It's Too Early for Champagne

The press and the Wirye Jeil High fandom were in the middle of an absolute festival. A festival with an endless supply of hype and headline fodder, to be exact. Media outlets were pumping out feature pieces by the handful, running more articles about Kim Yi-seon than about professional baseball in the thick of its season, while Jeil High fans — in female-dominated and male-dominated communities alike — threw caution to the wind, swarming every forum with celebratory spam and basking in pure happiness.

In the female-skewed communities that made up the bulk of the Jeil High fandom, practically any post about Wirye Jeil High or Kim Yi-seon shot straight to the front page — at this point, it was safe to say everyone had simply lost their minds.

But even amid this feverish party, one or two party-poopers always crawled out of the woodwork.

These worries weren't entirely irrational — they had a certain logic to them — and so the pessimism spread from one person to two with remarkable speed. To make matters worse, Kim Yi-seon stayed silent through the following day without making any official statement, and the anxiety only deepened.

The fire spread at no ordinary pace. Before a single day had even passed, the controversy leapt from the female-dominated communities into the male-dominated ones, and just as the baseball forums thought the Wirye Jeil High hype was finally dying down, they found themselves under a second invasion.

So what, then, was Kim Yi-seon doing at that very moment?

Everyone's fears were confirmed: I was in a hospital bed... or rather, no, not a hospital — just lying in a bed.

As I lay there obediently, phone and newspaper spread out before me, gleefully indulging in a little ego-surfing, Min-ah sat beside me peeling an apple.

"Here you go, say ahh."

"Ahh~"

I'd gotten so used to this by now that I accepted the hand-fed apple without a shred of shame. On the other side of the bed, Ye-eun was working a massage gun into my shoulder and flank muscles.

"The intensity's not too much, is it?"

"Nope, it's perfect."

This was, in the truest sense, imperial rest. Qin Shi Huang? Merely a commoner who died chugging mercury before I was ever born. This is what real happiness looks like.

Suppressing the delicious ache of the soreness, I wrapped both arms around Ye-eun and Min-ah.

"Kim Yi-seon, what's gotten into you this time?"

"I'm feeling a bit suffocated. Would you two mind loosening your embrace?"

"No, look at this first. Do you know what they're saying about me?"

"You see? I am, in fact, the future of Korean baseball."

At first, Kim Yi-seon and Lee Ye-eun ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had simply forgotten. The very idea that people might worry about the state of his body had slipped their minds entirely. But when a day passed and they opened the community boards, it was utter pandemonium. Ye-eun had taken one look and freaked out, scrambling to post on the official account that he was perfectly fine — and he'd stopped her.

That way, when he made a surprise appearance in peak condition on finals day, the drama would land twice as hard. Truly the mindset of a chronic troll, thoroughly pickled in community dopamine.

As I sat there grinning to myself and scrolling through the forums, Ye-eun finally lost her patience and snatched my phone away.

"Aw, come on, why?"

"Aigoo, you shameless punk. You're supposed to be bedridden from running yourself into the ground — does any of that look like a compliment to you? You can't even sit up properly in bed right now."

"I can sit up. My muscles are just sore and pulled, that's all."

"And that's exactly how you got here."

Ye-eun flung the phone to the far end of the room, then squirmed her way deeper into my arms.

"Anyway, you're not setting one foot outside this room this time either. Just so we're clear."

"Whatever you say."

Confinement had become, at this point, simply a way of life.

Naturally, I had expected to pay for the game the next day. Which was precisely why I had spared no effort on prevention.

The moment the game ended, I had thrown everything I had at recovery — icing, a cold-water bath, massage, stretching, recovery exercises, every tool in the arsenal.

And yet.

"Ugh... nnnngh..."

I woke up the next morning unable to move, flattened by truly catastrophic muscle soreness.

Still, even accounting for everything, throwing 140 pitches at full throttle with almost no pacing was brutal. No — if it had been only the pitching, maybe I'd have managed. But those filthy Gwangmyeong High bastards pulled every bizarre trick in the book trying to drain my stamina, and that made everything worse.

When the pain first hit, it was so far beyond ordinary soreness that I worried I'd actually torn something. I genuinely thought something in me had ripped.

So, aching and dragging my wobbly legs along, I hobbled all the way to Director Cho — who regarded me with an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠utterly indifferent expression.

"That? That's just muscle soreness. A few days of honest rest and it'll clear right up, so don't do anything stupid in the meantime."

"Can muscle soreness really hurt this much?"

"Of course it has to hurt. You worked your entire body evenly for four straight hours — did you expect it not to?"

"I mean, yes, but this seems unusually severe..."

"So now my machines and my own two eyes are wrong? Stop talking nonsense and go home. You two, the guardians! Keep the patient resting properly, you hear?"

When I asked whether there was anything — anything at all — that might speed the recovery, I was told there was nothing beyond anti-inflammatories and painkillers, which might interfere with the healing process, so I should simply endure it.

And that is how I ended up flat on my back in a bed, delivered there by the combined hands of Ye-eun and Min-ah. The two of them now looked positively practiced at the art of abducting, confining, and conditioning one Kim Yi-seon.

For the record, today's confinement site was Ye-eun's room, a change of venue from last time.

"All right, again — say ahh."

"Ahh~"

But unlike last time's confinement, I wasn't the least bit anxious this go-around. Why, you ask?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Because our finals opponent was Daegu High.

Daegu High. A storied school and a genuinely strong team — but also a school that had already appeared in the manga. And not just any appearance: as the stage for showcasing Kang Min-hyuk's awakening.

Having fully matured into the team's ace in his second year, Kang Min-hyuk meets the major powerhouses of the Bonghwangdae. With his teammates in their absolute worst condition, he alone throws a nine-inning shutout and drives in the winning runs on two hits — an episode where he wins the game as a one-man show.

How was I supposed to be nervous about that? Even with Nam Kang-min out of the picture, the Jeil High squad was nowhere near as disastrous as its manga counterpart — and the current Kang Min-hyuk was a powered-up version of his manga self, on top of that.

In every sport, baseball included, there exists something very real called the favor of fortune. However talented a player might be, some miraculously dodge every championship-caliber opponent on their path, while others — honestly quite mediocre — march with uncanny precision to exactly the right place at the right time and claim a title they had no business winning.

And if you gave that favor of fortune a human shape, it would be Kang Min-hyuk. Even in the manga, it wasn't just his own skill — the entire universe conspired to help him, until at last the championship was in his grasp.

And so, as I lay there accepting whatever Min-ah fed me, wedged against Ye-eun's side while half-watching a drama or two, an unexpected visitor showed up — insisting he absolutely had to see me, all the way out at Ye-eun's house.

"Every single time, the day before a start, how do you end up wandering around in some random place like this? Rest, man. Just once, rest."

It was Kang Min-hyuk.

He'd come with a grave, deathly serious face, saying there was something he needed to talk to me about.

This guy needed to start dating soon, if only so some girlfriend could finally keep him reined in. When exactly was he planning to have a love life?

"Kim Yi-seon."

"Yeah, what's up."

Min-hyuk was pointlessly setting a mood. I had places to be — the latest chapter of Iron Knight of Mars wasn't going to read itself with Min-ah. Judging by his expression, this was going to run long.

"Do you remember what you said to me, the moment the semifinal ended?"

"After the semis?"

What had I said? Knowing me, I probably just told him to get lost because I was tired.

"You told me to take a good, long look around at the girls who were looking for me."

Ah. Right, I did. "So what about it."

"When I took your advice and looked around me, that was when I finally saw it. How much help I had received on the road that brought me this far."

Having said that much, he agonized over his word choice for a long while before at last forcing them out, one by one.

"The truth is... I had felt it, a little. That Song-ah, and Hyeon-ah sunbae, and Se-yeon... had feelings for me."

Oh, had he now. He'd sensed it — not a lot, just "a little." Marvelous. Truly a keen observer of the human heart.

...

"Hold on. Hold everything. You KNEW?"

Seriously? Is this guy a certified lunatic?

"It was just... difficult to simply accept. Honestly... I had little confidence in myself."

You lack confidence, so what? I'm hardly in any position to lecture anyone on this particular subject, but you're a piece of work, you know that?

"And what exactly do you lack confidence about?"

"...Whether I am a man worthy of being loved in such a way."

While I was still deliberating what one says to a lunatic like this, Kang Min-hyuk kept pouring out words nobody had asked for.

"But hearing your words, this time I understood it properly. I have no intention of running anymore."

"Uh-huh. Good for you. Congratulations."

The moment you confess, every single one of them is going to say yes — so congrats, the original harem is finally complete, exactly as written.

"And so, at the final of this Bonghwangdae, I will win. And there, I will prove myself. That, just as my father was before me, I am a man capable of bearing responsibility for everyone."

Uh-huh, yep, sure. So he's planning a public confession, then. Take it from someone with experience — everyone acts embarrassed about that stuff, but secretly they all love it.

With that, I more or less wrapped up the counseling session and was about to see him out when something started nagging at me.

"Hey, wait. Wait wait wait. Is that what this is? You're saying you'll confess if you win the Bonghwangdae?"

"...It's a little embarrassing to admit, but yes."

An emergency siren went off in my head.

I had no idea why he'd chosen to say it here, of all places — but a teammate telling you, "When this is all over, I'm going to confess to her" is...

At the Daegu High baseball club, one day before the final.

Head Coach Lee Man-sik delivered no special instructions of any kind.

"Anything more to say? Do what ye've always done — work hard, give yer all. That's it!"

"SIR, YES, SIR!!"

Daegu High was a textbook high school baseball team. Their third-year ace Kim Joong-hwan was, admittedly, a top prospect tipped as a first-round pick in next year's draft — but the caliber of the players around him lagged a considerable step behind. About the level of a strong regional team, and nothing more. Daegu High ran on one ace, a small handful of locked-in starters, and a large crowd of players who were, at best, middling.

But precisely because of that, Daegu High's coach had never once entertained the thought of resorting to tricks.

"Pitchin' coach. You're gonna be a head coach someday, so listen up good. In a short tournament, a manager can let the nerves get to him. But the moment he gets antsy and starts ridin' the kids and pullin' fancy 'masterstrokes' outta his hat? That there's the express lane to ruin."

A manager creating variables through roster management and tactics is a luxury possible only at the professional or national-team level, where the freedom to select players is broad. In high school baseball, getting the students to perform to the absolute fullest of their ability comes first and foremost.

Indeed, every school that had come at them with sleazy games of trickery had failed, without exception, to reach this stage. In the end, the two teams that arrived at the final were themselves — who had played upright, honest, textbook baseball — and Wirye Jeil High.

"Coach, sir. But there will plainly be a gap in strength between us and Wirye Jeil High. How are we meant to handle—"

"Trust 'em."

"Sir?"

"Trust 'em, I said. You don't trust yer own students? Then you'd best go on an' quit bein' a coach at all."

Lee Man-sik did not underestimate Wirye Jeil High, nor Kang Min-hyuk. But long or short, you only know once you've pulled it — the game decides on the field, and nowhere else.

As Kim Yi-seon's quiet anxiety and Daegu High's quiet hope crossed paths in the dark, the night before the Bonghwangdae final slipped slowly, steadily away.