After school, I was passing by the basketball court when a rogue basketball smashed into my head.

For a moment, my brain was buzzing.

Before I could gather myself, a pleasant voice came from above.

"How much?"

I blinked for a second, looking up at the owner of the voice.

The man was wearing a number 9 jersey. His black hair, damp with sweat, was swept up carelessly. His sharp features and pale face were tinged with a slight flush, but there was clear impatience in his eyes.

As murmurs from the surroundings reached me, I finally came to my senses, pulling out my phone to scan his code.

"A thousand."

Benjamin Lawrence snorted, taking Mr. Nelson's phone from beside him, and swiftly transferred five thousand dollars to me.

Before leaving, his voice, dripping with undisguised sarcasm, reached my ears.

"Use it to get your head checked. If it's not enough, come find me again."

Staring at this unexpected windfall, I couldn't help but muse.

This school tyrant, just as the rumors said — rich, and a fool.