Late at night on the streetball court, illuminated by the glow of streetlights, traces of a recent game remained: a ball forgotten near the fence and empty water bottles. The three losing players had left the court about half an hour earlier.
On the benches by the sideline sat a handful of men in black leather jackets. At the center of attention was Taek Jung, who was counting stacks of money on the bench. His crew, also sorting through cash, exchanged quiet, clipped phrases, clearly preparing to leave.
However, their attention was drawn to two figures approaching the court. Two beaten-up guys—one tall and athletic, the other shorter and wiry.
They walked slowly, their silhouettes sharply outlined by the streetlights, but their faces remained in shadow. The gangsters froze at first, some rising from the benches, but when the lights revealed the faces of the two newcomers, Taek Jung turned his head in their direction and couldn't hide his surprise:
"Ming… and you?"
"Long time no see, my friend," Ming You replied with a forced smirk. Taek Jung stood up from the bench and bowed slightly.
The other gangsters behind him also bowed, and Kwan Soo spoke with contempt:
"Pathetic bastards. I already knew you were in cahoots with this piece of shit, but to think he's the one calling the shots here…" Kwan Soo turned his gaze to Ming You. "Now I get what you meant when you said I was the first one you personally went after. But hiding behind your dogs with that 'it was his order, I didn't know anything' bullshit? That's just sad."
"Who the fuck are you calling a dog, you overgrown motherfucker?!" Taek Jung stepped right up to him, glaring. Kwan Soo squared up and looked down at him, adding with disdain:
"All of you—especially you."
"Hey, boys, enough already. We came here to play." Ming You grinned. "You missed my games, didn't you, Taek Jung?"
"You're right, Ming You. But here's what I'm wondering—how the hell did you read my fucking mind and figure out I wanted to beat the crap out of this upstart?"
"Who the hell even—" Before Kwan Soo could finish, Ming You cut him off with a loud, exaggerated laugh:
"Ha-ha-ha! Would you look at that, we actually have something in common. Too bad I'll be the one beating him—both in the game and outside of it."
"You're not just a bastard, you're also a damn liar," Kwan Soo spat, looking like he wanted to spit at Ming You's feet. Ming You flashed a smile in return:
"Look who's talking."
Kwan Soo ignored him and spoke to Taek Jung in a low voice, tilting his head down:
"So, are we locking in the bet, or are you not man enough to keep your word?"
"If we didn't keep our word, this court wouldn't have any reputation left."
Kwan Soo smirked slightly at Taek Jung's response:
"That's not good enough. I need a guarantee that the deal won't be broken. Or do you think I don't see that you're siding with this bastard?"
"Heh, you're a funny guy."
One of the gangsters, with a dark buzz cut, stepped closer to Kwan Soo and glared threateningly, adding to Taek Jung's words:
"Is the reputation of our court not enough for you? If you don't trust us, then—" Before he could finish, Ming You cut in, flashing a cocky grin as he turned to Kwan Soo:
"First, thanks for the compliment. Second, I already predicted this little scene, so here's a foolproof way to guarantee our bet." He pulled out his phone and tapped the camera app a couple of times.
"So, record the promise, and if you break it, your gang's reputation goes down the drain, huh?"
"That's—" Taek Jung started to say something, but Ming You didn't give him time to think, tossing in some sarcasm:
"Wow, what a sharp mind. I'm impressed."
"Fine. But we're recording it on my phone." Kwan Soo pulled out his own phone, its case a bright blue.
"Whatever you say." After his reply, Ming You turned to the gangsters, sweeping his empty gaze and fake smirk over them. "Friends, how about standing up for a nice shot?"
The gangsters ignored his jab, and Taek Jung sat back on the bench, addressing the players:
"Before we start, I've got one big question for both of you—what's the bet? Kwan Soo, I already know your stake and see right through it. But I'm way more curious about yours, Ming You. You're not just betting ordinary money, are you?"
"My bet's the same as my opponent's. It's a shared bet."
Taek Jung was genuinely surprised:
"Huh?"
Kwan Soo stepped closer, still looking down at him:
"Let me remind you—the loser never plays basketball again."
"Yep, that's right," Ming You confirmed with a smirk, making Taek Jung cover his mouth with his hand.
"Pfft—"
The gangsters burst into loud laughter.
Kwan Soo was baffled but kept his cool, while Ming You maintained his fake grin.
Once the laughter died down, Taek Jung addressed everyone:
"Alright, bet's a bet. Sung Wo, get ready for the tip-off."
"Forgetting something?" Kwan Soo shook his phone in front of him.
"Tch, fine, fuck it. Record it." After his reply, Kwan Soo took two steps back and hit the record button.
Taek Jung, in turn, glared into the camera:
"One-on-one game. The bet—basketball itself. The loser never plays basketball again. If the deal's broken or backed out on, I'll pay with the reputation of my streetball court." He turned his gaze away from the camera and tilted his head up angrily. "Happy now, you fucking overgrown pup?"
Kwan Soo stopped the recording and stuffed the phone into his backpack, tossing it onto the bench:
"Remember—reputation's worth more than money."
"You remember that you're not beating me," Ming You threw an arm over his shoulder, but Kwan Soo shoved him off violently:
"Stop making me laugh."
"Heh, by the way, Ming You, I've been wondering—how the hell did you manage to beat this giant and come out relatively unscathed? Don't tell me you're actually more dangerous than you look? I thought you were just a head, not some musclehead." Taek Jung smirked.
Ming You answered flatly:
"Just some basic knowledge of human anatomy and a few dirty tricks."
"Dirty tricks? Biting and groin shots? Or are you too embarrassed to admit in front of your buddies how pathetic you are?" Kwan Soo sneered.
Taek Jung rubbed his hands together, amused:
"Seriously? Heh, I didn't think you were so unprincipled."
"Like I said—a few dirty tricks. All's fair, even in the game." Ming You stepped to the center line.
Kwan Soo mirrored him, flashing a wide grin:
"Think I'll be surprised by your dirty play? On the contrary, I can't wait to show you that even cheap shots won't save you. So don't even think I'm that naive, you bastard."
"Can't wait to break you, Kwan Soo."
"Don't you dare say my name, even in a whisper!"
"Then what should I call you, huh? My sweetheart?"
Whistle!
Sung Wo blew the whistle and tossed the ball up. Ming You stayed rooted, while Kwan Soo, without jumping, batted the ball away with his right hand.
Ming You caught the rebound, feeling the rough texture of the ball under his fingertips.
"Pathetic brat, stop overestimating yourself," Kwan Soo threatened, spreading his arms in a defensive stance.
Ming You didn't respond. He was already calculating.
"First point's mine. He let me have it. Testing my reaction. Thinks I'm weak. Mistake."
The ball bounced against the asphalt. Once. Twice. Three times.
Kwan Soo crouched slightly but didn't sink too low.
"He's keeping his distance. Scared of my first step. But his center of gravity's still high. He's ready to jump either way—but not ready for me to stay still." Ming You analyzed the situation in a flash, then suddenly froze and faked a shot with one hand.
Kwan Soo, face blank, exploded forward and jumped slightly, his hand shooting up to block.
But the ball was already gone. Ming You ducked, leaving his opponent mid-air, then drove hard to the left.
Kwan Soo landed on the asphalt, but Ming You was already behind him. A soft toss off the backboard—touch, bounce, swish.
Sung Wo blew the whistle.
"Lucky shot. Hope you're feeling proud, huh?" Kwan Soo taunted, but the condescension in his eyes was gone.
The ball flew back to Ming You, who turned his head with a sly smirk:
"Too obvious you let me have that one. But thanks anyway."
"Shove your sarcasm up your ass, bastard."
Ming You didn't answer. He smirked again and took his position at the center line. Kwan Soo faced him, arms ready.
Ming You started dribbling, and as his opponent crouched lower, trying to cut off his path, he plotted in his head:
"He won't go easy anymore. Time to force him to play my game. Damn, the game!"
Kwan Soo reached for the ball, forcing Ming You into a sharp crossover, but he anticipated it and closed the gap.
"Didn't think I'd be cornered."
"You just figuring that out now?"
He dipped low, dribbling fast, then whipped the ball between Kwan Soo's legs. Ming You slipped past his shoulder, his hair brushing the defender's shirt.
But Kwan Soo reacted even faster. He stepped back and snatched the ball one-handed.
"Even your reflexes are this good?"
Kwan Soo didn't answer. He exploded into a dribble, the ball ringing against the asphalt, syncing with his rapid strides. Ming You pressed close, but Kwan Soo suddenly accelerated, slipping past like a shadow. His sneakers screeched on the hot concrete as he launched himself just beyond the three-point line.
Ming You tried to cut him off, but it was too late—Kwan Soo soared with such force he seemed to hang in the air. Ming You stretched to block, but he couldn't reach. The ball in Kwan Soo's hand paused for a split second before slamming through the rim. The chain net jingled, the iron hoop bending under the impact.
The backboard trembled, and the ball bounced past the faded out-of-bounds line. Ming You exhaled softly:
"You're not even sweating, are you?"
"Shut up and lose," he growled, scooping the ball up.
They reset at the line, and Sung Wo blew the whistle. Kwan Soo started a steady dribble while Ming You strategized:
"All physical advantages are his. Dribble strategies are useless against reflexes this sharp. Only one plan left…"
Kwan Soo faked a drive.
"Hah! You're reading my mind!" Ming You mentally jeered, lunging forward.
But the drive was a feint. Ming You only stomped the ground. Kwan Soo yanked his foot back and circled around him:
"Thought I wouldn't see your dirty play coming?"
"I… got outsmarted?!" The realization flashed through Ming You's head as Kwan Soo blew past him.
"Impossible. Even my dirtiest tricks failed. Impossible, impossible… kill. I want to keep planning the kill. You weren't supposed to exist. I'm the talent here! Me!"
Shaking it off, Ming You sprinted back to his hoop. Kwan Soo was about to cross the free-throw line when someone surprised him:
"Trying to compensate for weakness with speed? Then try reaching me."
He palmed the ball and squared up for a shot. Ming You, arms wide, stood frozen at first.
"Cheating's bad, heh."
"Sure about that?" Kwan Soo jumped and aimed.
Ming You leaped after him, but—
Kwan Soo released. The ball arced and swished through the net untouched.
"Can't wait for you to say goodbye to basketball."
Ming You seemed to strain for emotion, but his face stayed blank:
"Everyone has a weakness. You're no exception."
"Even if I do, you'll never reach it." Kwan Soo grabbed the ball and reset at center court.
Ming You stepped back. The ball pounded the asphalt faster and harder until Kwan Soo crossed over right.
Ming You didn't flinch—he swiped hard at the ball. Kwan Soo dropped it lower, and the defender smacked his wrist.
"Pathetic." He started dribbling behind his back.
Left hand to right. Ming You spread his arms, ready to steal. He tracked every movement: shoulders, knees, feet—
Bam!
Kwan Soo jumped at him, still dribbling behind his back. Ming You, eyes locked on his body, instinctively stepped back.
Kwan Soo transferred the ball from right to left behind his back, then crossed over hard right, blowing past the defense. Ming You hit the asphalt, stunned:
"H-he made me fall?! This weird feeling… this hunger…"
He didn't even try to get up. A second after he fell, Kwan Soo stormed from the three-point line and dunked hard.
"Giving up already? You're weaker than I thought." He landed lightly.
Ming You ignored him and silently stood. Sung Wo grabbed the ball and passed it to him. Catching it one-handed, he took his position.
Across from him, Kwan Soo kept a meter and a half of distance. Ming You started dribbling. One, two, three, four…
"Huh?" Kwan Soo stepped back, eyes locked on the ball.
Ming You dribbled faster—right foot, left, dip, drive, sharp step forward, back, left, right. His movements became erratic, unpredictable.
"This speed?!" Kwan Soo's mind raced as he saw—
Phantom images. Four hands, four balls, four heads. He reached for the ball and—
Ming You drove. He blew past. By the time Kwan Soo's hand hung in the air, Ming You was already at the rim.
A bank shot—perfect arc, clean swish. Kwan Soo, without turning, muttered:
"To refine technique that perfectly… I'll admit, you surprised me."
Ming You didn't acknowledge him. He was locked in. After grabbing the ball, he reset and dribbled even faster.
This time, Kwan Soo backed up further. Ming You slowed his dribble and stepped forward. The defender lunged, arm outstretched, but—
Ming You crossed over and accelerated. His dribble became a blur, sharp jukes in every direction.
Kwan Soo suddenly stepped back and tore his eyes from the ball:
"There's your weakness!" He spotted the ball under the attacker's foot.
Pow!
"Huh?" Ming You's voice cracked—emotionless, but shocked.
Kwan Soo stripped the ball and blew past, scooping it up one-handed. He accelerated, driving hard to the rim. Ming You stood frozen, laughing inwardly:
"Ha-ha-ha! Heh, with his strength and adaptability, I've got no cards left…"
As the defender stood still, Kwan Soo dunked. Ming You turned and walked to center court.
"No matter what you try, you'll always be weak." Kwan Soo picked up the ball coldly.
Ming You didn't even look back. When Kwan Soo took his position, he started dribbling, smirking:
"Time to end this."
He palmed the ball and squared up. Ming You swiped up from below, but Kwan Soo was faster.
He jumped and released. The ball arced—nothing but net. A light breeze from the shot ruffled Ming You's black hair over his eyes. He felt nothing—at least, his blank face showed nothing.
Kwan Soo bumped shoulders with him, sneering:
"You'll never play basketball again. Trash like you doesn't belong in this game."