Extra Basket
Chapter 44 - 31: Happy Time

Chapter 44: Chapter 31: Happy Time

It was 6 PM when Ethan finally arrived home.

He stood in front of the door, his heart a little lighter after everything that had happened. He raised his hand and knocked gently.

The door opened swiftly.

"Ethan, you’re here!" his mother, Elle, exclaimed, her face lighting up with warmth.

"I’m here, Mom," Ethan replied, stepping forward with a tired but genuine smile.

Before he could even take a step inside, a tiny voice rang out from the hallway.

"Big brother!!"

Anna, his 10-year-old sister, came running full speed, practically jumping into Ethan’s arms. Laughing, Ethan scooped her up and hugged her tight.

"Hey, slow down or you’ll knock me over," he chuckled, then gently patted her head.

After putting her down, Ethan looked around the living room, only to realize someone was missing.

"Where’s Dad?"

Elle sighed lightly and replied,

"Your father was called in by the company. Something urgent. He had to present a report on one of the teams he’s handling."

Ethan nodded in understanding.

"Right... I almost forgot Dad’s a sports analyst now for BAC—Basketball Asian Company."

He walked further into the house, Anna tugging at his sleeve. As he sat down on the couch, he sank into thought.

(Now that I think about it... BAC... no way.)

His golden eyes darkened with realization.

(The CEO of BAC is... Romanov Graves. Lucas’ mother. A former WNBA champion who turned into a sports empire queen. And his father...)

He clenched his fists slightly.

(Lucas’ father was a former pro player too. The one in a coma. And I’m pretty sure... he ended up like that because of those people.)

He leaned back on the couch, letting out a frustrated breath.

"Tsk..."

(What a problem... They probably won’t move on Lucas yet... not until the Regional Tournament. But it’s just a matter of time. Once he starts shaking the system too much... they’ll come.)

His eyes narrowed as his mind laid out the basketball tournament system of this world—this basketball-driven world

.

District Tournament – Local matches between nearby schools.Regional Tournament – The best from the districts clash.State Championship – The elite of the elite face off for ultimate recognition.

And beyond that...

Inter-School TournamentsHigh School Basketball LeagueNational School Basketball Championship

All paths led to national fame or destruction if you messed with the wrong forces.

.....

Ethan thought again, softer this time.

(Those people... they decide what everyone thinks. The scouts, the media, the ranking systems. They want everything to go as expected, no surprises. But Lucas? He’s different. Unpredictable. A player who can change the whole game. And they know it.)

(No matter what, I won’t let them destroy Lucas’s chance. Not again. Not like how they ruined his dad...)

From the hallway, Anna’s voice called.

"Big brother! Come eat! Mom made curry tonight!"

Ethan smiled faintly and stood up.

"Coming."

But deep down, he already knew—

This victory? It was only the beginning.

.....

As the door clicked shut behind him, Lucas Graves stepped inside his home. The soft hum of the evening was a welcome contrast to the whirlwind of excitement he had just left behind at the gym. He exhaled deeply, the adrenaline from the game slowly fading. The cheers, the pressure—it all seemed like a distant memory now.

"I’m home..." he muttered, letting his bag fall to the floor.

Just as he closed his eyes to soak in the quiet, a voice called out from the hallway.

"Lucas!"

Turning toward the sound, he saw his 15-year-old sister, Charlotte Graves, standing with a playful smirk on her face. Charlotte, only a year older than him, had always been someone Lucas admired, both for her skills on the court and her no-nonsense attitude.

"Sis..." Lucas greeted, a slight smile pulling at his lips.

Charlotte walked up to him, messing with his hair. "You won, huh?" she said, her tone teasing but warm.

"You saw it?" Lucas asked, feeling a little shy as he brushed his hair back into place.

Charlotte chuckled. "Of course, I saw it. It’s all over my phone,"

she said, holding up her phone and showing him the video of the game.

Despite it being 2010, the technology in this world was a little more advanced than Ethan’s previous life. The video was crystal clear, and the cheers from the crowd were practically tangible.

Lucas felt his cheeks heat up slightly. "Umm... how is it?"

Charlotte tilted her head and stared at him with an almost mischievous glint in her eyes. "You’ve always said you didn’t have any basketball talent, right? That you didn’t inherit the family genes..."

"Shut it, it’s embarrassing," Lucas muttered, feeling the warmth in his face spread. He turned his head away to avoid her teasing smile.

Charlotte burst into laughter, her voice light and carefree. "Hahaha, seriously, Lucas, how did you become so good? Just last year your skills were, well, a little—"

"Ahem, ahem," Lucas cleared his throat dramatically, trying to change the subject. "I just, you know, didn’t give up." He flashed a thumbs-up, trying to play it off with an overly confident grin.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes playfully. "Hmmm, sounds suspicious," she said, raising an eyebrow.

Lucas chuckled nervously but didn’t push back. He wasn’t quite ready to tell her about the Absolute Mimicry ability just yet. He needed time to understand it himself.

Charlotte leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Anyway... that number 20..."

Lucas blinked in surprise. "20? Oh, you mean Ethan?"

Charlotte nodded eagerly, her expression softening as she thought back on the game. "He was so good. The way he passed, how he controlled the flow of the game... Even though I couldn’t hear much because of the noise, I could still tell how he played. It was..." She trailed off, a light blush creeping up on her cheeks.

Lucas smiled a little, recognizing the admiration in her voice. "Mesmerizing, right?" he asked, his grin widening.

Charlotte’s cheeks deepened in color, and she quickly turned her head to hide it. "Ahem... yeah," she muttered, still flustered but clearly impressed.

There was a slight pause before Charlotte spoke again, her voice softer now. "I think he has something special. Not just his skills, but how he leads the team. I haven’t seen a player like him in a long time..."

Lucas couldn’t help but agree. He had watched Ethan in the game, not just as a teammate but as someone who seemed to have an innate understanding of the game.

"I mean, I think he might be a little better than you." She smirked at him.

Lucas groaned, throwing his hands up. "Oh, come on! Don’t rub it in!"

Before Lucas could respond, Charlotte’s playful tone returned. "You know, you’re not the only basketball player in this house. I was the one who almost led the Thunderhawks to the championship last year."

Lucas raised an eyebrow, surprised at the sudden change in subject. "Yeah, I know. You were amazing last year."

Charlotte chuckled before moving over to the couch. As she sat down, her phone buzzed, and she checked it quickly.

"By the way, the Thunderhawks have a big match coming up. Coach wants me to be at my best. So, no distractions!" she added, with a wink.

Lucas nodded. He always respected his sister’s dedication. "Got it, no distractions. But if you’re gonna keep leading the Thunderhawks to near championships every year, you should at least let me practice against you sometime."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Against me? Are you sure you can handle that? You’re not ready for the Thunderhawks’ defense."

Lucas smirked confidently. "Try me."

Charlotte laughed "We’ll see about that, little brother."

Then she tapped her jersey with a proud smile. The number 8 had deep meaning for Charlotte, not just as a symbol of her skills, but as a gift from her father the jersey she wore with honor and pride.

.....

Meanwhile, in the Secret Room...

A heavy silence hung in the air as the meeting of the higher-ups continued. The dimly lit room, hidden from the public eye, was filled with tension. At the center of it all sat a bald old man with a cold, calculating gaze. He stared at the door, waiting for the report.

The door creaked open, and a 30-year-old man stepped inside, his face stoic but with a hint of confidence. He moved into the room, his steps deliberate. As he approached, the bald old man didn’t look up immediately, but when he did, he spoke in a tone that left no room for hesitation.

"So... how is it? What did you come up with?" The bald man’s voice was steady, but there was a sharpness to it that made the air in the room even heavier.

The 30-year-old man stood tall, nodding slightly, then responded calmly.

"There is nothing to worry about. That team is still weak. They won’t harm the system..." He said, a confident assurance in his words.

A different voice, this time a man with a cold tone, echoed from the side of the room.

"You better be right. We can’t let anyone ruin the system—the plan..." His eyes narrowed with concern, but the worry in his voice was masked by his attempts to stay composed.

Before the 30-year-old could respond, a woman in her 50s, her features sharp and stern, spoke up with a voice that had authority.

"Of course we can’t. All the money we’ve invested, all the influence we’ve gathered—it’ll be worth nothing if the system is destroyed." Her words were laced with a sense of dread, the fear of failure hanging in her tone.

Sitting in the back, a man in his 40s lazily sipped from a glass of wine, his relaxed demeanor in stark contrast to the tension filling the room. He glanced around the table, smirking as he took another slow sip.

"Now, calm down, dear friends..." His voice was almost dismissive, as if he didn’t feel the same weight of concern.

"Everything is going according to plan. The bet, the gambling, everything is in place and running smoothly. It will run for the rest of our lives."

He took another sip, savoring the moment, before leaning back in his chair. His eyes gleamed with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

"But I just hope someone doesn’t end up like that bastard who almost ruined everything for us." His smile was wicked, a cold chuckle following his words.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, as though the threat of failure was something they all feared, yet were too complacent to fully address. Their plans, carefully laid out, were in motion, and any disruption—no matter how small—could unravel everything they had worked for.

The 30-year-old man, who had been the source of the recent news, remained stoic, his mind clearly focused on something beyond just the meeting. His thoughts circled back to what was at stake—not just the system, but something deeper, something that had the potential to shift the balance of power forever.

"We’ll handle it," he said quietly, making sure his voice carried the weight of his words. "We won’t let anything disrupt the plan."

And with that, the room fell into a heavy silence once more, each individual reflecting on their roles and the unseen stakes that hung in the balance.

Outside the room, the world continued to turn, unaware of the dangerous game being played behind closed doors. But those in this secret room knew that their time was limited. Every move mattered. Every decision could make or break the future they had built—no matter who stood in their way.

To be continue