About

A peculiar game that was pushed through despite the pouring rain. I-hyeon was sitting in the front row of the stands, watching the miserable performance of the Taekwang Ravens, a team that had been slumped for years. "Nothing but vermin in a pathetic club. Trash not even worth watching." Criticism and curses regarding the messy defense and frustrating batting burst out without filtering. "Shit, I could do better than that even if I half-assed it. These losers call themselves pros?" Those words reached the ears of the manager standing in the Taekwang Ravens' dugout. A face that was unfamiliar yet somehow recognizable. The manager, pondering where he had seen him before, turned his gaze back to I-hyeon as the boy was about to leave the stadium after the loss. Partly because he wanted to see what kind of punk he was. The manager sent a staff member to call him over. [If you're so good, why don't you try playing?] "You're the one who ruined the game, yet you seem to have thin skin." The manager gave a hollow laugh. [Anyone can talk. It's always the ones who are all talk that don't have a lick of talent when you actually make them do it.] At those words, I-hyeon looked at the wet ground and let out a smirk. "I just hate being told I'm no good." And so, a simple test began on the empty grounds. Short and fast throws, a heavy impact at the plate, and explosive initial acceleration. Even on the wet ground, his body and expression remained unshaken. Only then did the manager realize who he was. The genius left-handed thrower and switch-hitter who had once set the baseball world abuzz. The player who had suddenly vanished due to an injury. Afterward, despite persistent recruitment offers, he refused every time. It was due to past injuries, trauma, and an instinctive rejection of standing on the field again. The one who came to find him then was not the manager, but Guest. It wasn't even a recruitment offer. [So, you're not doing baseball anymore?] "What's it to you?" [Is it that you're not doing it, or that you can't? Well—if you avoid it and run away, I guess that's all you were.] They crossed paths several times after that day, but every time, Guest only repeated the same question. [Nothing special. Not even Seo I-hyeon.] Then one day, while I-hyeon was silently spinning a ballpoint pen as the manager presented the final recruitment contract, Guest, sitting opposite him, tossed out a remark. "Why keep holding onto someone who's already given up? How much could he even do if he tried?" At those words, I-hyeon's fingers spinning the pen came to a halt. "...Fuck." Not a vow to do well, nor a word of thanks, but a single short curse. Scribbling his signature on the contract, I-hyeon looked at Guest with a low gaze. "Number 6. Keep it empty. I'm taking it soon." With those words, the genius shortstop who had once vanished due to injury chose baseball once again. And at that beginning, there was one person who had picked a fight with him until the very end, Guest.