Jaxon thought of ways to explain himself to Valerie. Could he even pull it off at this point? The old Jaxon Lin had been a delinquent, the very opposite of someone a stunning woman like Valerie would want to keep in her life. What could possibly convince her that he'd changed overnight into a determined and virtuous man?
'Ahhhn! This is so annoying'... he fumed internally. 'It would have been so much better if I'd transmigrated into the body of someone with a stable life—like Luca Anderson'.
His thoughts drifted to Luca Anderson, the man he had long admired and idolized. That's when it hit him—Luca, his idol, was Jaxon Lin's childhood best friend. His best friend.
The two had shared a bond since they were kids, dreaming of playing in the NBA together, side by side, for the Metro Wolves. But life had taken its toll on their friendship. Their vastly different lifestyles created a growing rift, one they never managed to bridge. They could no longer even call themselves best friends.
Now, the only time Luca and Jaxon communicated was when the Metro Wolves and the Neon Dragons played against each other.
A soft ding broke Jaxon out of his thoughts, signaling the elevator's arrival at the ground floor. He was immediately reminded that he'd left his groceries with Valerie.
Stepping out of the elevator, he walked straight to the front desk where she was seated, typing away on her keyboard. His heart raced as he approached her, his pulse quickening with every step.
Tapping his index finger on the counter to get her attention, he tried to steady himself so he wouldn't fumble his words.
"Hey…" he said, his voice quick and deliberate.
Valerie glanced up, her gaze locking with his. "Hi… You're back," she said, standing to face him. "How did it go with your family? Must've been something, since it's been a while since you saw them."
Her tone and body language caught Jaxon off guard. It felt as though she still cared for him, even after everything.
"It wasn't easy," he admitted with a wry smile. "My dad was all over the place. He wasn't happy to see me at all."
"Aww, that must've been hard. I'm sorry to hear that," she said softly, her demeanor shifting. Sympathy radiated from her warm, puppy-dog eyes.
"Nah, it's all right. All that's going to change soon," he said, his voice gaining conviction as he leaned slightly closer. "I'll make sure of it. Everything is going to change for the better. I can do better. You'll see… Valerie."
Her eyes widened, her composure faltering for a moment. This wasn't the Jaxon Lin she was used to. The sincerity in his voice left her speechless.
"Uhh…" she finally managed, utterly dumbfounded.
"My groceries…" Jaxon prompted with a faint smile, snapping her back to the moment.
"Oh!" Valerie blinked, shaking off her surprise. She bent down and retrieved the bags from under the desk, handing them over. "Here you go."
"Thank you. I appreciate the help," Jaxon said, securing the groceries in his grip.
As he turned to leave, a small, satisfied smile played on his lips. Somehow, the interaction had gone better than he'd expected.
He smiled at her once more as he took a few steps backward, signaling his departure. Valerie's gaze stayed fixed on him, her mind racing to process what had just unfolded. She found herself caught between two paths: should she give him another chance or continue dating until she found someone who could reignite the spark Jaxon once held in her life?
"Take care of yourself… Jax," she said, her voice soft as she raised a tentative hand in farewell.
But he didn't hear her. His focus was elsewhere as he turned toward the rotating doors, leaving the building without a response.
Once outside, Jaxon inhaled deeply, the cool evening air hitting his face. "That was intense," he muttered, exhaling as though he'd been holding his breath the entire time. He bent over slightly, resting his hands on his knees to steady himself.
"Jaxon, you really messed your life up, didn't you?" he said to himself, shaking his head as he straightened. Spotting a taxi, he hailed it, waited for it to pull up, then climbed in and disappeared down the road.
***
NEON DRAGONS ARENA
DRESSING ROOM
GAME 3 VS STORM SURGE
7 PM
The dressing room was quiet, almost too quiet, as the Neon Dragons players sat in their seats, preparing for the evening's game against the formidable Storm Surge. Each player focused on putting on their uniforms and gearing up, their silence speaking volumes. The weight of the match loomed over them, and no one dared break the tension with idle chatter.
Jaxon was no exception. Sitting in his corner, he laced up his basketball shoes methodically. As he finished, he reached for his signature arm sleeve and slid it onto his right arm. Personally, he wasn't a fan of accessories, but the original Jaxon had always favored this particular look. It felt strange to him, but he wore it nonetheless, embracing the role he now inhabited.
"I trust you all are ready for tonight's game..."
The deep, commanding voice of Coach Morgan cut through the silence. He strode into the room and stopped beside the tactical board, its surface cluttered with detailed plays and strategies scribbled in different colors. His presence alone demanded attention, and every player instinctively looked up.
"Yes, Coach!" Ken O'Neil, the team captain, responded firmly on behalf of everyone.
Coach Morgan nodded in approval, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if gauging their readiness. "Very well," he said, his tone steady and reassuring.
The room fell silent, a thick air of anticipation settling over the players as they waited for the coach's next words. Coach Morgan cleared his throat, his posture authoritative as he spread his legs slightly and clasped his hands behind his back.
"Like we discussed in training yesterday," he began, his husky voice measured and deliberate, "the chairman of the new board would like to have a brief meeting with us before the game tonight."
Before anyone could react, the door opened, and an average-height man strode in with a purposeful gait. His aura exuded authority and a no-nonsense demeanor, drawing every gaze in the room. Without a word, he made his way to the center and stood beside Coach Morgan, mirroring his stance with hands on his hips and legs firmly planted.
"Everyone, I'd like to introduce Mr. Gale Kim, chairman of the Orange Citrus Board," Coach Morgan said, gesturing toward the man. "As you know, this board took over the Neon Dragons franchise at the start of the pre-season tournament. Mr. Kim has a few important words to share with us before we hit the court."
A polite round of applause followed, though it was more out of obligation than genuine enthusiasm. Mr. Kim stepped forward, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room as he addressed the players.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he greeted with a broad, enthusiastic smile.
The players responded unevenly—some muttered half-hearted greetings, while others managed slightly more enthusiasm. None of it seemed to faze Mr. Kim, who pressed on.
"I know you're ready and fired up for tonight's game," he began, his tone calm yet laced with authority, "but I want to share a few words with you before you step under the floodlights."
He paused briefly, letting his words sink in, then continued, "As Coach Morgan mentioned, I'm Gale Kim, chairman of the Orange Citrus Board. Our company has taken full control of the Neon Dragons team and all its affiliations. We are a big organization, gentlemen, and we are here to invest in the future of this franchise. But make no mistake—we expect a return on our investment."
Mr. Kim's expression hardened, his smile fading as he locked eyes with each player in turn. "As of today, the board will no longer tolerate lackluster performances from anyone—whether you're one of the starting five, a sixth man, or a benchwarmer. Every single one of you is expected to give your best, every game, every minute."
He let the weight of his words settle before delivering the final blow. "And let me be clear—this rule applies to the coaching staff as well. No one is exempt."
Mr. Gale Kim's final remarks ignited a ripple of murmurs and subtle side conversations among the players. The room buzzed with nervous energy, though no one dared to speak too loudly. Jaxon couldn't help but notice the intensity on Mr. Kim's face. His once enthusiastic demeanor had vanished, replaced by a steely expression. His furrowed brows were so pronounced they seemed capable of splitting rocks, and his piercing gaze made it clear he meant every word.
"Of course," Mr. Kim continued, his voice cutting through the murmurs, "Coach Morgan is under contract with the club, and his performance will also be under scrutiny. If any member of this team—player or staff—is deemed unworthy by the board of directors, I, as your humble leader, will ensure that person is removed and their contract terminated."
Jaxon felt the words hit him like a sledgehammer, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach.
"As for probationary contracts," Mr. Kim added, his tone sharp and uncompromising, "it has come to my attention that some players are still under review by the standards of the former board. Let me make this clear: those days are over. Under this new board, any player with a probationary contract will have their agreements terminated effective immediately. They will no longer be a part of the Neon Dragons."
Jaxon straightened in his seat, his mind racing. Terminated? His breath caught in his throat. The weight of the statement crushed him. Was this it? Just when he had begun to rewrite the tarnished legacy of the original Jaxon Lin, it seemed that shadow had caught up to him, ready to snuff out his dreams of becoming an elite basketball player.
Mr. Kim gave a curt nod, signaling the end of his speech. "That is all for now, gentlemen. I wish you good luck in tonight's game. Go out there and play well—we'll be watching."
With a final adjustment of his suit, Mr. Kim turned and strode out of the dressing room, his authoritative aura lingering in the air long after he disappeared from sight.
The silence that followed was deafening. Jaxon glanced around the room, only to realize every pair of eyes was fixed on him. He was the only player whose contract was still under probation. The truth was undeniable—and so was the judgment etched on his teammates' faces.