Jung Ho and Hong Ren silently rose from the bench, exchanging brief, knowing glances. Without a word, they walked to opposite sides of the court, their movements precise and controlled.
At that moment, Lu Shen and Haru Lin strolled past them. Lu Shen smirked slightly and tossed over his shoulder:
"Hope you don't screw up."
"We'll give it our all," came the firm reply.
Ming You, sitting on the back bench, smiled inwardly, though his face remained impassive:
"The plan is in motion. The next debtors are already on the court—just need to fully subdue them."
The game referee, Sung Wo, blew his whistle:
"Total pot—twenty million won! First throw—one hundred thousand won!"
"Accepted," Jung Ho nodded, followed by Hong Ren:
"Same."
"Confirmed! Ten seconds!" Sung Wo announced loudly, starting the timer and stepping closer to the spectator benches.
Jung Ho bounced the ball once against the asphalt and caught it. He jumped, made a short swing—and released. The ball traced a smooth arc and cleanly passed through the hoop without even grazing the rim.
Hong Ren didn't hesitate: he threw in one sharp motion. The ball hit the backboard but, rebounding, still dropped into the basket.
Sung Wo stopped the timer and blew his whistle again:
"Well, the total pot remains unchanged. Next throw—five hundred thousand won! Remember, you can raise the stakes!"
"Agreed," Jung Ho called out seriously.
Hong Ren nodded silently, his fingers slightly squeezing the ball, testing its grip.
Sung Wo turned to the spectators:
"Then let's begin!"
Jung Ho dribbled quickly, each bounce sharp and low to control the rhythm. He stopped abruptly, crouched slightly, then straightened in one swift motion, releasing the ball with a smooth flick of his wrist. The ball arced through the air and slipped into the net with a soft swish.
Hong Ren didn't hesitate. His shot was quick, almost unprepared—a sharp push with a spin. The ball hit the backboard and ricocheted straight into the net.
"Damn, should've played at this pace from the start!" Lu Shen shouted from the bench. Haru Lin, sitting beside him, turned his head:
"And which one of us started raising the bets, huh?"
While they argued, Ming You, sitting behind them, continued his calculations:
"I could force them to bet, but if they lose, I might take the blame. Better stick to the original plan."
Meanwhile, Sung Wo continued the game:
"Next throw—one million won!"
"We agree—" Jung Ho barely got the words out before Hong Ren cut in with his indifferent tone:
"Multiply by ten."
"Huh? Why—" Jung Ho stammered, but Hong Ren spoke louder:
"A consequence-free game, and we'll definitely score. Don't forget Ming You's in debt."
"Right…" Jung Ho turned to Sung Wo. "Then I accept the raise!"
"Excellent! Pot increased to ten million won! Time starts now!"
Jung Ho dribbled sharply, bouncing the ball hard against the asphalt—crisp, controlled, rhythmic. Stopping, he crouched slightly, then sprang up, releasing the ball with a smooth wrist flick. The ball spun through the air in a high arc and dropped into the net with a quiet swish.
Hong Ren chased the dribble, taking two quick steps back before launching an almost-aimless shot with a sharp twist. The ball hit the rim, bounced—spun on the edge…
And finally fell in.
"Both players scored! Next round—from the three-point line! Total pot—thirty million won! Throw value—ten million!"
"Ten million per throw?!" Lu Shen jumped up from the bench.
Haru Lin, still seated, rolled his eyes:
"You've bet more yourself, idiot."
Jung Ho shouted:
"No changes!"
"Okay." Hong Ren nodded, and the referee blew his whistle again:
"Begin!"
Jung Ho dribbled hard, each bounce low and rhythmic. His palm gripped the leather tightly, fingers synced with every rebound.
Stopping in his stance, he bent his knees slightly, then powered upward, launching the ball with a smooth wrist motion. The ball, backspinning, traced a perfect arc and sank cleanly through the net with a soft rustle.
"Buying ten more seconds," Hong Ren called out, still dribbling.
"Wait, that's allowed?!" Lu Shen stood again, and Haru Lin yanked him back down:
"Idiot, were you even listening to the rules?"
Sung Wo whistled, then announced:
"Granted! Ten extra seconds—go!"
Hong Ren dribbled methodically, each bounce slightly too hard—the ball rebounded high, forcing extra steps. His fingers nervously adjusted the grip with each bounce, as if searching for perfection.
Stopping abruptly, he dipped slightly and rose for the shot. The ball left his hand with visible spin, but the arc was too flat.
It struck the back of the rim with a thud, bounced up, and began circling the metal hoop—two full rotations.
On the last turn, it teetered for a heartbeat before finally dropping through with a quiet swish.
"Now, the final shot—from center court!" Sung Wo declared. Jung Ho looked stunned:
"But that's—"
"Only one winner," the referee cut in sharply. "Remember, you can pressure your opponent with raised stakes!"
"He's not my opponent!" Jung Ho snapped.
Sung Wo shrugged indifferently:
"Your call." He turned to the spectators. "Total pot—forty-four million won! Throw value—the entire pot!"
"Tch… I accept," Jung Ho hesitated, stepping to the center.
But Hong Ren's response, standing behind him, was firm:
"I refuse!"
This time, even Haru Lin jumped up alongside Lu Shen:
"WHAT?!"
"Why would you—" Jung Ho started, but Hong Ren interrupted, turning to face him:
"We're a team. Besides, if a player refuses a bet, the one who accepted automatically wins. Neither of us would've scored from center, so at least you take the win…"
Sung Wo blew a sharp whistle:
"Time's up! Throw invalid!"
Jung Ho, Hong Ren, Lu Shen, Haru Lin, and Ming You—who expertly feigned surprise—all shouted in unison:
"HUH?!"
"But the rules say—" Jung Ho began, but the referee cut him off:
"Should've listened closer! Automatic victory only applies to opponent's bets, not the referee's!"
Lu Shen stormed onto the court:
"What kind of crap is this?!"
"Exactly! Jung Ho won!" Haru Lin followed.
Ming You, smirking at the chaos, prepared his next move:
"Well, time to play the hero. Since I know their addresses—courtesy of the teacher's lounge—all I need to do is leak them to Taek Jung. My final act? Becoming their 'noble savior'… and eventually, their true leader."
While the team argued with the referee, he stood and approached a group of gangsters smoking nearby.
Ming You walked up to them, ready to share his plan.
"Taek Jung, how about we mess with that team a little?" He jerked his thumb toward the court.
"Heh, ever heard of shame?" Taek Jung stifled a laugh. "Not against it—sounds fun. This the second act you needed?"
"Exactly. But honestly, you need this more. Gotta remind certain people about their debts, right?" Ming You grinned slyly.
"True, but we'd do that anyway. So what's your angle?"
"I need to stage a scene—play the captain who takes charge of the team and their debts. All you have to do is pressure them, then 'release' them if they submit to me—as if I'm with you. I'll even give you intel on each player to scare them better."
The gangsters laughed at his absurd shamelessness. Taek Jung, having calmed down somewhat, was still astonished by such audacity:
"Haha! You're quite the egoist, Ming You. But what about the debts? Or are you willing to pay off their debts for this little performance?"
"I'll handle their debts, no problem. In fact, I'll earn far more than what they owe. So, do we have a deal?"
"We might agree to the performance, but the debts are your problem. If you fail, you know what'll happen."
"No problem." Ming You and Taek Jung shook hands.
After Ming You shared all the information about his players—their addresses, their parents, and other details he'd read in the teacher's lounge—the "Yoshido" team finally stopped arguing.
The guys, tired but still full of enthusiasm, were about to head home when two gangsters blocked their way. One of them, with a dragon tattoo on his forearm, stepped forward, his voice low and threatening.
"Hey, kids. You know anything about debts?" he said, scanning the team with contempt.
The team exchanged glances. They had no idea what was happening, but the tension in the air was palpable.
"What the hell debts? The game was supposed to be consequence-free!" Lu Shen blurted out, his face twisted in confusion, though his voice betrayed uncertainty.
Haru Lin took a small step forward, but his voice wasn't confident either:
"We don't owe anything."
The gangsters smirked. The second one, with a buzz cut, added:
"You don't understand who you're dealing with. You've got debts, and we're here to collect."
"Let us through, or we'll call the police!" Jung Ho threatened.
But that only made one of the gangsters laugh.
"Hey, Jung Ho, go ahead and call them. But then you can kiss your parents goodbye—we'll make them pay your debts instead. You don't want your family finding out about what you've been up to here, right?"
"How do you—" Jung Ho, stunned, didn't get to finish his question before Ming You stepped out of the shadows. He looked as confident as ever, and his presence immediately shifted the atmosphere.
"Guys," he said, addressing the team, "don't worry. I'll help you with the debts."
"How the hell are you gonna pull that off?" Lu Shen asked, still not believing what was happening.
Ming You turned to the gangsters.
"How much do they owe?" he asked, as if it were just another business deal.
The gangsters exchanged glances, and one of them answered:
"Thirty grand in total. This isn't a joke, kid."
"Thirty thousand won? That's no problem." Ming You smirked.
"Haha, thirty thousand dollars, little man." The tattooed gangster's reply sent the whole team into shock. Ming You played along perfectly, feigning surprise.
"What if I help them pay it off? What do you want in return?" Ming You asked with exaggerated naivety.
The gangsters glanced at each other, and their leader, Taek Jung, who had been watching from a distance, stepped forward.
"We want them to obey you, but you obey us," he said, his voice full of confidence, though he struggled to hide his amusement at Ming You's shamelessness. "It's a win-win deal."
Ming You nodded, realizing the game had only just begun.
"O-okay," he said, pretending to hesitate. "Then we have a deal. But first, I need to talk to the team."
The team gathered around Ming You as he laid out his plan.
"Look," he began, "we'll use the debts as leverage. If we win in streetball, they can't touch us. We'll play for bets and earn money."
"But what if we lose?" Lu Shen asked, his voice full of anxiety.
"We won't lose," Ming You replied confidently. "We've got a strategy. We'll manipulate the opponents, make them think we're weak, then crush them."
The team watched him with skepticism, but excitement also flickered in their eyes. Ming You continued:
"We'll play here, on the court. The organizers will watch our games, and if we win, they'll clear our debts—maybe even let us earn extra. If we lose… well, nothing fatal. We can always bounce back as long as we're alive."
After some discussion, the team nodded in agreement. Feeling triumphant, Ming You led them back to the gangsters.
"Deal," he declared. "I obey you, my team obeys me—but only if you let us play for bets."
Taek Jung, shaking Ming You's hand, nodded, and the deal was sealed.
…
The next day, the "Yoshido" team gathered on the court to discuss their next steps. Ming You stood at the center, his hollow eyes burning with determination.
"Alright, guys," he began, "we're prepping for the next game. I'm guessing our opponents will be strong. We need to exploit their weaknesses."
"And how do we do that?" Jung Ho asked, already doubting the plan.
"We play their game," Ming You replied. "Like most teams here, they rely on brute force, but we'll use speed and agility. I'll come up with strategies to outmaneuver them."
The team listened intently as Ming You went on:
"We'll pretend to be weak, then strike hard. It'll throw them off—they won't see it coming."
"What if they figure us out?" Haru Lin asked.
"They won't," Ming You said firmly. "I'll adapt to their moves. Confidence is key."
The team nodded resolutely and began training.
…
Meanwhile, in a spacious room, the gangsters reported to their boss—a muscular man in his forties with black hair streaked with silver at the temples. A golden cross hung around his neck as he lounged on a sofa, a table in front of him littered with alcohol bottles and a glass ashtray.
Adjusting his black leather jacket, he spoke in a mocking tone:
"This Ming You… he played you like kids. Now we're dependent on him."
"It's not all bad, Tae Hwan," Taek Jung replied. "He's making us money."
Tae Hwan smirked.
"True. But we need to be careful. If he grows too powerful, he could take everything from us."
"Then what should we do?" another gangster asked.
"We'll watch and study his game," Tae Hwan said. "But as long as he's profitable, we'll play along. Let him have his fun… for now."