Early the next morning.
Link woke up wrapped in a soft down comforter.
Last night's wild passion felt almost like a dream, yet the warmth in his arms made it clear that it had all been real.
Isabella's eyelashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes and met Link's gaze.
She didn't look shy at all. Like a lazy cat, she snuggled closer into his arms and let out a satisfied little hum.
"Good morning, my prophet."
Her voice carried a hint of sleepy, effortless sexiness.
Link tightened his arms around her and gently kissed her smooth forehead.
The two of them lay there, curled together in the sunlit bed, savoring the quiet and tenderness of the moment.
After a long while, Isabella spoke softly.
"My flight's at noon. I have to head back to New York," she said, lifting her head.
"VOGUE has a major fall editorial, and fittings start this afternoon."
A faint sense of disappointment rose in Link's chest, but he quickly nodded in understanding.
He knew Isabella's real world was the runway and the pages of fashion magazines.
"So soon?" Link tried to keep his tone light.
"Looks like the prophet can predict buzzer-beaters, but not the schedule of a fashion queen."
Isabella laughed and lightly punched his chest.
"Don't be a smart-aleck…" She paused, her eyes turning serious yet warm.
"Thank you, Link. This was a perfect Christmas present."
They got up together and shared the bathroom like a couple who'd been in sync for years.
Link ordered room service, and the two of them enjoyed a simple breakfast by the window.
Time slipped by quickly in the cozy atmosphere.
After a while, Isabella's phone rang.
The cab she'd booked had arrived downstairs.
At the hotel entrance, Isabella wrapped her arms around Link's neck and gave him a soft kiss.
"Take care of yourself, Mr. Prophet," she said with a smile, looking straight into his eyes.
"Keep shocking the world. I'll be watching from New York."
"You too," Link said, holding her hand. "Have a safe flight, Isabella."
He watched as her cab merged into traffic, until it disappeared completely.
By the time Link got back to the apartment, it was already past ten in the morning.
The moment he opened the door, Andrew—who had clearly been waiting forever—rushed at him, his face flushed with excitement.
"Link! You're finally back! Oh my God, have you seen the news? You can't even imagine this!"
He was practically shouting, waving his laptop in the air.
"Look! You're everywhere! 'The Prophet Link'—that nickname is insane!"
"'The Prophet Link'?" Link froze for a second.
Andrew didn't bother explaining. He shoved Link onto the couch and jammed the laptop screen right in front of his face.
On the screen, ESPN's homepage headline blazed across the page:
"THE PROPHET! Christmas Night Miracle as Rookie Link Hits the Game-Winner to Save the Lakers!"
Next to the article were two massive photos.
One showed Link holding his shooting follow-through after the buzzer-beater.
The other captured the moment Isabella hugged him, whispering something into his ear.
"It's not just ESPN!" Andrew said excitedly, scrolling down.
"Look at this—The Los Angeles Times, Sports Illustrated, TNT—they're all talking about you!"
Thanks to the magic of that buzzer-beater—
And the extra mystique Isabella added—
Plus the media's hype machine—
The nickname "The Prophet" exploded overnight.
Link skimmed through the coverage. Nearly every major sports outlet had him plastered across their front page.
One story in particular stood out.
Before the game, Dwyane Wade had been asked in an interview that he didn't even know who Link was.
After the game, a curious reporter asked Wade about Link again.
Wade kept a dark expression the entire time and didn't say a single word.
That clip, too, made the front page.
After all, it had been a long time since a Christmas Day game delivered a storyline this dramatic.
Andrew was practically dancing around the room.
"Oh my God, Link! You've got your own nickname now! Do you know how huge that is from a marketing standpoint?"
In the NBA, nicknames usually belonged only to stars—
Kobe. Iverson. LeBron.
Link had been a complete nobody. This was pure chance.
"I knew it! I knew you were going to make it!" Andrew shouted, pumping his fists.
"A few small brands have already reached out about endorsements! This is the start of our era, Link!"
"Calm down, Andrew," Link said, glancing at the over-the-top headlines and pouring a little cold water on his excitement.
"It was just one lucky shot."
Link pushed the laptop aside, stood up, and looked seriously at Andrew, who was still buzzing.
"Don't believe everything the media is saying just because they're lifting you up today," Link said, pointing at the screen.
"They can build you up—and one day, they can tear you down without hesitation. If we start believing our own hype, the fall won't be far behind."
The excitement on Andrew's face faded a bit.
"You're right, Link," Andrew said, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm down.
"I got carried away. But…" He pointed at the endorsement inquiries.
"These opportunities are real. We can't just turn them down, right?"
"Of course not," Link said with a smile. "You're my agent. You handle that side of things."
"Looks like Mr. Prophet didn't just predict the game-winner," Amy said as she walked out of her room, her tone teasing.
"He also predicted the media frenzy."
Link rubbed his nose and gave Amy a helpless smile in response.
In his previous life, he'd seen plenty of talented players destroyed by the media. He was very clear about who he was—and who he wasn't.
After a quick lunch, Link headed back to the training facility.
The buzzer-beater was history—but training had to continue.
After Christmas, the team's next game wasn't for another two days.
To let everyone enjoy the holiday, the team hadn't scheduled any practices.
But Link didn't want to waste time. He wanted to seize every chance to get stronger.
The Lakers' practice facility was completely empty.
Link dribbled alone, the thump, thump, thump of the ball echoing through the silent gym.
He pulled up the system interface.
---
[Host: Link]
[Age: 21 | Height: 6'6" | Weight: 194 lbs | Wingspan: 6'10" | Body Fat: 7.9%]
[Shooting Ratings — Three-Point: A | Mid-Range: B- | Free Throws: B+ | Catch-and-Shoot: A-]
[Athleticism — Speed: B | Agility: B | Strength: B- | Vertical: C+ | Balance: A-]
[Finishing — Layups: C+ | Off-Hand Layups: C- | Contact Finishing: D+ | Drawing Fouls: D]
[Ball Handling — Dribbling: C | Advanced Dribbles: C- | Off-Hand Dribbling: C- | Change-of-Direction: C]
[…]
[Completed Training: Open Three (Intermediate), Athleticism (Intermediate), Catch-and-Shoot (Intermediate)]
[Unlocked Skills: Focused Shooter Lv.2, Stamina Boost Lv.2, Quick Release Lv.2]
[Available Training Options: Open Three (Advanced), Athleticism (Advanced), Catch-and-Shoot (Advanced)…]
---
Studying the stats carefully, Link fell into deep thought once again.
What should he train next?