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ONESHOT | 27
The sharp crack of a bullet rang through the air, slicing through the tense silence of the arena. The target dropped instantly, and for a moment, everything was still. Then—BANG. The crowd erupted. Cheers thundered through the stadium, waves of applause rolling like a storm as Jeon Jungkook lowered his gun with the same ease he always carried. No hesitation. No miscalculations. Just flawless, unwavering precision. Another perfect shot. Another gold medal. You clapped along with the rest of the audience, but unlike them, you knew him beyond this moment. You knew the icy focus in his eyes, the way he controlled his breathing like a machine. To everyone else, he was an untouchable prodigy, Korea's golden sharpshooter. To you, he was something else entirely. But before you could entertain that thought, the post-match interview began. Jungkook, still in his fitted competition uniform, approached the reporters. His dark hair was damp with sweat, strands clinging to his forehead, yet he looked unbothered—cool and untouchable as always. "Jungkook, another incredible performance! How are you feeling?"
"Fine." His response was clipped, as expected. "You're now holding the record for the most consecutive wins in sharpshooting history! How does that feel?" "It was inevitable." The audience chuckled at his blunt confidence, but you didn't miss the way his fingers drummed lightly against his thigh. He was restless. Why? More questions followed—his training, his next competition, his thoughts on his opponents. He answered each one with practiced ease, never revealing more than necessary. It was the Jungkook everyone knew—cold, calculating, utterly unbothered. Then came the question that changed everything. "Jungkook, you've been dominating the sharpshooting world for years, and yet you've never been linked to anyone romantically. So, we have to ask—are you single?" The noise in the arena softened. Fans leaned in, anticipation thick in the air. The Jungkook they knew wasn't one for personal affairs. He wouldn't entertain this—he never did. But then—he smiled. Not the polite, press-trained smirk. Not the condescending curve of his lips he often gave his competitors.
No—this was something different. Soft. Almost... boyish. "No, I have a girlfriend." Your stomach dropped. The crowd gasped, the reporters jolting forward with their microphones, questions overlapping in a frenzy. "Jungkook, are you serious?" "Since when? Who is she?" "Can you tell us more about her?" You didn't hear them. All you could hear was the deafening roar of your own pulse as your body turned cold. No. This wasn't happening. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. You sank into your seat, hands tightening into fists. You hated the spotlight. The attention. The scrutiny. Jungkook knew that. He had promised to keep things private, to never let his world collide with yours in such a public way. So why— "She's right there." Time froze. The camera followed his gaze—straight to you. Your breath hitched as your face appeared on the giant screens above the arena, broadcasting to millions. The crowd stirred, a mix of shock and admiration spreading like wildfire. Murmurs rippled through the audience.
"She's gorgeous." "No wonder he kept her a secret." "They look so good together!"
You barely heard them. Your entire body locked up, instincts screaming at you to run. But it was too late. Jungkook was still looking at you. And he was smiling. It was wrong. That expression—it was far too triumphant, too pleased. His dark eyes gleamed under the stadium lights, unblinking, unwavering. Like he wanted this. Like he wanted you—for the world to see. You felt sick. But you couldn't falter. Not here. Not now. So, with a breath you didn't realize you were holding, you forced yourself to smile. Raised your hand in a delicate wave. Played your part as the perfect girlfriend. The audience loved it. The media exploded with headlines, the cameras capturing every second of your carefully curated response. But Jungkook... he saw right through it. And that terrified you. When the interview ended and the cameras finally turned away, you didn't wait. You bolted from your seat, shoving past excited spectators and whispering fans.
