I felt a little lighter, nonetheless.
I put on the glove I'd brought and entered the pitching facility.
I figured it was fine, even without a coach to watch my form.
"Stop letting your arm drop. You're a three-quarter, almost sidearm, and it's unstable."
I tried to correct my arm angle on my own, just as I'd been criticized for in the dream.
"Put more power into your back heel. Get your release point further out in front. Rotate your hips faster! Your windup is too long! What are you going to do if a fast runner steals on you?"
By putting more power into my lower body for stability and rotating my hips with more force, I was able to shorten my windup, which had been a weakness.
Clang, clang!
The balls flew into the black target hanging on the net.
The speed wasn't fast.
Even considering it was practice, it was only about 136 km/h.
I was a pitcher whose main weapons were a two-seam fastball and a slider.
Unlike a fireballer like Woo Seung-geon, who overpowered batters, I had to confuse them with breaking balls.
That meant I had to focus on my control more than anyone, and when I focused on control, my spin rate would drop, weakening my pitch's power.
Watching Woo Seung-geon, my eyes would sparkle, wishing I could be a player with that kind of power, but everyone has different talents.
I was a player who was good at putting the ball exactly where the catcher wanted it.
Since my power was weak, I had to deceive batters with breaking balls like splitters and curves.
Thanks to that, I had to meticulously hone my techniques.
"Grip the seams tighter! Your rotation is weak!"
"Your arm is too high! You'll get overloaded like that!"
The special training from the coach in my dream was proving very useful.
I continuously threw practice balls, correcting my posture myself.
I was confused about whether I should be thanking the dream-version of Coach Ahn if my pitching improved.
Slide.
As the employee opened the sliding door, I saw Woo Seung-geon sitting at a low, traditional table.
He looked neat, wearing jeans and a white shirt, with his hair pushed back.
He was already a striking figure, but seeing him in street clothes like that made me have an absurd thought.
'Senior Seung-geon... looks like a model.'
I knew he had actually been a cover model for a few domestic magazines before he went to the Major Leagues.
They were all semi-nude photos, topless.
Since it was for a men's magazine, the composition was less about a sexual atmosphere to appeal to the opposite sex, and more like he was showing off a physique that would work even in America. But the articles said that the issues with him as the model sold out, with a spike in sales from female buyers.
To think that such a person had put in effort, dressing up and styling his hair neatly, just to meet me.
'…He really does like me.'
His feelings, which I had ignored before, finally seemed to be in clear view.
His appearance, meticulously put together to look good for someone he likes, and his warm gaze, his eyes smiling as soon as he saw me.
I felt embarrassed for some reason and had to look away.
"Well then, I will bring out the 2-person course as it's ready."
The employee bowed politely, closed the door, and left, leaving just the two of us in the small room.
He gestured to the seat in front of him.
"You arrived right on time. You could have taken your time. Did you come quickly because you missed me?"
A playful tone mixed with his warm voice.
I tried not to be conscious of this side of him, which he showed to no one else, and replied nonchalantly, "It's rude to be late."
"You really are so rigid. You've never even done anything bad, have you?"
"I've been to a club."
"Going to a club is doing something bad?"
I sat down in front of Woo Seung-geon, who was laughing in amusement.
It felt strange to see the spoons, chopsticks, and water cup already set.
Everywhere I went, I was the one grilling the meat and setting the table, but to think that Woo Seung-geon, a man the entire nation knew, had prepared my place setting… it almost felt like I was being treated.
I fiddled with the water cup that was already there and said, "Speaking of clubs, you really need to be careful with your relationships, Senior. You can't get caught up in gossip."
"My goodness. It's not like you're my manager."
"It would be even better if you met someone nice and got married."
At the mention of marriage, Woo Seung-geon's expression turned grim.
"Why do you care about my marriage?"
"You said you came back to Korea because you were lonely."
"Just because I'm lonely doesn't mean I'll date or marry just anyone."
"Then you should start thinking about a partner."
"I have one. I just haven't been able to propose yet."
"Who would turn you down if you confessed, Senior?"
"There is someone. That's the problem."
He said this while staring intently at me.
At his gaze, my mouth, which had been chattering on, clamped shut.
I didn't have the personality to be so shameless as to stare back innocently, as if I didn't know anything.
But I wasn't that dense, either.
As a pitcher who threw with precision, my personality was also on the sensitive side.
So it wasn't that I couldn't pick up on his steady gaze or the suggestive words he was dropping.
"I love you, Seong-ha."
And besides, I had received his stark confession in the dream.
It was a weird feeling, too, because every time I tried to dismiss that dream as absurd, the exact same things would happen in reality.
That's why.
"I like you too, Senior. And that's why we can't date."
It must have been an answer he never expected.
Woo Seung-geon stared, wide-eyed, unable to say a word.
His lips parted and twitched, and he reacted a beat too late.
"Did you just…"
Slide.
The door opened, and the employee returned, pulling a tray of food.
"Here is your assorted tuna sashimi and side dishes."
Even as the employee diligently filled the empty table with plates, Woo Seung-geon anxiously studied my face.
The employee was placing the food so slowly and deliberately that the brief silence felt agonizingly long.
After finishing the setup, the employee bowed politely.
"Please let us know if you need anything."
Slide.
The moment the door closed, Woo Seung-geon let out the voice he had been holding back.
"You like me? Seriously? Huh?"
Instead of answering, I placed a piece of tuna sashimi on his plate.
"This is fatty tuna belly. Eat up."
He wasn't listening to me.
"Shin Seong-ha, I asked if you like me."
Woo Seung-geon hadn't even touched his chopsticks to the food.
I could clearly hear his raised voice and quickened breathing, as if he was excited.
I couldn't keep ignoring his gaze, which was staring at me without even blinking.
I couldn't put off the answer any longer.
Since things had come to this, wasn't it my responsibility to handle the atmosphere?
"Yes. I'm too straight-laced to sleep with someone I don't like."
Woo Seung-geon said nothing.
He looked like he was exercising extreme self-control, afraid he might misspeak at this critical moment.
Meanwhile, I was cursing myself.
'You crazy bastard… What are you doing, getting swept up emotionally just because you lost him in a dream?'
I couldn't be sure if my feelings for him were truly more than just respect.
But I couldn't help it, even knowing I was doing something I'd regret.
The dream—where I let him go without ever answering his "I love you"—had been too much of a shock.
"But I like you so much that I want you to stay at the top, and I want you to achieve even more and build your legacy. That's why I can't date you. I just want you to focus on baseball, Senior."
Woo Seung-geon's expression, which had been elated, crumpled.
His lips parted a few times, then he suppressed his emotions and asked, "Is it 'Super Gun'—the title—that you like?"
"I don't separate it like that."
"..."
"But I respect you and you're my idol. If, by some chance, my presence causes your performance to drop and your reputation to suffer, I think I'd just end up blaming myself. As someone who is no help to you at all."
His excited expression faded.
He stared at my face for a long time, then picked up his chopsticks for the first time.
He dabbed wasabi on the tuna I had given him, dipped it in soy sauce, ate it, and then spoke.
"I don't like worrying about things that haven't even happened. I came to Korea because of you. If you told me you hated me, that would be one thing. But I can't accept you saying you like me, but you can't date me because you're worried my performance will drop."
I thought as much.
The Woo Seung-geon I knew was a man who crashed into things head-on.
Some called him simple-minded.
Others said he had outstanding drive and execution.
In my view, Woo Seung-geon was the latter.
No matter what barrier he faced in a game, he enjoyed proving his own skill and overcoming it.
It was useless to try and scare a born competitor with "what ifs."
"I've been curious about something for a while."
"Yeah."
"Senior, didn't you have a one-sided love for someone else who looked like me and had the same name?"
Woo Seung-geon's brow furrowed.
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