BGM Recommendation: Agnes Obel – The Curse
"It wasn't the champagne or the cheers that made her heart race—It was the way he saved that photo, like he was saving a piece of her."
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Part I: She Walked In Like a Dream
"Everyone else was looking at her.
But he—he stepped closer. Just once. And saved her like she was the only thing in the frame."
The game was over.
But the celebration? Just getting started.
This time, it wasn't the school or the coach who organized it. It was Jett who hosted the party—on the top floor of his family's five-star hotel. The entire floor was booked out, lights blazing through floor-to-ceiling glass. Champagne sat next to hot pot. Local snacks and imported whiskey shared the same table. It was loud, festive, and chaotic—like a private New Year's Eve.
Everyone was there—coach, Mai, a few friends from the sports circle, and the entire basketball team.
The moment Muriel walked in, the room erupted in whistles and cheers, as if a goddess had descended upon their party.
But when Celeste stepped through the door— Silence.
A full three seconds of stunned silence before the room exploded:
"Is that… real-life Maki Horikita?!"
"Bro, what's it like when your dream girl just strolls into the room like this?!"
Someone was about to keep talking smack when Jett cleared his throat.
Soft. Barely audible.
But somehow, the whole room froze like someone hit the mute button. Only the sound of chopsticks hitting plates remained.
Dreams? Not tonight.
Someone shouted for photos. Celeste casually adjusted Muriel's hair like she'd done it a hundred times. The team crammed into the frame, everyone laughing and pushing. The shutter clicked.
One flash.
One perfect second frozen in time.
The others crowded around to see the photo, excited voices overlapping—
"Damn, this could be a fashion campaign!"
"You two together? Devastating combo."
Nolan didn't usually join crowds. He didn't need to.
But when Celeste walked in—light in her step, like she didn't even know she had gravity—
something in him shifted.
He took a step forward. Just one.
Close enough to see the shimmer on her necklace.
Close enough to stop pretending he wasn't watching.
He didn't say a word. Just raised his phone, angled it ever so slightly—Save.
From the corner of her eye, Celeste caught it.
That moment when time seemed to slow, just enough for her to notice—his stillness in the noise, his quiet devotion behind the glass.
Her smile didn't falter. She was still laughing at Muriel's joke, still posing for the camera.
But a tiny shiver slipped down her spine.
She didn't know what that look meant.
Only that he'd taken something with him when he saved that picture.
And it wasn't just pixels.
The food kept coming—Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, taro duck, sesame oil noodles with wine, and a massive plate of Celeste's favorite raw marinated seafood. Steam curled around the dishes like soft clouds. The players devoured everything like warriors after battle, laughter bouncing off the marble walls.
Coach was grinning too. He raised his glass.
"You guys played a hell of a game. And this dinner? Damn good too. So I'm not holding back anymore."
He reached into a bag and pulled out several crisp shoe boxes.
Calling out names, he handed out limited-edition sneakers, each pair customized with the player's name burned into the heel.
"This isn't a reward," he said, voice low. "You earned every inch of this."
The room went quiet—not solemn, just moved.
They gathered around the shoes like they were holding proof of something real—of how far they'd come.
Steam rose. Glasses clinked. Warmth filled the air.
Suddenly, Eli—the usually quiet vice captain—stood up with his glass and cleared his throat.
"I want to toast Coach." he began. "And our captain—Jett. Thanks for pulling us up when we were low, and believing in us all the way."
A chorus of cheers followed.
But Eli lifted his glass higher. "One more person."
He looked straight at Celeste.
"She's not a player. Not a coach. But if it weren't for her—we wouldn't be who we are now."
His voice deepened. "Our Boss."
He paused.
"After we lost badly to the provincial team last term, I was in a dark place. We all were.But I found something in my locker that night."
He held up a worn piece of paper. The edges were curled, the ink fading.
"I never told anyone. But it said—'Don't forget why you came this far in the first place.'"
He looked back at her. "Tactics matter. Strength matters.But what really keeps a team alive—is belief."
"She gave us that."
Some swallowed hard. Some looked away. Others raised their glasses in silence.
Celeste tried to cut the tension with a laugh. "Guess we should thank Coach for letting me 'do things my way,' then. Cheers to him!"
"To Coach!" the team roared.
Glasses clashed together like a battle cry.
In that moment, Celeste felt it—The kind of youth that gets seen. The kind that gets remembered.
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Part II: Not a Couple's Necklace
"Their eyes met. His chain glinted. Her necklace swayed.
It wasn't hot. Not really. But they both needed an excuse."
Suddenly, a beat dropped.
"This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill…"
Their anthem.
Someone screamed, "Our theme song!"
The restaurant burst into chaos again—dancing, yelling, fists in the air.
Coach stood up, stretched, and shook his head. "Alright, that's enough for this old man. You all have fun. Don't get too wild."
"Goodnight, Coach!" they chorused, bowing like schoolkids.
He gave Celeste a wink on the way out. "You're in charge now."
Now the real party began.
Of course, Celeste and Nolan sat together—everyone knew the infamous "lefty combo" had to be side-by-side, otherwise they'd end up fighting over chopsticks.
The seat arrangement was no accident. Jett always placed them next to each other. He knew exactly what he was doing.
That unspoken little something between them? He never said a word. Just watched with an amused smile.
On Celeste's other side sat Muriel in a golden knit dress, sipping juice and swearing she was "done eating" for the night.
Nolan suddenly tugged at his collar. "Kinda hot in here," he murmured, unbuttoning his shirt.
The silver chain around his neck caught the light.
Celeste blinked. "Yeah… it's hot." She tugged her neckline too, her tiny Saturn necklace swaying at her collarbone.
The moment she echoed his words—"Yeah... it's hot"—something in him snapped like a string pulled too tight.
Her necklace danced against her skin, and he had to look away.
Not because he didn't want to see. But because he wanted too much.
Their eyes met—just for a second.
A silent confirmation of a secret only they knew.
Nolan leaned over, low enough for only the waiter to hear. "A ginger tea please."
Then someone yelled, "Yo, Nolan! That necklace—same one as Captain's?"
The room exploded.
Before the teasing got worse, a bun of mashed taro got shoved into the guy's mouth.
"Shut it," said someone, laughing.
Jett shook his head. "three words, not a couple's necklace ."
Everyone paused.
Nolan followed up: "Brother-hood edition."
The teasing got louder.
Then someone raised their glass again—" Boss! Don't forget the trip!"
"Yeah! We voted! Thailand! Italy! Japan!"
Celeste set down her chopsticks and looked around with a smile.
"The next match is in less than two months. We'll still go. But not overseas."
"…Where, then?"
"Xiamen." (pronounced "sha-men") — One of China's most beautiful seaside cities, where the old streets hum with life and the food hits like memory. A charming coastal city in Fujian province.
A collective groan.
Then she added, "Muriel 's coming too."
Muriel raised her brows and gave a cheeky wave.
The room exploded again.
They laughed until their voices cracked.
Until the night felt like it could last forever.