Second Overtime | JENSOO & CHAELISA

Epilouge

Lisa cried harder at Jisoo's graduation than she had when the Black Mambas won the championship.

She denied this immediately, the way she denied most things that made her look emotionally vulnerable. "I have allergies," she insisted, her voice thick and unconvincing.

"You're crying onto my gown," Jisoo said, looking down at the dark fabric where Lisa's face was pressed against her shoulder.

"It's because of the pollen."

"We're inside. There's no pollen inside."

"There's indoor pollen," Lisa said, her arms tightening around Jisoo's waist with the desperate strength of someone who had not yet learned how to say goodbye. "It's a thing. You wouldn't understand. You're not allergic to anything except authority."

The graduation hall was packed, families clutching bouquets, younger students craning their necks to spot their seniors, camera flashes bursting at irregular intervals like a meteor shower contained within four walls. The air smelled of perfume and warm fabric and the sweet, cloying scent of the flower arrangements sold outside the school gates. Voices bounced against the high ceiling until every name called from the stage became part of one continuous, joyful roar.

Lisa buried her face deeper against Jisoo's shoulder. "You're going to become an adult and forget about me. You'll have university classes and new teammates and sophisticated conversations about literature, and you'll forget you ever had a best friend who once microwaved an egg for you."

"I've never had a sophisticated conversation in my life," Jisoo said. "You know this. You were there for the onion ring incident."

"You're already changing. I can feel it happening."

Jisoo looked helplessly toward Rosé, who stood beside them holding Lisa's bag, Lisa's flowers, Lisa's phone, and the tissue packet Lisa had rejected three separate times. Rosé's expression was the particular calm of someone who had been dealing with Lisa Manoban for years and had long since stopped being surprised by anything.

"She's been like this since breakfast," Rosé said. "She cried into her cereal. The cereal got soggy. She ate it anyway and said it was 'symbolic.'"

"I am grieving," Lisa announced, her voice muffled against Jisoo's gown. "This is a grieving process. You're supposed to be supportive."

"Captain of the Black Mambas," Jisoo said. "That's you now. You're going to be their captain."

Lisa lifted her head. The tears were still there, but something shifted in her expression. Pride rearranged her features, pushing through the grief like light through a crack in a door. "Yes," she said, her voice steadier now. "I am. And I'm going to be the greatest captain YG High has ever produced."

Jisoo stared at her. "Ten seconds ago, you were sobbing because I'm leaving."

"I have emotional range."

"You have emotional whiplash."

"It's called depth. You should try it sometime."

Jisoo reached into the pocket of her graduation gown and pulled out a folded strip of black cloth. The old captain's band, faded from years of sweat and friction, repaired twice in the same spot where the stitching had come loose, the gold thread still gleaming despite everything it had been through. She held it out.

Lisa's expression changed. The humor drained away, replaced by something more serious. She took the band with both hands, her fingers tracing the familiar worn edges.

"Try not to destroy my team," Jisoo said.

"No promises."

"I'm serious, Lisa."