Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

In the middle of a turn, Sophie caught sight of Stan across the arena. For the briefest fraction of a second, her smile brightened. Then she gave him a slow, deliberate wink. Stan inclined his head almost imperceptibly in acknowledgment.

Maya caught the exchange from the corner of her eye. Immediately, her next movement carried a little more force than the choreography strictly required, drawing attention to herself as Stan turned toward the team bench. When his gaze drifted her way, she seized the opportunity. Her own wink followed a heartbeat later, quicker, sharper, and far less practiced than Sophie’s, but no less clear in its intent.

A faint smile touched Stan’s lips. Then he continued walking.

Several Crown students who had witnessed the entire exchange immediately lost whatever composure they had left.

”STAN HARRISON JUST GOT WINKED AT BY TWO CHEERLEADERS.”

”BACK-TO-BACK.”

”THIS IS ILLEGAL.”

”CHECK THE RULEBOOK.”

”THAT HAS TO BE AGAINST NCAA REGULATIONS.”

The surrounding students burst into laughter as the story began spreading through the section almost as quickly as Stan’s name had earlier.

...

Meanwhile, both teams finished their warm-up routines. Final shots went up. Last-minute stretches were completed. The restless energy that always preceded a big game steadily built throughout the arena.

At center court, the captains met while the officials conducted their final checks. The arena lights dimmed. A spotlight swept across the hardwood as the announcer introduced both teams one by one. The crowd answered each name with a mixture of cheers, applause, and scattered jeers whenever a rival player was called. One by one, the starters jogged onto the court and took their places beneath the bright lights.

The national anthem followed. For a brief moment, the noise faded. Then it ended, and the tension returned immediately.

Both teams gathered for one final huddle. Peak University’s coach delivered his last instructions, emphasizing defensive rotations, communication, and transition coverage. Across the court, Velaris Crown’s coaching staff did the same, their players listening with the calm confidence of a program that was used to winning.

Then came the final whistle. The starters stepped onto the floor.

Stan was starting at small forward, Zack’s decision after everything he had seen during practice. Waiting across from him stood Velaris Crown’s senior forward, a six-foot-five athlete named Devon Bracks.

Stan recognized the name from the scouting report. Two-time conference scoring leader. All-Conference selection. One of the best players in university basketball.

As they took their positions around the center circle, Devon glanced toward him.

”Stan Harrison.”

”Yeah.”

”I’ve seen your film.”

”Thanks.”

A faint smirk tugged at Devon’s lips. ”It’s not going to help you tonight.”

”Probably not.”

The smirk widened. ”Welcome to Crown.”

Stan merely nodded.

The referee stepped into the center circle and raised the ball overhead. Around them, thousands of spectators settled into an expectant hush. The chants faded. The conversations died. Even the students who had spent the last twenty minutes yelling insults leaned forward in anticipation.

For a heartbeat, the entire arena seemed to hold its breath. Then the ball shot upward. The referee tossed the tip. And the game exploded into action.

The opening tip went to Velaris Crown. Their point guard collected it cleanly and immediately pushed the pace, the Crown players already sprinting up the floor before Peak had fully organized its defense.

The ball swung to the wing. The wing attacked the lane. Peak’s defense collapsed. The kick-out pass flew to the corner.

Devon Bracks rose smoothly above the contest and buried the three with the effortless confidence of a player who had taken, and made, that shot thousands of times in this very arena.

The home crowd exploded.

”CROWN UP THREE! SCORE: VELARIS CROWN THREE, PEAK UNIVERSITY ZERO! WELCOME TO THE PARTY, PEAK!”

Zack brought the ball up on the next possession without the slightest hint of panic. He called the set. Peak flowed into the offense they had drilled repeatedly in practice.

A screen at the top of the key created an opening. Marcus cut hard to the basket. Zack threaded the pass through traffic. Marcus finished at the rim. 3-2.

The arena settled into its rhythm. It was immediately obvious that Velaris Crown was a legitimate team. Their fundamentals were sharp. Their rotations were disciplined. They switched aggressively on defense and played a fast-paced motion offense that forced Peak into difficult decisions on nearly every possession.

For the next several minutes, the score climbed in lockstep. Crown buried another three. Peak answered with a mid-range jumper. Crown secured an offensive rebound and converted the putback. Peak ran a pick-and-roll, and Zack finished with a layup.

Throughout it all, the crowd’s chant of

”PEAK SO WEAK!”

”PEAK SO WEAK!”

”PEAK SO WEAK!”

settled into a constant background drone.

Stan had not touched the ball yet. Instead, he was learning. Watching. Processing. Where the screens originated. How defenders rotated. Which players favored which moves.

The court unfolded before him in shifting patterns, his enhanced perception tracking every movement with the same calm focus he had used against the Red Serpents. The difference was that this battlefield had ten moving pieces instead of six.

Then his opportunity arrived. Peak initiated a high pick-and-roll. Zack turned the corner hard off the screen and attacked the lane. The Crown defense collapsed toward him. The kick-out pass found Stan at the top of the arc. Wide open.

For a moment, the arena seemed to hold its breath. Stan had less than a minute of actual game experience. That was all.

He planted his feet. Raised the ball. Shot. The form was clean. The release was high. The arc was almost identical to the one the senior player had shown him during practice.

SWISH. The net snapped.

The home crowd quieted, just slightly. The Peak bench exploded.

From the cheer section, Sophie’s voice somehow cut through the noise. ”THAT’S MY MAN! THAT’S MY MAN!”

The announcer practically shouted into the microphone. ”STAN HARRISON HITS A THREE IN HIS DEBUT! VELARIS CROWN, ARE YOU AWAKE?”

5-3, Crown.

Across the floor, Devon Bracks looked at Stan. The contempt in his eyes cracked ever so slightly, giving way to mild interest. ”Lucky shot.”

Stan met his gaze. ”You think?”

For the first time all game, Devon’s smile looked a little less confident.