Countryside Ace

Chapter 1 : Father and Son (1)

Father and Son (1)

[U18 Baseball World Cup Final Starting Pitcher Seo Ye-sung: "I'll pitch a shutout and come back."]

[Team Korea Wins Baseball World Cup! Seo Ye-sung Keeps His Word with 15K Shutout]

['MLB Legend' Seo Tae-seung's Son Seo Ye-sung, inherited Genius Pitching!]

[KBO First Overall Pick Seo Ye-sung: "I'll turn Gangwon Miners into champions."]

[Ignoring Hot Offers from MLB, Seo Ye-sung Chooses KBO, taking a Different Path from His Father]

[Once a Popular Parenting Show Star of 'Little Superstar', Seo Ye-sung Takes His First Step as a Pro Baseball Player]

[Historic Rookie Lefty Fireballer Seo Ye-sung's Goal? "20 Wins—Best Pitcher with a Sub-1.00 ERA"]

I browsed through articles about myself and couldn't help but cover my eyes with both hands.

"This is nuts, really."

Honestly, it's crazy.

The one who's crazy here is me—that is... the 'me from about 20 years ago'.

[Who's the 2029 Season Rookie of the Year Favorite? Seo Ye-sung: "I'm more greedy for the MVP than Rookie of the Year."]

This was just published yesterday. It's a little complicated and not easily explained.

It felt like I had gone back nearly 20 years.

Seriously though—I sound insane in those interviews. Why didn't anyone stop me?

* * *

I was Gangwon Miners' first overall draft pick.

As a rookie, I won 10 games in my first year, but after that, I struggled.

From my second year onward, for about ten years, I bounced between first and second teams, and hospitals.

Sometimes I had decent seasons, but nothing matching the hype from my big mouth.

At least, once I was over 30, I finally hit my prime.

Although I couldn't throw in the high-150 km/h range like my youth, I had developed a few weapons of my own and even became a 20-win pitcher.

And then, a few years later, my body was completely wrecked.

Spending my twenties constantly changing pitching forms and relentlessly throwing in training, rather than actual games, had ruined me.

Rehab failed, surgery failed.

Even clinging on and having a second surgery failed.

Retirement came next.

I spent several years in a sort of daze. The only thing running through my mind was, "I want to play baseball."

I used to think I didn't even like baseball, but I was wrong.

Then, in a storage room, I found a crumbling glove I didn't even remember, and slipped it onto my hand.

It sounded ridiculous, but with my left shoulder and elbow destroyed, I started to wonder if I could try again with my right hand.

I was originally right-handed, after all.

And now, here I am.

Having just won the U18 Baseball World Cup and been called as the KBO first overall pick.

"The manager said he wants to see you."

A high school baseball teammate—whose name I no longer remember—passed by and called out to me.

I hadn't fully accepted I'd traveled back in time, but there was certainly no reason to dislike it.

I stepped out of the awkward baseball clubroom.

Aside from vague memories of so long ago, I remember being kind of a jerk as a kid. Most people probably weren't too fond of me.

Knock, knock.

"This is Seo Ye-sung."

As soon as I knocked and spoke, the door swung open from inside—as though I'd been expected.

"Oh, Ye-sung! Wow, your pitching in the finals was amazing. Ah, and of course, being picked first overall in the pros on top of that. You've made your school shine, and I, as your coach, am so proud."

The coach beamed and hugged me.

Back in the day, I played baseball in this school club in comfort.

Few high school aces got the treatment I did.

It wasn't that the club had a cutting-edge system, or the coach was some forward-thinking leader.

I was simply given special treatment.

Sure, I had some talent, but it was also due to my father's reputation.

Would they really work a star high school prospect—the son of Korea's baseball hero and a famous TV personality—into the ground just to win a championship?

They'd probably never get another job in the baseball world after that.

"Thanks to you, we wrapped things up well. Thank you, coach."

The coach's face burst into a smile at my flattery. Still smiling, he hesitated before saying,

"But, Ye-sung."

"Yes?"

"About your father..."

My father was an eight-time Cy Young winner—the most in history.

As a national team ace, he led Korea to victory in every finals he pitched.

"His son getting drafted first overall into the pros... I was wondering if maybe, even just once, he could take a look at our club members. And if that's too much, even just coming by for a photo would be a priceless memory for the boys..."

After retirement, my father never got involved with baseball again.

But that didn't stop countless people from trying to cash in on his fame.

He's not just Korea's best ever, but an MLB all-time great.

And with his shrewd businessman image since moving to the US, it all adds up.

If anything, the coach probably wanted to market it as "Legend teaches next generation."

I didn't feel like it, but I still replied.

"I'll try asking him."

"Oh, really? Great, great. You look tired, right? Skip training for today and go home and rest. I'll tell the coach you're still jet-lagged."

* * *

I went straight home and spent the entire day lying down, lost in thought.

One thought kept coming back to my father.

Before I came back to the past, I was all but estranged from him.

From what I recall, around this time, things weren't so bad—just awkward.

My father is in the US now. I couldn't even remember the last time we spoke.

It wasn't that he never called; it was that I stopped answering, at some point.

I picked up my phone and searched for Father's number.

'Mr. Seo?'

So not only did I have a teenage attitude, I was a lousy son as well...

I let out a deep sigh and changed the saved name to "Father".

As I aged, I regretted falling out with him over nothing.

We started bickering over something minor, and it blew up because of my stupid pride.

Truthfully, it was less pride and more my own insecurity. I was just a lousy son.

Should I call him, or not?

I hesitated. But I wasn't a kid anymore.

I hit call.

Even without the coach's request, I now had a chance to fix a few mistakes.

Wait, what time is it where he is?

Before I could check the time zone, he answered.

― Huh? Ye-sung?

I had planned what to say, but nothing came to mind. So I just blurted,

"Father."

― Yes?

"Would you like to have dinner together?"

― What?

I mean, isn't it normal for a father and son to have dinner together?

... Or maybe it is a bit out-of-the-blue, with him being all the way in America.

But after a moment, he replied,

-... All right, let's do that. I'll come soon. Let's talk in person.

* * *

"Mölln, I'm going to Korea for a bit. Just so you know."

"Why don't you just stay there, while you're at it?"

Seo Tae-seung, who didn't get along well with his business partner Mölln, flashed his middle finger, grabbed whatever he could, and left the office.

He'd spoken to his son for the first time in months.

Even when Ye-sung was drafted or won the U18 World Cup, Seo Tae-seung had tried calling, but his son never picked up.

With a mix of happiness and surprise, he agreed to dinner, but felt a vague sense of unease.

'Father?'

His son hardly ever called him 'Father,' barely even 'Dad.'

Whenever they talked, it was tough to tell if he was being polite or informal.

Was something wrong?

When his son was younger, they had lived in America together, but the life of a major leaguer made it hard to be close as a family.

He quickly called his secretary and requested the earliest flight to Korea before heading straight to the airport.

He tried phoning his wife to ask about their son lately, but she didn't answer—probably busy.

He hoped there was nothing wrong, but even if there was, his work was finished for now, so he decided to just go and see for himself—and congratulate his son too.

After all, having a meal with your son isn't a strange thing.

* * *

Father really did come straight to Korea.

To be honest, I was totally unprepared.

But I was old enough now that I wouldn't shy away even if I wasn't ready.

"Father, you're here?"

My brief, awkward greeting seemed to catch him off guard for a moment, but he replied, "Yeah, it's been a while. How have you been?" and stepped inside.

He looked around the house awkwardly, just as I was, then sat heavily on the living room sofa with his tired, hollow eyes.

"Shall we eat dinner?"

It was just past 3 PM.

"It's a little early for dinner, isn't it?"

"It's fine. What would you like to eat?"

"Lunch?"

"I already ate."

"So did I—had airplane food."

"......"

"......"

Neither of us knew where to start, so I racked my brain. I could tell he was doing the same.

"Um, father."

"Yes?"

"The high school coach asked if you could maybe teach the baseball club boys a little."

He probably wouldn't agree. After retirement, he never once got involved with baseball again.

But his answer was completely different from what I'd expected.

"Sure, let's do it."

"... Excuse me?"

"Like a one-day instructor, right? I can do that much."

I was stunned.

Seriously?

So many people tried cashing in on my dad's name and failed, and it worked this easily?

"Anyway, congratulations on the World Cup win and the first overall pick."

"Thank you."

"Your pitches looked great."

"Thank you."

"Being picked first overall isn't for just anyone. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you."

It sounded less like father and son, and more like a student meeting their homeroom teacher...

Father searched for another topic, his expression suddenly changing.

He frowned, then widened his eyes, jumped up, and snatched the glove sitting on the dining table.

"This..."

Was that glove his?

The old glove I'd found before coming back in time was still exactly as it was—even though I was my younger self.

If not for that glove, I might not have believed I'd time traveled.

Suddenly, I recalled something he'd said in passing once—if you could turn back time, don't do it.

What did that mean?

Why would he say that? Don't tell me...?

"Ye-sung."

"Yes?"

He stroked the glove, calling my name. I asked nervously,

"That glove—was it yours?"

He wiped his face with his hand, then nodded slowly.

Did he know what that glove was?

"... Yes."

"That..."

I swallowed hard.

My mind spun.

I decided to keep it simple.

What do I say?

Do I say, "Actually, I became a kid again when I put on that glove?"

Or, "I think that glove is a time machine?"

Or, "Have you ever time-traveled?"

"Ye-sung, is this... by any chance..."

Father's reaction was so intense that I just blurted it out.

"Father, to be honest, I think that glove is a time machine."

He looked startled.

What if he thought I was crazy?

Even if he did—I actually hoped, inside, that maybe he'd gone through this too.

On second thought, it sounded ridiculous, so I was about to say it was a joke, when my father spoke.

"You too...?"

"......"

"Did you come back to the past, too?"

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=

Hmmm...

【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】