The Prodigy Who Rejected the Major League Chapter 2

Episode 2

 

Once more.

 

I never imagined I would regress again.

 

“Son? Are you awake?”

 

Mom opened my bedroom door and stepped inside.

 

“Oh my? You’re already up?”

 

Since her ‘athlete’ son loved to sleep in, she always woke me like this.

 

“Yes. Just now.”

 

“Well, would you look at that. The sun must be rising in the west today.”

 

The first time I regressed, I burst into tears the moment I saw that my mother was alive.

 

But even now, just looking at her face made my eyes sting.

 

It had only been yesterday that I’d stood in front of our family photo at the columbarium.

 

“Son? What is it? Did something happen?”

 

“No. The sunlight’s just too bright.”

 

The mother who had been smiling so brightly in that photograph was standing right in front of me now.

 

***

 

This was my second regression, yet it still felt strange.

 

For me, it was breakfast after traveling twenty years back in time.

 

But for my parents, it was simply the same today as yesterday.

 

After breakfast, my father asked to speak with me.

 

“Seongjun, have a seat.”

 

What had he said back then?

 

“As your father, I’m honestly worried. Your mom feels the same. Of course, I believe you’ll do well. I do believe that. But still. If they were at least giving you a big signing bonus, that might be different. Fifty thousand dollars isn’t right, is it? I’m not saying this because I’m being materialistic…”

 

Ah. I remember now.

 

Before my first regression, I didn’t understand how important a signing bonus was.

 

Fifty thousand dollars, so what? What’s the problem?

 

Back then, I thought as long as I played well, that was all that mattered.

 

And in my first year in the minors, the team had indeed placed high expectations on me.

 

But in my second year, all attention shifted to the franchise’s local white pre–superstar, drafted first overall in the nation and signed for $5.5 million.

 

$50,000 vs. $5,500,000.

 

In my previous life, the game had ended before I even got the chance to properly start.

 

“Wouldn’t it be better to stay in Korea? I just want you to think it over one more time. If you’re still determined after that, then I’ll fully support you.”

 

Back then, I had persuaded my parents, saying it wasn’t about the money… I wanted to learn advanced baseball in America.

 

But then… wait a second.

 

“Dad, just a moment.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Don’t tell me… I haven’t signed the contract yet?

 

“What’s today’s date?”

 

Mom told me it was June 30th.

 

For a second, I almost let out a hollow laugh.

 

Thinking about my first regression, I’d assumed it would be the same day.

 

But it wasn’t. It was a month earlier.

 

“I haven’t signed yet…”

 

The first time I regressed, I had run forward with only success in mind.

 

I failed to look around me.

 

No, let’s say it properly.

 

It wasn’t that I couldn’t look around.

 

I simply didn’t.

 

And in the end, I regretted it.

 

Of course, by an athlete’s standards, it was a successful life.

 

But that was all it was.

 

I had no family left to celebrate with me.

 

“Dad. Mom.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’ve already decided. I’m not going to the U.S. I’m staying here.”

 

“What? Since when?”

 

“Since before Dad even started talking.”

 

My father looked faintly deflated.

 

Maybe he thought I wasn’t the type to give up so easily.

 

Mom, on the other hand, looked genuinely happy.

 

“That’s good, son. You made the right choice. They say it’s hard if you go to America at a young age. You can always go later after proving yourself in Korea.”

 

“Yes. I’ll do that.”

 

The moment I said it, an incredible sense of relief washed over me.

 

And there was someone else I wanted to tell.

 

“I’ll head out for a bit.”

 

“Alright. Go on. Do you have some allowance?”

 

Allowance?

 

“You’re going to see Seunghye, aren’t you? It’s not right for a boy to keep getting treated all the time. I’ll pay for you today.”

 

***

 

As I left the house, I called Seunghye. I suggested we meet at the swings in the neighborhood park.

 

We lived in the same neighborhood…

 

That was why we’d been kindergarten classmates.

 

My steps quickened. Without realizing it, I felt impatient.

 

Then a convenience store caught my eye.

 

I went in and bought two iced Americanos.

 

Seunghye was already at the playground.

 

Her house was closer, after all.

 

This wasn’t the Seunghye I’d seen last night.

 

It was nineteen-year-old Seunghye standing there.

 

I took a deep breath and walked toward her.

 

“Here.”

 

I handed her the iced Americano.

 

“Oh! Thanks.”

 

Both Seunghye and I shared one thing in common: we drank iced Americanos year-round.

 

“But why did you want to see me?”

 

She reminded me that we were already planning to watch a movie together that evening.

 

Ah? Were we?

 

“What’s with that look? Don’t tell me… You forgot already?”

 

It had been over twenty years ago. Of course I wouldn’t remember…

 

No, that’s not really an excuse, is it?

 

“Sorry.”

 

It felt like I had to apologize.

 

“Did you forget because you’ve been thinking too much? You’ve had a lot on your mind lately, haven’t you? Is it because of that?”

 

Worries? What had I told her back then?

 

“About going to the U.S.”

 

“I decided not to go. I’m staying in Korea.”

 

“Really?”

 

Seunghye’s eyes widened.

 

“You really wanted to go, though. That’s why you kept worrying about it.”

 

She asked if I was sure, if I wouldn’t regret it.

 

So back then, I’d told her everything that was in my heart.

 

“Yes. I’m fine. Once I make a decision, I don’t look back.”

 

“Oh? You sound cool today.”

 

Along with my parents, she was the person I regretted losing the most.

 

She had always listened and empathized with everything I said.

 

And yet, I was the one who first drifted away.

 

“So why did you call me out?”

 

The conversation circled back to the beginning.

 

“Oh! You called me to tell me about staying in Korea, didn’t you?”

 

“Huh? Oh… yeah.”

 

“Well, it’s an important decision. Still… I’m glad that you told me directly.”

 

She tilted her head slightly as she looked at me.

 

There was a smile in her eyes.

 

How long had it been since I’d seen that eye-smile up close?

 

Before I knew it, I pulled her into a hug.

 

“Hey. This is a playground.”

 

“So what? It’s not like I’m trying to kiss you.”

 

“What? You… seriously.”

 

“I’m just hugging you. Let’s stay like this a little longer.”

 

“It’s hot.”

 

“Just a little.”

 

“Then really just a little.”

 

“Okay.”

 

My heart felt warm and soft.

 

***

 

Even though I had decided to stay in Korea, I didn’t plan on announcing it right away.

 

“Announce it later?”

 

“Yes. It’s not like people care that much about me anyway.”

 

The media and fans were focused on Moon Seungchan from Jeongchun High.

 

Last year had even been called the “Moon Seungchan League.”

 

But Moon still hadn’t made a final decision about going to the U.S. or staying in Korea.

 

In the end, he would announce his move to the U.S. just one day before the draft deadline, but that was another matter.

 

Anyway.

 

Deciding to stay was one thing.

 

But shouldn’t I at least receive proper treatment and attention?

 

In my previous life in America, I had learned painfully how important that was.

 

And if I were staying in Korea anyway,

 

I honestly wanted to play for the team my parents cheered for.

 

The night before my regression, I had met Seunghye and made a verbal agreement with her agency.

 

My desire to play for the team my late parents had supported all their lives was genuine.

 

“Don’t you like that idea?”

 

“It’s not that. Now that I think about it, it might not be bad.”

 

“Mom is totally in favor.”

 

I’d expected as much.

 

She had been the one who pulled my soccer-fan father into loving baseball.

 

“But just because you want it doesn’t mean you can choose the team.”

 

The KBO rookie draft was full.

 

And this year, the Daegu Bay Suns held the first overall pick in the first round.

 

They had finished last in the league for the first time in franchise history the previous year.

 

As a result, the general manager and coaching staff had all been replaced.

 

“The first round is definitely going to be a pitcher.”

 

Mom said that in the community forums she frequented, there were strong rumors that the Bay Suns were putting enormous effort into recruiting Moon Seungchan from Jeongchun High.

 

To be honest, even without the ‘Moon Seungchan League,’

 

It was well known that the Korean draft favored pitchers first.

 

So even though I was evaluated as a first-round–level catcher,

 

Most people expected I would be selected later rather than earlier.

 

‘If I’m only a catcher, then yeah, I’d be picked last.’

 

***

 

Before my regression, in the minors, I had converted to a pitcher at a coach’s suggestion. He rated my arm highly.

 

Maybe I truly had talent.

 

I climbed the ladder step by step, all the way to Triple-A.

 

But injuries caught up with me.

 

And I learned that no one waits for an aging, once-promising prospect going through rehab.

 

So when I regressed,

 

I chose to become neither a catcher nor a pitcher, but a position player.

 

As a catcher, I had no confidence in beating the first overall franchise local white pre-superstar.

 

As a pitcher, the fear of injury still lingered.

 

But it wasn’t a choice made out of desperation.

 

My scouting report had even noted that I possessed unusually fast speed for a catcher. I was confident in my legs.

 

I had been praised for my hitting talent.

 

And thanks to that coach who urged me to convert, I knew I could throw 98 miles per hour.

 

On top of that, I had the advantage of knowledge as a regressor…

 

In this life, I knew someone who could reduce my trial and error.

 

And so I succeeded as a position player, playing fifteen seasons in the Major Leagues.

 

***

 

Now, in my second regression,

 

I knew how weak my body was at this stage.

 

But there’s a limit to what you can do training alone.

 

So I decided to seek professional help.

 

In my most recent life, I had been a successful Major Leaguer, and I knew a fair number of future rising stars.

 

Among them was a coach who specialized in baseball-focused training.

 

When I went to find him, I discovered he had only just returned from the U.S. and recently started working.

 

He didn’t know me.

 

But I knew him.

 

That alone made everything feel strangely surreal again.

 

The atmosphere at school was different from my first regression.

 

Back then, we were in the middle of the President’s Cup tournament.

 

Now, the second-half weekend league had ended,

 

And after getting eliminated in the preliminaries of the Blue Dragon Tournament,

 

We were practically on a break.

 

Just focusing on recovering stamina and managing condition in preparation for the President’s Cup in three weeks.

 

Of course, the intensity and volume of training were the same.

 

The difference was that, unlike during a tournament, there was downtime.

 

And I intended to use that downtime wisely… for myself.

 

***

 

This year, our school’s best result has been reaching the semifinals of the E-Mart Cup.

 

We were eliminated in the quarterfinals of the Golden Lion Tournament and knocked out in the preliminaries of the Blue Dragon Tournament.

 

“The weakness is obvious. We don’t have a true ace.”

 

Our defense was solid and our offense decent,

 

But we lacked a pitcher who could overpower opponents.

 

Kim Jewoo had been filling the ace role.

 

After touching 150 at the E-Mart Cup, his velocity was now hovering in the mid-140s, but he had the advantage of being a left-handed pitcher.

 

Right-hander Kim Hyunsoo wasn’t bad either, with a mid-140s fastball and solid slider control.

 

Jung Chansu could consistently hit the mid-140s as well.

 

Hong Chansik’s low-140s fastball was a bit underwhelming, but his breaking-ball command was good.

 

Beyond them, the senior pitchers, Lee Minsu, Ahn Suchang, and Han Minseong, were all solid by high school standards.

 

In short, we didn’t have that one overwhelming weapon.

 

Why go into so much detail?

 

Because I intend to be that weapon.

 

To become the awl that pierces through a pocket.

 

***

 

“Minsu! Choi Minsu!”

 

“Yes, sunbae!”

 

“You busy?”

 

“No, sir. I was just resting.”

 

During break time, I called over Choi Minsu, the second-year catcher.

 

“Sorry for calling you out while everyone else is resting, but you’re the only one who can catch for me.”

 

“No problem at all, sunbae!”

 

Our high school team had three catchers:

 

One senior, one second-year, and one freshman who had just graduated from middle school.

 

If it wasn’t Choi Minsu, there was no one to receive my pitches.

 

“But what do you mean by catch?”

 

“Ah, I’m thinking of throwing from the mound.”

 

“You don’t pitch, though.”

 

It was true. I had never pitched in high school. Since putting on the catcher’s mask, I’d never taken the mound.

 

“I’m going to start doing it now.”

 

Minsu replied, “Ah, I see.”

 

But he didn’t look convinced.

 

More like he thought his senior just felt like throwing for fun.

 

First, we played light catch to warm up my shoulder.

 

Then I set him behind the plate and began a proper warm-up.

 

In the Major Leagues, even after succeeding as a position player, I occasionally pitched.

 

Not as a true two-way player…

 

But in games where the team had burned through too many pitchers, I’d eat a garbage inning or two.

 

Every season had games like that.

 

And whenever they did, I volunteered.

 

‘The fans loved it.’

 

At first, it was just fan service.

 

But I threw better than expected.

 

More and more fans began looking forward to my appearances on the mound,

 

And when the fans enjoyed it, I kept getting chances.

 

‘The position player who throws as well as a pitcher.’

 

It became my signature.

 

‘And then one season, I actually met the qualification for two-way status. Ha.’

 

The requirement had been at least twenty innings pitched in a season.

 

Anyway,

 

I kept taking the mound occasionally all the way through my retirement season.

 

Maybe that’s why…

 

As I continued throwing warm-up pitches at moderate strength,

 

I could feel the old pitching sensation from my Major League days returning.

 

‘This should be enough.’

 

Not perfect.

 

Feel is something you regain little by little.

 

For now, let me throw one with the sensation that’s coming back.

 

“Minsu! This one’s for real!”

 

“Yeah~.”

 

Still that half-hearted response.

 

If you keep that up, you’re going to get surprised.

 

Whoosh!

 

BANG!