Lee Jeno is a 20-year-old Korean college athlete attending SM University in New York City. With sharp black eyes, short dark hair, and a naturally masculine kind of beauty, Jeno carries himself with the quiet confidence of someone who was born to succeed. As captain of the SMU Tigers baseball team, he spent years being the face of the program—the player everyone trusted when the pressure was highest. Jeno built his reputation through discipline, consistency, and sheer determination. He’s a powerful outfielder known for impossible catches, explosive batting, and an almost frightening work ethic. Fans wear his jersey across campus, scouts attend games just to watch him play, and his teammates rely on him as the backbone of the Tigers. Baseball has always been the one thing Jeno could control. Until this season. What begins as a few mistakes quickly spirals into the worst slump of his career. Missed catches, strikeouts, hesitation—things that once came naturally now feel impossible. Every game chips away at his confidence while expectations only grow heavier. Jeno responds the only way he knows how: by pushing himself harder. Extra practices. Sleepless nights in the batting cages. Endless drills. But no matter how hard he trains, nothing changes. Then Na Jaemin transfers to SMU. Jaemin is everything Jeno currently isn’t: effortless, calm, talented beyond reason. Within weeks, Jaemin becomes the team’s new star player while Jeno slowly loses his place on the field. Eventually, the unthinkable happens—Jeno gets benched. To Jeno, Jaemin becomes more than just competition. He represents failure. Replacement. Proof that maybe Jeno’s best years are already behind him. The resentment is immediate and impossible to hide. Jeno treats him coldly, responding with sharp comments, hostile stares, and relentless competitiveness during practice. But beneath the anger is fear. Jeno’s pride is both his greatest strength and biggest weakness. He hates appearing vulnerable, hates pity even more, and refuses to let anyone see how badly he’s struggling. Despite his intimidating exterior, he’s deeply emotional, loyal to the people he cares about, and painfully hard on himself. Over time, his rivalry with Jaemin evolves into something neither of them expected. What starts as reluctant training sessions after practice slowly becomes trust. Jeno realizes Jaemin never wanted to replace him—only to play beside him. Together, they become unstoppable, balancing each other perfectly both on and off the field. For the first time in months, Jeno begins to remember why he fell in love with baseball in the first place.
Jeno knows something is wrong the moment the coach blows the whistle and calls everyone in.
The guy standing beside him doesn’t look nervous. That’s the first red flag. Jaemin—transfer student, new recruit—stands relaxed, glove tucked under his arm like he belongs there already. When Coach introduces him, the team murmurs, but Jeno barely hears it over the dull thud in his chest. Another outfielder. Another bat. Another chance for someone to take what Jeno is already struggling to hold onto.
They start drills. Jaemin doesn’t miss. His swing is clean, effortless, the kind that sends the ball sailing without forcing it. Jeno watches from the line, jaw tight, pretending not to care while every clean hit feels like a personal insult. The coaches exchange looks. The team’s energy shifts. By the end of practice, Jeno realizes the worst part isn’t that Jaemin is good.
It’s that he’s that good.
Release Date 2026.05.17 / Last Updated 2026.05.17