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By the fifth inning, Dranred had already sent a pitch flying over the fence—a clean home run against the Major League pitcher. From that moment, the opposing player began to unravel. His rhythm faltered, his patience wore thin, and when Dranred's teammates executed consecutive bunt plays, his temper finally snapped. His frustration turned on everyone, even his own teammates.
Then came the mistake.
A fastball slipped from his control and struck a batter on the hip.
"Dead ball!" the umpire called.
The pitcher was immediately removed from the mound, much to the crowd's shock—and to Dranred's team's advantage.
By the seventh inning, Nathan slammed another home run, securing a 2–0 lead for the National Team. The crowd erupted in cheers, the air thick with excitement and disbelief. They hadn't just held their ground against a Major League pitcher—they were dominating.
Spectators and scouts alike were in awe. Dranred wasn't the only standout that night; Nathan's sharp game calls and the team's airtight defense drew equal praise. For once, the National Team looked like a force worth remembering.
When the game ended in a 2–0 victory, the stadium buzzed with energy. Scouts rushed down to meet the players, eager to note names, shake hands, and find their next recruit.
But one player was missing.
Dranred.
Charlie scanned the crowd, confusion creasing his brow. The young man had vanished the moment the game ended. Then, from across the field, he spotted him—standing near the edge of the bleachers, talking to Rosette.
Charlie's expression hardened. It wasn't anger that stirred inside him, but worry. He didn't disapprove of the girl; she was kind, steady, and had once been a source of strength for Dranred.
But Charlie had seen this before—how his nephew let his heart pull him away from his dream. Years ago, he gave up his own shot at baseball for a promise to someone else. Charlie feared that history might repeat itself.
"I didn't know you'd be here today," Dranred said as he approached Rosette, a soft surprise in his voice.
He hadn't expected her to come. As far as he knew, James's basketball team was playing its semi-finals that same afternoon. But there she was—he had noticed her earlier, standing in the stands during the fifth inning, cheering at the top of her lungs after his home run.
That single moment had lit something inside him. Every pitch, every swing afterward—he felt driven, alive.
He'd wanted to finish the game himself, to stand on that mound until the very end.
Not for the scouts.
Not for the crowd.
But for her.
He wanted her to be proud of him.
"I told James I'd be leaving early," Rosette said with a gentle smile. "But I had to see your finals game. It was worth it, Dranred. I saw you shine again."
"You really are a sweet talker," Dranred replied, resting a hand on her head. "Keep saying things like that and I might have to lock you up in a tower."
"Huh?" she blinked, confused by his teasing.
"Never mind," he said with a small laugh. His tone softened. "Thank you for being here."
Rosette glanced toward the dugout, where a crowd had already gathered around the team. "Is it okay for you to be out here? Looks like a lot of people are talking to your teammates."
"It's fine," Dranred said with a calm smile. "They can handle it." His gaze followed hers. "Those are scouts from the Major leagues."
"M–Major?" Rosette repeated, her eyes widening.
"Yeah," he said, his voice steady but bright with excitement. "Seems they're looking for players to bring into the Majors."
"That's… that's a good thing for you, right?" she asked, her voice faltering slightly. For some reason, her chest felt tight. She knew how long he'd dreamed of playing in the Majors—since high school, when it was all he ever talked about. She should have been thrilled for him. But instead, something inside her twisted with fear.
"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't," Dranred admitted, clenching his fist unconsciously as if he could already feel the future in his hands. "You know how long I've wanted this. And now… with scouts actually watching our games—it feels like my dream is finally within reach."
Rosette froze, watching his expression light up with genuine happiness. She'd never seen that look before—pure, unguarded joy.
And for the first time… it scared her.
Because she realized that the more he reached for that dream, the farther he might drift from her.
The reason Dranred never pursued his own dream was because he had been too busy chasing James's. He gave up his own path so his brother's dream could live on.
And now that fate was finally giving him a second chance—to reclaim what he once lost—Rosette knew he wouldn't hesitate to reach for it. He deserved to.
But then why did it feel like he was slipping farther away from her?
Her chest tightened with every thought. She told herself it wasn't right to feel this way—to feel afraid of his success. She should be proud, happy even. She was his number one fan, wasn't she?
Then why did it suddenly hurt to imagine him shining in a world where she couldn't follow?
Dranred noticed the faint change in Rosette's eyes — the way her smile faltered for just a heartbeat before she forced it back. It was subtle, something most people wouldn't even catch. But he did.
He wanted to say something, to ask if she was all right, but the words never came. Maybe it was because he knew she would only tell him she was fine. Or maybe, deep down, he was afraid of what she might really say.
For years, he'd lived for other people's dreams. Now that his own was finally within reach, he thought he should feel nothing but excitement. Yet seeing her standing there — proud, but with a sadness she couldn't hide — made the victory feel strangely hollow.
He clenched his hand again, trying to hold onto the warmth of her presence, as if that alone could steady him. Because even if he had to chase his dream far away from here, a part of him wished he could take her with him.