Ming You stepped into the school as if nothing had happened. But his movements were too precise, and his gaze was empty, as if behind glass. He didn't linger in the hall, didn't glance at the schedule — his first move was towards the restroom. His steps were quick and light, yet he tried not to attract any unnecessary attention. He deftly slipped past groups of students chatting by the lockers and entered the door leading to the men's restroom.
Inside, it was cool, and the faint smell of bleach mixed with the scent of soap. Ming You approached the sink, and the mirror above it reflected a perfect picture: a neat white shirt, meticulously tucked-in trousers, and a black backpack on his back, pulling his shoulders down with its weight. But upon closer inspection — in his hair, at the roots, dark dried stains. Another drop — on the lobe of his left ear, as if someone had smeared it with a dirty finger. However, upon closer examination, one could notice dried blood in his hair — not conspicuous, but still noticeable if one looked closely. Another drop of blood had congealed on the lobe of his left ear.
He sharply turned the tap, and cold water gushed into the sink. Ming You wet his hands and began to wash his face, finally washing away the traces. The water streamed down his face, washing away not only the blood but also the drowsiness. He bent lower, letting the streams run through his hair, then carefully wiped his ears and neck. The water turned a pinkish hue, but a moment later it became clear.
At that moment, one of his classmates approached the adjacent sink. The guy gave him a mocking look and casually teased:
"Didn't sleep at all? Or do you even have a hangover, our honor student?"
Ming You didn't flinch; he even put on a fake smile, and his fingers only froze for a second, clutching the wet strands.
"Yeah, didn't sleep, we have exams and all that."
"Ha, I get it. Well, good luck to all of us then."
Ming You silently nodded at his classmate, and the fake smile slid sharply from his face as soon as the other turned away and left the restroom. He grabbed a few paper towels and wiped his face, but his hair was still damp, slightly darker than usual.
Tossing the wet towels into the front pocket of his backpack, he left the restroom and headed down the corridor towards the school gym.
Ming You pushed open the door to the school gym, and the air smelled of sweat and the freshness of rubber. Yoshido's team was running laps, training intently before the upcoming game. But, as if nothing was wrong, as if he had slept well a few hours ago and done nothing else, Ming You approached them with a confident smile.
"Hey, have you all slacked off completely?" he said with a smile, interrupting their lap around the court. "We have a serious game ahead!"
"Ming You?!" exclaimed Jung Ho, stopping and wiping sweat from his forehead. "Did you manage to train outside already?"
"Or were you running late and didn't have time to wash up at home?" Lu Shen added with a smirk.
"Just sleep-deprived, so I cooled off," Ming You replied, moving closer. "You all know we have to prepare for the game. We can't afford to make mistakes."
Lu Shen, somewhat skeptical, furrowed his brows.
"Damn, you understand what we're getting into, right? Especially when you've taken on a double debt!"
"Yes, I understand," Ming You nodded. "But we have an advantage. Their strong center is their weak point. If we can control him, the rest of the team won't be able to adjust to him."
"But what if they decide to play dirty? Or worse, like that injury order, for example..." asked Haru Lin, his voice full of anxiety. "We can't take that risk."
"We have no choice," said Ming You, his voice becoming more serious. "I took on your debts, and now we have to resolve this. We can't afford to lose." But in reality, Ming You thought differently:
"To hell with their debts, the main thing is victory and getting benefits from these pawns."
Hong Ren, who had been silent until now, finally interjected:
"But you don't owe anything, Ming You! Why did you take on our problems?"
"Because I'm part of this team," he answered firmly. "I won't leave you in trouble. We must unite and show them what we're capable of."
Jung Ho, feeling the growing tension, raised his hand.
"Alright, let's focus. Ming You is right. We need to work out a strategy. How will we handle their center?"
"We could try using a fast-paced game," suggested Lu Shen. "If we move faster than them, it will give us an advantage."
"The only fast-paced game you play is with your dick, we're playing streetball!" Haru Lin added with a smirk.
"And you're any better?"
Hong Ren rolled his eyes:
"Shall we continue discussing the game plan?"
"Thanks," Ming You nodded to him, confidently looking over his comrades. "Let's do this: Jung Ho and I will handle the center, and the rest of you will support the defense. Focus on agility and speed; the rest of their team, besides the center, isn't remarkable, and that plays into our hands."
Lu Shen smirked, tossing the ball from hand to hand.
"Heh, so, to practice then?"
"Well said, let's get to it!" Jung Ho grunted approvingly.
"No," Ming You stopped them sharply. "Don't waste your energy; we'll have time to warm up before the game."
Jung Ho frowned slightly, but a moment later just shrugged.
"Well, whatever you say."
The rest of the team nodded and, exchanging short remarks, headed towards the locker room.
Ming You, not joining the general movement, turned sharply and headed for the gym exit. He walked through the deserted school corridor, where his footsteps echoed, pushed open the heavy door, and stepped outside. The cold air hit his face, but he didn't even slow down, continuing forward.
After walking a couple of blocks, Ming You turned onto his street – a quiet one with three-story apartment buildings. He pushed the creaky gate, stepped into the yard, and climbed the narrow stairs. On the third floor, the key clicked in the lock, and the door swung open, letting him into the dark hallway.
Taking off his shoes, Ming You went into his room and threw his backpack by the closet. For a moment he froze, looking at the closet doors, but then immediately turned away and headed to the bathroom.
The cold tiles under his feet and the harsh light of the lamp. He unbuttoned his shirt mechanically, without looking, dropping the fabric on the floor. The water gushed out in hot streams, washing away the sweat, dust, and dried traces of blood from his skin.
…
The next day, around noon, Ming You came to the streetball court after school. A group of thugs led by Taek Jung was already sitting on a bench.
Ming You approached them with his plan and, with a sly grin, began to share it:
"Hey, friends, how are you doing? Or should I get straight to the point?"
"Looks like you've cooked up another crazy scheme," after Taek Jung and his lackeys smirked, he continued, "tell us what you've got in mind."
"I want you all to bet 10 million won on my team," Ming You declared with absolute confidence.
"I know you're quite the madman, but asking us to stake such sums is too much, even for someone like you," said Taek Jung, then started laughing loudly.
"I knew you wouldn't agree right away, so I'll put up the first stake."
"And what could you possibly put up that would make you demand a 10 million won bet from each of us?" Taek Jung asked with disbelief. Ming You stretched a mad grin across his face:
"My life and freedom."
"To throw your life around like that is a bold move, but your life clearly isn't worth 10 million won from each of us."
"Not just my life, I said my freedom too. In other words, if I lose, I'll become your slave and do whatever you say." A glint of excitement shone in Ming You's eyes as he mentally sneered:
"But the truth is, I have no intention of losing, hehe."
"Since you're so confident, I can place a bet," Taek Jung continued, "but don't expect everyone else to bet on you too. But if you lose, you'll regret it deeply. Don't forget who you're dealing with."
"Excellent, so we have a deal, right?" Ming You extended his hand to Taek Jung, who shook it firmly.
"Don't let me down, Ming You."
Taek Jung continued negotiations with his comrades. His voice was calm, but every word carried firm conviction. He was explaining something, gesturing, while his associates listened attentively, occasionally exchanging short remarks.
Meanwhile, Ming You slowly stepped away from the court. His sneakers thudded dully against the asphalt as he stepped onto the sidewalk. He shoved a hand into his pocket, felt for his phone, and dialed a number without looking. After two rings, Jung Ho's voice answered:
"Yeah?"
"Gather the team," Ming You said without any extra emotion or words. "I'm waiting for you at the street court."
"Which one exactly?"
"The one we're supposed to play at now. Bring the team."
Without waiting for a reply, he abruptly ended the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He began to pace slowly along the sidewalk, his gaze sliding over the surrounding buildings, empty benches, and occasional passersby. Every rustle, every distant sound seemed important.
After about thirty minutes, Ming You finally met up with his team. He noticed Jung Ho first, walking confidently ahead of the others. Behind him followed Haru Lin and Lu Shen, engaged in a light argument. Their jokes and jabs sounded familiar, as if this was their usual way to relieve tension before the upcoming game. Haru grinned in response to another of Lu Shen's barbs, while Lu Shen just shook his head, clearly preparing a witty retort.
Hong Ren brought up the rear, maintaining a detached expression. His indifferent gaze swept over the surroundings as if everything happening was none of his concern. Nevertheless, in his slow, measured gait, there was a sense of hidden readiness for action.
When the team had gathered, they took their position by the first hoop. Silence hung around them like a tense pause, broken only by occasional fragments of conversation from other participants.
"Are they not here yet?" Jung Ho asked everyone, scanning the opposite hoop. Ming You, without raising any suspicion, said confidently:
"The free time only plays into our hands."
"Oh, and here come our opponents," Lu Shen said, nodding towards four people who had approached the opposite hoop.
Meanwhile, with the opponent's team.
"Hey, where's Hee Rak? Why did we even come without him? Can someone get in touch with him?" one of the players asked anxiously.
"Jin Sook, I can't reach him either," another, taller player replied in a panic.
"If even Gong Yi can't get through to him... Is he really okay? He hasn't shown up for almost two days now," a third player said helplessly, dialing Hee Rak's number again.
"Alright, time to start the game, the audience isn't going to wait forever," shouted Taek Jung, clapping his hands. The team exclaimed in unison:
"But we can't start the game without Hee Rak!"
"I don't care about your problems. If I said start, then you play. Or we'll count it as a forfeit," Taek Jung cut them off. But one of the players, the most massive among them, stepped closer:
"But there are only four of us, and there are five of them! We don't have enough players!"
"And how is that our problem!? Just play! You're already late!" Sung Wo began to insist, raising his whistle.