Won But Lost
After dinner I settled in to watch baseball, same as always. Nobody on earth was picking the Eagles to win. It was the Eagles' fifth starter against the Bears' second — a 7.00 ERA staring down something in the high twos — and the outline of the result looked obvious at a glance.
But the second-half Eagles were a different animal. They jumped the opposing pitcher from the top of the first, plated five runs, and chased the starter entirely. The reliever who came on barely escaped the inning after giving up two more. Then the Eagles' pitcher took the mound and retired the side in order, wrapping the first inning in six clean minutes.
For the first time in ages, a blowout actually felt possible. How long had it been since the Eagles manufactured a big inning? I'd probably have to dig back through last year's box scores just to find one.
The joy of watching them actually perform lasted about thirty seconds. Maybe the lead was simply too big, too early. From the next at-bat onward I couldn't lock in. Even when they put together a textbook display of high-level baseball — leadoff single, a productive out, a sacrifice fly, another run — it barely registered.
The score was 8–0. At this pace, cracking double digits didn't look hard. A comeback was all but impossible. The game had belonged to the Eagles for a while now.
Winning was nice. It just wasn't fun. Working out with Sehee would honestly have been more entertaining. What was she even doing right now? She'd put away two whole bowls at dinner. The image of Kim Sehee after her workout, happily demolishing her evening meal, floated up uninvited — cheeks stuffed like a hamster, chewing away. Maybe I'll just go peek at what she's up to.
I got up and left my room, heading down the hallway toward the room where the staff gathered to work. The biggest room in the house. Six people were clustered in there, each doing their own thing.
I arrived at the door and peeked in, just my eyes over the frame. More than half of them were face-down on their desks. The only ones sitting upright were Gwak Hyeona and Kim Sehee. Even Choi Yeram had her chair reclined, half-sprawled.
"Manager's a vanilla latte, everyone else iced americano, right?"
"That's right. Did you ask Beomjun if he wants anything?"
"I was just about to."
They were ordering coffee. Looking at the pile of bodies, they clearly needed the caffeine. This line of work didn't come with set hours, so their stamina was running on fumes. If they worked out regularly they'd be fine. Exhibit A: Kim Sehee, who walked every day, looked perfectly alive. Gwak Hyeona clearly took care of herself too.
Kim Sehee stood up from her chair. She looked like she was coming over to ask me what I wanted to drink. She turned toward the door — and our eyes met.
"Aaaah! You scared me!"
Kim Sehee shrieked. It was loud enough to startle me too, but nobody else in the room so much as flinched. Are they all dead?
"B-Beomjun oppa?"
"Yeah."
At her call, I stepped fully into view.
"What are you doing out there?"
"Just wondering what you guys were up to."
Kim Sehee let out a sigh.
"Sheesh, seriously. I thought my heart was going to stop."
"Sorry."
"Don't do that next time. If you're curious, just come in and look."
"Yeah. Got it."
She lectured me over a two-word apology. Getting scolded by a little sister should have stung, but it didn't bother me at all. If anything, it felt like a kid throwing a cute little tantrum.
"Oppa, you want coffee or anything to drink?"
"Nah. I'm good."
"There's cake and bread too. You don't want any?"
"Yeah. After dinner I only drink water."
"Ohh, okay. Then we'll just get stuff for us."
"Cool."
Sehee went back to her seat and kept placing the order. Then my eyes met Gwak Hyeona's. The corner of her mouth ticked up, and she spoke.
"Not watching baseball today?"
"Ah. I was. I just stepped away."
"Are they winning?"
"Heh. We're up 8–0."
"Oh. What's gotten into the Eagles?"
"It's not like they lose every single day. Sometimes they have a night like this. ...Wait. Did I ever tell you I was an Eagles fan?"
I didn't think I'd ever mentioned I was an Eagles fan. I'd watched a game in the same space yesterday, but I hadn't been watching it with Gwak Hyeona. I asked her, puzzled, and got a deadpan answer.
"I listened to you for over two hours yesterday. It'd be weirder if I didn't know."
"Ah."
Now that she mentioned it. She'd told me to make myself comfortable, so I'd cranked the volume and settled in. The casters had been yapping about the Eagles-Bears game for two straight hours. Of course she'd heard.
"Wait? Oppa, you're an Eagles fan?"
Kim Sehee jumped in.
"Yeah."
"I'm a Bears fan."
"Wait, for real?"
"Yep!"
No way. One of the other items on my ideal-type checklist was a girl who watched baseball. I'd wanted, for years, to go to a ballpark together, cheer, make a date of it. Every time a couple got picked up on the broadcast, I'd been so jealous. And now Kim Sehee — who I was already pretty interested in — watched baseball? My crush just leveled up. Same team would have been even better, but a rival fan was fine. Just being able to enjoy the game together was a passing grade.
"Wait, the Eagles are winning 8–0? Aren't they playing the Bears today?"
"Yep. We're winning."
"Whaaat?! The Eagles are beating our Bears by eight runs? Don't lie to me!"
"Check it yourself."
Kim Sehee hammered at her phone, her face screaming disbelief. A moment later, the light went out of her eyes.
"No way. We can't lose today."
The Bears were in third, the Twins in fourth — the two teams had been flipping spots all season. If this game ended and the Twins won theirs, the standings would flip again. This was the second-half Eagles in a nutshell. The return of the Spoiler Eagles, announced in real time.
Kim Sehee stared at her phone in despair. She muttered.
"This can't be happening. I thought we'd win for sure..."
I'd been sure the Eagles would lose too. It was a 7.00 ERA versus a 2.00-something. A hundred out of a hundred people would pick the latter. Even Eagles fans would have written this one off. You'd cheer, sure, but you wouldn't expect anything — the kind of game you watch thinking, well, at least the prospect pitcher is getting innings. And yet? Four innings, zero runs. She was dealing like she'd just awakened.
"Oppa. What's wrong with her? Why does she have to awaken against our team?"
Kim Sehee's voice was wobbling toward tears. Okay, she was a real one. About to cry because the standings might flip. And this — this was the fun part of teasing a diehard.
Rival fans roasted the Eagles for living in the cellar like it was a daily meal. Which is exactly why, the second the Eagles actually won, their fans roasted the other team harder than anyone. I lived on the internet. I was one of them. How many times had Bears fans dunked on me? A golden chance to roast a Bears fan had just landed in my lap. But the target was Kim Sehee. I liked her. I couldn't go too hard. Keep it light. Light.
"Looks like the Bears hitters all ate something bad today. Zero mustard on those swings."
"Excuse me? What did you just say?"
"No, look. Nam Ji-yeon's pitching her usual stuff and your guys just can't hit it."
Nam Ji-yeon. Today's starter. This was only the second time I'd seen her pitch. The first baseball game I'd watched after arriving in the reversed world, she'd been the starter — two innings, six runs, yanked. Something like that. So I had no idea if this was her normal stuff or an awakening. I'd only seen two games. Didn't matter. What mattered was I could trash-talk.
"It's just velocity. The command's all over the place. Look at that. Two pitches bounce and they're still hacking."
"Ugh. What's wrong with these guys."
On Kim Sehee's phone screen, a Bears hitter swung through strike three and trudged back to the dugout. She stared at the screen, trembling. Then, suddenly, she killed the phone.
"Hey! Why'd you turn it off? This is fun, keep watching."
"Watch it on your own phone."
"Why? Let's watch together."
"The result's already obvious. What's the point? You watch it."
Kim Sehee stuck out her lower lip and grumbled. Ah. Now I want to tease her even more. So I would. The corners of my mouth climbed toward my cheekbones as I opened them.
"It's fun, though. Come on, watch with me."
And then she started her counterattack.
"Of course it's fun. You guys lose every day and finally won one."
"...Huh?"
"The Bears are 8–1 against the Eagles right now. They were due to drop one. It's fine. Worst case we fall to fourth. Meanwhile, where are the Hanwha sitting again?"
"W-wait a second."
Kim Sehee checked her phone and kept going.
"Tenth. Dead last. Thirteen games back of ninth? Even if you win, the playoffs are a pipe dream. Pfft."
The fact-check assault left me dizzy. Stay calm. We're the ones winning right now. I can counter!
"And which team is currently losing to that tenth-place club?"
"Baseball's a game where if you play three times, you win one, lose one, and the last one decides it. But the Eagles? Nine games, eight wins? This loss would only be their second. Can you even call that losing, oppa?"
Ah. Wait. That one hit bone. Faced with an irrefutable fact, I had nothing. My brain went blank. My mouth just opened and closed. But Kim Sehee wasn't done. The next pitch came right down the middle.
"The ninth-place Dinos are hitting .400 and the Eagles are at .300? Are you guys even a professional baseball team?"
"...I'm leaving."
Truth was, I was a lurker, not a front-line fighter. There was no way a regular Eagles fan like me was beating Kim Sehee, who was clearly a hooligan. I should have known the second she started tearing up over a loss. I turned my back like a soldier fleeing a massacre.
We'd won today's game. I'd lost mine.