Infinite Rebate: I Get Richer Every Time I Spend

Lucas stepped onto the court calmly, his footsteps steady as he walked toward the center line. His expression never changed, as though the mocking laughter around him had nothing to do with him.

Across from him, the player the coach had chosen slowly walked forward with a smug grin plastered across his face.

His name was Nash.

He was one of Ashford University’s starting guards and easily one of the fastest players on the team.

The moment Nash stepped onto the court, several teammates exchanged knowing smiles.

Some even shook their heads sympathetically.

"Poor guy."

"The coach really picked Nash."

"This won’t last ten seconds."

"You know the drill..."

"He’ll probably leave crying."

The coach caught the ball tossed back from one of the assistants and casually threw it toward Nash.

As their eyes met, the coach gave him a subtle look.

He didn’t say a word.

Nash understood exactly what that look meant.

Don’t just beat him.

Embarrass him.

Make sure he never dares step onto this court again.

A cruel smile spread across Nash’s face.

"Got it."

Nash spun the basketball on one finger before catching it with a grin. He bounced it once against the floor and flicked it toward Lucas.

"Go ahead," Nash said with a mocking smile.

"Show us what you’ve got."

Lucas caught the ball effortlessly.

Nash walked to the top of the key and stretched his shoulders before crouching into a defensive stance.

"Since you’re new," he said with a mocking smile, "I’ll explain the rules."

He pointed toward the basket behind him.

"Your job is simple."

"Get past me."

"Go score."

"If you can."

Laughter immediately erupted around the court.

Someone cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Don’t worry, rookie!"

"You’ll at least touch the ball before Nash steals it!"

Another player burst out laughing.

"I’m betting he loses the ball in three dribbles!"

Even Jerry, sitting comfortably in the bleachers with his arms folded, couldn’t hide the grin on his face.

He had been waiting for this.

Ever since Lucas humiliated him, he’d been hoping to see someone return the favor.

Today...

His wish was finally coming true.

Lucas ignored every voice around him.

Instead, he looked down at the basketball resting in his hands.

Just yesterday...

If someone had handed him a basketball, he wouldn’t have known the proper way to dribble it.

Basketball had never been part of his life.

But after spending half the night watching professional games, studying highlights.

Things were different now.

He wasn’t an expert.

Not even close.

But at the very least...

He understood the basics.

How to protect the ball.

How to dribble.

How to attack.

How to read a defender’s balance.

Lucas rolled the ball in his palm once before letting it kiss the hardwood.

Thump.

He bounced it again, slower this time, his eyes never leaving Nash’s face.

Thump. Thump.

The rhythm echoed through the silent gym. It wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t streetball, and there wasn’t a single unnecessary move. It was steady, controlled, almost boring... yet for some reason, nobody laughed this time. Nash narrowed his eyes. The rookie’s handle wasn’t spectacular, but it also wasn’t nearly as clumsy as everyone had expected.

Still...

That didn’t matter.

Nash lowered his center of gravity, spreading his arms wide as he slid into a textbook defensive stance.

His eyes locked onto Lucas’s waist.

Experienced defenders knew one thing.

The ball could lie.

The shoulders could fake.

But the hips never lied.

"If you think you’ve got a chance..." Nash said with a sneer, "...come on."

"Show me what you’ve got."

Thump.

The sound echoed through the silent gym.

Across from him, Nash lowered his center of gravity, spreading his arms wide. His eyes locked onto the basketball, every muscle in his body tensed.

"Come on," he sneered. "Show me what you’ve got."

Lucas didn’t answer.

He simply dribbled once...

Twice...

His movements looked almost clumsy.

Several players couldn’t help laughing.

"Is that how he dribbles?"

"He really doesn’t know basketball."

"I knew it."

Even the coach folded his arms, already convinced the match was over before it had truly begun.

Then...

Lucas took his first step.

It wasn’t explosive.

It wasn’t flashy.

It looked so ordinary that Nash instinctively relaxed for the slightest fraction of a second.

That tiny mistake...

Was fatal.

Boom!

Lucas’s second step exploded forward.

The hardwood let out a sharp squeak as his sneakers bit into the floor.

Nash’s pupils shrank.

"So fast~!"

He instinctively reached out to cut Lucas off.

Too late.

Lucas’s shoulder had already slipped past him.

The basketball stayed low, bouncing perfectly beside his body as he accelerated toward the lane.

For a split second...

Nash’s brain couldn’t even process what had happened.

One moment Lucas had been standing in front of him.

The next...

He was looking at Lucas’s back.

A wave of shocked gasps spread across the gym.

"No way!"

"He got past Nash?!"

"That wasn’t even a crossover!"

Nash gritted his teeth and spun around.

His sneakers screeched violently across the hardwood as he chased after Lucas with everything he had.

He was one of Ashford University’s quickest defenders.

Normally, nobody escaped him this easily.

But no matter how hard he pushed...

The distance between them refused to close.

Lucas wasn’t sprinting wildly.

His strides were smooth.

Controlled.

Almost effortless.

As if he had calculated every step before he even started moving.

Nash finally caught up near the free-throw line.

A grin appeared on his face.

Got you.

He launched himself forward, extending both arms, completely committed to blocking the layup.

Then...

Lucas stopped.

Not slowed down.

Stopped.

His body froze on a dime.

The basketball bounced once more into his hand as he calmly shifted his weight backward.

Nash’s face changed instantly.

"Oh, crap~!"

His momentum had already carried him forward.

There was no way to stop.

His body flew right past Lucas.

The entire gym erupted.

"He got faked out!"

"Nash completely bit!"

"What was that footwork?!"

Lucas didn’t even bother watching Nash stumble two more steps before barely regaining his balance.

Instead...

He casually took one small step backward.

Both feet settled behind the three-point line.

He rose into the air.

His shooting form wasn’t textbook perfect.

It wasn’t polished like someone who had spent years on the court.

But it was clean.

Natural.

Comfortable.

The ball rolled off his fingertips with a soft snap.

Everyone’s eyes followed it.

The orange basketball spun lazily beneath the bright gym lights, tracing a beautiful arc through the air.

Time itself seemed to slow.

Nash could only watch.

His chest rose and fell rapidly.

His outstretched hand never even came close.

The ball descended.

Swish.

Nothing but net.

The nylon barely fluttered.

Complete silence.

Every laugh vanished.

Every mocking smile disappeared.

The players stood frozen, staring at the basket as though they had just witnessed something impossible.

Jerry’s grin slowly disappeared from the bleachers.

His folded arms loosened.

"...No way..."

Nash remained rooted at the free-throw line.

His breathing was heavy.

His mind was blank.

He replayed those few seconds over and over.

Lucas hadn’t used fancy streetball moves.

No flashy crossovers.

No unnecessary tricks.

He had simply...

Exploded past him.

Stopped at exactly the right moment.

Then calmly buried a three-pointer.

Someone near the back finally swallowed hard.

"...Did..."

"...Did that really just happen?"

Nobody answered.

Because nobody had an answer.

Lucas caught the ball after it bounced back from the wall.

He turned toward Nash.

His face remained completely calm.

He simply looked Nash in the eyes and said,

"You told me to get past you."

A brief pause.

"I did."

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