The long-awaited semi-final day had finally come — the National Team versus Mexico. One step away from the finals. One step away from Dranred fulfilling his promise to James.
Inside the dugout, the team buzzed with restless energy, but Dranred sat quietly, his head bowed, fingers flexing around the baseball in his hand. His heartbeat was loud in his ears — quick, heavy, uneven. He couldn't tell if it was excitement or something else entirely. Ever since the last innings of the quarterfinals, his throwing arm had been acting up — a strange numbness that came and went without warning. It didn't hurt exactly, but it made him uneasy. The last thing he wanted was for his body to betray him now, when they were so close to the top.
"Dranred, you've got an incoming call," one of his teammates said, tapping his shoulder. He hadn't even realized his phone was buzzing beside him.
"Are you okay? You look a little out of it," the teammate added.
"Yeah," Dranred said with a faint smile. "I'm fine."
"Then answer it — your 'My Light' is calling." The player grinned knowingly. "Let me guess, Rosette?"
"Go away," Dranred muttered, chuckling under his breath.
"Lucky guy. A star pitcher and a supportive girlfriend," the teammate teased before walking off.
Dranred glanced up to see Nathan watching from across the dugout. Their eyes met briefly — Nathan's expression unreadable — before Dranred looked down and accepted the video call.
"Am I interrupting?" Rosette asked, her soft voice instantly easing the tension in his shoulders.
"Not at all," he said, smiling as her face appeared on the screen. "You called at the perfect time. I needed a recharge."
Rosette studied him through the camera. Even with that charming smile of his, she could tell something wasn't right. "Is something wrong?" she asked. "You're smiling, but your eyes… they say otherwise."
He chuckled quietly. "You can tell?"
"Of course I can. What's going on?"
"There's nothing to worry about," he said, though the words felt heavier than he intended. "I just… miss you."
"Don't lie to me, Dranred. What's really bothering you?" she pressed gently.
He exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to his right arm. "In moments like this," he said, "I wish you were here. Seeing you through a screen isn't enough."
Rosette's cheeks warmed. His words always had that effect on her, no matter how many times she heard them. "You're not doubting yourself, are you?" she asked. "You've made it this far. Don't let what James said get to you."
He shook his head. "What he said wasn't wrong. He meant to motivate me, and I want to earn his approval — I really do."
"You've already proven yourself," she said softly. "You just don't see it yet."
Dranred's smile faltered. "Sometimes, I wonder if I can really make it," he admitted. "My arm's been acting strange lately — numb, like I can't feel my grip for a second or two. It started during the last game."
Rosette's eyes widened with worry. "What? Dranred, that's serious! You need to tell your coach—"
He quickly cut her off with a gentle smile. "Don't worry, it's nothing big. Probably just exhaustion. I'll be fine after this game."
"Don't you dare push yourself too far," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "The finals won't mean anything if you're hurt."
Her words hit him like a quiet truth — firm, but full of love. "You always know what to say," he murmured. "You're my calm before the storm, Rosette."
She smiled faintly. "Then promise me something."
"Anything."
"Play smart. Not just for the win, but for yourself. And whatever happens, know that I'll be proud of you no matter what."
Dranred stared at her face on the screen for a moment — memorizing every detail, every soft curve of her smile. "You have no idea how much strength you give me," he said. "Every pitch I throw, every run I make — it's because of you. You're my light, remember?"
Rosette felt her heart race. "You and your sweet words," she whispered, though her eyes softened. "Now, go out there and prove yourself. Make that promise come true."
"I will," he said, his voice steady now. "And when I win this game, I'll be one step closer to earning James's blessing — and to keeping you forever."
Rosette laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"Only because I love you," he replied with that same confident smile.
"I love you too, my Superstar," she said.
A moment of silence passed between them — warm, full, and unspoken. Then, as the sound of the announcer's voice echoed through the stadium, Dranred took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the ball.
"It's time," he said.
"Go get them," Rosette whispered. "I'll be watching."
The call ended, and for a moment, Dranred sat still — eyes closed, heart steady. The noise of the crowd swelled around him, but inside, all he could hear was her voice echoing softly in his mind.
He stood, rolled his shoulders, and flexed his arm. The numbness was still there, faint but present. Still, he forced a smile.
Because for her — for his team — and for that promise he made — he couldn't afford to stop now.
Meanwhile, in a taxi on the way to the stadium, Rosette stared out the window while James sat beside her.
"You didn't tell him you'd be watching live?" James asked, glancing at her.
"I forgot," she admitted, still looking outside. "But why did you have to give him such a big challenge?"
James smirked slightly. "Why? Did he say he couldn't do it? If he can't, then he doesn't deserve my approval."
"You're too hard on him," Rosette said quietly.
"And you're too obvious about taking his side," James countered.
"I'm just worried," she murmured.
"Then trust him," James said. "That's the best thing you can do right now. You know Dranred—he's not someone who gives up easily."
In truth, James was proud. He had accompanied Rosette to Japan to watch Dranred play in both the semi-finals and, hopefully, the finals. He hadn't expected Dranred to take his words so seriously—or to push himself so hard just to earn his approval.
Now, it was James's turn to show support. Maybe even to find the right moment to make amends—to thank Dranred for helping with the case involving their parents. Dranred had done what no one else could, and James knew he owed him for that.
When they arrived at the stadium, the game was already in the second inning. Rosette's eyes immediately went to the mound—and her heart dropped.
Dranred wasn't there. Another pitcher was playing for the national team.
"I thought he was the starting pitcher," Rosette whispered.
James frowned, looking toward the scoreboard. Mexico had already scored two home runs in the first inning, and by the second, they had another run on the board. The bases were loaded, and no outs yet.
"What's happening?" Rosette asked in alarm.
A man sitting behind them leaned forward. "The starter stepped down right before the first inning began. They said he wasn't feeling well. This team's done for—their defense is falling apart. No hope now."
Rosette's stomach tightened. "James…" she said helplessly.
He clenched his jaw. "There's nothing we can do—"
"I have to see him," Rosette said, standing abruptly. But James caught her wrist before she could go.
"And do you even know where to find him?" he asked firmly.
She froze. He was right—Dranred didn't even know she was there. He hadn't mentioned it when they talked. Still, she couldn't shake the unease that was clawing at her chest. Something was wrong.