In the abandoned building, where dust mingled with the smell of dampness and the metallic taste of blood, an unnatural silence hung. Only the faint sound of dripping water somewhere in the corridors disturbed the dead atmosphere. The room, where just recently the sounds of impacts and crunching had echoed, was now flooded with a dark, almost black liquid, slowly trickling into the cracks of the concrete floor.
Ming You was on his knees, his hands covered in dried spots of blood, methodically gathering the last pieces of flesh, pulverized organs, and fragments of bones into thick, black trash bags. His fingers trembled slightly, but not from fear or disgust—rather from the adrenaline that had yet to leave his body. He tied the bags shut, making sure not a single drop could seep out, then stood up, feeling the numbness in his legs.
Blood covered him from head to toe—his t-shirt clung to his body, his pants grew heavy with moisture. He left the room, leaving a bloody trail behind him, and headed towards a hose lying in the yard. Water gushed out with a hiss, and Ming You first held his hands under the stream, washing the dried bits from his fingers. Then he bent over, letting the water run over his face, neck, and chest. The cold liquid washed away the red streaks, dyeing the ground beneath his feet pink.
Once the main bulk of the blood was gone from his clothes, hands, and face, he dragged the hose behind him back into the building, directing the stream onto the floor where the dark stains remained. The water diluted them, carrying them away into the drainage cracks. He methodically moved across the entire room, washing the traces from the concrete, then lifted the hose higher, treating the walls where splatters might have remained.
When the water had done its job, he returned to the backpack standing in the corner. From it, he pulled out bottles of alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. He started from the far corner, spraying the liquids onto every centimeter of the floor, walls, even the ceiling—where microscopic particles might have lingered. The chemical smell filled the room, overpowering the iron scent of blood.
After the final spray, he took the hose again and went over the entire room once more, washing away the remnants of the chemicals. Now it only smelled of dampness and alcohol.
Finally, Ming You left the building, carefully coiled the hose and placed it back where it belonged, then set the backpack on the ground. From it, he pulled out a bundle of clean clothes—a black t-shirt and track pants with three white stripes down the sides. He took off the old clothes, wet with water and blood, folded them into a separate bag, and stowed them in the backpack. Now he looked like an ordinary guy returning from a workout.
The trash bags with Sun Hee's remains lay nearby. He took them and went beyond the property limits, glancing around. The streets were deserted, only the distant hum of cars could be heard. The first dumpster accepted one bag; two blocks later—the second; a few minutes after that—the third.
Having discarded the last bag, Ming You stopped under a streetlamp, closed his eyes for a second, then took a sharp breath.
The streetball court.
People had already gathered there—some were playing, some were placing bets, some were just watching. The evening air was filled with laughter, shouts, and the sounds of a ball hitting the asphalt. Ming You merged into this crowd as if he had always been a part of it, and with a fake, sly grin, he loudly called out:
"Hey, guys, don't you wanna play?"
"You're a bold one!" shouted one of the guys. "These aren't kids' games, boy. We play for money here, and for quite a lot, heh-heh."
"I've got something to bet," replied Ming You, dumping out his uncle and aunt's wallet. "So, what do you say, shall we play?"
Two tall guys, dressed in blue tracksuits and identical blue-and-white worn-out sneakers, approached Ming You and accepted his bet.
"Hehe, Shi Lei, are we going to accidentally crush this little pipsqueak?" began a squat, muscular guy with messy dark hair.
"You're right, Hong Ji," the taller guy with short hair backed him up, lowering his arrogant gaze onto Ming You. "Two against one might be unfair against a little runt like you, but money is more important to us than some reputation. So, shall we play? We'll give you a chance to get out of here while you still can."
"I don't like rules either, so I agree." Ming You answered with a smirk on his face, meeting Hong Ji's sneer:
"You really are a lunatic! Well then, shall we start? Fine, I'll give you a head start—you can start the game."
The crowd of people had already started placing bets; all the shouts to the game organizer were along the lines of: "I bet on Shi Lei and Hong Ji!" and "I'm betting on the two bruisers!", but there were also those who placed small sums, mostly coins, on Ming You, because of his unshakable confidence and in the hope that perhaps his appearance was deceptive.
"Sung Wo, start!" shouted a short, muscular man with short black hair, dressed in a black leather jacket that was unzipped.
And he, sitting on a relatively central bench a couple of steps away from the out line, called out to an equally leather-jacket-clad man, though this one was taller and his hair was a millimeter longer.
This was the referee, who silently nodded towards the bench. He took a worn-out size 5 ball in both hands and walked to the center line, making a whistle with his lips, addressing the players:
"Bets for the first ball are placed. After the first scored ball, each of you can either add to your bet or change it. But be advised, if you change your bet—the amount of the initial bet is forfeited, even if the player you originally bet on wins. Game time is..."
"I don't give a damn about your spectators, just start already!" Ming You interrupted him with feigned arrogance.
Sung Wo clenched his teeth at such impudence, while his two opponents even smirked, Shi Lei laughing particularly hard:
"Haha, you've got no shortage of nerve, you fuckin' little shit."
Ming You ignored him and took a step back, preparing to receive the ball.
Sung Wo whistled with his lips once more and made the throw-in. The ball flew upwards; none of the players jumped. Shi Lei was taller than his opponent, but he decided to give him a head start—without jumping, he batted the ball in his direction.
Ming You caught the ball with one hand and took a sharp step back, starting to dribble and think:
"Alright, two opponents—that's not a problem if I can trick them. I've prepared something, and that something will help me out very soon."
He took a step forward and started warming up, slightly speeding up his dribble and deftly passing the ball from hand to hand.
"First, I need to create an illusion of weakness. Let them think I'm not a threat. That will give me time to prepare, and they also won't pay attention to the time. Against such gambling players, this plan is perfect."
Ming You noticed how the two players were looking at him with contempt.
"Ji, just look at him."
"Ha-ha-ha! Can he really be hoping for something?"
Shi Lei moved closer, preparing to intimidate the attacker.
"This will be an easy victory."
"Yeah, he doesn't know who he's dealing with," Hong Ji added, sneering.
Ming You moved slowly towards the basket, pretending not to be in a hurry, but his mind was working at full capacity:
"First possible scenario: double coverage; all I need to do in that case is slow down. Second scenario: they underestimate me and it will be quite simple—acceleration. Backup plan: a risky shot."
The opponents, confident in their strength, began to close in, preparing to attack.
"You stay near the hoop, and I'll intimidate him," Shi Lei began.
"Okay, you can play with him for now, he's pretty slow, so don't strain yourself." Hong Ji agreed with the plan and ran back to the hoop.
Shi Lei nodded and took up a defensive stance against Ming You.
"What idiots they are," Ming You smirked to himself as Shi Lei crouched, getting ready into a defensive posture.
He abruptly changed direction, making a swift dash to the left, then swiftly spun to the right, leaving the defender behind.
"Huh?"
Leaving Shi Lei bewildered, Ming You, without slowing down, swiftly slipped past Hong Ji, who didn't even have time to react to this maneuver.
In the next instant, finding himself under the hoop, he jumped up lightly and softly tossed the ball into the basket. The accurate shot was so clean it didn't even touch the rim.
"How did he do that?" Hong Ji whispered, shocked.
"That was just luck," Shi Lei brushed it off, but his voice sounded less confident.
"Maybe this guy has something to him after all, perhaps we should play a bit more seriously?"
"Agreed, but don't overdo it, he's still just a little kid after all." Shi Lei and Hong Ji smirked, taking their positions at their own worn-out three-point line.
Ming You overheard their conversation and smiled to himself.
"Hehe, they sincerely believe it was just luck and don't realize this is only the beginning. The next step is to make them expend their energy."
He sharply increased the pace, starting to play aggressively and assertively, forcing his opponents to run after him across the court. His low center of gravity and fast feet gave him an advantage—every time the defenders tried to pressure him, he deftly dodged, using sharp changes of direction.
Shi Lei tried to block his path, but Ming You instantly crouched, made a feint with his shoulder, and slipped right under his arm.
Hong Ji rushed to the side, but it was too late—Ming You's shorter stature and flexibility allowed him to wriggle out of even what seemed like a hopeless situation.
He used every opportunity to slip away, leaving the defenders baffled.
"Seems the plan is working," Ming You whispered to himself, "make them work at full throttle. They'll get tired soon, and then I can deliver the decisive blow, but for now I can give them false confidence."
Ming You retreated to the three-point zone and prepared to take a shot.
"Haha, look who's underestimating who now." As soon as Ming You jumped with the ball and threw it, Shi Lei blocked the shot and snatched the ball.
"You could have let him shoot, he would have missed anyway," Hong Ji sneered.
"Seems he really is hopeless," said someone from the crowd of spectators.
"Let's first score a couple of dozen points before we see him begging us to go easy on him so he doesn't end up in debt," Shi Lei sneered, rhythmically tapping the ball on the cracked asphalt. His gaze slid over Ming You, gauging his reaction. "You know how these little punks start whining when they lose money."