The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 15

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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 15
With Soo-ho’s triple, the Training Facility fell into a silence so profound it seemed to swallow sound itself.
The chatter of prospects that had filled the air moments before, the sporadic conversations of officials—all of it ceased.
Every eye remained fixed on Soo-ho, standing calmly atop Third Base.
It was the Dodgers Farm Director Kevin who broke the silence first.
His face etched with shock, he turned to Frank standing beside him.
“Frank. What exactly did I just witness? That didn’t look like a 20-point swing, did it?”
Frank’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes gleaming with the unmistakable confidence of a scout whose instincts had proven flawless.
A Minor League Coach nearby hastily consulted his tablet.
The exit velocity, launch angle, and projected distance data glowed clearly on the screen.
“Impossible! With that frame, the exit velocity hit 100 miles per hour. That kind of velocity from a body like that—that’s pure power!”
The others erupted in exclamations of astonishment.
How could they not?
Who had been pitching from the Mound?
Brandon Smith.
The Dodgers’ prospect currently posting an ERA in the low 1s in the Rookie League.
Moreover, the pitcher who typically threw a maximum of 97 miles per hour had thrown 98 miles per hour on his first pitch today.
He had clearly come prepared, determined to earn his promotion to the next level.
Yet that very pitch—delivered by such a diminutive player—had been met on the first offering and turned into a triple.
But the marvel didn’t end there.
“His speed is absolutely extraordinary! He turned a double into a triple!”
Advancing an extra base.
Raw speed alone wasn’t enough.
Baseball demanded something called baserunning ability.
And so Soo-ho’s innate sense for the basepaths and explosive athleticism drew gasps of admiration from the officials.
But the truly astounding revelation lay elsewhere.
Frank extended his hand toward his assistant, Alan Powell.
Alan hastily passed the tablet in his hands to him.
The officials’ gazes shifted to the tablet’s screen, where video footage played.
“Who… who is this?”
At Kevin’s question, Frank shrugged.
“The guy standing on Third Base over there.”
“What? That can’t be right. That’s… that’s a genuine 20-point swing! When was this?”
“Two weeks ago. Independent League Tryout.”
The officials’ jaws dropped open.
The Soo-ho in the footage and the Soo-ho of today seemed like entirely different people.
One might have believed their very souls had been exchanged.
Among them, only Kevin pressed forward with words.
“In two weeks, he became a different person. And with such a clean, refined mechanism at that… remarkable.”
Frank nodded slowly in agreement.
“I agree with that assessment.”
“But this doesn’t make sense! Even if we call it memorization, the mechanics are incredibly profound. How could you possibly master that in just two weeks….”
Frank simply laughed it off.
They couldn’t believe it? They didn’t understand?
Perhaps after today’s test concluded.
Once Soo-ho signed with the Dodgers, they would realize that this miracle they couldn’t fathom.
Was far more than a simple miracle.
‘They’ll come to understand that no player in this era works harder than that guy.’
Meanwhile, among the dozens of prospects gathered at the Training Facility, gasps of astonishment erupted.
“He showed solid defense too… but what’s with his hitting.”
“Why on earth is a monster like that even here….”
The test was undoubtedly an absolute evaluation.
Anyone who passed the Dodgers’ standards could become a Minor League player.
But this place was no different from a battlefield.
One person’s overwhelming performance became a blade that gnawed away at the opportunities of others.
The more incredible the previous player’s performance, the heavier the shoulders of the prospects stepping up to the Batter’s Box became.
‘There’s someone performing that well, so can I really….’
Such thoughts were inevitable.
The human heart was far more fragile than one might think.
And so jealousy and fear alike settled into their eyes.
Yet there was one person gazing at Soo-ho with unmistakable delight.
Mark, waiting in the on-deck circle, was astounded by Soo-ho’s performance.
‘Insane. This is insane! Does that even make sense?!’
Goosebumps erupted across Mark’s entire body.
But even amid his astonishment, Mark’s eyes gradually transformed with confidence.
The fear that had gripped him moments before, trembling at Brandon Smith’s devastating pitches, was completely overturned by Soo-ho’s triple.
Mark stepped into the Batter’s Box and adjusted his grip on the bat.
Two outs, runner on Third Base. A scoring opportunity.
‘Now then, who should be the one trembling?’
Mark’s lips curved upward slightly.
The Catcher flashed his sign.
The Pitcher’s first pitch was a slider that drifted slightly outside.
Mark observed calmly.
“Ball!”
Mark gripped the bat tighter.
‘Just as I thought. I knew you’d panic and back off.’
The next pitch followed.
A low fastball inside. Mark didn’t let it slip past.
Crack!
With a solid contact sound, the ball pierced cleanly between the First Baseman and Second Baseman, rolling smoothly in front of the Right Fielder.
With a clean hit, I rounded third base without hesitation and scored.
It was the combined effort of two players that erupted in the first inning.
My triple followed by Mark’s clutch hit. One run in the first.
Through our performance, we were the first to put points on the board in this test.
Mark stood at First Base and extended his fist toward me.
But his true feelings were different.
‘So close. So frustratingly close!’
I had hit a triple, no less.
While he’d also gotten a hit and driven in a run, this was entirely something I’d set up for him.
I was the one who’d shattered the pitcher’s mental composure.
Mark had simply sat down at a prepared table and picked up a spoon.
‘Damn. A home run should have come out of that….’
But even as the pitcher wavered, he’d thrown a good pitch.
Overpowered by his velocity, a hit was the best I could manage.
Because of that.
‘Soo-ho. You’re really something. But this is just my beginning.’
I nodded at the intensity in Mark’s eyes.
Our gazes held mutual trust and an unwavering resolve to dominate this test.
* * *
The game continued.
My team failed to score again after Mark and my combined effort.
In fact, we hadn’t managed a single hit since then.
But our opponents had scored three runs in the meantime.
The pitcher who’d been thoroughly dismantled by Mark and me in the first inning pitched with overwhelming dominance, as if that earlier disaster had never happened.
Though still at the Minor League Rookie Level, he demonstrated near-perfect pitching that proved his true caliber in this test.
However, the test prioritized evaluating a player’s ability over game outcomes.
Moreover, with so many prospects to assess, various pitchers took the Mound.
Brandon Smith pitched two innings and stepped down.
The top of the third inning, starting with the ninth batter.
Another young pitcher stood on the Mound.
His name was Ryan Kelly.
From the on-deck circle, I carefully observed the pitcher’s throws.
I recalled Mark’s earlier advice.
-Ryan Kelly? Hmm. Honestly, I have no idea who he is. He’s probably in a similar situation as us—a pitcher who didn’t get drafted and is here looking for an opportunity.
This time, I faced a pitcher with no prior information.
The matchup between the ninth batter and the pitcher began.
First pitch. Fastball.
My eyes widened.
‘The fastball velocity isn’t that fast. Around 90 miles per hour.’
I analyzed the pitcher’s throws directly with my own eyes.
He wasn’t the type to overwhelm with sheer velocity like Brandon Smith.
But after watching a few pitches, I could understand why he deserved a place on this mound.
‘The angle on his breaking balls is sharp.’
Especially his slider—it was far sharper than Brandon Smith’s had been.
The drop, the speed, the movement itself.
He was an entirely different type of pitcher from Brandon Smith, who relied on raw power to dominate.
And this made him extraordinarily difficult to face.
Because when a pitcher’s style changes, a batter needs time to adapt.
A batter must become accustomed to the pitcher’s rhythm, his throwing habits, his timing on each pitch type.
I’d just grown comfortable with Brandon Smith’s velocity.
Facing a pitcher with weaker velocity but sharper breaking ball angles could actually be more disadvantageous for a batter.
It’s easy to get caught off-guard by breaking balls that curve at unexpected angles before your eyes even adjust.
But I wasn’t rattled.
‘If you asked which pitcher was truly superior, it would be the one I faced before.’
The ninth batter grounded out on the fourth pitch.
Finally, my turn at the plate had arrived.
As I stepped into the batter’s box, the pitcher tensed.
Just moments ago, this was the batter who’d hit a triple on the first pitch.
Small in stature, yet possessing devastating power.
‘Stay calm.’
The pitcher took a deep breath.
At least he had confidence in his specialty—his breaking balls.
So he decided to throw a breaking ball right from the first pitch.
A slider that drifted slightly outside the strike zone.
He was trying to bait me into swinging.
But I didn’t budge.
“Ball!”
The umpire’s call rang out.
A good start.
I hadn’t forgotten Coach John’s advice from the Rehabilitation Academy—that my opponent would try to avoid me.
The second and third pitches followed.
“Strike!”
“Strike!”
The pitcher caught a break.
The second pitch was a low fastball inside, the third a low slider outside—both landed precisely in the zone.
‘So he can throw it in there.’
I felt a twinge of disappointment.
Because even if the pitcher had strong control,
I also knew he wasn’t at the level of precision to throw with this kind of razor-sharp accuracy.
If the pitcher could really throw with this much precision?
‘I should be in the Major League, not here.’
Thus, fortune favored the Pitcher.
Conversely, luck had abandoned me.
Yet I remained unruffled.
Two strikes.
One more strike and I’d be out.
‘This is exactly when I should narrow my Strike Zone,’ I reminded myself.
I trusted John’s counsel.
Fourth pitch. Ryan Kelly unleashed another sharp slider—an ambiguous trajectory just outside the zone.
I let it pass with composure.
Even if I swung, it wouldn’t produce a quality contact.
As a result.
“Ball!”
Fifth pitch. Another slider drifting just beyond the zone.
With my narrowed Strike Zone, there was no reason to swing.
Whoosh!
“Ball!”
The Umpire’s call sent a ripple through the Stands.
Count 3-2. A full count.
Tension etched itself across the Pitcher’s face on the Mound.
I understood why.
‘Full count. You absolutely must throw a strike now, don’t you?’
This was a testing ground.
Issuing a walk here would deal a devastating blow to the Pitcher’s evaluation.
Therefore, there was only one pitch I should anticipate.
‘The slider.’
His signature pitch.
Ryan Kelly’s arm whipped powerfully on the Mound.
The released ball was entering the Strike Zone.
It was a slider.
My eyes snapped open.
‘Just as I thought. You were nervous too?’
To throw such a poor pitch.
The ball’s trajectory appeared to me like slow motion.
Crack!
A heavy, crystalline contact echoed across the entire Training Ground.
The ball struck the bat’s sweet spot and soared skyward like a massive bird.
The hit sailed far beyond the Right Fielder’s reach and disappeared over the fence.
A solo home run.
Following my first at-bat triple, I had now recorded a home run in my second at-bat.
Just as John had said, despite my diminutive frame—the smallest among everyone gathered here—I had achieved the most impressive distance.
The most extraordinary power in my batting.

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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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