The next morning, the school was bustling with its usual activity. After the bell for the last lesson rang, the hallways filled with students hurrying about their business. Somewhere in this flow, by a window overlooking the basketball court, stood Jen Ryu and So Ho. They exchanged a glance, nodded to each other, and moved forward.
Their target was ahead — a tall guy with short red hair, who had slung his bag over his shoulder. Jen Ryu took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"Jung Ho," he called out, waving his hand.
"What do you want?" Jung Ho asked dryly, turning to face the new club members.
"We have a request for you," said Jen Ryu, trying to conceal the anxiety in his voice. "Can you help us in the game?"
"Why should I help you?"
So Ho, who had been silently observing until now, intervened:
"You clearly want to get your captain position back and play as a team, not just as an errand boy, don't you?"
"My team suits me just fine, and Ming You deservedly got the captain role, I believe I've already said that, so just go." Jung Ho turned sharply, about to leave, but Jen Ryu didn't give up. A desperate note sounded in his voice:
"But you can't just betray part of your team for some money like that. Put yourself in our place! 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 became thoughtful.
Memories flashed before his mind's eye. The team before Ming You — laughter during practice, respect for opponents, heated tactical debates. They lost, 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 former coldness was gone from his eyes — only a shadow of doubt remained.
"Alright, I'll think about your proposal, but don't forget to train and prepare for the game."
With these words, he walked away, towards the school hall, leaving Jen Ryu and So Ho standing in the corridor.
Jen Ryu couldn't suppress a smile.
"Thank you! That Ming You, at least he didn't completely strip you of your humanity, we'll be very grateful!" he shouted after him.
Jung Ho didn't turn back, but perhaps, deep down, something had stirred.
…
Meanwhile, the school locker room was quiet. The midday sun streamed through the narrow windows, leaving long stripes of light on the walls.
In the corner, on a bench, with his head tilted back and eyes closed, Ming You was dozing. His breathing was even, and his face seemed calm, but even in his sleep, his posture suggested a readiness to jump up and act at any moment.
The door creaked open, and Jung Ho entered the locker room. He stopped in front of Ming You, clearing his throat slightly into his fist, but the latter didn't move. Then Jung Ho leaned closer and called out:
"Ming You…"
His eyes slowly opened, but his gaze was clear, as if he hadn't been asleep at all. He lazily raised his head, stretching his neck, and stared at Jung Ho, waiting for an explanation.
"The new guys approached me, wanting me to help them in the game," Jung Ho began, shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot. "It's not a big deal if I let them win one round, is it?"
"Why would you lose?" Ming You said coldly. Jung Ho sighed, as if he had expected exactly that answer, but didn't give up:
"I haven't given them a final answer yet, so I wanted to know what your decision would be on this matter."
Ming You slowly straightened up, stretched, and yawned, demonstratively showing that this topic wasn't worth such anxiety for him. But a calculating glint was already flickering in his eyes.
"You already know that winning is the most important thing for me, even if it's against our own. But I have a better solution... for an easier victory. For you."
"Alright, I understand. I won't let them win." He had already turned to leave, but Ming You sharply raised his hand, stopping him.
"Wait. You haven't heard the plan for the next game."
Jung Ho froze, then slowly turned back.
"What plan?"
Ming You grinned slyly:
"First, tell the new guys that you agree to a draw, so they think I'm completely controlling you, and that, supposedly, if it's a draw, I won't suspect anything."
"So, this round will be a draw?" Jung Ho asked in surprise.
"Of course not," Ming You gave a fake chuckle. "You have to score as many baskets as possible, so your points are a hundred times greater 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 stupid child.
"Listen to the end. You'll tell them to go easy on you in the first half of the game, thereby letting you score easy points. And in the second half — that you'll pretend to be exhausted so that I, supposedly, won't suspect anything and will let the new guys score. But actually..." he leaned forward, and his voice became lower. "In the second half, you'll play at full strength, because you won't have to exert yourself in the first."
Jung Ho thought, digesting the words.
"Understood... but why do I need to score a hundred times more points than them? I'll win anyway."
Ming You grinned, and at that moment, his smile became truly sinister.
"It's simple. You need to completely break them, so that in the remaining three games, they are in complete despair."
Silence fell in the locker room for a second. Jung Ho swallowed, then lowered his head.
"Okay. I'll try."
He turned and headed for the exit, but hesitated at the doorway, as if he wanted to add something. However, he changed his mind, just waved his hand, and left, leaving Ming You alone.
He leaned back on the bench, folding his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes again. But now, a fake, satisfied smile played on his face, as if he wanted to embody this emotion.