The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 124

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 124
Early the next morning.
Drenched in sweat, I arrived at the Coastal Villa with ragged breaths, my body heaving from exertion.
Whether it was the off-season or an unfamiliar place I’d only visited yesterday for the first time.
Such excuses held no weight for me.
Even if the earth itself were to perish, I would never abandon the routine I’d established for myself.
Others would recoil in disgust at how obsessively I maintained my discipline, but to me, it was nothing extraordinary.
My purpose.
I believed this level of dedication was essential to become a Major League player.
I bent forward, pressing my knees to the ground as I steadied my breathing and reflected.
‘That’s strange. My body feels much lighter than usual today.’
I had just finished running on the Beach Sand Track, where the sand gave way beneath every step.
Running on sand imposed more than twice the strain on my lower body and consumed far more stamina than sprinting across solid Asphalt.
Naturally, the sand was far more grueling, and today I’d run across it for the same duration as always.
Yet my thighs and calves felt impossibly light, as if made of feathers.
Creak.
As I wiped the sweat from my body with a towel and pushed open the villa door, stepping inside.
“How’s your body holding up?”
Hank, sprawled arrogantly across the Living Room sofa with his legs crossed, suddenly asked.
‘When did he wake up?’
Though caught off guard by the abrupt question about my condition the moment I entered, I answered immediately.
“It’s good.”
“Don’t be vague. Be precise. Tell me exactly what feels good—from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, leave nothing out.”
Taken aback by Hank’s exacting demands, I nonetheless focused intently on my body and described the sensations with accuracy.
“Even though I ran on the Beach Sand Track, I don’t feel as much lactic acid buildup in my lower body. My legs feel light, and most importantly, my stomach feels comfortable. Usually when I run in the morning, my digestive system feels heavy or bloated, but today it’s empty yet brimming with energy.”
Hank’s lips curled upward in satisfaction at my precise feedback.
He rose from his seat and approached me, speaking as he did.
“There’s no universal cure-all in nutrition. For those mindless brutes who only need to bulk up, you could shove red meat down their throats all day without consequence. But your assignment is different—you need to build muscle while preserving speed and flexibility, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“For someone like you, seafood—fish and shellfish—has short, tender muscle fibers that digest and absorb at an overwhelmingly faster rate. Since they spend less time in your stomach, your body doesn’t feel weighed down, and the broken-down protein gets channeled directly into your muscles.”
My pupils dilated.
No.
Could he really discern all this in just one day?
Yet looking into Hank’s eyes, I saw no deception.
Rather, I felt as though I were being stripped bare and thoroughly examined in every corner.
In short.
This man was a genius in his field.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes. I do.”
I answered with spirited conviction.
But Hank immediately threw out a sharp test.
“Then let me ask you this. You’re going to eat six meals a day split throughout your schedule to gain bulk while maintaining flexibility and speed. When would be the best time to incorporate seafood among these meals?”
His attitude made it clear he wouldn’t accept a simple nod.
It was like a pressure interview question designed to verify whether I truly understood the underlying principles.
Yet I felt genuinely pleased.
Because it was tailored specifically for me.
The fact that I had a nutritionist dedicated solely to my needs.
It was the kind of treatment every Professional Baseball League player dreamed of.
My gaze remained steady and unwavering.
And my answer came without the slightest hesitation.
“It’s best to concentrate seafood right before training, between training sessions, and during the daytime hours when activity levels are highest.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s digested and absorbed quickly. Since it doesn’t linger long in the stomach, the lower body won’t become heavy, allowing me to maintain speed and sharp reflexes. To maximize speed and agility, I need to prevent blood from pooling in the stomach and making my body sluggish. That’s why I should eat seafood during the day—it hits the muscles immediately during training.”
At my clear, fluent answer, Hank’s bushy eyebrows twitched.
‘What? How does he understand this so well?’
He recalled the numerous star players he had personally trained over the years.
Whenever he explained the importance of nutrition, they would always nod along and boast that they understood perfectly.
But the moment he threw out these surprise questions about underlying principles.
‘They’d either clam up or spout complete nonsense.’
In truth, it was inevitable when you thought about it.
Baseball players who spent their entire lives rolling around on the Ground, swinging bats and throwing balls, barely had time for anything else.
When would they find time to pore over tedious books and study things like protein digestion times or muscle synthesis mechanisms?
So most players simply followed the manuals their Baseball Club provided or blindly copied the diets of famous seniors.
They never fully understood why they needed to eat a particular food at a particular time.
They just mechanically shoved it into their mouths because everyone else did.
That’s why when Hank dug so meticulously into the reasoning behind his questions, strange and foolish answers always came pouring out.
‘This guy at least genuinely wants to understand the fundamentals correctly.’
In truth, for Hank, whether the answer was right or wrong didn’t matter much.
The fact that someone who only plays baseball could understand an entirely different field.
That was something only an extremely rare genius in the Major League could accomplish.
‘What matters is the attitude.’
Whether they truly wanted to understand.
Or whether they just wanted to pretend they understood and move on.
‘You can tell from their answer.’
Of course, the latter wasn’t necessarily bad.
Why would manuals exist otherwise?
They were perfected because they had already achieved countless successes.
Following that path wouldn’t cause major problems.
But!
‘The human body is mysterious—there’s always something that works better for your own physique.’
Whether you understood that and moved forward.
Or moved forward without understanding—it made all the difference in the world.
And among the players Hank himself had trained, those who grasped this principle and moved forward
‘all went on to achieve great success in the Major League.’
Hank took considerable pride in that aspect.
So when Soo-ho began showing those same seeds of understanding, how could he not be delighted?
The possibility of another star being born from his hands set Hank’s heart racing.
But Soo-ho didn’t stop there.
He didn’t pause—without even being asked, he perfectly briefed me on the timing of the remaining meals as well.
“Which means, conversely, red meats that take over four hours to digest should be consumed at the final meal, after all training is complete and the body enters full recovery mode. In other words, late in the evening. Because during the long hours of sleep, I need to heavily rebuild and reconstruct my muscles.”
The corners of Hank’s mouth curled upward.
‘A guy like this, indeed.’
He was absolutely worth pouring all of my dedication into, sculpting him into a perfect monster.
But that was one thing.
The facts still needed to be laid out.
“But that’s something you don’t know.”
“Pardon?”
Soo-ho’s eyes widened in surprise.
He’d thought that was the correct answer, yet he was told he didn’t know.
Hank, arms crossed with an arrogant yet resolute tone, spelled out the clear reasoning.
“In theory, you’re right. But the human body doesn’t operate like a machine running on mathematical formulas. In the first place, that red meat might not even suit your body.”
Soo-ho nodded quietly.
Hank was absolutely correct. An athlete’s condition is never identical day to day.
If you ignored variables and just shoved meat down according to the manual,
you’d inevitably end up with indigestion or a broken body.
“But you don’t need to worry. Calculating the minute fluctuations in your body that change every day and setting the perfect timing and diet to match that day’s condition—that’s strictly my domain.”
Hank’s eyes gleamed like those of a predator.
To every other player and staff member in the world, he might be nothing but an obstinate, rude old man who wouldn’t listen to reason.
But at least now, to Soo-ho alone, who had perfectly grasped my philosophy, I was ready to dedicate myself absolutely more than to anyone else.
Though his manner was rough and crude, within it burned a fierce and steadfast goodwill directed at Soo-ho alone.
Soo-ho, too, perfectly sensed that weighty sincerity.
“I’m in your hands.”
A pleased smile spread across Soo-ho’s face.
It was the moment when I became certain that I had found the most reliable and perfect ally in the world to guide me to greater heights.
* * *
A month passed.
With a solid ally at my side, my body was evolving explosively with each passing day.
Of course, that month’s journey wasn’t entirely smooth.
As if I had to accept every food ingredient in the world through my body,
I consumed all manner of exotic game, seafood, and unfamiliar vegetables without discrimination.
As a result, I’d strained my system more than once, causing various ailments.
There was even a time when I developed a severe allergic reaction to some unknown ingredient and ran a high fever for days, bedridden and miserable.
Yet Soo-ho genuinely cherished even that painful process.
The reason was simple.
By directly colliding with and breaking through these barriers with my body,
I could perfectly identify which nutrients suited my constitution and which became poison.
But what satisfied Soo-ho most was Hank’s relentless attitude as a nutritionist.
‘He never settles for half-measures or compromises.’
Even when I discovered ingredients that worked at 80 or 90 percent efficiency for my body, he refused to be satisfied.
Instead, he pursued with tireless, obsessive dedication to find the ultimate diet that achieved 100 percent efficiency—not a single percentage point of error.
Perhaps thanks to that fierce devotion.
By late December, as the sun began its descent,
my physical specifications had leaped into an entirely different dimension.
Height: 183 centimeters.
Weight had ballooned from the previous 73 kilograms to a full 83 kilograms.
But it wasn’t merely a matter of size increasing.
My entire body was packed with high-purity, battle-ready compressed muscle—not a single unnecessary gram of fat permitted.
Yet the truly astounding fact lay elsewhere.
Despite gaining a full 10 kilograms, my body hadn’t become sluggish; instead, my speed had become dramatically faster than before.
As if mocking the prejudice that larger muscles become stiff, the distinctive flexibility essential for batting remained perfectly intact.
It was a flawless masterpiece born from my perseverance and Hank’s genius in nutrition.
“Now there’s one final task. Get in the truck.”
On the day when off-season training reached its final stretch, Hank suddenly spoke.
Soo-ho naturally climbed into the passenger seat of the old pickup truck.
After driving along the bumpy road for a while, Soo-ho posed a question naturally.
“Where are we headed?”
By now, a fairly strong bond had formed between the two of us.
The pattern repeated daily: I showed deep interest in nutrition, asking endless questions, and Hank answered them.
We’d become comfortable enough to ask such casual questions without hesitation.
Hank was someone I could trust.
He kept his gaze forward and answered briefly in his usual gruff voice.
“We’re going to catch a bear.”
“Ah, yes. A bear….”
Soo-ho nodded unconsciously, then his eyes flew wide open as if struck by lightning.
“A, a bear? Do you mean the kind of bear I’m thinking of?”
Hank remained silent.
He wasn’t the type to repeat himself.
Soo-ho’s mind in the passenger seat went completely blank.
‘A bear, you say.’
I could understand, at most, how catching fish had taught me the balance needed for batting.
But I couldn’t fathom why a Professional Baseball League player would venture into the mountains to hunt a bear in the first place.
No, before that, a more fundamental question surfaced in my mind.
‘Can I even catch one?’
Will I even make it back alive?
‘Cancel my trust in this person!’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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