Competition.
I hadn't won a single competition since entering high school.
"Who do you think will take the Blue Dragon Cup freshman starting pitcher spot? The ace position goes to second-year senior Kim Ki-gwang, obviously."
Starting pitcher.
Back when that position came up in conversation during my freshman year, my name would pop up now and then.
"Song Hyun-jun's got great control, and his curveball has no real competition among high school players. His stamina's solid too. Among the freshmen pitchers, isn't Hyun-jun the best bet?"
Song Hyun-jun. My name.
Up through middle school, my name got mentioned a lot in the baseball club. But not in high school baseball.
Competition.
There was a rival I could never overcome.
"How's Song Hyun-jun supposed to compete with Shin Su-ho?"
"Yeah, even matching up to that guy would be tough for him."
Shin Su-ho.
A wall I could never climb.
Whenever his name came up alongside mine from my classmates' mouths, I'd unconsciously turn my head to stare at that one pitcher.
Thwack!!
On the mound stood a pitcher with a superior physique hurling a ball like a cannon shot.
Whoosh.
After his pitch, he adjusted his cap visor.
Even in that ordinary motion, the girls who came to watch Shin Su-ho melted away.
"Kyaa!"
"Su-ho oppa!"
A second-year high schooler already dragging around his own fan club.
Shin Su-ho.
His dad was American or something—compared to the rest of us, he towered over everyone with his handsome looks.
But above all, the ball he threw was worlds apart from ours—mine included.
"Impressive as always."
The manager scanned the stands with a smiling face at Shin Su-ho's pitch.
His expression brimmed with pride, like he was checking the reactions of the pro scouts who'd come to our school.
And the scouts' responses lived up to that pride.
"Wow."
"Shin Su-ho really is the top high school class pitcher. You can see how heavy that ball is even from here."
"What's the velocity?"
"156 km/h."
"Not just his fastball— he's already got a slider that's beyond high school level."
"A 17-year-old slinging 156 km/h heat with pro-grade breaking balls? Haha, looks like we're witnessing the future of Korean baseball right now."
"Pretty much."
Pro scouts marveling openly at the sight of Shin Su-ho.
By contrast, when my turn to pitch came around, their reactions were pretty lukewarm.
"...Next up is second-year pitcher Song Hyun-jun."
"A textbook lefty with a clean delivery and excellent control. His main weapon, the curveball, is pretty solid among second-year pitchers too."
"What's the velocity?"
"135.1 km/h."
"Hm... His frame's on the smaller side, so the speed's lacking as expected."
"Yeah, his average velocity doesn't even crack the mid-130s."
"At that slow speed, he can't really capitalize on the lefty advantage."
The scouts' quick evaluations flew back and forth about me.
And their conclusion? It stung. Badly.
"In pro baseball right now, even lefties need 145 km/h to survive."
"Best case, he's got potential for a lower-tier college team."
Cold, hard assessments from the pro scouts.
That's how I learned it.
The limits of my talent.
Through middle school baseball, my lefty uniqueness, control, and breaking balls had let me shine. But at the high school level, pitchers with that kind of control and off-speed stuff were a dime a dozen.
The moment I stepped into high school, I felt the wall of true talent like a punch to the gut.
"We'll give the Blue Dragon Cup second-year starting spot to Shin Su-ho."
"Smart call."
"Hand the one-two punch to third-year Kim Ki-gwang and Su-ho, and we can coast to a Blue Dragon Cup win."
Conversations between the manager and head coach.
Song Hyun-jun. My name.
From my second year on, no one mentioned it anymore.
Then time passed again, and now we were all third-years with pro drafts on the horizon.
Even when I staked my entire career on overhauling my delivery, nothing really changed.
Thwack!
A sharper sound than before.
Control filling the catcher's mitt completely.
I'd definitely improved.
To throw harder, I'd completely revamped my mechanics. Watching my new form, my teammates all chimed in.
"Hey, doesn't Hyun-jun's new delivery look wild?"
At someone's voice, more eyes turned to observe my pitching.
"Where?"
"It's Tim Lincecum."
"Yeah, total Tim Lincecum."
Changing your mechanics as a pitcher is a huge gamble.
I'd taken that risk for better pitches, grinding my body to the bone. But even through all that effort, people talked more about "Tim Lincecum" than my name.
My name was gone from baseball.
"Hyun-jun."
Finally, the manager called my name.
"I heard from the pitching coach that you changed your delivery."
"Yes."
"Why?"
The manager asked.
Why I'd done it.
To his half-hearted question, I answered with raw honesty.
"I want to survive somehow."
"...What?"
"I don't want to fall too far behind in the competition. That's why I changed it."
I flashed a big smile with my answer.
Not far off, etched clearly on the pitch-tracking monitor: my top velocity.
[139.9 km/h]
Twisting my whole body for my best pitch, but my fastball still couldn't break 140.
The manager followed my gaze, confirming my best pitch and its speed.
Then he left one final comment.
"Good effort."
That's it.
This is enough.
I tried to convince myself of that, but before long, my eyes started burning hot.
Suddenly, I noticed Shin Su-ho taking the mound in my place after my session ended.
Pat pat.
Shin Su-ho smoothed out the mound with those long legs I'd just trod upon.
Like he was erasing every trace I'd left behind.
Then, satisfied, he toed the rubber.
As a third-year, his frame had grown even larger, his features sharper and more defined.
"Su-ho oppa!"
"Fighting!"
The girls still trailed him—in greater numbers now.
The scouts had multiplied too, with a few foreigners sprinkled in.
All that attention for Shin Su-ho, not me.
Bathed in it all, he unleashed his pitch.
From his tall, superior build came Shin Su-ho's ferocious fastball.
Under everyone's gaze, it tore into the catcher's mitt like a cannonball.
Thwaaang!!!
The massive sound shook the stadium.
Then I saw it. We all did.
[159.1 km/h]
Shin Su-ho, leaving his mark not just on high school baseball, but all of Korean baseball.
159.1 km/h.
A realm I could neither surpass nor even touch.
Witnessing it, I clenched my loosely hanging fist tight.
"Good work out there."
At the end of the day's session, I approached Shin Su-ho as he untied his spikes.
"Shin Su-ho."
I called his name.
His face turned to me, expression unchanged.
Staring at that perfect face, I slowly spoke.
"What's it like being born with everything?"
"What?"
I studied his reaction closely.
An expression that said he couldn't care less about someone like me.
I seethed for a moment, but there was nothing I could do right then.
In this high school league, he was the king.
"Just asking. Anyway... good work today, Shin Su-ho."
Hiding my true feelings, I left the field.
Honestly, I wanted to ask outright.
How do you do it? How do you throw that fast?
I wanted his secret.
And...
I wanted to win.
If I couldn't beat him, at least I didn't want to lose.
A way.
I didn't even need to surpass Shin Su-ho anymore.
I knew it was impossible now.
But I wanted to at least chase his shadow.
Because I'm a baseball player.
Because I didn't want to give up on baseball.
Desperate.
But realistically, I had no options.
Helplessness.
Feeling it through my whole body, I wrapped up another ordinary day just like always.
"What the hell do I have to do..."
On the way home.
It was suffocating. Going home in this mood wouldn't let me sleep.
My throat was parched too.
Suddenly gripped by burning thirst, I looked around.
[Jiwon Mart]
Spotting the convenience store sign, I dragged my weary feet toward it.
Ding-a-ling.
"Welcome."
A flat, emotionless voice from the part-timer.
Stepping into the local big-box mart with that greeting.
Was there a place like this around here?
I'd been so focused on baseball for years, I hadn't even noticed it.
"Where's the bottled water?"
To my question, the clerk—who looked about my age—pointed lazily in one direction with a blank expression.
I followed his finger to the refrigerated section.
I grabbed a bottle of water in plain sight.
Heading to the counter to pay.
".......What the hell is this?"
I thought I'd seen wrong at first.
The drinks neatly lined up in the cooler. Among them, a glass bottle of orange soda.
On that glass bottle floated strange letters.
They literally hovered there.
[Velocity +1]
I shifted positions and checked again, but the sight before me didn't change much.
What is this?
Am I hallucinating from desperation? Is the survival stress messing with my head?
"Get it together, Song Hyun-jun."
No matter how much I rubbed my eyes, the text floating over the bottle wouldn't vanish.
It captured me in clear, vivid letters.
[Velocity +1]
Does this mean drinking it boosts velocity by 1?
No other meaning came to mind right then.
Without thinking, my left hand reached out and grabbed the glass bottle.
Thud.
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