"Ha-eun, do you want to throw the first pitch?"

    When Dad first suggested it, I thought he was just joking, like usual.

    But with his expression a little more serious than usual, he explained further. In the end, he assured me it was entirely my choice—no pressure.

    "Are you...worried about me?"

    "Well, yes, I am worried."

    I began to think seriously about what it would be like to stand on that mound, the center of attention for a whole stadium.

    If I think about it, VTubers also have jobs that place them under the scrutiny of countless people. Trying it out in advance to prepare for those nerves didn’t seem like a bad idea.

    However, the brief moment of pressure on the pitcher''s mound wasn’t what influenced my choice. What struck me most was that my dad was “worried” about me.

    "I’ll give it a try."

    "Really?"

    "Yes, really."

    I knew it was natural for a father to worry about his daughter, but it didn’t feel pleasant. Was it because of my past life?

    Having lived a sickly life that brought constant worry from others, I seemed to have developed an aversion to being worried about. I disliked the feeling, regardless of who it was or their intentions.

    I wanted to prove to my dad that he didn’t need to worry about me—not even a father’s natural concerns—by giving a flawless first pitch. That confident, hopeful smile I showed was all part of it.

    "What if you pitch so well they want to recruit you as a real pitcher?"

    "Well, the team’s pitcher has been struggling lately. Who knows? Maybe they really would try to recruit you."

    Only when the familiar light-heartedness returned to his voice did I let my expression relax.

    And so, I committed to throwing the first pitch.

    We practiced catch more frequently and for longer, preparing for the big day until it finally arrived.

    "Don’t worry if you make a mistake. Just relax."

    "Okay."

    Leaving my parents’ mixed looks of worry and excitement, I walked to the pitcher’s mound with the Sehwa Eagles mascot.

    That’s when I realized how massive the stadium was, and how many eyes would be focused solely on me, even if only for a moment.

    ‘Hmm...’

    But surprisingly, I didn’t feel as nervous or anxious as I’d expected.

    Imagining the crowd as the audience for my future streams helped a lot.

    After all, they weren’t staring right into my eyes. The only difference between baseball fans and my future viewers was whether they’d be watching me live or through a screen.

    I kept telling myself that this was just a short five-minute broadcast.

    I locked eyes with the catcher on the other side and mimicked the pitchers I’d seen on TV.

    -Whoosh!

    And a presence that wouldn’t be overshadowed by the crowd’s loud applause.

    If these three elements blended well, it would surely create a commercial that satisfied both Kang Eun-tae and the client. Working at a baseball stadium instead of a studio was unexpected, but so what?

    Nothing else mattered if he could get Ha-eun in front of a camera at the studio.

    “There’s no need for Ha-eun to perform like a professional actor. We’d focus on capturing her natural expressions.”

    What he wanted was a display of Ha-eun’s health, nothing more. If this were a food ad, he’d need flashy visuals and lots of acting, but for a vitamin, the key was imprinting the product’s effectiveness in viewers’ minds.

    The child models he’d reviewed earlier all felt a bit bland to him.

    The shoot date was approaching, yet he couldn’t finalize a model because no one matched the image he envisioned.

    Not too energetic, not too shy.

    Kang Eun-tae wanted a sense of calm, the poise of an athlete ready for the Olympics.

    “As you know, most ads featuring child models tend to be rather lively.”

    Compared to adult models, the appeal of a child model’s cuteness would be secondary here. Kang wanted to capture Ha-eun’s unique charm beyond cuteness.

    “I plan to convey Ha-eun’s quiet confidence, portraying the vitamins as the source of that assurance, as if they’ll help her face any challenge.”

    Taking time to carefully explain his vision to Ha-eun and her parents seemed to pay off, as they didn’t immediately reject him.

    Just as he was about to cautiously ask for an answer soon, Ha-eun spoke for the first time.

    “Um...”

    “Hm?”

    Her small voice broke the silence, posing a question that was oddly mature and yet childlike.

    “How much would the fee be?”

    “Oh, I forgot to mention the most important part.”

    Drawing the numbers carefully on a white notepad so that Ha-eun could understand, he explained the amount she’d receive for the commercial.

    Watching Ha-eun’s round eyes grow wider with each zero he wrote, Kang couldn’t help but smile. Though it wasn’t objectively a huge amount, it was a sizable sum for a child.

    For Ha-eun, whose VTuber plans required some initial capital, this offer was a golden opportunity.

    Ha-eun glanced sideways at her dad.

    “Is it okay if I try making money...like you, Dad?”

    Her simple, slightly naive question made him chuckle.

    “Well, then, I guess we’ll need to open a bank account for you.”

    With a straightforward answer that implied his approval, her dad nodded.

    Kang Eun-tae extended his hand to Ha-eun, who shook it with an innocent smile.

    However, no one could have predicted that the sports papers would run a feature on Ha-eun’s first pitch the next morning, increasing her market value.

    Or that a fan interview suggesting Ha-eun replace the struggling Sehwa Eagles pitcher would appear at the bottom of the article.