The next day.
In the classroom, before the last lesson. Ming You approached the last desk by the window, where Jung Ho was sitting, spinning a pen in his hand.
"Jung Ho, I'd like to meet you on the school roof. I hope you can spare a couple of minutes after school?"
Jung Ho dropped the pen and looked up:
"And what exactly do you want to show? Or do you want to discuss something?"
"You'll find out when we meet there." Ming You sat down at his desk, which was in front of Jung Ho's.
The school bell rang. A couple of hours after classes ended.
The sun was still shining brightly, bathing the schoolyard in a golden glow. On the school roof, away from the noise and bustle, stood two guys.
Ming You, standing about a dozen meters from the door, looked confident, his hair ruffled by the wind. He moved closer to Jung Ho, who was standing by the roof fence, looking into the distance.
"Jung Ho, I was thinking... wouldn't you want to make the team stronger?"
Jung Ho turned to face him.
"What are you talking about? We have practice in half an hour, and I don't want to be late, so maybe you can talk about this at practice, not here?"
"You misunderstood me. I asked you, specifically, as the team captain."
"If that's the case, then it's obvious that every one of us wants to get stronger, and I, as the captain, want my team to be strong!"
Ming You smirked for a moment.
"Good, you got the idea. So, let me clarify something with you — what exactly are you doing to make the team stronger?"
"Isn't it obvious? Day after day we practice and improve our game, isn't that enough?"
Ming You lowered his gaze, speaking without emotion:
"I see. You're not even set on winning. What kind of improvement in the game can we talk about when victory is less important than mere practice?"
"Without practice, you can't win. And if you play only for victory, what's the point of enjoyment if the team is stagnating?" Jung Ho unconsciously clenched his fists, recalling matches from middle school.
"If you're only focused on the team, you'll never see victory. To win, you have to do everything possible, and being fixated on others is a sign of weakness, especially your weakness as the team captain."
"You're too fixated on winning. Sometimes how you play is more important than just the result. We have to work together, not compete against each other."
Ming You ran a hand through his hair.
"Listen, I don't just want to be part of the team. I want to be the best. And for that, you need to take risks. Want to play some streetball? But not just for fun. I know a place where the stakes are high."
"Stakes?" Jung Ho was surprised, his face contorting. "Are you suggesting we play for money? That's not what I want to do. We should focus on the team and practice."
"Not for money," Ming You interrupted him. "For something bigger. If you lose, you fully submit to me. If I lose, I leave the team and become your subordinate. Do you agree?"
"Are you really ready for that? That's very risky, Ming You. Do you realize this isn't just a game?"
"I'm not afraid to take risks. I know I can win. You don't want to look like a weakling in front of the team either, right?"
"Fine, I'll accept the challenge," he said finally. "But be ready, I'm not going to go easy on you."
"Perfect. Let's meet there an hour after practice. Don't be late." Ming You headed for the exit, and Jung Ho, after waiting a moment and thinking over his words, followed him out.
...
In the evening, as the sun dipped towards the horizon, painting the asphalt in crimson tones, Ming You left the school gym and headed for the streetball court.
The place was lively — the noise of voices, the sound of a ball bouncing, laughter and shouts. But he wasn't interested in the game; he was interested in the people who ran it.
He approached a group of guys in leather jackets, who clearly stood out among the regular players. Ming You's gaze swept over them before he addressed the most talkative one:
"I have a proposal. Who's the main organizer here?"
A large man with a short haircut grinned widely and shook his head:
"Haha! Look at you, you must be fucking immortal or something!"
"Should I repeat the question, or was that your answer?"
The gangster's face twisted. He took a step forward, clenching his fists:
"Listen here, you little shit, you think you can get smart with me?"
But Ming You didn't even blink. He remained calm.
"And that's your reaction to an opportunity to make some extra money?"
Interest flickered in the gangster's eyes.
"Money, you say... You want to hire us or something?"
"I'll ask for the last time: where is your boss?"
He snorted, but without the previous anger:
"Alright, just because of the money, we won't beat the crap out of you for being so bold. The top guy here is Tae Hwan, but if we're talking about bets, that's Taek Jung. So I can only call him."
"Fine, I'll wait for you at the street corner."
The gangster, along with his comrades, laughed loudly:
"Haha! Thinking of offering us drugs?"
"I have proposals much more profitable than drugs," Ming You replied coldly. "So I'll be waiting for you and Taek Jung at the corner."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked towards the indicated spot, leaving bewildered looks in his wake.
He stopped on the street corner, his face calm and confident. He checked the time on his phone: time was tight, but it didn't make him nervous.
Soon, three guys in similar leather jackets approached him. Among them stood out a short, muscular man with short black hair and dark eyes — Taek Jung, the group's leader.
"So, you're the one with this profitable proposal?"
"Yes, it's me," Ming You replied with a feigned smile. "I propose we set up a game."
"And how will a simple game bring us a lot of money?"
"It's simple — I look scrawny, and my opponent looks quite strong. All I have to do is beat him."
Taek Jung shook his head slightly, as if remembering something.
"Oh, by the way, weren't you the one who beat those two huge players back then?"
"Heh, maybe we shouldn't change the subject?"
"Okay, continue."
Ming You, with a strained grin, continued explaining his plan:
"The premise of such a game is very simple — the spectators will think I'm a weakling and can't beat an experienced basketball player, so all the bets will be on him. And here's what we get in the end: most of the spectators will lose their bets, and you'll earn money that way. But there's one more thing you'll really like — I'm not interested in the money; my conditions are a bit different."
Taek Jung smirked, his eyes glinting with interest.
"Heh, an interesting trick, but a cliché one. You think we haven't done that before? What do you want from us if money doesn't interest you?"
Ming You took a deep breath, maintaining his composure.
"I'm staking my career and the winnings from my last game. If I lose, I'll leave the court and become my opponent's subordinate. If I win, then the person I play against will be my subordinate. For me, the main thing is the game and the fulfillment of the agreement between me and my opponent."
Taek Jung thought it over, his expression becoming more serious.
"You understand this is risky, right? If you lose, you lose everything."
"I'm ready," Ming You said with confidence. "I know I'm capable of winning. Actually, no, not quite. I don't just know I'm capable of winning; I know I've already won."
Taek Jung nodded, his lips stretching into a smile.
"Heh, your attitude is quite optimistic. We'll organize the game and guarantee the agreement is upheld, but the money from the bets is ours."
"Excellent," said Ming You, turning towards the streetball court, as his plan was now set in motion.
"Wait, it's my turn to ask you a question."
Ming You stopped but didn't turn his gaze. Taek Jung took a step forward and continued:
"Won't you introduce yourself? It's not very polite that you know my name, but I don't know yours."
He put on a fake smile and turned to face him:
"I'm Ming You. Nice to meet you."
"Heh heh, you've got the nerve to joke with me too? You're quite interesting, Ming You."
He ignored him, calmly heading towards the court. His thoughts were occupied with gloating:
"Heh heh, what idiots they are. They fell for the 'weakling is stronger than the strong guy' trick, not suspecting that according to their own rules, spectators can change their bets after a scored basket. Their profit will be, at best, one percent of all the bets. When the spectators start betting on me, Jung Ho will crack under the psychological pressure from the crowd and make a lot of mistakes."
A few minutes later, participants and new spectators began gathering at the court. The crowd gradually grew, and the tension in the air became more palpable. Ming You and the Yoshido team captain, Jung Ho, met on the court, their gazes locking.
"I hope you're not seriously going to leave the team over one loss?"
"Who said I'm going to lose?" retorted Ming You, raising his predatory gaze.
Taek Jung stepped forward, drawing the crowd's attention.
"Welcome to the game! Bets are placed, and the match starts right now!"