Episode - 02

The stadium was a roar of sound. It wasn't messy noise; it was rhythmic and alive. Thousands of people were chanting one name over and over.

“REN! REN! REN!”

Ren Avery stood at the edge of the basketball court. His head was bowed, and his jersey was damp with sweat, sticking to his skin. Under the bright stadium lights, the floor shined like a mirror. Ren didn’t look up at the lights or the crowd. He didn’t need to. He knew every inch of this place. This court was the only place where he truly felt like himself.

“Thirty seconds!” the coach shouted.

Ren lifted his head. His face was calm. He wasn't acting arrogant or nervous. He just looked certain. Across the court, the other team was huddled together. You could feel the stress coming off them in waves. They were terrified because they knew the truth.

For the last three years, Ren Avery had never lost a single game.

“Hey.”

Ren turned. His coach was standing there. He wasn't being a strict boss; he looked more like a proud father.

“You good?” the coach asked.

Ren gave a small, confident nod. “Always.”

The coach laughed and shook his head. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” Ren replied. There was no doubt in his voice. That was why everyone followed him.

“Captain!” one of his teammates yelled, running over and catching his breath. “We’re going to give you the ball for the last play. We’ll run it through you.”

Ren looked at the court. He processed the positions of the players like a computer—fast and precise.

“No,” Ren said.

His teammate blinked, confused. “What?”

Ren pointed quietly toward an open spot. “You take the shot.”

“Me?!”

“They’ll all be watching me,” Ren said, a tiny smile touching his lips. “Let’s win smarter.”

The buzzer screamed, and the final play began. Everything turned into a blur of motion—sneakers squeaking, fast passes, and bodies blocking the way. Ren moved through the chaos like water, effortless and impossible to catch.

Exactly as he predicted, the defense swarmed him. Three players jumped in his way just to stop him from shooting. Ren didn't even look at the hoop. He snapped a pass across the court. It was clean, sharp, and perfect.

The ball left his teammate's hands. Swish.

The stadium exploded. The sound was like a giant wave crashing down. His teammates piled on top of him, laughing and screaming.

“You did it again!”

“You’re unbeatable!”

“You’re a legend, Ren!”

Ren smiled. It was a bright, real smile. In that moment, he felt truly alive.

“Three years,” the coach said later, putting an arm around Ren’s shoulders. “Not a single loss. That’s incredible.”

Ren laughed softly. “It’s not just luck, Coach.”

“I know,” the coach said. His voice got a little more serious. “But don't let it break you when the winning streak finally ends.”

Ren paused. He looked away for a second. “…It won’t,” he promised.

Outside the locker room, the cameras were waiting. Fans crowded around the railings. Ren didn't turn anyone away. He signed every ball, took every photo, and spoke kindly to everyone.

“Thank you for coming,” he told a girl who had traveled hours to see him. “Get home safely.”

He remembered faces. He tried to remember names. That was why the fans loved him—he felt human to them.

A reporter pushed a microphone into his face. “Ren! What’s your secret? Three years without a loss—how do you stay on top?”

Ren tilted his head and gave the answer everyone expected. “It’s all about teamwork,” he said. It was a safe, simple answer.

But as he turned to leave, his smile began to fade. It didn't disappear all at once, but it changed.

By the time he was walking down the quiet back hallway of the stadium, the lights were dim. His footsteps echoed against the walls. The silence here was different from the silence on the court. It felt heavy.

Ren stopped in front of a mirror. He saw his reflection: the jersey, the sweat, the look of a winner. Perfection. That was all the world saw. Slowly, he forced a smile onto his face. It was a practiced, perfect smile. But his eyes remained empty.

When Ren finally got back to his apartment, the energy of the stadium felt a million miles away. He dropped his bag and slumped against the bedroom wall, sitting right on the floor. He stared at the wall opposite him.

There was a poster on that wall. It showed an athlete jumping high, frozen in time, about to slam a ball into the hoop. It was a picture of pure talent and freedom.

His phone began to ring. Ren looked at it, then looked away, letting it buzz against the floor.

He realized something suddenly. For the last six months, his phone had been a source of misery. It was always buzzing with stress.

Payment overdue.

Final warning.

Debt collection notice.

But for the last two days, those messages had stopped. The dark cloud of debt that had been following him for months had simply vanished. It wasn't because of his hard work or a stroke of luck.

It was because of him. Joel Vance.

Ren breathed out slowly, his fingers tightening into fists. Five years, six months, and seven days of being apart. And their first meeting after all that time had been handled like a business deal. An investment.

“I already paid it,” Joel had said.

Ren let out a dry sound that was almost a laugh. “Yeah…” he whispered to the empty room. “That sounds just like him.”

He remembered the way Joel had looked at him in that office. Joel hadn't looked surprised to see him. He hadn't looked emotional. He looked certain—as if he had planned this meeting years ago and was just waiting for Ren to walk through the door.

“I want to manage you. Everything.”

Joel hadn't asked. He hadn't offered. He had made a decision.

“He still hates me like hell,” Ren muttered to himself. He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “I know he’s doing this because of that day.”

The phone rang again. This time, Ren didn't ignore it. He reached out and picked it up. He looked at the poster on the wall—the image of the person who had once been his rival, his greatest love, and his everything.

Ren swiped the green button to answer. He put the phone to his ear, his voice steady but low.

“I’m listening, Mr. Joel Vance.”

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***