The Genius Pitcher Dad Throws for His Daughter - Chapter 111

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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 111
#111.
I rushed to the Hospital.
‘What’s happened? Just days ago, everything was fine. What could it be?’
My mind churned in chaos.
The more I tried to organize my thoughts, the more tangled they became.
I’d barely grasped this chance to return to the past and save my Daughter, and now the thought that I might lose it again crushed down upon my chest.
I didn’t understand why. That uncertainty terrified me most of all.
‘If I trace back the signs….’
At first, there was a slight tingling in my fingertips. Nothing serious happened—it was brief.
The second time was my worst pitching performance.
Five innings, five runs allowed—the worst outing since I’d returned to the past. And it was the day my hands tingled when I woke.
After that, everything went quiet.
There were no more signs.
Then, like a sudden blow to the back of my head, it struck without warning.
My thoughts cut off there.
I threw cash at the taxi driver and bolted into the Hospital.
“Oh, my son….”
It was my Mother.
I caught her as her legs gave way beneath her.
“Ye-jin… she….”
She couldn’t finish the sentence.
The moment I saw her eyes, dread seized my throat.
I couldn’t lift my head easily.
With sheer force of will, I forced myself to look.
“Ah….”
She was alive.
That single fact made me feel as though my breath would burst free.
But the color that had returned to her face just days ago had drained away again, leaving her as pale as when I’d first seen her.
“Guardian of patient Kang Ye-jin.”
I looked toward the Attending Professor’s voice.
“She’s passed the critical phase.”
At those words, my legs nearly buckled.
The rest of the explanation barely registered.
Sudden drop in heart rate.
Abnormal body temperature.
Excessive perspiration.
Respiratory distress.
Only fragments of words embedded themselves in my mind.
“The Adjacent Room Guardian discovered it and called for help immediately.”
I bowed deeply toward the man in the opposite bed, speaking from the heart.
“Th-thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The fact that Ye-jin was alive thanks to his quick call was all I could be grateful for. The Mother of the girl lying in the bed seemed to have been quite startled as well, her face now showing relief.
The Attending Professor mentioned he would check on the Hospital Room more frequently than usual, then left with the Nurses.
The Father, who was comforting the Mother sitting in the chair, also appeared quite shaken—his eyes were visibly bloodshot.
“Father. Please take Mother home and rest.”
My Parents immediately refused my words.
But knowing how frightened they both were, rest had to come first. Since my profession doesn’t allow me to be away for long either, it would be better to send Mother home first and stay here myself for now.
“Call me if anything happens.”
“I’ll bring you some clean clothes.”
I nodded at my Parents’ words and walked them only to the Hospital Room entrance.
Once I was alone, my heart, which had been racing wildly, finally began to calm down.
Then I looked at my Daughter.
[Kang Ye-jin]
– Stamina: 17
– Special Notes
1. Afflicted with a rare disease and currently unconscious.
2. Time remaining: D-10 days.
– Consciousness Recovery Possibility: ??%.
It had changed.
The stamina was the same as the last time I saw it, but the special notes were different.
Until recently, there had been no time limit at all.
In fact, the deadline had seemed to have plenty of time, so the notation itself had disappeared, and thanks to that, I had found some peace of mind.
But now a deadline had suddenly appeared.
And it was only ten days.
This meant I had to invest points immediately.
And most of all, what tore at my chest was that the consciousness recovery possibility had changed to a question mark.
Crunch.
I clenched my fist.
I squeezed it so hard that the blood drained from my knuckles, and my rage boiled over with an intensity I couldn’t express through any other means.
I couldn’t understand why such suffering was being inflicted on my Daughter and me, when our lives had been so full of hope.
No matter how much I tried to suppress the rising anger, it refused to be contained.
Still, I had to do what I could.
– Points consumed.
I consumed points for my Daughter.
Time remaining: D-40 days.
Thirty days per point.
What should have given me one hundred days was reduced to thirty.
The consciousness recovery possibility still showed no change, and I forced back tears of sorrow as I spent more points.
I’ve barely secured 150 days by spending 5 points.
Wheeze. Wheeze.
At least there’s one consolation—her breathing has become more peaceful than before, and a faint blush of color has returned to her face, which had been so pale it seemed almost translucent.
Only then does the anger and sorrow that had been welling up inside me begin to subside, even slightly.
“Sigh….”
I gazed out the window from where I stood.
Pitch-black darkness.
Among the countless lights surrounding the area, not a single star could be found—only one moon shone alone, casting its solitary glow.
In that vast sky, just one small moonlight.
It felt like me.
That’s why it was so melancholy.
* * *
The night deepened.
After changing into the tracksuit my Father had brought me, the anxiety that had been constricting my body eased somewhat.
I don’t know why.
I just think it might be because I’m continuing to stay beside my Daughter.
My phone was filled with countless messages.
Messages came from the Manager, Coach, and the players.
Rather than reply to everyone, I left a message in the group chat with the Manager, Coach, and the Captain.
– Thank goodness.
The Captain’s single word warmed my heart, even if only slightly.
And not long after, I received a call from the Manager.
– You can skip one rotation if you need to.
– Spend this week in Seoul, and I’ll see you next week.
I had pitched as a starter on Wednesday, and my next scheduled start was set for next Tuesday.
Though the Manager must have been dealing with headaches managing the rotation, he recommended I take one day of rest and even gave me an extended leave to stay by my Daughter’s side for a while.
I understood his consideration in wanting me to be with my Daughter as much as possible, but a new reason had emerged that made that impossible.
‘I have to earn points, even if just once.’
Now the number of days I could obtain points from even after investing them had shrunk.
Points had become even more precious than before, and to earn even one more, I had no intention of skipping a rotation.
I sent a message saying I’d go down on Monday and wouldn’t skip the rotation, and the Manager acknowledged it.
Now the game was something to think about next week, and I stayed by my Daughter’s side for the remaining time.
Morning broke, and not long after, the General Manager stopped by briefly.
He looked quite worried, and as I assured him and gave a brief explanation, Shin Se-a came to visit.
Word of our father and daughter’s situation had reached the Team Owner, and she came out of concern.
I explained yesterday’s events briefly once more, and after sending off the two of them with relieved expressions, my Mother arrived.
“Son. Go inside and get some rest.”
“Yes.”
Only then did I leave the Hospital Room.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d stayed up all night with my eyes open.
Even at home, sleep eluded me in an oddly persistent way.
Exhausted yet unable to drift off—that peculiar state of being.
Before I returned to the past, I would have reached for strong liquor without hesitation, but now I’m exercising restraint as much as possible.
More than anything, I’m afraid that if I drink and fall asleep intoxicated, I might wake up back in my original world.
I tried my best to fall asleep, and when that didn’t work, I simply lay with my eyes closed, telling myself I was resting.
At some point, sleep finally claimed me, and I found myself dreaming.
It was a dream of returning to that time, and I wept bitterly in it.
I begged to go back, pleading not to be robbed of this chance.
I cried out with my whole body, my voice breaking with desperation.
When I woke, my pillow was soaked with tears.
It was the worst nightmare imaginable.
* * *
The Dolphins won the final game of the three-game series midweek.
When Ho-jin hurriedly left the Dugout, an unsettled atmosphere rippled through the team.
It wasn’t good news, and his sudden departure suggested something troubling—everyone’s faces darkened with concern.
With concentration shattered, the Dolphins faltered.
Defensive errors piled up one after another, followed by walks and hits.
Considering the foreign mercenary on the Mound, even the Dolphins fans couldn’t make sense of what was happening.
“Get your heads in the game! If we lose today, Ho-jin will be devastated.”
Captain Ki-ha’s words snapped the team’s focus back into place.
Though they trailed 0-3, everyone understood what Ho-jin would feel if they surrendered—so they channeled their concentration with renewed intensity.
Hit batters, base hits, and even a double steal—the Dolphins displayed an aggressive, running style of baseball they rarely employed.
The Dragons pitcher, caught off guard by the sudden shift, threw a wild pitch that was hammered into a home run, striking the left foul pole at Jamsil Baseball Stadium.
Captain Ki-ha crossed home plate and roared with fierce exultation.
The momentum continued as they kept pounding away, achieving a big inning, reversing the deficit, and ultimately securing victory.
When Ki-ha took the stage for the post-game interview as the game’s MVP, a reporter asked about the unsettled atmosphere from earlier, but he brushed it off casually.
However, the fans sensed something was amiss, and when they realized Ho-jin had disappeared mid-game, they pieced together that something significant had happened.
At first, hope stirred in their hearts.
– Could his Daughter have woken up?
– If so, that would definitely warrant leaving during a game.
– Oh, I really hope that’s what happened!
These were the words of fans who knew Ho-jin’s Daughter was ill.
Though she wasn’t truly their own child, many had become fans out of a parent’s hope that the girl would awaken—a wish born from empathy.
So they held onto the expectation that good news would come.
But the internet was a place where anonymity bred cruelty and depravity.
Vile comments that couldn’t be spoken aloud appeared in text, words no human should utter—and some even mocked them further.
As the situation escalated, the Dolphins Front Office released an official statement with Ho-jin’s consent.
– Ho-jin left his post due to his Daughter’s critical condition. Fortunately, his Daughter is safe.
– Ho-jin was forced to leave due to an unexpected emergency.
– The Dolphins Front Office will take strict action against malicious comments.
The Dolphins Front Office didn’t hold back, and at the same time, Shin Chairman, the Team Owner who cherished both the Dolphins and Kang Ho-jin, refused to let it slide either.
“Sue them all!”
The Parent Company’s legal team mobilized as the Team Owner’s fury reached its peak.

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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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