Ming You, hearing their conversation, approached them with a deceptive smile:
"Hey, friends, we don't mind removing one of our players, making it four on four. Would that work for you?"
"We don't care how many of you there are, we just can't get in touch with Hee Rak!" said Gong Yi with anger and panic. But Taek Jung loudly threatened:
"Look, you bastards, either you play, or you give us the money and you're free, or should I explain it to you differently?"
"Alright, we'll play..." the players agreed anxiously.
"Well then, let's start! We're starting the jump ball," announced Sung Wo, blowing his whistle.
The crowd of spectators erupted with shouts of support for the players they had bet on.
As soon as the referee tossed the ball, Jung Ho reacted sharply, out-jumping his opponent and immediately taking control of the ball. Quickly assessing the situation, he decided not to pass but went for a dribble, feeling he could beat the defender one-on-one.
Gong Yi, an experienced defender, immediately took a stable stance, crouching slightly and spreading his arms to block potential attacking angles. But Jung Ho didn't slow down—he abruptly accelerated to the right, forcing Gong Yi to shift sideways, and then lightning-fast executed a crossover, switching the ball to his left hand. The defender lost his balance for a moment but managed to recover and got back in the way.
"Yeah, without a center, you really are weaklings!" Jung Ho sharply passed the ball to Lu Shen.
He caught the pass with both hands, feeling the texture of the ball even through the tension of the game. Crouching slightly for acceleration, Lu Shen dashed forward, dribbling past one defender with a sharp fake to the left followed by a move to the right. A second opponent tried to block his path, but Lu Shen abruptly slowed down, making him rush past, and then dashed towards the hoop again.
"Ha-ha! Turns out you're all losers!" Lu Shen smirked as he approached the hoop.
Finding himself a few steps from the free-throw line, he felt free—the defense was broken. Without unnecessary movement, Lu Shen softly released the ball upwards, and it, describing a smooth arc, silently slipped through the net.
"Get it together!" Jin Suk shouted.
Gong Yi started dribbling the ball, sharply switching it from hand to hand, trying to disrupt the defensive rhythm. His crossovers were fast, but Ming You, as if anticipating his every move, stayed close, denying him space. When Gong Yi abruptly stopped, making a fake passing motion to the left. Ming You, realizing it was a feint, decided to play along and deliberately reacted—his hands darted towards the ball.
However, Gong Yi made a fatal mistake—his gaze slid towards his teammate for a split second, and that was enough. Ming You, reading the intention, sharply stepped forward, intercepting the ball at the moment it left Gong Yi's fingertips.
"And you're quite predictable," Ming You smirked, deftly shielding the ball with his body as Gong Yi furiously tried to win it back.
Without losing pace, Ming You dashed forward, dribbling past a defender with a sharp fake step to the right followed by a move to the left. Once past his marker, he delivered a no-look pass behind his back to Jung Ho, who had already broken through on the flank.
Jung Ho caught the pass in mid-air, and as the defender hopelessly reached for him, he soared towards the hoop. His dunk was powerful and technical—with one hand he slammed the ball into the hoop with such force that the backboard shuddered.
"Gong Yi, next time watch who you're passing to!" exclaimed the player to whom Gong Yi was supposed to pass.
"Yeah, I know without you!" he replied, getting back on defense.
Jin Suk deftly received a pass from his teammate; the ball hit his palm with a dull thud. He immediately dropped into a low stance, feeling the resilience of the court surface under his sneakers. His torso was slightly leaned forward, his left foot forward to protect the ball, his right foot ready for a sharp push-off. His fingers gripped the ball not too tightly, but not loosely either—just enough to be able to change his dribbling rhythm at any moment.
First touch—the ball bounced off the asphalt just above the knee, second touch—already lower, faster, under full control. Jin Suk felt the defensive pressure but maintained his distance for now. His gaze scanned the court, assessing positions: Ming You was ahead, lightly dancing on his toes, ready to dash for an interception at any moment.
"Hi-hi," Ming You grinned, spreading his arms out to the sides like a spider casting a web.
Jin Suk made a sharp shoulder feint to the left, mimicking the start of a move, but the ball remained in his right hand. Ming You didn't budge an inch. Then Jin Suk abruptly changed his rhythm: two quick bounces of the ball on the ground, then a third—slightly stronger, with emphasis, and his torso sharply leaned to the right. Ming You, grinning even wider, took a step to the side, but it was a trap—the ball was already moved behind his back, his left hand took control, and Jin Suk sharply started to the left.
But at that moment, a shout rang out:
"Behind you!"
A teammate's voice, but it was too late—Haru Lin emerged from the side like a shadow. He wasn't just running for an interception; he had been sneaking up, adjusting to the rhythm of Jin Suk's dribble. At the moment the ball just touched the ground after the behind-the-back move, Haru Lin's hand sliced into its trajectory like lightning. Not a rough slap, but a precise, almost surgical strike with the tips of his fingers on the lower part of the ball—so that it wouldn't fly out of bounds but would remain in play.
The ball bounced to the side; Haru Lin was already surging forward. Jin Suk instinctively made a dash to recover, but his foot slipped—he had turned too sharply. Half a second of lost balance, and Haru Lin was already three steps ahead.
Jin Suk's team scrambled. Without their center, who usually covered the back line, the defense crumbled. Gong Yi, the fastest defender, rushed to intercept, but Haru Lin wasn't in a hurry. He dribbled the ball relaxedly, almost carelessly, but every bounce on the ground was precise, under complete control.
Gong Yi crouched in a defensive stance, arms spread wide, but Haru Lin had no intention of dribbling past him. Instead, he came to an abrupt stop, his gaze lifting towards the hoop—Gong Yi instinctively jumped, expecting a shot. But the ball wasn't flying towards the basket; it was already speeding along the three-point line arc, right into the hands of Jung Ho, who had started his cut even before the pass was made, now breaking towards the rim.
The ball arrived perfectly in his hands. Jung Ho didn't break stride—two powerful steps, a third—his takeoff foot slammed into the asphalt, propelling his body upwards. A defender tried to jump for the block, but it was too late—Jung Ho caught the ball in mid-air with one hand and with a sharp, slapping sound, laid it gently into the hoop. The net shuddered, the ball fell to the ground, and Jung Ho, upon landing, merely smirked.
For the entire game, Team Yoshido held absolute dominion over the court. Their attacks were honed to automatism, their defense—impenetrable. The absence of a powerful center on the opposing team had become their Achilles' heel: every rebound, every drive to the basket was achieved by Yoshido with frightening ease. The ball moved from hand to hand like clockwork—precise passes, lightning-fast shifts, and soon the score became embarrassingly one-sided.
In the final minutes, during the decisive attack, when Jung Ho, catching a rebound off the backboard, redirected the ball to Ming You with a sharp flick of his wrist, Ming You didn't even look at the pass—he already knew the sphere would end up in his hands. His fingers wrapped around the still sweat-dampened ball, feeling every bump of its surface. An opponent rushed to defend, but Ming You just kept flashing his practiced grin.
First move—a sharp push-off with his right foot, torso leaning forward, the defender instinctively retreats. Second move—a sudden stop, the ball freezing for a split-second at his hip. A third defender lunged sideways, but Ming You executed an unexpected crossover, switching the ball behind his back with a characteristic slap against the asphalt. A fourth opponent tried to block his path, but it was too late—Ming You was already accelerating, his sneakers squealing against the court, leaving faint black streaks.
Breaking into open space near the three-point line, he faked a shot—the defender soared into the air like a puppet on strings. But Ming You wasn't rushing. He held the pause, allowing the opponent to fly past him, and only then softly released the ball from his hands. The trajectory was high, almost parabolic—the ball spun on its axis, leaving a barely visible trace in the air.
Three seconds of silence. Three seconds when even the birds in the nearby trees seemed to freeze. Three seconds during which the ball seemed to hang right at the rim, before, with a quiet rustle of the net, it finally buried the opponents' hopes.
The whistle.
The referee's sharp whistle cut through the tension.
"We did them in!" Lu Shen exclaimed loudly, overjoyed, followed by Jung Ho:
"So lucky we didn't have to play against their center."
"We're lucky to have Ming You! If it weren't for you, we'd be in slavery right now," Haru Lin thanked him, joy in his eyes.
"It's thanks to your perseverance," he said, turning towards the bench. "Alright, go on, I have some unfinished business to attend to."
But just as Team Yoshido was about to leave, the gang boss, Tae Hwan, approached Ming You and stopped him with a hand on his chest.
"Bastard! What did you do to Hee Rak!?" Tae Hwan asked furiously, provoking a cunning smirk from Ming You:
"What are you talking about? We just won, that's all. You should have bet on us. It's your problem for underestimating our team."
"Don't lie, you scum!" Tae Hwan grabbed him by the t-shirt. "I'm asking you again, what did you do to Hee Rak!?"
"I told you, I don't know," Ming You answered once more with an indifferent face.
"Please, boss, calm down. He did win and settled his team's debts, and if we try to squeeze more money out of him, our reputation..." Before Taek Jung could continue, Tae Hwan furiously interrupted him, letting go of Ming You in the process,
"I don't give a damn about his money, I'm asking where Hee Rak is!"
"Last time I'm repeating this: I know nothing. I really did ask Taek Jung about Hee Rak, but all I did was plan how to break him in the game. My team can easily confirm that," Ming You continued to answer confidently, but Tae Hwan started pressing him:
"And how am I supposed to know your team isn't in cahoots with you? Especially when they obey you without question!?"
"At other times, I was at school and training. I think you'll believe the teachers and the coach, although I think it's quite risky for you to talk to them, let alone ask anything about their students."
"Dammit! Fuck! Where could he have gone then?" Tae Hwan swore loudly, and Ming You, taking the stack of money from Taek Jung, waved his hand at him, leaving the court:
"That's no longer my concern. So, goodbye, and thanks for the game you organized."
"That bastard even managed to make about a hundred million won off us!?"
"Those are the rules, boss. You made them yourself. If we break them, our reputation is finished. But we made a decent amount too," Taek Jung replied to him. Clenching his teeth in anger, Tae Hwan left the court with the others.