"From the moment I hid in the wardrobe, I knew she deserved to be loved by everyone."
"From the moment I realized there's another man was beside me in that cramped space, I knew her love was never mine to claim."
"From the moment I was pulled out of the wardrobe, I understood that love was never meant to stay hidden."
"From the moment I saw the deep concern in the another man's eyes, I knew love could make me blind."
"From the moment he asked why I was in the closet, I knew that a stolen romance would never go unnoticed, nor forgiven."
"From the moment his fists came flying, I realized that only love can hurt like this."
"At her prime age, she met a man like me."
"At her climax, we learned to weave our lives together."
"In that room, romance wasn't the only language we spoke; we spoke in humming, in laughter, in secrets that were too fragile to last, like the used Durex in the bins.
"Perhaps it was fate that brought us together."
"Yet in this age, where love is consumed as quickly as fast food, I can't help but wonder—do you still remember the girl from your high school?"
"The trembling promises that we made, swearing to walk down the church aisle together after graduation?"
"Even the greatest Casanova alive once said that to truly love someone is to let them free from moral conventions and from the chains of restraint like the cuffs we in place that night."
"Denying pleasure leads nowhere, just like the words etched into the Statue of Liberty: 'Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.' "
"Eh… my question is, what do you want to have after the match? Not this nonsense..." Antonio, a synonym to the main character of this book, showed a speechless face as he listened to Sukmin's past dating history.
Sukmin, a 19-year-old American-born Korean benchwarmer for the New York Knicks, had only been with the team for about a month or so.
A complete newbie in the sports world, still finding his place.
Transmigration? Yes.
Rich daddy? No.
Prestigious degree? Yes.
Sugar mommies? A handful.
But one thing was undeniable—he was a pretty face that practically screamed suck me.
He joined the team just because his height qualified him for the sport—6'3", well-built, with a charismatic face that appealed to the audience.
In other words, he was a pretty face worth signing just to sell tickets for this run-down sports operation.
Luckily, the team he signed on to had deep pockets.
Those deep pockets belonged to one of the richest men in New York—James.
Coincidence or not, Sukmin was a draft pick suggested by James's daughter, Allison, a sports illustrator who had attended the draft day and urged her father to draft him.
But he wasn't picked because of his skills—he was picked because of his stamina and his profound long 'peepee,' which he demonstrated as a deep appreciation of thrust to her in the locker room that day… leaving the cleaner of the day with quite a hustle to mop up the sudden wet floor.
Back on the court, Sukmin was busy telling a tale of himself as some Casanova in a dreamlike adventure—imagining himself was a prince charming climbing the walls of Rapunzel's tower.
Except in his case, it wasn't Rapunzel's hair he was climbing onto, but just the fire stairwell at night—just to meet a married blonde lady in her 30s… and 'punzel the crap out of her,' according to his words.
But sadly, his happy ending didn't come.
Because her husband came home early that night.
Which is why, on today's match day, Sukmin's face was swollen on one side.
Not that it ever bothered him. If anything, money came first, basketball was a distant third, and sitting proudly in second place was his true hobby—keeping mid-aged lonely women properly hydrated.
Their husbands were always too busy, too tired, or too clueless, so Sukmin happily stepped in to provide the attention, the affection, and—well—let's just say he left more than a few sheets drowning.
In fact, thanks to his tireless dedication, New York's laundry services were practically flooded with bedding orders. If there were ever an award for it, Sukmin would no doubt be crowned MVP.
Antonio could only roll his eyes at Sukmin's nonsense, choosing not to listen to his bulls anymore.
Just then, Coach Chaney called out Sukmin's name.
Everyone on their section of the bench heard it, but no one reacted. Normally, when a rotation was about to begin, teammates would offer a pat on the back, a quick "let's go," or some kind of encouragement.
But not here. Not for Sukmin.
And it wasn't because he was needed to save the already hopeless match—far from it. The truth was simpler: it was a home game.
Most of the fans who had bought tickets had come just to see him, especially the young girls filling the front rows of the stadium. That alone was why Chaney bothered telling him to warm up and get ready for the next rotation.
As for Antonio—the Knicks' "what-could-have-been"—he was still stuck in rehab after the injury back in October. He was the only one on the bench who leaned over and gave Sukmin a pat on the shoulder.
Despite still recovering, Antonio made a point of showing up to games—not because he had to, but because he wanted to. After all, since the injury, Sukmin was the only teammate who had treated him with genuine care.
That kind of friendship made the long, empty hours on game day worth it. Especially in times like now, when Antonio felt like his career at NBA was hanging by a thread and the rest of the team acted like he was contagious, avoiding him as if he were a plague.
As for Sukmin himself—yes, he could dribble, shoot, dunk, even throw up the occasional three-pointer. But in truth, his success rate was painfully average.
Everyone on the team knew he was on the roster for a different purpose. That's why, aside from Antonio, he had no friends in the team. To him, they were just colleagues—and to them, Sukmin is just a gigolo who had fucked his way onto the playing list.
But Sukmin didn't bother it anyway.
Basketball might have been his favorite sport, sure—but if you put two ripe, C-cup melons from a thirty-something blonde in front of him beside a rubber ball, let's be honest: he'd grab the bouncing flesh over the dead leather every single time.
And beyond that, he knew basketball was just a job to him.
Playing on an NBA court was already a god-given blessing.
Needless to say, his relationship with Allison had earned him a hefty rookie benchwarmer contract—$300K for two years with the Knicks.
More than enough to survive.
So to him, the most important thing wasn't endless practice that never led to much improvement—it was finding more sugar mommies.
But what he didn't realize was that things were about to change.
As he stepped onto the court for today's match, a distant electronic beep suddenly rang in his brain. It sounded so mechanical, so unnatural—nothing like anything he had ever heard before.
[Ding! Installing additional system extension…]
[Ding! Installation successful.]
[Ding! Welcome, new user, to NBA Anger Control System.]
[Personal Information:]
[Name: Yoo Sukmin (Ps. You Suck Me)]
[Experience: 1/100]
[Age: 18 years old]
[Gender: Male]
[Height: 6'3 ft]
[Jersey No: 7]
[Strength: 58 (Average)]
[Vigor: 92 (Excellent)]
[Stamina: 89 (Good)]
[Agility/Speed: 79 (Above Average)]
[Rebound: 54 (Average)]
[Defense/Hardness: 30 (Poor)]
[Dribble/Control/Passing: 55 (Average)]
[Layups/Dunks: 50 (Average)]
[Mid-Range Shooting: 43 (Below Average)]
[Three-Point Shooting: 34 (Below Average)]
[Playmaking: 77 (Above Average)]
Massive streams of information flooded into Sukmin's mind like a storm. His head spun, dizziness hit him in an instant, and he nearly collapsed to the floor.
But before he could fall, his only close friend, Antonio, who had been keeping an eye on him, rushed forward and caught him by the shoulders.
"Dude!" Antonio shouted, shaking him. "I told you, cougars will eat you alive, man! Stick with young girls like I do! Look what they did to you! If you keep this up, you're practically giving away your NBA career…"
Sukmin didn't answer. He was still processing the flood of information from the system. To him it felt like a long time, but in reality it all happened in an instant.
Overall, the system was an emotional collective system—where he could harness anger during the game and convert it into points.
Those points could then be used to upgrade his stats or buy items from the system marketplace.
For every 100 points of anger he collected, he earned one attribute point for himself.
But as he browsed through the interface, he noticed that most of the other pages were still locked.
The marketplace showed a lock icon, and when he focused on it, a message appeared: "This page will be unlocked when user reaches Level 10."
He quickly understood—this system worked like a game. To unlock more features, he needed to level up. And to level up, he had to collect anger from NBA games he played and spent it on the system.
There were also other locked tabs: friends/network selection, inventory selection, and video selection.
He didn't know what they did yet, but just from the names he could guess their uses.
Still, it was confusing.
If this were a social networking app, sure, it would make sense.
But for an "NBA Anger Control System"? Not so much.
What was he supposed to do with a video tab—watch NBA games and learn from them?
Wouldn't it be the same as watching YouTube?
Since he couldn't make sense of the locked features, he decided to focus on what mattered now: playing the game and earning anger points.
Just as he shifted his attention back to the match, a new notification appeared. He realized he hadn't opened his beginner pack gift as a new user.
His excitement spiked instantly.
At first, he thought he'd have to grind everything from zero, but with a freebie pack, he knew he'd have a foundation from the start.
Without hesitation, he focused on opening it. A new interface popped up right before his eyes, revealing its contents:
[Ding! You have opened the Beginner's Free Pack.]
[You've received: 100 Attribute Points.]
[You've received: 5-minute 100% Accuracy Three-Point Shooting Experience.]
[You've received: 9th-Degree Black Belt Taekwondo Grandmaster Lifetime Experience.]
[You've received: $100,000 in cash.]
[Ding! Reminder: All items are stored in your inventory. Please do retrieve them as you see fit.]
A wide smile spread across Sukmin's face—like Arthur Fleck holding a gun, ready to rob a bank, only to fire a flag that read Bang.