Bang!
The heavy double doors slammed violently against the concrete wall.
"Everyone hold it right there!" a sharp, nasal voice squeaked.
Director Miller hurried into the locker room, frantically wiping grease and sweat off his forehead with a stained handkerchief.
Right behind him stepped Head Coach Vivienne Cross.
Click. Click. Click.
The sharp strike of four-inch crimson stiletto heels hit the hardwood floor, instantly demanding the attention of every single athlete in the room. Vivienne radiated an overwhelming presence. Even under pressure, her hyper-voluptuous figure arrested the eyes; her massive, gravity-defying bust heavily strained the top three buttons of her tight white blouse, creating a stark contrast against her impossibly narrow waist. A high-waisted black pencil skirt clung tightly to the wide, heavy curve of her hips, highlighting her statuesque posture. Her deep amber eyes looked exhausted, and her full lips were set in a thin, bitter line.
Jaxon watched her from the back of the room, his expression unreadable.
Vivienne Cross.
When he had spent endless nights drafting the lore for The Golden Court, he had intentionally designed her as the ultimate mature trophy character. In his original manuscript, she was scripted to be crushed by school debt until Garrison’s billionaire father stepped in, using financial leverage to trap her in a predatory casting-couch relationship just to save her program.
Not a chance in this reality, Jaxon thought, a cold calculation settling into his chest. I didn’t spend hours perfecting her character notes just to let some rich old pig ruin her. She’s joining my harem. And her tragic script ends today.
Garrison lowered his fists, wiping the streak of blood off his lip with the back of his hand. The initial shock of being dropped into the laundry bin vanished, replaced by a smug, malicious grin. He knew exactly what his family’s sports agency had orchestrated behind the scenes.
"Director Miller," Garrison drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Go ahead. Tell them the bad news."
Miller wiped his neck, avoiding everyone’s gaze. "Effective immediately, the university is leasing this entire athletic facility to Northridge Academy. The athletic department is officially bankrupt. Pack your gear and clear out your lockers. The court is closed."
Shouts of panic and confusion instantly erupted among the varsity players.
"You can’t do this, Director!" Vivienne’s deep, husky voice easily cut through the noise, her commanding tone vibrating off the metal lockers. "The national championship tournament is in exactly two weeks. If we lose our home court and our training facilities now, the team is finished."
"It’s already a done deal, Coach Cross," Miller sneered, fixing his glasses nervously. "Unless you happen to have ten million dollars in liquid cash lying around to cover the school’s immediate deficit, hand over the keys."
Garrison chuckled softly, stepping closer to Vivienne until he was leaning into her personal space. "Don’t take it so hard, Coach. My dad might be willing to buy out that lease from the university... assuming you come over to our family estate tonight to discuss the specific terms."
Vivienne’s manicured nails dug deep into her palms, her hands clenching into tight fists. She wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what that private "discussion" required. Total submission.
Bzzzzt.
Neon-blue holographic windows snapped open directly in Jaxon’s line of sight, completely hidden from the rest of the room.
[System Quest Triggered: Protect Your Creator Assets!]
[Target Vivienne Cross is facing a predatory narrative trap.]
[Objective: Buy the arena out permanently and crush the Vance Family’s leverage.]
[System Liquidity Unlocked: Unlimited Cosmic Credit Stream.]
Jaxon didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward out of the shadows, his strides calm, steady, and entirely relaxed.
Step. Step.
He brushed right past Garrison’s massive frame, treating the star player like a piece of low-value background garbage, and stopped inches away from Director Miller.
"What do you think you’re doing, kid?" Miller barked, his eyes scanning Jaxon’s worn, faded grey tracksuit with deep disgust. "Get back to the equipment room. Move!"
Jaxon didn’t say a word. He reached into his pocket and smoothly pulled out a sleek, heavy matte-black card that materialized right into his fingers.
Swipe.
He tapped the edge of the card cleanly against the screen of Miller’s digital university tablet.
Ping!
[Unlimited Cosmic Credit Stream Verified.]
[Displaying Balance: ∞]
[The Constellation ’Goddess of Wealth’ is eager to see you flex!]
Miller’s personal phone in his breast pocket buzzed violently, followed immediately by the loud, continuous chiming of the university’s main financial terminal on his tablet. Miller looked down at the glowing screen.
Every single bit of color drained from the director’s face. His mouth fell open, his eyes widening to the size of saucers.
"Wh-What... what the hell is this...?" Miller stammered, his breath catching as his knees visibly shook beneath his trousers.
Garrison’s smug smirk vanished instantly.
"Director? What’s wrong with you? Secure the keys. He’s just a broke, pathetic assistant!"
Vivienne’s amber eyes widened, her sharp gaze shifting from the trembling, terrified director to Jaxon’s completely unbothered, calm face.
Even Roxie, standing by the doorframe, held her breath in absolute silence.
Jaxon looked Miller dead in the eye, his voice smooth, cold, and carrying absolute gravity.
"Director, how much cash does the university need to cancel that lease and buy this arena permanently? Name your price."