Deep into the evening, when the city lights had come on, Ming You and his team were heading towards the street basketball court. The place was illuminated only by a couple of dim, yellow streetlights, casting long, distorted shadows that danced on the asphalt like nervous ghosts.
"Are you one hundred percent sure they'll show?" Jung Ho asked nervously, wiping his palms on his trousers. His eyes, usually warm and sincere, now darted across the dark gaps between buildings. "After that… scene. Jen Ryu's face looked like he was twisted up inside. He might snap..."
"They'll show," Ming You replied without turning around. He walked with a steady, confident stride. There was a neat white bandage on his nose, but no other traces of the incident remained. "They have no other choice."
"Maybe they'll decide to take serious payback? Not on the scoreboard, but on our ribs?" Lu Shen added, winking at Haru Lin. A mischievous, provocative grin played on his face. "But that's not our style, right, 'noble player'? Ha-ha. We'll just… break them beautifully."
Haru Lin walked with his hands in the pockets of his stylish bomber jacket. His gaze slid over Lu Shen.
"Alright, alright. Your chatter is just fraying everyone's nerves. If it weren't for Ming You, you'd be shaking in a corner right now, not acting all tough." He shifted his gaze to Ming You. "By the way, about ribs. Do you have a plan for their 'physical arguments'? Or are we relying on innate charm again?"
"There's always a plan," Ming You parried, and a light, metallic note sounded in his voice for the first time. "But today it won't be needed. They'll come to play, and they'll lose. All that will be left for them is to hate quietly. And hatred without action is the best seasoning for defeat."
Hong Ren walked last, his footsteps silent. He merely nodded when Jung Ho's gaze fell on him.
They stepped onto the illuminated patch in front of the court. A group of people was already waiting. In the center — Taek Jung, massive as a boulder, in an expensive but tasteless leather jacket. His face was a polite mask, but his small, deep-set eyes studied Ming You with cold interest. Next to him — referee Sung Wo, thin and straight as a cane. His thin lips were tightly pressed together, and his gaze, sliding over Ming You, expressed a whole universe of silent condemnation.
"Such sentimentality," flashed through Ming You's mind, but not a single muscle twitched on his face.
"Ming You," came Taek Jung's low, velvety voice. "Glad to see you're punctual. Expectations are high, you know. Quite large bets have been placed on… a certain outcome."
"I don't make empty promises," Ming You countered. His eyes gleamed with a cold, emotionless shine under the streetlight. "My player is in perfect form. He's ready to show everything he's capable of. And even a little more."
Sung Wo, without looking at them, jerked his chin towards the crowd already gathering. Figures materialized from the darkness: young guys in leather jackets with cold, empty eyes; several girls with bright makeup and evaluating gazes, as if they'd come to a fashion show of blood; a couple of older men with faces where the habit of expressing nothing had frozen like wrinkles. They whispered, laughed with stifled, greedy chuckles. The air wasn't filled with the thrill of sport, but with the heavy, sticky smell of money and cruelty.
"The spectators are already here," Sung Wo said dryly. "Awaiting a spectacle. I hope it will be worthy of their investments and my time."
"Oh, it will be!" Lu Shen declared loudly, for the whole court, casting a defiant glance over the crowd. "Especially when our Hong Ren starts tearing those upstarts to shreds. I think the newcomers will lose without scoring a point. A ten-point difference — minimum!"
Hong Ren shot him a quick, stern look, in which a rare shadow of irritation flashed.
"This is basketball, Lu Shen, not a circus for your antics. Don't forget — concentration, not clowning."
"Yeah, right, Captain Silence," Lu Shen retorted, but the grin didn't leave his face.
Meanwhile, from the opposite darkness, as if from the very heart of the night, emerged another group. Five of them. Jen Ryu walked in front. His steps were heavy, as if he were wearing weights instead of blue sneakers. His face was ashen, with dark circles under his eyes, but a black, untamable storm raged in his burning gaze. He walked, clenching and unclenching his fists. Beside him — Mei Yu. His face was a classic mask of calm, but the tense line of his jaw and his too tightly pressed lips showed the titanic effort this composure cost him. The other three — Xiao Li and the two other newcomers — walked behind, heads bowed like the condemned.
Before reaching the center, Jen Ryu pulled out his phone. His fingers, large and strong, trembled with a fine, uncontrollable tremor. He dialed a number, put the phone to his ear. The tension on his face grew, twisting into a grimace.
"Damn it!" His voice, hoarse and broken, boomed in the ensuing silence, making the spectators hush. "Where is he?! Where's So Ho?! He should be here! He…" Jen Ryu dialed the number again, pressed the phone to his ear. "Unreachable. The whole time… unreachable. And So Yeon too. YEON!" he shouted into the phone, as if the girl on the other side of the silence could hear him.
"I can't get through either," Mei Yu said quietly, almost a whisper, but very clearly. He didn't take his eyes off Ming You. "The last time he was in contact was yesterday evening. Said he was going to the court with his sister. And… that's it. Maybe he's sick? Or his phone died…"
Jen Ryu threw his phone into his sports bag with such force it seemed the screen would crack. He lifted his head, and his gaze, full of blind rage and helpless despair, found Ming You standing to the side.
"Bastard!" The word escaped his lips, low, growling. "The fuck are you standing there like you're blowing pollen off flowers?! Aren't you tired of your sick, fucking games?!"
Ming You allowed a light, mocking smile to touch his lips. He took a small step forward, towards this rage.
"Intimidation is so primitive and boring, Jen. I just came to watch the process. To see how you'll work off your final debt. Namely — with your beautiful, crushing defeat."
Mei Yu clenched his teeth so hard a dry grinding sound was heard. He took half a step forward, placing himself between Jen Ryu and Ming You.
"Don't be so arrogant, you scum," he said, and his voice, usually even, was now threaded with steel filaments of hatred. "We're not here for your psychological experiments. We're here to play. And we'll tear you and your team apart, screw by screw."
"Oh," Ming You feigned surprise, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't think this was the beginning of your… understanding of the situation. In that case — good luck. You'll really need it just to avoid being utterly humiliated in front of all these respectable people." He gestured towards the crowd of spectators.
"Fucking asshole!" Jen Ryu hissed through gritted teeth, with such tension it seemed they would shatter. He made a jerky movement forward, but Mei Yu grabbed his elbow.
"Don't," Mei Yu said quietly. "That's what he wants. The game, Jen. Just the game."
Taek Jung observed this altercation with the look of a connoisseur appraising a cockfight. Finally, he raised his hand. His movement was unhurried but full of unquestionable authority.
"Everyone to your positions!" His velvety bass cut through all other sounds. "Starting in five! Referee Sung Wo, get ready! The bets are already placed!"
The crowd stirred. A whisper of sums, named aloud, rippled along the edges. "Five hundred on the five!" "I'm holding a thousand that the five won't even score fifty!" Excitement, thick as smog and cold as the night air, finally filled the space.
Ming You moved to the bench. He sat down, leaning back. His gaze, sliding over the five newcomers, lingered for a second on the empty spot beside them — where So Ho should have been standing. Something like cold, scientific curiosity flickered in his black eyes.
"So Ho was indeed a key figure for them, heh-heh. His sister was rather nice..."
Then he shifted his gaze to Hong Ren, who had already stepped into the center circle for the jump ball.
"Time is the best judge," Ming You said softly, but loud enough for Jung Ho and Haru Lin sitting beside him to hear. "And it will show the futility of their resistance. The full depth of their mistake — believing that in this game, you can change something just by wanting it very badly."
"We're not afraid of you, you bastard!" Jen Ryu shouted after him, wrenching his arm free from Mei Yu's grip and stepping to his position. "You and your little errand boy won't prove anything! No-thing!"
Ming You slowly turned his head towards him. The smile vanished from his face, leaving behind only perfect, icy emptiness.
"You're mistaken, Jen," he said quietly, but so distinctly the words seemed to cut through the crowd's noise. "We've already proven everything. And today… today we're just putting a beautiful, bold period on it. Enjoy the game, because for you — it's the last one."