As the second half of the game began, Drake burst onto the court with renewed fire. He was a completely different player from the first half—faster, sharper, and far more aggressive. Dranred couldn't find a way past him.
The crowd that had been cheering for Dranred earlier had fallen silent. He could barely score, and even his teammates were struggling to add points. It was as if the wind had shifted the moment the break ended.
"I don't know, but people really thought Dranred would still play the same way he did back in his prime," one of Nathan's teammates commented from the sidelines. "They're expecting too much from him. They have to realize he's already retired—and that this is just an exhibition match."
"That's to be expected," another replied. "He set the bar high. Now it's his responsibility not to let these people down. To them, he's still their hero."
"That's for sure," a third one said, eyes fixed on the court.
Dranred still couldn't score. With every missed shot, it felt like the hearts of his supporters sank lower. The arena was quiet now—everyone was waiting, hoping to see what he would do next.
The third quarter ended with the All-Star team leading by ten. Dranred hadn't made a single basket. His fans sat in uneasy silence, their eyes never leaving him.
Standing by the bench, Dranred glanced upward toward the stands. There, he spotted Rosette. Even from afar, he could see the worried look on her face. She was anxious about him—he could tell.
"Such a worrywart," he muttered under his breath.
"Did you say something, Dranred?" his coach asked.
"Maybe he's thinking Rosette's already losing faith in us," one of his teammates joked.
"To be honest, it is tough to keep up with them," another said with a tired laugh. Then he turned to Dranred. "You're still young—you can keep up with those guys. I think we're the ones holding you back."
"Of course not," Dranred replied, shaking his head. His gaze drifted toward James's bench across the court. "They've improved a lot. They're part of the All-Star team, so this kind of performance is expected from them." Then he smiled faintly. "But hey, this is an exhibition match. Let's just have some fun."
A few of his teammates chuckled and nodded. He was right—there was no use taking the game too seriously. They weren't in the league anymore.
When the fourth quarter began, the arena came alive once more as Dranred launched into action.
After the break, it was as if his old agility had returned. He moved with renewed energy, his rhythm flowing effortlessly across the court. His teammates followed his lead, their earlier confidence rekindled. The joy of the game returned to them, and soon, even the crowd was swept up in it—cheering, laughing, and enjoying every moment as both teams played their hearts out.
Before anyone realized it, the buzzer sounded, marking the end of the match.
The exhibition game ended with a score of 85–86, the All-Star team led by Drake edging ahead by a single point. Dranred's last shot—a three-pointer at the buzzer—had nearly gone in, but Drake's fingertip brushed the ball just in time, deflecting it off course.
"I won this time, Mr. Shooting Star," Drake said, turning to face Dranred as the noise of the crowd swelled behind them.
"Congratulations," Dranred replied simply, extending his hand for a handshake.
"That's all you have to say?" Drake asked, frowning slightly.
"What else should I say? You won."
"I don't need it," Drake muttered, lightly tapping Dranred's outstretched hand before walking away toward his team's bench.
"Stubborn," Dranred murmured with a faint smile.
He glanced around the court—and then up at the stands. A wave of applause rippled through the arena, growing louder until it filled the air like a drumbeat.
The players paused, exchanging surprised looks as they realized the cheers were for them—all of them.
Dranred couldn't help but smile. The audience had loved every moment of the match. Their trip tonight had been worth it; they had witnessed something rare—a beautiful exhibition of passion, pride, and the sheer joy of the game.
"So this was your world before?" one of Dranred's baseball teammates said as they met him outside the court. The crowd had already left, but they'd waited to congratulate him for a great game.
"I didn't realize until today—you're a genius in both baseball and basketball. No wonder they call you the Shooting Star," another teammate added, grinning. "Those three-pointers were insane. You could've made it to the NBA if you wanted."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Dranred said with a smile.
"It's just a shame you didn't win."
"That doesn't matter," Dranred replied. "Everyone enjoyed the game, and I think that's what really counts."
"We saw Rosette earlier," another chimed in teasingly. "I bet she's proud of you right now."
At that, Nathan's jaw tightened. They still think those two are an item? he thought bitterly. It pisses me off. His irritation deepened when he caught sight of Dranred's relaxed smile.
"You think you can still give your hundred percent for the baseball exhibition match?" Nathan asked, his tone casual but edged.
"Don't worry," Dranred replied calmly. "I'll make sure to throw my best pitch into your mitt."
Just then, a few of Dranred's teammates spotted someone ahead. "Rosette!" they called out cheerfully, waving at her.
"Go on," one of them said, nudging Dranred forward.
Nathan, watching the exchange, clenched his fists. His teammates' easy approval only made his irritation worse.
"Is it just me, or do they really look good together?" one of them murmured.
"Let's go. We have practice," Nathan said abruptly, turning away.
"It's evening! Can't we just do it tomorrow?" one of them protested, but Nathan was already walking off. The others sighed and followed.
"They left," Rosette said softly, watching them go.
"They're probably busy," Dranred replied, glancing back at his teammates before turning to her. "I hope you didn't wait too long."
"I didn't. Actually, I was with James," she said.
"I thought you'd be leaving with him. I didn't expect you'd wait for me."
"Oh? So I should've just gone ahead?" she teased lightly.
"That's not what I meant," Dranred said quickly, smiling. "Of course James is here—I doubt he'd ever let me—"
"I know," Rosette interrupted gently. "I was just… worried. You didn't look so good earlier. I mean, during the third quarter."
"Did I?"
"Sort of."
"So, you waited for me because you were worried?" Dranred asked with a playful grin.
"I was. I thought maybe you needed to—" Rosette stopped mid-sentence, biting her lip.
"You thought I needed what?" he asked, stepping closer.
"Are you really going to make me say it?" she murmured, her cheeks warming.
"You have to," he said softly, teasing but gentle. "I don't know what's on your mind."
"You know exactly what I mean," she whispered, her voice barely audible. For a moment, she wished she could melt into the ground. He knew what she meant—she could see it in his eyes—but he pretended not to, and somehow, that made her heart race even faster.
"Okay! I thought you needed re—"
Rosette stopped mid-sentence, hesitating. Then, in a quiet voice, she finished, "I thought you needed to recharge."
She looked down, embarrassed. I can't believe him. He actually made me say it. Even without looking up, she could feel her cheeks burning. It had taken all her courage just to say those words.
Then Dranred chuckled softly.
"You're laughing now?" she said, irritated, clenching her fists slightly. Is he making fun of me? she wondered.
"Forget it," she muttered. "I guess my worries were unnecessary. If you can laugh like that, then you're fine." She turned to leave, humiliation and frustration washing over her.
But before she could take another step, she felt his arms wrap gently around her from behind.
"Don't go," Dranred whispered. His warm breath brushed her ear, and her heart began to race. Her cheeks flushed even deeper.
"I was happy when you said you waited for me—and that you worried about me," he murmured. "Honestly, I did need to recharge."
Rosette froze.
"Things will change from here on," he added quietly.
She didn't understand what he meant. But somehow, the words scared her.
"You—you need to recharge, right? I think—"
"Let's stay like this a little longer," he said, almost in a whisper.
"Don't act like a spoiled child," she replied softly, trying to regain control. "And I think you should stop doing things like this."
"Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?"
"It does," she said, gently taking his hands and pulling them away before turning to face him.
"I'm sorry," Dranred said, his voice low.
"Why are you apologizing?"
"You said you're uncomfortable."
"I am," she admitted, her eyes glistening. "Especially when you treat me so kindly, so gently—it makes me think you see me as more than your little sister. And yet… it hurts knowing I can only ever be that to you."
"Rosette…" he said softly.
"I can never replace Estelle in your heart. I know that. I'll always be your fan—your little sister. But if you keep treating me this way, I might start believing I'm someone special to you.
You once told me you'd find the right words to tell me how you feel. But I don't think I can wait for that anymore. The longer I wait, the more it hurts. I'm sorry, Red."
"What are you saying?" he asked, shaken.
"You said it yourself—that everything will change from here on."
"Yes, but what I meant was—"
"I didn't realize I was this selfish," she whispered. "I'm scared of my own feelings. So before they become unbearable… I've decided to let go." She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. Dranred stood frozen, too stunned to respond. They had been fine just moments ago—what had changed? Her words cut deep, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. She wouldn't let him.
"This is the last time," she murmured.
"Last time?" he repeated, confused.
"Recharge," she said softly, tightening her embrace. He could feel it—she was saying goodbye. Fear flooded him. He had never imagined having to say goodbye to her. He cherished her—her smile, her warmth, everything about her. Hearing her say those words felt like a dagger to his heart.
"Goodbye, Red," Rosette whispered. She released him, turned, and walked away quickly. Dranred stood motionless, his mind blank with disbelief. He could have sworn he saw tears when she turned her back. He wanted to chase after her—but he couldn't move. Or maybe… he didn't know what to say if he did.
"That girl…" he muttered, clenching his fists. He let her go, afraid to make things worse, yet deeply lost. Because, truthfully, he didn't understand what had just happened—only that he was suddenly, painfully alone.