"Rosette," James said softly as he approached his sister. It was the evening of the fourth finals game—the night the Falcons could finally claim the championship if they won. Everyone in their camp knew Dranred was out of the country. Without him, the Phoenix team was strong, but not strong enough to win.
"I'll leave you two for a bit," Estelle said, stepping aside to lock the door. As soon as she was out of earshot, James took a deep breath and faced Rosette.
Since that night he'd broken her phone in anger, they hadn't spoken a word. Shame hung between them heavier than silence.
"I wanted to say sorry," James began, his voice low. "I lost my temper. I shouldn't have yelled at you—or broken your phone. Can you forgive me?"
Rosette said nothing at first. Estelle, who'd just returned, glanced at her sister, worried at her silence.
"Don't be angry anymore," James continued awkwardly. "I'll buy you a new one—"
"It's fine," Rosette interrupted quietly. "I don't really need it. Besides…" She hesitated, her eyes falling to her lap. "Even before it broke, he wasn't answering my calls. Maybe he's angry with me… because I didn't tell him you'd be playing."
James froze. But before he could say anything, Rosette looked up and forced a small smile. "It doesn't matter anymore."
He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I was stupid to blame you."
"It's all right," Rosette murmured. "And… I'm sorry too—for keeping secrets from you."
James chuckled faintly. "You did nothing wrong. I was just being too strict."
Estelle clapped her hands together. "There! Finally, peace in the house," she said, grinning. "Now, let's focus on tonight. If you win, the Falcons are officially champions!"
"Yeah," James said, smiling wider. "Hard to believe, huh?" The excitement flickered in his eyes—until Rosette spoke again.
"James," she said softly.
"Yeah?" he asked, turning to her.
"Don't get mad… but I'd like to talk to Dranred before the game."
Both James and Estelle exchanged quick, surprised looks.
"I'm not sure that's possible," James admitted. "He's been missing for the last two games."
"Just in case," Rosette said. "If there's a chance… I want to return something to him."
Estelle nodded slightly, signaling her support.
"All right," James said finally. "If you can reach him—go ahead."
Rosette smiled faintly. "Thank you."
As they left the house, Estelle and James exchanged puzzled glances. Neither of them knew what Rosette planned to give back—or if she would even get the chance.
"Let's go," James said, guiding Rosette toward the car.
Rosette nodded quietly. Behind her, Estelle followed, glancing once more at the darkening sky. Somewhere, she hoped, Dranred was watching too.
The crowd inside the arena buzzed with excitement, but almost none of Dranred's supporters were there. After three consecutive losses, most Phoenix fans had stopped hoping he would ever return. The stands glowed with Falcon banners, their cheers echoing for James and Drake—the unstoppable duo that had carried the team since the first game.
On the Phoenix side, players were already on the court warming up. The energy felt different—tired, resigned. The bench was half-empty. And once again, the man everyone once called their star was nowhere to be found.
"I don't think he's coming," Estelle murmured as she, James, and Rosette stood near the players' entrance.
"We should head inside," James said, glancing at the clock. "The game's about to start."
Rosette hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the small envelope she held. Disappointment flickered in her eyes, but she nodded quietly and turned toward the door.
Then — a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Rosette? Estelle. James."
The three of them froze. A man in a Phoenix jacket stood a few steps away, his hood pulled low over his face. Slowly, he pushed it back.
"Dranred…" Rosette whispered.
James turned sharply. Dranred wasn't dressed to play—just a plain jacket and joggers—but the look in his eyes said otherwise.
"Don't misunderstand," James said quickly, looking away. "I only came here to escort my sisters." He turned to Estelle. "I'll go ahead."
"Sure," Estelle replied softly.
James placed a gentle hand on Rosette's head, almost like an apology, before walking past Dranred without another word.
For a moment, the noise of the arena faded into the background. Rosette stood still, her heart pounding. After everything that had happened, seeing him here — real, calm, and quietly determined — felt like something out of a dream.
"Is something the matter?" Dranred asked, glancing at Estelle.
"Go ahead," Estelle said softly, releasing her sister's hand. "I'll wait here."
Dranred turned his gaze to Rosette. For a moment, he wanted to ask why she hadn't answered his calls—why she'd been avoiding him—but he stopped himself. Instead, he waited.
"What's wrong?" he asked, trying to sound calm.
"Ask her," Estelle replied with a small smile before stepping back to give them space.
Rosette lifted her hand and opened her palm.
A baseball lay there.
Dranred's breath caught. He recognized it immediately — the same ball he'd given her before, still marked with his signature.
"Why…" he murmured, frowning slightly. "Are you giving this back to me?" He reached out and gently took the ball from her hand.
"I feel like I don't have the right to keep it anymore," Rosette said quietly.
"Why not?"
"During the first game… I knew James was going to play. But I didn't tell you. You lost because of—"
"No." Dranred cut her off gently. "I didn't lose because of that. I lost because I was distracted. Because James is my weakness."
He smiled faintly, eyes distant. "That game taught me something. Maybe it was better that I didn't know. I realized… I needed to face that weakness."
He looked back at her, voice softening. "But I still don't understand why you're returning this. I gave it to you—it's yours."
He tried to place the baseball back in her hand, but Rosette pulled away.
"You keep it," she said. "If you can finish this game—and win—then you can return it to me. That is… if you still want to."
Dranred's lips curved into a grin. "Are you bargaining with me now?"
Rosette folded her arms, feigning annoyance. "Call it motivation."
"Did you cast a spell on this too?" he teased, glancing at the ball.
"No."
"Can you? Maybe for good luck?"
"It didn't work last time," she said flatly. "So no."
Dranred laughed softly. "You're so strict." He slipped the ball into his jacket pocket. Then, without warning, he placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.
Estelle, who had started to step closer, froze mid-motion.
"What are you doing?" Rosette whispered, startled, her cheeks warming as their foreheads touched.
"Praying," Dranred said quietly, eyes closed. "For a little luck—your kind of luck."
"I need to recharge my energy," Dranred said softly, eyes closed.
"Recharge?" Rosette echoed, puzzled.
"Yeah," he murmured, a small smile forming on his lips. "Just stay like this for a while."
Rosette didn't move or argue. She didn't understand what he meant, but there was something oddly calming about the moment. Still, her heart raced.
A few feet away, Estelle clenched her fists slightly, biting her lip. She couldn't tell whether she was worried, embarrassed, or simply protective of her sister. Does he even realize I'm standing right here? she thought.
"All right," Dranred finally said, stepping back. "Fully charged."
Rosette blinked, then let out a small laugh. "You're such a child."
"Maybe," he said, smiling back. "But now that I've seen you smile, I think I can win this game tonight."
Her expression softened. "You're playing?"
"Of course. Why else would I be here?" He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the baseball. "Besides, I still have to return this when the game's over. And I promised I'd introduce you to the first person who got my autograph, remember? I don't like breaking promises."
"James will be playing tonight too," Rosette reminded him quietly.
"I know," Dranred replied. His tone grew calm, steady. "And I'm ready to face him."
"Rosette!" Estelle called, walking toward them. "Did you finish giving him what you needed to return?"
Rosette nodded, smiling faintly.
"Then let's go," Estelle said, gently taking her sister's hand. She turned to Dranred. "Good luck out there."
"Thanks," he said with a grin, watching them leave before turning toward the arena lights that were beginning to flare over the court.
The stadium lights blazed to life, flooding the court in gold and white. The crowd's energy was restless but thin — without Dranred, the Phoenix fans seemed lost, uncertain. The Falcon supporters filled the stands with cheers, waving banners and chanting the names of James and Drake, the unstoppable duo.
At the bench, Phoenix's coach stood silently, arms crossed, watching his players stretch. Every so often, his eyes flicked toward the empty seat — the one that should have belonged to Dranred.
"It's almost time," murmured Cal, their team captain. "He's not coming, is he?"
"Focus on the game," the coach said, though his voice betrayed a trace of disappointment.
From the tunnel entrance, a faint echo of footsteps broke through the noise. A few heads turned. At first, no one paid attention — probably a staff member, they thought. But then came the flash of orange and black — the Phoenix jacket — and a familiar silhouette emerged under the light.
The murmurs started small.
Then the noise began to build.
Then it exploded.
"Is that—?!"
"It's him! It's Dranred!"