The SS-Class Perfect Battery

This was, without a doubt, a dream. Yet, the images burned into his retinas with an unnerving, hyper-realistic clarity.

Here in Seoul, South Korea, heavy sheets of early March rain violently slapped against the bullpen ground. Between the two men standing there—having long abandoned any hope of using an umbrella—their breaths, thick and suffocating enough to sear the lungs, mingled intensely in the vibrating air.

Yuhwan’s solid, heavily built frame—stretching an imposing 190 cm with proportions that felt meticulously sculpted by a deity—exuded a wild, feral dominance combined with his drenched black hair. His muscles, glistening under the slick coat of rainwater, were coiled tight and ready to burst, like a predator cornering its prey.

Standing right beside him, Haneul Jang’s crimson hair was equally soaked, clinging to the slim line of his shoulders as water cascaded down. Through his translucent, wet shirt, Haneul’s slight, trembling breaths were laid bare, pinned under Yuhwan’s piercing gaze.

"Yuhwan... what did you just say?"

"Do I need to repeat myself? Drop your pants and turn around. Catch what's mine."

The early March air was freezing enough to pierce the bone, yet the words tearing through Yuhwan’s lips were unnaturally, scaldingly hot.

It had been a single day since their first meeting.

Falling after such a fleeting moment, Yuhwan’s demand was nothing short of violent. The sheer destructiveness of his words left Haneul’s throat locked in a suffocating spasm.

The face of the innocent teammate he had been playing catch with just moments ago was nowhere to be found. In its place, the eyes looking down at Haneul swirled with a predator's relentless obsession and a forbidden, dark desire.

Is this a dream? Yes, this has to be a terrible hallucination.

His consciousness was hazed by the rain, and an unrealistic heat filled the dugout. Even the vivid memory of throwing pitches together in the bullpen seemed to sink beneath the surface, drifting far away.

But to dismiss it as a mere dream, the cold sting of the raindrops on his skin and the raw scent of the man in front of him were far too vivid.

Drop my pants, turn around, and catch what?

The explicit scene of intimacy flashing through his mind sent a wave of burning humiliation washing over his entire body. Yet, Yuhwan’s expression held not a shred of hesitation. Rather, as if declaring that Haneul's guess was entirely correct, he arrogantly and aggressively invaded Haneul’s personal space.

Crushed by this savage, tyrannical outburst, Haneul couldn’t even squeeze out a groan. He had thought they were just matching paces as ordinary members of a university baseball club—never did he expect to be suddenly forced into a raw, gritty affair in the freezing rain.

The fuse had been lit just yesterday. Right after the tryouts for Seoul National University’s baseball club, Magu-Magu, a drinking party had started at Nokdu Street under Yuhwan's lead. That childish bet—where the winner got to treat the loser as a 'slave' for a single day—was the fatal mistake.

Haneul had always prided himself on being an arrogant gambler. Grades, part-time jobs, batting at the plate—he had never allowed himself to lose at anything. His only god-given flaw was his miserable alcohol tolerance.

In the end, swept up by the atmosphere and emptying his glass brought a disastrous price. A single day mortgaged entirely to Yuhwan’s whims, leading straight to this harsh reality staring him in the face.

In truth, having secretly loved Yuhwan throughout all three of his past lives, Haneul had imagined being held in his arms tens of thousands of times.

But the moment he finally faced it, it wasn't a sweet touch—it was a chilling humiliation. Above all, the fact that what Yuhwan was pouring out felt closer to 'rage' than 'lust' tore Haneul's heart into bloody ribbons.

"Yuhwan, don't you see the rain? We're both soaked. Let's just go inside first."

Haneul managed to steady his trembling voice, but Yuhwan merely let out a mocking, bitter laugh, his lips twisting darkly.

"Soaked, Haneul? Look at you... you sound like a demon trying to bewitch someone."

Who was he to talk? With his overwhelming physique, powerful body, and features more exquisite than an actor's, Yuhwan was a walking black hole that sucked in every gaze around him—even the label of being a chaotic chaebol heir only added to his fatal charm.

Yet, Yuhwan’s true magic didn't lie in his beautiful shell; it was in his 'pitching.' A velocity that tore through the eardrums and a heavy, devastating ball quality that crushed a batter's pride.

The balls he threw struck absolute terror and mesmerizing awe into anyone standing at the plate, enough to make them lose control of themselves. The batters who failed to touch his ball were left with a crushing sense of defeat, sinking into a swamp of suffocating guilt as they completely lost their sense of self.

The batters who tasted hell because of you even contemplated death...

And now, that very demon was hacking Haneul’s sanity into pieces. This was a ruin that defied all logic. To think that what Haneul had to catch wasn't Yuhwan's burning heart or his heavy baseball, but merely his waste-like semen.

"Haneul Jang, take them off. Now."

"Are you insane?"

"We don't have time. And neither does my patience."

"Do you seriously want to do this with someone you just met yesterday? Are you for real?"

Grab!

Yuhwan’s massive hand lunged forward, snatching Haneul by the collar. Through the drenched fabric, their body heat clashed and blurred aggressively. It was hard to even keep his eyes open due to the rain streaming down his eyelashes, but Yuhwan’s will was blind, colossal, and absolute.

Just as Haneul’s mind was about to go completely numb, Yuhwan’s hand—which had been invading Haneul’s most private space—suddenly froze.

"..."

As if caught in a violent internal conflict, Yuhwan turned into a stone statue. Instead, Haneul, who found himself holding his breath and waiting for the man's next move, was washed over by an unbearable, burning embarrassment.

"Yuhwan, don't cross the line."

He barely managed to squeeze out the warning from his throat. After all, he could never confess the truth—that he was madly, desperately in love with him, and that even this humiliation would taste sweet if it came from him.

The pouring downpour slowly brought the tempestuous standoff to a temporary lull. Breaking the heavy silence, Yuhwan muttered in a low, dangerous growl.

"Then why did you look at me with those eyes? Yesterday and today... what kind of guy looks at a man he just met for the first time with eyes like that?"

In that exact instant, Haneul felt his heart plummet straight to the floor beneath his feet.

The traces of his love, which he had desperately tried to hide, had already been completely seen through.