Ming You stood at the street corner, a dozen meters away from the court. He felt the cold brick wall against his elbow, his gaze indifferent and detached, fixed on the gray, lifeless sky. It seemed he noticed neither the passersby nor the city noise—only the emptiness above, which mirrored his own thoughts.
But this calm was shattered. Two figures approached the corner—Taek Jung and Sung Wo, their footsteps barely audible, yet Ming You sensed their presence without even turning his head. They stopped beside him, and a brief pause followed, filled with silent understanding. Then, the corners of their lips slowly curled upward, and those sly smiles hung in the air.
"So, Ming You," Taek Jung began, adjusting his leather jacket. "How are you holding up? Ready for the next game?"
"Ready," he replied, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. "But I need to know which team we're up against."
Sung Wo shook his head slightly and answered:
"Remember Shi Lei and Hong Ji? The ones you beat?" Ming You shook his head, and Sung Wo continued, "They've had a team since school called 'Tungdzo.' But don't think just because you won once—just because they underestimated you and ignored the clock—that it'll be the same in a five-on-five team match. Those two are real monsters when they play together."
Ming You smirked. He tore his gaze from the horizon and turned to the gangsters.
"I want to double my team's debt and bet it all on Tungdzo."
The gangsters exchanged glances, their faces showing surprise.
"You serious?" Taek Jung asked, squinting. "If Tungdzo loses, you'll lose everything you have."
"Yes," Ming You replied without hesitation. "But if they win and Yoshido loses, I'll get double the debt of every player on my team. That'll give me full control over them."
Sung Wo and Taek Jung laughed, their laughter dripping with disbelief.
"You're really willing to risk everything for this? That's immoral even for you, Ming You. You're putting your whole team in danger."
"Immorality is just a matter of perspective," Ming You countered, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. "I won't let them drag me down without gain. If my team wins, I'll be in debt. But if they lose, I'll become their true captain and earn double their debt—while you profit from the bets on Tungdzo."
Taek Jung, still stunned by such shameless absurdity, asked:
"What if they don't listen to you during the game? You know how stubborn they can be."
"I'll handle it," Ming You replied confidently. "I already have a plan. If it doesn't work, I'll make sure they understand that winning the first game isn't an option."
Sung Wo shook his head, but interest flickered in his eyes.
"Fine," he said. "We'll bet on Tungdzo and accept your wager. But remember, Ming You—if you lose this bet, we take everything you have."
"I'm ready," Ming You answered, his voice brimming with confidence in his opponents' victory. "This will be a game they won't forget."
The gangsters exchanged another glance, and Taek Jung nodded.
"We'll tell our people to bet on Tungdzo. But you'd better be ready for the consequences."
Ming You smirked, his confidence only growing.
"I don't plan on losing."
With that, Ming You and the gangsters parted ways. He didn't look back or say goodbye—everyone knew their role, and unnecessary words were pointless.
Merging into the pedestrian flow, Ming You walked with measured steps, his face unreadable, as if he were just another city dweller heading home after a long day.
Twenty minutes later, he turned onto his street. The warm yellow glow of familiar three-story houses' windows passed unnoticed by his indifferent gaze. Climbing the stairs, he pulled out a key, turned it in the lock, and stepped inside.
In the hallway, he bent down, unlaced his black sneakers, and placed them neatly against the wall. Without wasting a movement, he headed to his room.
Sitting at his desk, surrounded by playing cards and empty notes, Ming You let the silence envelop him, broken only by his inner monologue:
"The upcoming game will be decisive, and my team must be ready to lose—for my own benefit..."
Leaning back in his chair, Ming You began piecing together his thoughts, rapidly forming a plan.
"The court's physical condition could be the key. I just need to prepare it properly. Convincing them to train outdoors instead of indoors won't raise suspicion."
A faint smile curled his lips.
"The dirt will make the ground uneven, and the water will create puddles. If I can make them slip and lose balance, they won't perform at their best. The perfect trap."
...
The next morning.
Dressed in black, Ming You walked slowly along the deserted sidewalk. A heavy black backpack swayed slightly with each step. The silence around him was broken only by the distant hum of cars.
He turned toward a basketball court four blocks away from the usual gambling spot. Unlike the crowded, noisy courts, this place was empty.
Stopping at the gate, Ming You reached into his pocket and pulled out two plastic bags, their crinkling faint with each movement. He unfolded them, testing their durability, then carefully stretched one over his hand like a glove.
The soil near the gate was loose. Crouching, he began scooping it into the second bag, packing it tightly with his fingers. Handful by handful, until the bag was full—heavy and bulky.
Finished, Ming You removed the first bag from his hand, crumpled it, and tossed it into a nearby trash bin with a sharp flick. A perfect shot—the bin stood a couple of meters away, and the plastic vanished silently into its dark void.
Moving toward the court, he set down his backpack and the bag of dirt. The asphalt beneath the hoop was cracked and stained with old paint.
Crouching again, he unzipped the backpack and pulled out several water bottles, unscrewing their caps. First, he tore open the bag and scattered the dirt across the court, covering the gray asphalt in a thin layer of reddish-brown dust. Then, methodically, he poured the water, ensuring it soaked the dirt evenly.
One by one, the bottles emptied. Puddles spread, mixing with the soil, turning into sticky mud. Ming You stood, examining his handiwork:
"Well, the court is now completely unfit for play—every step will leave a mark, every sprint risks a fall. With this setup, my team won't stand a chance."
After a final glance and a few minutes of waiting, he pulled out his phone and dialed Jung Ho's number.
"Hello? Ming You?"
"Gather the team. We're training on the outdoor court today."
"O-okay, where?"
After Ming You explained the location, he abruptly hung up without waiting for a response. Grabbing his backpack, he left the court, shoving the gate open with force.
Approaching a bench, he dropped the backpack onto the seat and sat beside it. He unlaced his dirty black sneakers and placed them carefully on the ground.
From the backpack, he pulled out a new pair—black sneakers with bright red laces, a stark contrast to his usual grim attire. He packed the old shoes into a spare bag and stuffed them back into the backpack.
Tying the laces, he stretched, feeling strength surge through his muscles, then leaned back, tilting his head up as he waited for the team.
A few minutes later, noise erupted a few meters from the court.
"Hey, wake up!" Lu Shen shouted, slapping Ming You on the shoulder.
Without even glancing his way, Ming You lazily waved a hand:
"Hi-hi, nobody's sleeping."
"Why'd you gather us at an outdoor court? The gym wasn't an option?" Haru Lin asked, eyeing the uneven asphalt underfoot.
Ming You finally looked up, his expression feigning mockery.
"In case you forgot, our next game is on an outdoor court."
Lu Shen immediately snorted, grinning wide.
"Ha-ha! Someone called you dumb, Haru!"
"You're the dumbest one here! I was just clarifying!"
Ming You sighed, pretending exhaustion:
"Quit wasting time. We've got a game at stake and need to prepare."
Jung Ho, who had been silently watching the exchange, nodded.
"He's right. We should get ready."
Lu Shen rolled his eyes but took a step back, stretching his shoulders.
"We knew that without you two."
The team pushed open the gate and stepped onto the court. The ground beneath them was uneven, cracked, and smeared with dirt.
Haru Lin grimaced, lifting his foot and shaking off something sticky from his sole.
"Ugh, this place is a dump!"
Lu Shen scanned the rusty hoops and chipped curbs, then huffed in annoyance.
"Maybe we should go somewhere else?"
Ming You, standing slightly apart, just smirked, hands behind his head.
"I picked this unreliable court on purpose. First, nobody hangs out here. Second, do you really think the court where they're betting against us won't have traps like this?"
Jung Ho crossed his arms, his dark eyes carefully scanning every corner.
"If everyone's against us, we'll have to overcome obstacles like this."
Lu Shen spun toward him, his face splitting into a defiant grin.
"As if we wouldn't!"
Haru Lin snorted, side-eyeing him.
"Weird coming from you."
"Screw you!"
Ming You clapped his hands to get their attention. His smile was too wide, too unnatural—clearly for show.
"Alright, let's start with a few laps around the court." He paused, then added with a slight challenge: "Try not to fall!"
Jung Ho raised an eyebrow.
"What about you?"
"I'm on strategy duty. If I train now, I won't have time to think things through properly."
Lu Shen immediately exploded.
"Lazy bastard!"
Haru Lin stretched and tossed over his shoulder:
"At least he's got a brain, unlike you. You're dumb and whiny."
Silence hung for a second before Lu Shen exhaled sharply.
"Damn, fine, whatever."
The others exchanged glances but didn't argue. Jung Ho stepped forward first, his focus already locked on the training ahead. Haru Lin lazily followed, and Lu Shen, still grumbling, trailed behind.
Ming You stayed put, watching as they began running. His smile faded slowly, his eyes turning cold and calculating.
Lu Shen stumbled and face-planted within three steps.
"Damn it, the ground's too uneven!" he cursed, brushing off his palms.
Haru Lin barely kept his balance, hopping awkwardly.
"No kidding, running here's a joke…"
Ming You remained on the sidelines, his lips twitching as he suppressed a smirk.
"This is just the warm-up. You need to learn to handle adversity. It'll help in the game."
"Heh, after this, we'll wreck everyone even on hardwood!" Lu Shen snorted, getting up. Haru Lin, jogging past, chimed in:
"Damn right we will!"
Jung Ho, breathing heavily, also ran by:
"Watch your footing!"
Ming You observed as the team gradually wore down. Their movements grew sluggish, their breaths ragged. He moved closer to the gate, feigning encouragement.
"Listen, my strategy requires speed, so I suggest pushing harder! Try another lap, but this time focus on balance. It'll help your dribbling."
Jung Ho slowed, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Should we run with the ball, then?"
Lu Shen perked up instantly.
"Yeah, that'd be way better!"
But Ming You shook his head.
"No, you'll just trip more. I'm worried about all of us, so balance at high speed comes first."
Jung Ho sighed but nodded.
"Thanks. We'll be ready soon! For now, guys—pick up the pace!"
"Heh, let's go!" Lu Shen bolted forward, but within seconds, Haru Lin yelped.
"Shit, my foot—!"
Hong Ren slipped and crashed onto the asphalt.
"Damn it, this is impossible!"
"Agh!" Jung Ho clutched his shin, face contorted in pain.
Ming You tilted his head, a deceitful smile playing on his lips.
"Careful now. The game won't give you second chances."
Jung Ho tried to stand but immediately grabbed his leg again.
"W-we… overdid it…"
Lu Shen, panting heavily, raised a fist.
"Hey, we're not giving up, right guys?"
Haru Lin, sitting on the ground, just smirked bitterly.
"Screw you!"
Heavy breaths, sweat dripping onto the asphalt, strained muscles—the team was clearly spent. Ming You watched them impassively, a thought flashing through his mind:
"I could push them further with a challenge or appeal to their pride… but it's better to let them exhaust themselves willingly."
He sighed and sharply raised a hand to stop them.
"Alright, everyone take a break. Don't even think of continuing until you've recovered."
Jung Ho, still clutching his side, nodded.
"F-fine… ten minutes, then we go again!"
Lu Shen wiped his forehead, scoffing.
"I'll be ready in five."
Haru Lin grinned tauntingly.
"Pretty sure you'll be done in under a minute."
"Heh, good one—" Lu Shen began, then froze. "Damn it, you little—! You're the one who'll tap out first!"
"You've still got energy for stupid arguments?" Hong Ren muttered, squatting heavily.
Lu Shen and Haru Lin turned to him in unison and cheerfully replied:
"Yep!"
Jung Ho, having caught his breath, stood up.
"I think we're ready to keep going."
But Ming You sharply raised a palm.
"Hold on. Until you all say you're good to continue, I won't let anyone push themselves recklessly."
Lu Shen immediately straightened, grinning.
"What, scared, weaklings? I'm ready!"
"Of course you are!" Haru Lin shot back, standing. Jung Ho stretched and nodded.
"Then let's go?"
Hong Ren sighed and got up too.
"If everyone's in, then fine."
Lu Shen threw Ming You a challenging look.
"What now? Gonna try and stop us, huh?"
Ming You just spread his hands, pretending surrender.
"If you're all this fired up, I can't force you to rest…"
Haru Lin clapped, eyes alight with determination.
"Good! Let's push harder, guys!"
The team pulled out their balls and began drills—crossovers, behind-the-back dribbles, explosive cuts. But the wet, uneven asphalt with patches of slippery mud kept tripping them up. Yet they genuinely believed the pain was making them stronger.
"Perfect," Ming You thought, watching the chaos unfold. "The more they fall, the more confident I am. I'll exploit their weaknesses in the game."
...
30 minutes later
Despite their injuries and exhaustion, the players tried to hype each other up post-training. Jung Ho, breathing hard, smirked:
"Hah… That was one of those workouts that actually makes you stronger…"
"Yeah, I swear my legs grew twice as big…" Lu Shen groaned, wincing. Haru Lin immediately jabbed:
"Something else of yours definitely shrank, heh…"
"Bastard—!" Lu Shen swung, but Haru dodged.
"I can't even feel my legs…" Hong Ren moaned, collapsing onto a bench. Jung Ho shook his head.
"Don't think like that…"
"We've got a real shot! We're strong, and I believe in us!" Ming You rallied—though his thoughts were the opposite:
"Heh. Their chances are zero."
But the team didn't notice his doubt. Jung Ho smiled.
"That's the spirit!"
Lu Shen pumped his fists.
"Hell yeah! After this, nothing can stop us!"
Ming You nodded, pretending to share their enthusiasm:
"But rest time isn't canceled. I've got the plan ready."
"Can't wait!" Jung Ho fidgeted impatiently.
"Recover first. I'll explain everything on the way to the court."
The team nodded eagerly, already anticipating the game. They packed up their balls, changed shoes, slung their bags over their shoulders, and limped toward the streetball court.
Jung Ho, walking beside Ming You, asked:
"What's the plan?"
"Quick drives with sharp passes. Backup plan—double coverage: me and Jung Ho. The rest rely on speed and agility. But the key? We give up the first two points."
Lu Shen frowned.
"Do we have to save our aces for the end?"
Haru Lin nudged him.
"Pretty sure your 'ace' is the only thing getting folded, Lu."
"Screw—!"
Ming You continued, ignoring them:
"There's more. First two rounds, play your hardest—but make it seem like that's your limit. You're tired from training, so use that. Let the opponents get cocky."
"None of us are tired!" Haru Lin barked defiantly.
Lu Shen suddenly pointed ahead.
"Hey, we're here…"
The court greeted them with noise—spectators trickling in, opponents warming up at the adjacent hoop. Team Yoshido approached the free hoop and dropped their bags behind the out-line.
Lu Shen bared his teeth.
"Time to kick their asses!"
"If we don't kick their asses, I'm kicking yours!" Haru Lin added viciously.
"Oh, I will—but will you?"
Ming You, stepping aside, called over his shoulder:
"Game starts in twenty. I'll check the bets—maybe we'll earn extra after winning."