Procuring a chessboard and its pieces was a simple matter.
“You said you knew the rules, right?”
“Yes.”
In the past, she had often played chess in secret with her sister.
Lacking a board and proper pieces, they had drawn them onto sheets of paper and cut them out to play.
She had never known how skilled she actually was, since her sister was her only opponent, but Anasta boasted an undefeated record against her.
Just like back then, Anasta took the white pieces and advanced a pawn first.
“A thoroughly textbook opening.”
“Is it?”
Anasta knew nothing of the sort.
“Didn’t you say you knew how to play chess?”
“I know the rules and how the game is played, but standard openings or theoretical moves are quite unfamiliar to me….”
“This hardly sounds like it will be any fun.”
His concern, however, proved entirely misplaced.
Though Anasta had never studied openings or game analyses, she did not yield easily.
She parried Ryan’s attacks through unorthodox means, her defense stubborn and unyielding.
Realizing the match would not end as simply as he had anticipated, Ryan began focusing on the board in earnest.
“Did you play chess often, Young Master?”
“Before I fell ill. I used to play frequently at social gatherings.”
“You frequented high society quite a bit, then.”
“Look here, I am a noble of House Soltaire. I entered the military academy at sixteen, and social circles were an unavoidable obligation. I learned chess, tennis, riding, and cricket as basic etiquette.”
“Do they teach such things at a military academy?”
“Did you think we merely studied all day? Of course we studied, but still….”
“That sounds delightful and free.”
“Yet look at me now, ruined in both body and temperament. What about you? What did you do during your youth?”
Ryan inquired out of simple courtesy, feeling self-conscious about having monopolized the conversation.
Noble-born as she was, even from a ruined family, she must have made her social debut.
With a face as lovely as hers, she would certainly have enjoyed no small amount of popularity among men.
Since her disposition was far from twisted, she must have cultivated many friendships, and perhaps she had played chess back then, too.
As his imagination ran wild, Ryan’s brow furrowed in irritation at the thought of Anasta keeping company with someone other than himself.
The mere notion of Anasta laughing and enjoying herself in society struck him as distinctly unpleasant.
He could not fathom why, but the annoyance was real enough.
“I was always with my sister.”
“Ah, you mentioned having a sister, didn’t you?”
Ryan moved a pawn. Though it was a meticulously calculated strike, Anasta countered with a composure that mirrored her personality.
“Yes. My sister and I are very close.”
“Much like myself, then. I am on excellent terms with my eldest brother.”
“Truly?”
Anasta recalled that Ryan’s eldest brother was a priest.
“The same cannot be said for my younger brother, however.”
· · ·
“That damn bastard….”
Ryan’s expression hardened instantly at the thought of his younger brother.
The main manor of House Soltaire bustled with commotion.
Even the Duchess, who oversaw the estate, was on high alert today, personally supervising the mansion’s decorations and the preparation of delicacies.
“Madam, Master Duran will be arriving shortly.”
“Truly? Ah, my boy. I hope he hurries.”
Tomorrow, Duran, the youngest son of House Soltaire, was scheduled to return to the ducal estate from academy.
Word of Duran’s impending return swept through the maids, who began whispering amongst themselves.
Where Ryan possessed the sharp, prickly aura of a wolf, Duran was like a magnificent peacock who had inherited his mother’s radiant beauty.
In personality, the two could not have been more different; while Ryan was blunt and harsh, Duran was, by contrast, playful and perpetually sweet toward women.
In other words, he was nothing short of an inveterate womanizer.
He never clung to those who walked away, nor did he turn away any who approached.
The maids watched for any opportunity to draw close to him, even if it meant becoming his concubines.
They began attending diligently to their cosmetics, straightening their attire, and practicing their expressions.
At last, Duran Soltaire returned from academy.
Having failed his examinations, quite unlike his brilliant elder brother.
“Duran!”
Duchess Soltaire was beside herself with joy at the sight of her only flesh and blood.
His sleek golden hair and the breathtaking looks he had inherited directly from her seemed more dazzling than ever.
“Mother, how have you been?”
Duran, exceptionally attentive toward his mother and women in general, kissed the back of the Duchess’s hand.
“My son, you have returned a grown man.”
“I turned twenty last month, Mother. I am an adult now.”
The maids’ hearts fluttered at his flowery smile.
“You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you grow into someone so splendid.”
“Mother, you remain as beautiful as ever.”
“Fie, don’t tease me so. Look at these hands, wrinkled with age. I grow older by the day, and now I have no one but you.”
“To my eyes, Mother, you look like a flower in full bloom.”
The Duchess smiled with quiet satisfaction at his charming banter. His pleasantries finished, Duran glanced around.
Just as he had anticipated, there was no one to welcome him save his mother, several unfamiliar maids, and the head butler, Paul.
“And where is Father?”
“…Do not take it to heart. He seems preoccupied with business.”
Duran let out a dry chuckle.
‘Preoccupied with business? What business could that possibly be.’
He knew all too well that his father was the sort of man who would abandon the most critical conference if Ryan suffered even a single fit.
It had always been this way; the Duke had doted fiercely upon Ryan, who was only a few months older than Duran.
Ever since the entrance ceremony at the military academy, his father had ceaselessly boasted of him becoming class representative.
“I heard news far more intriguing than that, anyway.”
“Are you referring to Ryan’s marriage?”
“Yes. I hardly expected my brother to take a bride.”
“Pay it no heed. She may be called Ryan’s fiancée, but she will live like a ghost within this estate. You will never have cause to cross paths with her.”
· · ·
Duran, however, harbored different thoughts.
‘Ryan’s wife….’
What sort of foolish woman had consented to become the bride of his dying brother?
‘I’d like to see her face, even just once.’
“You must be exhausted after such a long journey. I have had a meal prepared for you. Come, let us go inside.”
The Duchess gently urged Duran forward, hand at his back.
Duran revealed nothing of what churned within his breast, obediently following her lead.
“This makes no sense.”
Ryan suppressed a fierce urge to flip the chessboard after two consecutive matches since yesterday.
Yesterday’s game had ended in a draw, but today, victory belonged entirely to Anasta.
The outcome was a tremendous shock to a man who had swept championships during his school days.
How could he lose to a rank amateur who had never properly studied chess?
“It cannot end like this. Let us play again.”
“It is time for your medicine.”
Anasta spoke after checking the hour.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You must take your medicine if you wish to continue playing.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“It is no threat, merely a matter of priorities. Will you take it?”
Before Ryan could answer, Anasta stood and fetched the pills.
Ryan stared in silence at the medicine she held out, feeling a faint prickle of defeat. He was beginning to feel as though he were gradually dancing to this woman’s tune.
His pride smarted, yet he yielded and accepted the medicine from her.
He swallowed the pills dry in one gulp, then waved a hand toward Anasta, signaling her to set up the pieces at once.
“You possess quite the competitive spirit.”
“Would it not be stranger if I lacked one?”
“I suppose that is true.”
She offered a soft smile.
“Tell me truthfully, from whom did you learn to play?”
“From my sister.”
“Was your sister a chess player, then?”
“No, of course not. She taught me, but she was never my match in skill.”
“Why not leave this place and take up chess professionally? I wager you could amass quite a fortune winning prize money from tournaments.”
“I am hardly that skilled.”
“I suggest it precisely because I recognize your ability. Let me offer you some sincere advice: leave this mansion.”
· · ·
His tone was so solemn that Anasta turned her gaze toward him.
Never taking his eyes from the board, Ryan reviewed the moves, rearranged the pieces, and parted his lips. “Do not ruin your life here. I have no desire to have you as my wife. The moment you recover, I will tell Father.”
At last, the small pawn settled into place.
“I will tell him that I reject you.”
Ryan observed Anasta’s countenance.
Her face was composed, offering no clue as to her thoughts.
Her eyes, calm beneath lowered lids, were as still as a waveless sea.
“Young Master, shall we make a wager?”
“A wager?”
“Yes. You are competitive, are you not? Let us wager on a game of chess.”
Ryan eyed her with keen interest.
“Go on.”
“If I lose, I shall leave as you wish. But if I win, I ask that you do not cast me out immediately.”
“And your reason?”
“…The sister I mentioned earlier was married before me. Afterward, all word of her ceased. I wish to search for her.”
“So your motive was never money; it was this all along.”
He had known she had not come here without purpose, yet hearing her plainly state her goal left him with a hollow ache.
Just as he had suspected, no support or kindness came without a price.
Anasta was no different from anyone else.
“Yes.”
Her response was as cutting as a winter wind whipping against his skin.
“And why should I agree to such a wager?”
“In addition, should you win, I will grant you any one wish you desire. That is, before I am fully healed and driven from the manor.”
“…Anything?”
“Anything.”
He desired nothing specific from her, yet he sensed the promise might prove useful someday.
“Very well. Shall we begin? This wager of ours.”
END
