it.
Then she declared that the sunscreen Min-ah had brought me didn't suit my skin, and swapped it out for my original brand.
Right before I left for training, she half-hugged me, checking over my uniform and whether I'd applied my sunscreen properly, then gave a satisfied nod and pronounced everything in order.
I had no idea what "in order" meant, but if it made her happy, it made me happy, so I smiled along. Knowing what came after, though, I wanted to cry.
Not long after training started, Min-ah came looking for me. And the moment she saw me, her face abruptly darkened.
Oh, right. This is the first time she's seen me since I made up with Ye-eun.
In this world, where polygamy is legal, it's not inherently wrong for one man to date multiple women. Once the numbers get excessive, the criticism starts, but up to about three, you'd have to say it's generally accepted.
That's the general rule, though. No matter how much the world's common sense changes, human nature doesn't.
So, to put it in terms of my original world, the way women react to the other women around their man is like discovering your boyfriend's ex still exists. Her existence isn't a crime. The mature thing is to stay cool about it. But the moment you learn she's real, she becomes a presence you can't be cool about no matter how hard you try.
How intense is it? Even in a world where polygamy is legal, statistics show that fewer than ten percent of households have a man with multiple wives, and men with three wives make up just one percent of the entire population.
Anyway, I'm not so oblivious or shameless that I could say, "Now that Ye-eun and I have made up, Min-ah, why don't you go back to being just my little sister?"
Because if I did, I'd have to become the kind of lunatic who confesses his feelings to one woman and then starts dating another the very next day.
"Yi-seon oppa. I think I know what you're thinking, and it's not that, so quit whimpering like a puppy that needs to poop."
But our Kang Min-ah, paying no mind whatsoever to my shallow agonizing, strode over with the confidence of a woman born under a lucky star and grabbed me by the collar.
My collar?
"Ha. Sunbae. Did I really displease you that much?"
"Weren't you the one who started it?"
"You're more childish than I expected."
"I don't take kindly to people scribbling on what's mine."
Still clutching my collar, Min-ah sniffed around my body from head to toe like a bloodhound, then locked eyes with Lee Ye-eun and opened the most ferocious glare-off I'd ever witnessed.
Only then did I understand why Ye-eun had started with the laundry and switched the sunscreen back. What are you two, lionesses marking your territory?
Still, they at least seemed to acknowledge each other's existence, which was something of a relief. No, wait—if dating two women is this terrifying even in a world where it's legal, how the hell do the alpha males in countries where it's illegal manage it?
Their territorial war continued long after that.
These days, my laundry disappears the instant I take it off. As for the underwear situation, I gave up on that fight a long time ago. Not just the sunscreen—my skin toner and cologne have doubled too, two versions of each.
I was never diligent about that stuff to begin with, and with a turf war brewing between the girls, everything just sits there peacefully enshrined, untouched by my hand.
So now the two of them take turns adding something new. First Min-ah brought a diffuser for my dorm room, then Ye-eun brought an air freshener and fabric deodorizer.
Next Min-ah supplied shampoo and body wash, so Ye-eun retaliated with an all-in-one shaving cream and cleansing foam—which, oddly enough, left a surprisingly strong fragrance lingering after my shower.
Apart from that first day, they never actually fought in front of me or gave me pointed looks, but stuck in the middle of it all, I couldn't help staying on edge.
After waging their scent war, the two of them eventually expanded their territory all the way to my meals. They do seem to exercise some restraint, though—they only bring down portions I can just barely manage to finish if I force myself.
Right. Think positive. I need to bulk up anyway.
Among the causes of Kim Yi-seon's injury that I'd analyzed, physical conditioning was one of them. Tied to that conditioning was, of course, physical endurance—but securing sufficient body weight was just as critical.
In the manga I'd assumed the artist simply drew him that way for aesthetics, but thinking about it now, given how tall the original Kim Yi-seon was with those long limbs, he was actually on the remarkably skinny side for a baseball player.
Judging from my current weight and build, his manga depiction probably hovered right around 80 kilos, if he even managed to cross that line.
Right now I'm 190 centimeters and 85 kilos, and it's still nowhere near enough. Factoring in my eventual growth to 195 centimeters, then considering my skeletal muscle mass and other variables, maintaining at least 90—and ideally 95 to 100—kilos would be the appropriate target weight.
And bulking up isn't just my problem.
"Hey, Ha Kyung-woo. That's everything you ate?"
"Huh? But I ate quite a bit..."
"I told you you need four thousand calories a day. Get over here and finish this off too."
Ha Kyung-woo's face crumpled like he was about to weep. Tough luck, buddy.
The reason that guy led a regular school club deep into the later rounds of the Phoenix Flag Tournament in the original story was that he was a genuinely good pitcher who threw quality stuff on par with the aces of elite baseball programs.
And the reason he lost the battle of grit against Kang Min-hyuk? If he'd truly had what it takes to grow into an ace-level pitcher, would he have ever given up on elite baseball in the first place? This guy's problem is stamina.
I've seen pitchers who run out of gas after seventy pitches, but a pitcher who's dead after fifty? That's a first, in this life or any other.
Even now, his stuff itself is decent, but past thirty pitches he starts to feel it, and once he crosses fifty, both his velocity and his command go straight down the toilet.
Consecutive appearances are out of the question, and while a starter who throws a full game walks around just fine, the guy comes out of the bullpen for one inning and nearly dies on the mound. His arm loosens up fast too, so it's not like he gets much out of extra warm-up throws—hence this sorry state.
His build is nothing but skin and bones, which makes it frankly baffling that he's chucking mid-130s fastballs with that body even now.
I'd bet anything he's getting by purely on flexibility, grinding his joints and ligaments down with every throw. We have to bulk him up somehow if we're going to get real use out of him, even just as a reliever.
He's just the worst case—there isn't a single first-year on Jeil High's roster who doesn't need to gain weight. Isn't the staple content of any normal baseball club finding the one fat guy and putting him on a diet? Mine is all anchovies, and getting them to eat is an uphill battle.
So, shouldering the responsibility of this team's ace, I hunted down every member who tried to bolt after a half-hearted meal and personally served them the side dishes my girlfriend had lovingly made.
It hurts. It hurts so much. But that, I suppose, is the hardship of leadership and the weight of being an ace. This is absolutely not because I'd feel awkward around Min-ah and Ye-eun if I were the only one left at the end of the table.
Across the table, that bastard Kang Min-hyuk watches me with an expression of deep pity. Hey, worry about Lim Song-ah feeding you first, I'm telling you? She's going "Say ahh~" with the spoon and he's taking it without a beat of hesitation, and they're still not dating? Not that I'm one to talk, but that guy is a living legend in his own right.
"So. What did you want to talk about that you had to drag me all the way here?"
"Teach me how to cook."
On one of the many days their cold war dragged on, Lee Ye-eun was the one who requested a private talk with Kang Min-ah.
Min-ah agreed to the meeting, since she too agreed there was nothing to gain from prolonging the hostilities—but what on earth was this bizarre opening line supposed to mean?
"I know you must think I'm a selfish lunatic, but I do have my lines. I said I wouldn't fight in front of Kim Yi-seon."
"And yet that's exactly the kind of person who picked a fight with me on day one?"
Weren't you the one who started this whole war in the first place? And now you want to wash your hands of it?
Ye-eun let out a long sigh and pressed a hand to her forehead.
"That's because you deliberately switched to a noticeable scent so I'd know who you were. And I had to do it anyway. You didn't know Kim Yi-seon hates strong smells, did you?"
"What a remarkable excuse."
"It's not an excuse. If he breathes in anything too strong for too long, it gives him a headache. That's why he uses fresh, light scents—or products with barely any fragrance at all.
As for the sunscreen, you picked a sports type, waterproof, right? But his skin is so pale and sensitive that if it's not the right product, he breaks out, and even when you apply it, his skin still burns a little.
He's better off using a strong-protection formula that suits his skin even if it runs a bit. If it sweats off mid-game, he just reapplies."
"...He never said a single word of that to me."
"You think that blockhead would actually tell you? That's a kid who comes back from the barbershop with a haircut he hates and can't even complain—just sulks at home for a week."
If she wanted that, she should've told him to argue firmly when he got it cut, but no—he just flopped over muttering stuff like "guess it can't be helped."
"Back to the point. Let's quit these pointless pissing contests in front of Kim Yi-seon. He's walking on eggshells around us as it is—we can't keep this up."
"How surprising. The Lee Ye-eun I know would have driven me off and kept him all to herself."
Ye-eun offered no rebuttal, just an expression of weary resignation. Honestly, Min-ah's face said the same thing. What can you do when the man in question likes you both? Even if they don't get along, they'd just have to compromise and coexist.
"So. Do I just start by teaching you to cook?"
"From now on, we cook together. That oblivious idiot actually watches himself around me when he eats less of the food I bring. If we make everything together, the problem disappears."
"Understood. I'll give you our house passcode, so come by every evening."
"Or you could come to my place, I don't mind. And in return—feels a little lopsided, but—I'll teach you how he likes his taping done, what brands and styles he prefers for his daily stuff. He acts like he doesn't care, but he's secretly picky about that kind of thing."
And so the two faces I was doomed to keep seeing whether I liked it or not—since neither of them particularly pleased me—agreed to share their territory in moderation, establishing a set of rules between them and sticking to them.
"You've got it rough too, huh. How did you end up tangled up with a guy like that?"
"You're one to talk, sunbae."
"I can say it because I've been through it. Give it some time—you'll understand why I acted like such a lunatic."
"I highly doubt that. Don't hold your breath."
Of course, that didn't mean they'd actually made peace.