The next morning, the school buzzed with its usual activity. After the final bell rang, the hallways filled with students rushing to their next destinations. Somewhere in that crowd, by a window overlooking the basketball court, stood Jen Ryu and So Ho. They exchanged glances, nodded at each other, and moved forward.
Their target was ahead—a tall guy with short red hair, his bag slung over his shoulder. Jen Ryu took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"Jung Ho," he called out, waving a hand.
"What do you want?" Jung Ho asked dryly, turning to face the new club members.
"We have a request for you," Jen Ryu said, trying to hide the unease in his voice. "Can you help us in the game?"
"Why would I help you?"
So Ho, who had been silently watching until now, finally spoke up:
"You clearly want to take back your position as captain and play as a team, not just as some errand boy, right?"
"My team suits me just fine, and Ming You rightfully earned the captain's role—or did I not make that clear already? So leave." Jung Ho turned sharply to walk away, but Jen Ryu didn't back down. A desperate note crept into his voice:
"But you can't just betray part of your team for some money. Put yourself in our shoes! We just want to train and improve at basketball together with the team, just like you!"
The words seemed to hang in the air. Jung Ho stopped. For a moment, his shoulders tensed, and then… he hesitated.
Memories flashed before his mind's eye—the team before Ming You: laughter during practice, respect for opponents, heated debates over strategy. They lost sometimes, but they never hung their heads because they knew they were one. And then he came. And everything changed.
Jung Ho slowly turned around. The coldness in his eyes had faded, replaced by a shadow of doubt.
"Fine, I'll think about your offer. But don't slack off—keep training and preparing for the game."
With that, he walked away toward the school gym, leaving Jen Ryu and So Ho standing in the hallway.
Jen Ryu couldn't suppress a smile.
"Thank you! At least Ming You hasn't completely stripped you of your humanity. We'll be really grateful!" he called after him.
Jung Ho didn't turn back, but somewhere deep inside, something might have stirred.
Meanwhile, the school locker room was quiet. The midday sun streamed through the narrow windows, casting long stripes of light on the walls.
In the corner, on a bench with his head tilted back and eyes closed, Ming You dozed. His breathing was even, his face calm, but even in sleep, his posture suggested readiness to spring into action at any moment.
The door creaked open, and Jung Ho stepped inside. He stopped in front of Ming You, clearing his throat into his fist, but the other didn't stir. So Jung Ho leaned in closer and called out:
"Ming You..."
His eyes slowly opened, but his gaze was sharp, as if he hadn't been asleep at all. He lazily lifted his head, stretching his neck, and stared at Jung Ho, waiting for an explanation.
"The new guys approached me, asking for help in the game," Jung Ho began, shifting his weight slightly. "It's not a big deal if I let them win one round, right?"
"Why would you lose?" Ming You said coldly. Jung Ho sighed, as if he'd expected that answer, but pressed on:
"I haven't given them a final answer yet, so I wanted to hear your decision on this."
Ming You slowly straightened up, stretched, and yawned, making a show of how little this topic mattered to him. But a calculating glint flickered in his eyes.
"You already know victories are everything to me—even if it's against our own. But I've got a better solution... for an easier win. For you."
"Fine, I get it. I won't let them win." Jung Ho turned to leave, but Ming You abruptly raised a hand, stopping him.
"Wait. You haven't even heard the plan for the next game."
Jung Ho froze, then slowly turned back.
"What plan?"
Ming You smirked slyly:
"First, tell the new guys you agree to a draw. Make them think I've got you completely under control—that if it's a tie, I won't suspect a thing."
"So... this round will end in a draw?" Jung Ho asked, surprised.
"Of course not," Ming You chuckled fakely. "You'll score as many points as possible—make sure your score is a hundred times higher than theirs."
"Then what's the point of agreeing to a draw?" Jung Ho frowned again.
Ming You sighed theatrically, as if explaining something obvious to a child.
"Listen. You'll tell them to go easy on you in the first half, letting you score easy points. Then, in the second half, you'll pretend to be exhausted so I supposedly won't suspect anything and let them score. But in reality..." He leaned forward, his voice dropping lower. "You'll go all out in the second half because you won't have to exert yourself in the first."
Jung Ho fell silent, digesting the words.
"Got it... but why do I need to score a hundred times more than them? I'll win either way."
Ming You grinned, and this time, his smile was truly sinister.
"Simple. You need to crush them completely—so they're utterly broken for the remaining three games."
Silence filled the locker room for a moment. Jung Ho swallowed, then nodded.
"Alright. I'll do my best."
He turned and headed for the exit but paused at the door, as if wanting to say something more. In the end, he just waved a hand and left, leaving Ming You alone.
Ming You leaned back against the bench, lacing his fingers behind his head, and closed his eyes again. But now, a fake, satisfied smile played on his lips—as if he were forcing himself to feel that emotion.
…
The sidewalk leading to the streetball court was bathed in the golden light of sunset. Long shadows from the trees stretched across the asphalt like grasping fingers trying to snatch at Jung Ho's feet. He walked slowly, hunched over, hands in his pockets, occasionally kicking a pebble.
Ming You's words echoed in his mind, and every time he imagined deceiving the newcomers, something cold tightened in his chest.
From the other side of the sidewalk, So Ho, Jen Ryu, and three other guys approached noisily, chatting loudly. Their laughter carried far, and even the birds perched on the power lines took flight, startled by Jen Ryu's sudden burst of laughter.
The court greeted them with the creaking of basketball chains and the dull thud of a ball against concrete—someone was already warming up. The newcomers dropped their backpacks on the bench and started changing shoes, exchanging jokes.
Jung Ho stopped a few steps away, watching them. His shadow fell on the asphalt in front of Jen Ryu, who turned around.
"Oh, Jung Ho!" The guy's face broke into a grin. "So, changed your mind?"
Jung Ho took a step forward, scratching the back of his head, feigning hesitation.
"Hey, guys... about helping in the game..."
So Ho paused mid-lace-tying and looked up. Jen Ryu immediately perked up:
"So you agree?!"
"Sort of..." Jung Ho sighed, but he felt something twitch inside him. "But the problem is, if I lose, Ming You will get suspicious. And if he finds out about the betrayal..." He deliberately hesitated, pausing and glancing away. "Who knows what he'll do."
"That bastard!" Jen Ryu exploded, his face turning red. "We have to kick him off the team! Better yet—out of the school!"
"We could tie. That way, he won't suspect me," Jung Ho said uncertainly. Jen Ryu's face immediately brightened.
"Perfect! So, like this: we score two points, then you get one, and we keep going till the end! Thanks for the help!"
He was already turning away, as if ready to run off and celebrate, but Jung Ho sharply shook his head.
"N-no... not exactly."
Everyone froze.
"If we score like that, Ming You will definitely figure out I'm on your side." Jung Ho paused, as if hesitating. "But I have a better idea."
He tried his best to look scared—biting his lip, avoiding direct eye contact. But it only made him seem unsure of himself.
"You're right," So Ho said, lifting his head. "We're listening."
Jung Ho took a deep breath, as if gathering courage. Then he exhaled and began:
"Alright, here's the plan: in the first half of the game, you let me score. Then in the second half, you take over."
"What?" Jen Ryu frowned.
"That way, I can pretend I burned out in the second half. Ming You won't suspect anything, and you'll have a chance to even the score."
Silence fell among the newcomers.
Then Jen Ryu suddenly burst out laughing—loud and booming, as if someone were tickling his ribs. He slapped Jung Ho on the shoulder so hard he nearly stumbled.
"You're a genius!"
So Ho pondered. "The plan... is unexpected. Risky. But if Ming You really believes Jung Ho ran out of steam..."
He nodded slowly.
"This... might actually work."
"Jung Ho," Jen Ryu declared solemnly, raising his hand for a high-five, "you're the real captain of this team."
Jung Ho weakly slapped his hand. His palm was cold.
"We won't let you down!" Jen Ryu was already turning away, shouting something to the others.
A few minutes later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky crimson, players and spectators began gathering around the basketball court. Jung Ho, focused and composed, warmed up on his side of the court, stretching his muscles and practicing his dribble. On the opposite side, the five club newcomers nervously chattered among themselves, preparing for the game.
The spectators gathered around the court were actively discussing the outcome of the match, placing bets and arguing over possible results. At that moment, Ming You approached Jung Ho and, lowering his voice, gave a clear order:
"Jung Ho, you'd better warm up your three-point shots. In the first half of the game, that's how you'll score."
"Why take unnecessary risks?" he asked in confusion. Ming You pressed on insistently:
"Have you already forgotten that your points are doubled? Your three-pointers will count as four shots with your advantage, instead of two in a normal game."
"Alright, I got it." Jung Ho ran to the three-point line and began warming up his shots.
When the spectators finished placing their bets and the players took their positions at the center line, referee Sung Wo blew a sharp whistle to announce the start of the match. He tossed the ball into the air, and for a moment, it hung suspended before beginning its descent. Jung Ho reacted instantly, darting forward to intercept the ball mid-air and then sprinting toward the three-point line.
Two defenders rushed to cut him off, but their movements seemed more like an imitation of pressure—they hesitated to close in, as if wary of his speed. The moment Jung Ho came to an abrupt stop, firmly gripping the ball in both hands and settling into his shooting stance, the defenders faltered for a second. Their reaction was delayed—they jumped for the block just as the ball left his fingertips.
Time seemed to slow down. Jung Ho watched as the ball, released with perfect backspin, traced a smooth arc through the air and, barely grazing the rim, cleanly swished through the net.
The newcomers exchanged glances, slightly surprised by how confidently Jung Ho had started the game.
"That was amazing!" exclaimed Jen Ryu, unable to hide his excitement. "If he keeps this up, we won't have to worry!"
"Yeah, but don't forget, this is just the first half," replied So Ho, tempering his enthusiasm. "We need to keep an eye on his game."
Referee Sung Wo blew his whistle sharply, and the ball was put back into play. Jung Ho, staying composed, positioned himself beyond the three-point line, studying the defenders' formation. This time, he decided to exploit their inattentiveness.
With a quick but controlled motion, he bounced the ball off the asphalt, sending it upward as if setting up for a shot—but he didn't even touch it. The defenders, despite their relaxed stance, instinctively reacted, jumping to intercept.
Their mistake became his advantage. The moment they landed, Jung Ho darted to the side, caught the rebound, and charged toward the hoop. The defenders, fooled by his fake, froze for a split second—just enough for him to slip past them, leaving them behind. The asphalt beneath his sneakers screeched from his sudden stops and changes in direction, but his control over the ball remained flawless. Now, only the basket stood before him.
"Hey, where do you think you're going?!" one of the defenders shouted, trying to catch up.
Jung Ho ignored the shouts, driving to the hoop and leaping for a powerful layup. The ball sank through the net once more, and the spectators who had bet on him erupted in applause again.
"He just doesn't know any limits!" someone in the crowd commented.
"This isn't just a game—it's a show!" another spectator replied, marveling at Jung Ho's skill.
Meanwhile, near the bench, Jen Ryu and So Ho exchanged glances, realizing Jung Ho's plan was working.
"He's really scoring just like we agreed!" Jen Ryu whispered, his eyes burning with excitement.
"But we can't forget about the second half," So Ho reminded him. "He has to pretend to be tired to avoid raising suspicions."
When the game resumed for the second half, Jung Ho, following their agreement, began feigning exhaustion. His movements became deliberately sluggish, his shoulders slumped, and his breathing grew exaggeratedly heavy, as if every step took immense effort. He caught Ming You's assessing gaze and knew he was playing his part convincingly.
But behind this act was an internal struggle. His thoughts circled Ming You's promises—money, status, opportunities awaiting him if he won. Those prospects were tempting, almost irresistible. Yet, the longer the game went on, the more distracted he became by the newcomers on the team. Their eagerness, their raw but sincere attempts to prove themselves—it all stirred something long forgotten within him.
He caught himself reminiscing about his early days in the club: that same fire in his eyes, that same naive belief that perseverance and team spirit mattered more than personal gain. Back then, he hadn't dreamed of money but of recognition—of being part of something greater. Now, watching these rookies, he couldn't shake the thought that he was betraying not just them, but himself.
"Maybe I should ease up a little?" he wondered, observing the newcomers' attempts to score. "But what if Ming You gets angry? He might take away all the perks he offers for victories."
Yet, despite his inner turmoil, the thrill and allure of future rewards tipped the scales. Visions of the wealth, women, and roaring fame Ming You had dangled before him drowned out his fleeting doubts, making him grit his teeth and suppress his hesitation. Instead of giving them a chance, he decided to show them who truly ruled the court.
"Time to act," he whispered to himself, feeling adrenaline burn away the last traces of indecision.
In the next instant, he exploded into motion. Like a bullet, he dashed forward, leaving two defenders in the dust with a lightning-quick fake. Two powerful strides—and he was airborne, releasing the ball from the three-point line. The shot seemed perfect, the trajectory precise down to the millimeter. A swish, the backboard vibrating—and the crowd erupted in a deafening roar.
"Unbelievable!" a fan screamed, jumping to his feet. "He's back in the game!"
The stands trembled with excitement, especially among those who had bet on him. Jung Ho didn't even smile—just cast a cold glance at the bewildered rookies. He had no intention of slowing down.
Every shot was ruthless and precise—the ball left his fingertips, arced through the air, and sank into the net as if drawn by a magnet. The newcomers couldn't even react—their defense crumbled under the onslaught of his rapid drives and sharp pull-up jumpers.
"What's happening?" So Ho gasped as Jung Ho's three-pointer ripped through the net without even touching the rim. "He's not stopping!"
Jen Ryu clenched his teeth, feeling the game slip away. He sharply clapped his hands, trying to rally the team.
"Pull yourselves together!" he barked, lunging into a press. "Don't give him a second to aim! If Jung Ho gets the ball, double-team him immediately—cut off all his options!"