The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 5

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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 5
After working through two at-bats during the tryout, I returned to the Dugout.
My teammates’ gazes still mingled suspicion with curiosity, but at least the overt disdain had vanished.
That’s when Mark approached me.
A smile played across his face, yet something unsettled lingered in his expression.
“Hey, Soo-ho! That hit you just made was incredible! If only it hadn’t gone straight at the Shortstop!”
Mark patted my shoulder enthusiastically, offering praise.
Yet his eyes betrayed an unspoken question: ‘How did such an unconventional swing produce such a quality hit?’
From Mark’s perspective, my batting form bore little resemblance to the textbook fundamentals he’d learned since childhood.
The swing—barely using my lower body, relying almost entirely on arm strength—was a bizarre form I’d never witnessed even among amateurs.
But the results spoke for themselves: a double, followed by a line drive straight at the Shortstop.
The reality unfolding before his eyes shattered Mark’s conventional understanding.
“Thanks.”
I answered briefly.
Unable to contain himself any longer, Mark hesitated momentarily before speaking again.
“But… your batting technique is pretty unusual, isn’t it? How did you do that? Well, the results were good anyway, so okay! Two at-bats, one hit! The quality of both hits was excellent!”
Mark emphasized the positive aspects deliberately, yet his expression remained conflicted. It was clear he desperately wanted an explanation.
I read Mark’s expression but chose not to elaborate.
After all, this wasn’t something words could adequately convey.
I had simply trusted my instincts and swung.
The game wasn’t over yet.
The team remained locked in a tight contest, and another crucial opportunity had emerged.
Mark looked directly into my eyes and spoke.
“Soo-ho. When you step up to the plate next time… you have to find a way to survive. Can you get on base?”
It was less a question than an unspoken demand—an expectation I simply had to fulfill.
The reason was my age.
I had to produce superior results compared to anyone else here.
Moreover, individual statistics mattered, but I also needed to demonstrate my contribution to the team.
Particularly, though Mark and I had only just met today, he genuinely liked what he saw in me.
He wanted to meet me again someday—beyond the Minor League, in the Major League.
I nodded.
My eyes held unwavering conviction.
“Yeah. I can do it.”
A genuine smile finally spread across Mark’s face.
“Great! Just get on base, and I’ll definitely bring you home.”
I stepped into the Batter’s Box, turning Mark’s words over in my mind.
‘He’ll bring me home,’ I thought.
If I could score as he promised, it would be an enormous advantage for me.
So I had to find a way to survive this at-bat.
In baseball, a batter can’t simply will themselves onto base.
Yet strangely, Soo-ho felt assured.
In the first two at-bats, he’d relied purely on instinct—seeing the ball and swinging.
But now, playing with the form of his high school days, confidence had returned to him.
And the result spoke for itself.
The Pitcher threw the first pitch with supreme confidence—a slider that curved sharply away on the outside.
A perfect bait designed to induce a swing and miss.
Yet Soo-ho didn’t flinch. He didn’t lunge desperately as he had before.
Now the ball’s trajectory was crystal clear to his eyes.
Every rotation of the seams as it escaped beyond the Strike Zone.
“Ball!”
At the Referee’s call, the Pitcher’s brow furrowed.
Had he simply gotten lucky avoiding the bait?
So the Pitcher threw an even lower curve this time.
A tempting pitch that dropped sharply just before the batter’s knees.
Soo-ho didn’t budge this time either.
Instead, he held back the bat with an easy smile playing at his lips.
The pitch sailed just outside the Strike Zone.
“Ball!”
With composure came the return of his pitch recognition—a skill that had vanished.
Confidence didn’t merely affect batting technique.
Mental ease expanded his vision.
Expanded vision opened his eyes to judge the Pitcher’s throws with greater precision.
‘Before, the obsession to swing kept me blind.’
But now it was different.
I had absolute certainty I could hit it.
On the third pitch, the Pitcher threw another slider.
But this time too, his control wavered slightly, and Soo-ho caught the ball drifting just outside the zone.
“Ball!”
The count was 3-0.
‘Only one left now.’
The fourth pitch.
The ball left the Pitcher’s hand as a fastball down the middle.
Soo-ho swung as if he’d been waiting for this moment, pouring all his regained confidence into the bat.
Crack!
The sharp, crystalline sound of contact became a clean hit that pierced perfectly between Second Base and the Shortstop.
Yet Soo-ho wasn’t satisfied with this alone.
‘If they’re going to bring me home, I’d rather be in scoring position.’
Then came Mark’s turn at the Batter’s Box.
From First Base, Soo-ho inched gradually away.
His gaze tracked every detail—the Pitcher’s feet, shoulders, the slightest tilt of his head.
My newfound instincts, freed from outdated theory, now captured the precise moment when the Pitcher’s weight shifted toward Home Plate.
‘Now.’
The instant the Pitcher lifted his leg to throw the first pitch.
I bolted toward Second Base.
Each footfall struck the ground like lightning.
The players in the Dugout gasped and leapt to their feet.
It was a start that bordered on reckless abandon.
Yet my speed was like that of a black beast clawing across the field—ferocious and unstoppable.
By the time the Shortstop caught the throw, my fingertips had already touched the base.
“Safe! Safe!”
The Referee’s call was merely a formality confirming the inevitable.
A flawless stolen base that no one could dispute.
Rattled by my theft, the Pitcher threw a terrible changeup right down the middle.
Mark seized the opportunity, swinging the bat with ferocious intent.
Crack!
The ball rocketed skyward like a missile, accompanied by the solid crack of impact.
Every eye followed its trajectory.
The white speck soared high and disappeared beyond the fence into the stands.
A home run.
The Stadium erupted with gasps of amazement from the Scouts filling the stands.
Mark casually rounded the bases and touched Home Plate, while I, who had arrived first, smiled faintly.
‘So he really did excel at the highest level of high school competition.’
He wasn’t just bluffing.
* * *
The players began gathering their belongings one by one after the game ended.
I collected my personal equipment from the Stands, having recorded 2 hits in 4 at-bats today.
Then Mark, who had gone 2-for-3 with 1 home run, 2 RBIs, and 1 walk, approached with an animated voice.
“Soo-ho! You were amazing today! Want to grab some Korean Restaurant and unwind? There’s a place run by Koreans nearby—the food is absolutely incredible!”
Mark spoke with an eager expression, swallowing hard.
But I seemed hesitant about his proposal, glancing around uncertainly.
Mark tilted his head and asked.
“What? Don’t you like it? Not hungry?”
I bit my lip.
“It’s not that….”
My gaze drifted toward the Scouts.
My eyes reflected a mixture of hope that they might approach and anxiety that they might not.
Mark instantly understood what I was thinking.
He grinned widely and gave my back a hearty slap.
“Ah! Waiting for Scout contact? Don’t worry! They’ll reach out on their own.”
Mark sat down right beside me and began to explain.
“Scouts rarely approach players directly at Independent League Tryouts like this. They obtain contact information through the organizers. If a player has an agent, they typically contact the agent first.”
Mark continued.
“So there’s no reason for them to come after you right now. If they’re interested, they’ll definitely reach out later, so there’s no need to be impatient.”
Mark’s words eased Soo-ho’s anxiety somewhat.
I realized once again that the Professional Baseball world’s cold and systematic approach applied here as well.
At the same time, Mark’s composure offered an inexplicable comfort.
“Alright then. Should we go grab some grilled pork belly?”
“Let’s go, let’s go. It’s run by actual Koreans, not Chinese, so I guarantee the taste.”
“Wait, Chinese people run Korean restaurants?”
“Huh? You didn’t know? There are quite a few Chinese owners running Korean Restaurants in the United States. Anyway, as long as you’re with me, you’ll never end up at a fake Korean Restaurant, so trust me and follow along.”
Soo-ho followed Mark out into the night streets of the Unfamiliar City.
* * *
Soo-ho and Mark arrived at the restaurant.
The interior, brimming with Korean atmosphere, was bustling with customers.
After being seated and picking up the menu, my eyes widened.
“Grilled pork belly for one person… forty dollars?”
My eyebrows twitched.
That was over fifty thousand Korean won.
Mark burst out laughing at my expression.
“Ha! Surprised? The cost of living here is just like this. But I promise the taste is worth it!”
Shortly after, appetizing grilled pork belly and side dishes filled the table.
The aroma of the browning meat stimulated my nose.
Mark looked at me with a playful expression.
“Soo-ho, how about a glass of soju? Grilled pork belly pairs perfectly with soju! Cheers!”
Mark shook his soju glass in offering, but I firmly shook my head.
“No. I don’t drink.”
Mark blinked in surprise.
“Really? Why? Don’t baseball players usually drink well?”
In fact, baseball players generally enjoyed drinking quite a bit.
I fell silent for a moment.
Complex memories from my past flickered through my gaze.
Memories from childhood. The dark, cold Orphanage.
And baseball was the only hope that allowed me to escape from there.
‘I never wanted to falter, not even once.’
For me, baseball was not merely a sport.
It was my entire life and the only means to keep myself from becoming weak.
Growing up in an unstable environment, I learned to control myself.
I never touched anything harmful to my body, let alone alcohol.
I feared that even the smallest moment of carelessness might ruin baseball—my everything.
While other players drank through the night and struggled at training the next day, I quietly maintained my routine.
It wasn’t the alcohol itself I despised—it was the possibility that it might cloud my judgment and shake my resolve.
“I’ll just pass.”
I wrapped a perfectly grilled slice of pork belly in lettuce and popped it into my mouth.
Mark stared at me for a moment, then shrugged and poured soju into his glass.
“Fine. I’ll drink alone then!”
With that, he downed the soju that had just arrived with our order.
“Wow, you really are drinking solo.”
“One glass is fine, isn’t it?”
“You’re only having one?”
“You were looking at me like I was some kind of reckless fool, so I figured I’d stop at one.”
I finally understood Mark’s joke and let out a soft laugh.
We both satisfied our hunger by wrapping the perfectly charred pork belly and eating it.
Mark, in particular, knew how to eat pork belly just as well as any Korean.
He’d wrap lettuce with rice and two pieces of meat, spread sauce on garlic, add kimchi, and eat it all together.
Sometimes he’d put only green perilla leaves, julienned green onions, and meat together.
Watching him, I shook my head in disbelief.
‘There’s something oddly out of place about this.’
Just as the tension and fatigue from the tryout were beginning to ease with the delicious food, it happened.
Mark’s pocket began to vibrate.
When he pulled out his phone, his expression shifted to one of confusion.
An unfamiliar number was displayed on the screen.
“Hello?”
Mark gave me an apologetic glance and stepped aside slightly to take the call.
At first, he tilted his head in puzzlement, but soon enough.
“Yes, yes. Ah, I see.”
He nodded repeatedly.
Though he gave brief responses, his expression seemed rather flat.
After finishing the call, Mark returned with a lackluster expression.
I asked him.
“Who was that?”
“Oh. A Detroit Tigers Scout.”
Mark answered casually, but my eyes went wide in an instant.
The Detroit Tigers.
They were a Major League Baseball Club.
While Mark’s face showed no particular excitement, I felt a mixture of envy and slight anxiety.
His claims about excelling in the highest competitions during high school weren’t lies—I’d already witnessed his overwhelming home run power and batting ability firsthand.
“Another one came through.”
Mark picked up his phone again as it rang moments later.
The second call was from the Texas Rangers.
Mark answered just as casually as the first call and ended the conversation.
His expression remained indifferent, betraying no interest whatsoever.
That wasn’t all.
Within the brief span of their meal, Mark had received six phone calls.
And among them was an inquiry from the Boston Red Sox, one of the most prestigious Baseball Clubs.
Soo-ho finally couldn’t hold back and asked.
“You even had a super famous club calling. Aren’t you interested?”
Mark shook his head and let out a small chuckle.
“Nope. I’m not interested.”
“Why?”
Soo-ho asked back with a puzzled expression.
Mark met Soo-ho’s gaze directly and spoke.
“Well… I saw Frank Lambert today.”
“Frank Lambert?”
At Soo-ho’s reaction, this time Mark asked as if he couldn’t comprehend.
“You don’t know Frank Lambert?”
“Who is he?”
“Wow… How can you not know?”
Mark’s face showed utter bewilderment.
Then he began listing the names of star players who had been discovered by Frank Lambert and now dominated the Major League.
It took over ten minutes just to mention their names.
From legendary sluggers to brilliant shortstops and the cornerstone pitchers of bullpens.
Every name that poured from Mark’s lips was a superstar that any baseball fan would recognize.
“In short, if you don’t catch his eye, this tryout is a bust.”
“What will you do if he doesn’t call?”
“What else? I’ll go to other tryouts.”
Mark shrugged his shoulders.
His voice carried an unmistakable conviction that any Baseball Club other than Frank Lambert was meaningless.
Just then.
Bzzzzzzt.
A vibration rang out from Soo-ho’s pocket.
Soo-ho’s eyes widened as he pulled out his phone.
An unfamiliar number was displayed on the screen.
And Soo-ho knew this call was from a Scout.
No one else had his United States contact information.
Moreover, Soo-ho was different from Mark.
He didn’t have the luxury of being selective.
He was prepared to sign with any Major League Baseball Club that wanted him.
Right now, he desperately needed another chance to play baseball.
His heart pounded relentlessly.
Soo-ho carefully answered the call.
“Hello?”
A calm and courteous voice came through the receiver.
-Hello. I’m Alan Powell, assistant to Frank Lambert.

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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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