Chapter 3

"Oh no, so close!"

Melissa stamped her foot in frustration.

She turned her head and glared at me viciously. "Consider yourself lucky."

I walked to the table, looked at the scattered balls, and smiled.

Time to close the net.

I picked up the cue and walked to a position with a tricky angle.

The cue ball was blocked by two of my opponent's balls. The target ball was at the far diagonal corner pocket, with several obstacle balls in between.

Anyone who knew anything about pool could tell—this shot was basically unsalvageable.

The playboy Derek Chase shook his head from the side. "No way. Even professional players would have a headache over this shot, let alone a beginner."

Ethan walked up beside me, speaking in a tone of charity.

"Natalie, stop struggling. There's no way you can make this shot. Just hand over the villa keys now, take off your jacket, and we'll call it even for today."

Melissa chimed in. "Exactly, Miss Sterling. Dragging it out just makes you look worse. Why bother?"

I didn't look at them, just quietly stared at the table.

I calculated the angle, force, friction, and every possible trajectory after ball collision in my mind.

Three seconds later, I straightened up.

"Ethan, aren't you celebrating too soon?"

I walked to the other end of the pool table and changed positions.

This time, I dropped all pretense.

An aura belonging to a top-tier player made all the surrounding noise die down.

Derek froze for a moment and rubbed his eyes. "Holy shit, that stance... why does it look familiar?"

Ethan frowned too, but then sneered. "Putting on airs. You think striking a pose will bring a dead ball back to life?"

I blocked out his voice and adjusted my breathing.

My gaze locked on the four o'clock position at the lower right of the cue ball.

English, draw shot.

"Crack!"

A clear, penetrating strike rang out.

The target ball dropped into the diagonal corner pocket on cue.

The entire room fell dead silent.

Everyone's eyes widened, mouths hanging open, unable to say a word.

Derek's wine glass fell to the floor, the sound of shattering glass especially clear in the quiet pool room.

"Holy fuck, this... is this even humanly possible?"

The color drained from Ethan's face, his eyes filled with shock.

"Just luck..." He gritted his teeth, staring at the pocketed ball.

Melissa panicked too, her words stuttering. "R-right... it must be luck. How could anyone make such a weird shot?"

I slowly straightened up, resting the cue on my shoulder, looking at them.

"Whether it's luck or skill, you'll know soon enough."

The situation from here on was simple for me.

I didn't even pause for a moment. I moved quickly around the pool table, bending, striking—smooth and fluid.

My movements flowed without a single wasted motion.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

The continuous sound of balls dropping, one after another, hammered on Ethan and Melissa's hearts.

In less than a minute, all my balls on the table were cleared.

Only the last one remained—the eight ball.