Enthralled || Liskook

Chapter 51

Five days later, Jeon Jungkook silenced the cue ball again, the satisfying click echoing as the final black nestled in the corner. A perfect 147, his third in the same Korea Open! 

The brief interlude between maxims had ignited a firestorm. Fans, even those with no prior interest in snooker, were buzzing. 

Jeon Jungkook's name dominated online conversations. Returning to his home turf after a year's absence, Jungkook was rewriting records with phenomenal displays. 

Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon weren't far behind, leading a wave of young talent to the best showing by local players in Korea Open history. They treated the home crowd to a string of exhilarating moments. 

Their charge, however, stalled in the semis. Jungkook, meanwhile, marched on to the finals. 

Lisa, who'd harbored hopes to see the finals match, found those dashed by the National 9-ball Association's sudden decision to extend training. 

The entire Korea Open, Jungkook's triumphant return to his homeland, had unfolded while Lisa remained sequestered in training. 

Now, on the day of the finals, the camp was finally over. 

But Lisa had no time for home. The Pep talk for the World Championship is ongoing. 

Lisa sat in the front row, facing the leaders of the Sports Bureau, one of them her own mother. 

Under her watchful gaze, Lisa felt a knot tighten in her stomach and couldn't even check the time. 

The leader's speech dragged on, each word stretching the taut string of her anxiety. When it finally ended, a wave of applause washed over the room, and Lisa's claps were the loudest and most eager. 

"Alright, everyone, let's break for now,” the kind-faced association president announced. "Many of you have flights this afternoon, so I'll keep it brief." 

Lisa practically bolted as the room cleared. Her mother momentarily distracted, Lisa dashed for the exit. Up the stairs she flew, phone clutched in her hand. 

The screen buzzed with messages from Jennie, Soobin, and others. Her finger hovered, a mix of anticipation and apprehension stopping her from clicking. A cool breeze swept through the open window, but it couldn't cool the burning flush on her cheeks. 

Suddenly, a new message popped up. 

Jeon: No congratulations to me? 

Lisa's heart contracted violently, tears welling up, blurring her vision. They spilled over, tracing a warm path down her cheeks, glistening on her fingertips. 

Overcome with joy, she stifled a sob with her hand. Jungkook had won! Korea Open Champion! 

Fearful of attracting attention from the leaders below, Lisa pressed herself against the wall, desperately trying to compose herself. 

Just as the last official exited with a satisfied smile, a new message from Jeon flashed on her phone. 

Jeon: I miss you. 

Lisa clutched the phone, tears streaming down her face. 

Here he was, a champion, trophy in hand, and his first words were about missing her. No grand gesture, no elaborate outpouring of love, just these simple, heartfelt words. This was more touching than anything else. 

This big goof, oblivious to dramatic expressions, always found the most genuine ways to show he cared. 

The roar of the crowd had faded, leaving an echoing silence in the vast stadium. Jungkook, the newly crowned champion, sat alone in the north stands. The gleaming trophy rested beside him on a vacant seat, a silent testament to his victory.