Ming You stood on the street corner, a dozen meters from the court. He felt the cold of the brick wall against his elbow, and his gaze, indifferent and detached, was fixed on the gray, lifeless sky. He seemed not to notice the passersby or the city's din—only the void overhead, which reflected his own thoughts.
But this calm was disrupted. Two figures approached the corner—Taek Jung and Sung Wo, their footsteps barely audible, but Ming You sensed their approach without even turning his head. They stopped beside him, and a brief pause ensued, filled with silent understanding. Then, the corners of their mouths slowly crept upward, and those sly smiles hung in the air.
"So, Ming You," began Taek Jung, adjusting his leather jacket. "How are you? Are you ready for the next game?"
"Ready," he replied, his gaze not leaving the horizon. "But I need to know which team we're up against."
Sung Wo, shaking his head, answered:
"Remember Shi Lei and Hong Ji, the ones you beat?" Ming You shook his head, and Sung Wo continued, "They have a team from their school days called 'Tungdzo.' But don't think that just because you beat them once, since they underestimated you and didn't pay attention to the time, it will be easy. In a five-on-five team game, those two are real monsters."
Ming You smirked. He tore his gaze from the horizon and turned to the gangsters.
"I want to place a double-or-nothing bet on my team against Tungdzo."
The gangsters exchanged glances, their faces showing surprise.
"Are you serious?" asked Taek Jung, squinting. "If Tungdzo loses, you'll lose everything you have."
"Yes," replied Ming You without hesitation. "But if they win, and Yoshido loses, I will receive the sum of the double debt of all the players on my team. That will give me complete control over them."
Sung Wo and Taek Jung laughed, their laughter full of disbelief.
"You're really willing to risk everything for this? This is immoral even for you, Ming You. You're putting your own team in jeopardy."
"Immorality is just a matter of perspective," retorted Ming You, his black eyes gleaming with excitement. "I'm not going to let them control me and drag me down without any benefit. If my team wins, I'll be in debt. But if they lose, I will become their true captain and earn their double debt, and you, meanwhile, will profit from the bets on Tungdzo."
Taek Jung, still astonished by such absurd shamelessness, asked:
"And what if they don't listen to you during the game? You know how stubborn they can be."
"I'll take care of it," Ming You answered confidently. "I've already prepared a plan. If it doesn't work, I'll make them understand that winning the first game is not an option."
Sung Wo shook his head, but a glint of interest appeared in his eyes.
"Alright," he said. "We'll bet on Tungdzo and agree to your wager. But remember, Ming You, if you lose the bet, we'll take everything you have."
"I'm ready," replied Ming You, his voice full of confidence in the opponents' victory. "This will be a game they won't forget."
The gangsters exchanged looks, and Taek Jung nodded.
"We'll tell our people to bet on 'Tungdzo,' but you must be ready for the consequences."
Ming You smirked, his confidence only growing.
"I don't intend to lose."
Ming You and the group of gangsters, having concluded their negotiations, went their separate ways. He didn't look back or say goodbye—everyone knew their role, and extra words were unnecessary.
Emerging onto the sidewalk, Ming You merged with the flow of pedestrians. His steps were measured, his face remained impassive, as if he were just one of many city dwellers returning home after a long day.
After about twenty minutes, he turned onto his street. The windows of the familiar three-story houses glowed with warm yellow light, but his gaze slid past them, not lingering. Going up the stairs, he took out his key, turned it in the lock, and entered the apartment.
In the hallway, he bent down, unlaced his black sneakers, and neatly placed them against the wall. Without any unnecessary movements, he walked into his room.
Once inside, Ming You sat down at the desk, surrounded by playing cards and empty notes. Silence reigned in the room, broken only by Ming You's internal monologue:
"The upcoming game will be decisive, and my team must be prepared for defeat for my own benefit…"
Ming You, leaning his head back against the chair, began to sift through ideas, his thoughts quickly forming into a plan.
"The physical condition of the court could play a key role in the game. I just need to prepare this court. Training outside, instead of in the gym, is a very convincing and unsuspicious argument."
Ming You smiled to himself:
"The dirt will add unevenness, and the water will create puddles. If I can make them fall and lose their balance, they won't be able to perform at their best. It will be the perfect trap."
…
The next morning.
Ming You, dressed in black, walked slowly along the deserted sidewalk. The heavy black backpack, pressed tightly against his back, swayed slightly with each step. Silence reigned around, broken only by the occasional distant noise of cars.
He turned towards the basketball court located four blocks away from the one where the players who played for bets usually gathered. Unlike the noisy, crowded courts, this place was deserted.
Ming You stopped at the gate leading to the basketball court. In the pocket of his black sweatpants were two plastic bags, rustling softly with every movement. He took them out, unfolded them in his hands, assessing their strength, then carefully pulled one over his palm like a glove.
The ground near the gate was loose. Squatting down, he began scooping it up with the second bag, tightly packing it down with his fingers. Handful after handful, until the bag was filled to the top, becoming heavy and bulky.
Finished, Ming You removed the first bag from his hand, crumpled it in his palm, and with a sharp movement threw it into the nearest trash can. An accurate throw—the bin stood a couple of meters away, near a bench, and the plastic silently disappeared into its black void.
Moving away from the trash can, he headed towards the court gate. Ming You placed the black backpack and the bag filled with soil on the ground. The asphalt under the hoop was covered in cracks and stains from old paint.
Squatting down, he unzipped the backpack and pulled out several water bottles, carefully removing their caps. First, he tore open the bag and scattered the soil over the court, covering the gray asphalt with a thin layer of reddish-brown dust. Then, without haste, he began pouring water, making sure it evenly soaked the earth.
The bottles emptied one after another. Puddles spread, mixing with the soil, turning into sticky mud. Ming You straightened up, inspecting his work:
"Well, the court is now completely unsuitable for play—every step here would leave a mark, every sprint would risk a fall. With preparation like this, the team certainly won't win."
After looking around and waiting a few minutes, he took his phone from his pocket and dialed Jung Ho's number.
"Hello? Ming You?"
"Gather the team. We'll practice at the outdoor court."
"O-okay, where should we go?"
After Ming You explained the court's location, he abruptly hung up, not even waiting for a reply. Grabbing his backpack, he left the court, sharply pushing the gate open.
Approaching the bench, Ming You dropped his backpack onto the seat, then sat down beside it. He unlaced his dirty black sneakers and carefully placed them on the ground.
From the backpack, he pulled out a package containing a new pair of shoes—black sneakers with bright red laces, sharply contrasting with his usual gloomy attire. He neatly packed the old shoes into the now-empty bag and stuffed it back into the backpack.
He tied his laces, stretched, feeling his muscles fill with strength, tilted his head back, and waited for the team.
A few minutes later, noise was heard a few meters from the court.
"Hey, hey, wake up!" shouted Lu Shen, slapping him on the shoulder.
Ming You, without even looking in his direction, lazily waved his hand:
"Hi-hi, no one's sleeping."
"And why did you gather us at an outdoor court? The gym isn't an option?" asked Haru Lin, casting a glance at the uneven asphalt under his feet.
Ming You finally raised his eyes, feigning a mocking expression.
"If you forgot, our next game is on an outdoor court."
Lu Shen immediately snorted, grinning widely.
"Ha-ha! You got called dumb, Haru!"
"You're the dumbest one here! I was just clarifying!"
Ming You sighed, pretending to be exhausted:
"Don't waste time. We have a game on the line and we need to prepare."
Jung Ho, who had been silently observing the squabble until now, nodded.
"He's right, we should prepare."
Lu Shen rolled his eyes but still took a step back, stretching his shoulders.
"We knew that without both of you."