Ryan felt certain of himself.
Her idiosyncratic moves had their limits, and he had already pieced together the pattern of her play.
Unfortunately, the woman sitting across from him seemed entirely convinced of her own victory, unaware of what was coming.
The impromptu wager began at once.
In contrast to their lighthearted first match, both Ryan and Anasta wore expressions of absolute gravity, their movements deliberate and measured.
They probed each other’s positions, caught in a quiet war of wills.
Pieces shifted across the board in silence as fierce attacks clashed against unyielding defenses.
Yet he was not some frail knight doomed to fall twice.
Before he had been cast down as an invalid near death, Ryan had been an accomplished officer, an exceptionally bright cadet, and a prodigy brimming with promise.
Possessing an innate gift for reading an opponent’s psychology, he saw right through the current of Anasta’s thoughts laid bare across the board.
‘She only shows her true self over a chessboard.’
Anasta was delicate yet uncompromisingly stubborn.
She seemed yielding enough on the surface, but the moment an attack was launched, one ran straight into an impenetrable wall.
Focusing on the flow of the game, Ryan caught sight of a strategic opening nestled inside her dense defensive line.
His knight snapped left. It was checkmate.
· · ·
“Well? I won, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
Anasta accepted her defeat with cool composure.
Her reply was so calm that Ryan wondered if she had already forgotten the stakes of their wager.
‘Hmph.’
Folding his arms with a smug air, Ryan followed her gaze.
Looking at her eyes as they retraced the moves with precision, it was evident she had not thrown the game.
A faint furrow creased her brow, as though she had finally deduced where the fatal mistake lay.
It was a subtle shift in expression, yet an immense one given her usual mask of indifference.
Seeing it, a quiet laugh escaped Ryan.
He decided to grant himself the luxury of behaving like a magnanimous victor.
Instead of clearing the pieces away immediately, he waited until she had finished reviewing the match before gathering them up himself.
“You will leave quietly once your wounds heal.”
“And what if they never do?”
“Then I will have no choice but to speak with Father and have you thrown out by force.”
Ryan was thoroughly pleased with his triumph.
What he had initially thought would be a tedious distraction had turned into a contest he took entirely seriously.
Simply besting this woman brought him a genuine rush of accomplishment.
As he pondered what move would next shake her composed facade, he abruptly paused.
He had won just now, but taking all their games into account, his record stood at only two wins out of three rounds.
Ryan wanted to establish an undisputed superiority.
Having set the board in order, his eyes traveled to Anasta’s leg.
Even with an unusually swift recovery, it would still take several days before she could walk without trouble.
She would not be able to leave the estate anytime soon.
“We play again tomorrow.”
The challenge left Ryan’s mouth before he had given it much thought.
“Is this the Young Master’s wish?”
“No, this is an order. The wish is an entirely separate matter.”
He had no intention of squandering his wagered wish on something so trivial.
He meant to use it to make her carry out far more eccentric demands before she was cast out of the manor for good.
Anasta nodded calmly, consenting to another match tomorrow.
The following day
Ryan lost.
He had been certain of his triumph, making the defeat all the more unforeseen.
“Where did you even come up with a move like that?”
Today, it was Ryan whose brows knitted together.
Anasta answered evenly, devoid of arrogance. “I recognized my weaknesses and consulted a few strategy books. I found quite a collection in the annex library, including records of famous matches.”
“So you studied various openings and ambushes.”
“Yes.”
She was a terrifyingly quick study.
Since she already had a solid grasp of the game, a single glance through those texts had been enough for her to read his patterns and predict his subsequent assaults.
It was Ryan’s own fault for underestimating her.
Having suffered an unforeseen blow while aiming for an overwhelming victory, a fierce spirit of defiance flared inside him.
He was determined to crush her.
To do that, he needed another round, but Anasta saw through his intent and presented him with his medicine instead.
“This is your morning dose. I will bring your lunch shortly.”
“…Are you telling me I have to quietly swallow this before we can play again?”
“I will bring sweets as well.”
Ryan let out a dry, scornful scoff.
She had him dancing entirely to her tune.
“Drink water this time.”
She held out the glass she had prepared before he could swallow the bitter medicine dry.
Ryan scowled at her meticulous fussing, but he drank it obediently nonetheless.
“You must always use people like this.”
He spat the words with deliberate sharpness, humiliated at how easily he followed her directions.
“I have never used anyone in my life.”
“Liar. Women like you usually end up as the queens of high society. I detest that sort of person most of all.”
“Ah, high society.”
Her expression darkened, as if an unpleasant memory had crossed her mind.
Curiosity stirred in Ryan for a moment.
It was a question he had asked her once before and never received an answer to.
What had her debut into society been like?
Just as before, thinking back on that particular day soured his mood.
“Whenever I attended social gatherings, my parents were always at my side.”
“Your parents?”
“Yes. Because of that, I have no fond memories of them.”
Come to think of it, she was a bride bought and paid for.
Remembering that her life had been miserable as well, Ryan refrained from probing further.
“You mentioned attending social gatherings in the past, didn’t you, Sir?”
“…Well, yes.”
“How was it for you?”
Ryan cast his mind back for a moment.
They were not magnificent memories, but they had not been terrible either.
He had always been the center of attention, the object of people’s admiration and awe.
He had never flaunted it, but he had wielded it as an effective weapon.
“I don’t have any particularly fond memories either.”
“Then we are alike.”
A gentle smile touched her lips.
For an instant, Ryan found himself captivated by her face.
He had assumed any smile from her would be awkward and rigid, like the dead of winter, but he had been mistaken.
It was warm enough to thaw drifts of deep snow, melting even the lingering chill in the room.
Ryan reviewed the chess match in his head.
He considered every conceivable maneuver to break her defenses, yet none proved satisfactory.
Then Anasta’s smile drifted back into his thoughts; his brow pinched sharply, and he surged to his feet.
Throwing on a coat in haste, he threw open the bedroom door and addressed the maid waiting in the corridor. “I am going to the library for a moment.”
“To the library, Sir?”
“Yes, I intend to read.”
“I will ask the head maid for permission first—”
“Must I inform the head maid of every breath I take?”
· · ·
“Damn it all, I am not a child.”
“Wait, please wait! Young Master!”
Ryan strode down the hall long before any permission could arrive.
It was the first time in an eternity that he had walked out of his room of his own accord.
The library on the second floor had likewise been neglected for ages.
In the early days after his diagnosis, he had occasionally read here, but repeated seizures had ended with him confined strictly to his bedchamber.
‘Fewer books here than in the main residence.’
He let out a sigh as he took in the mere three chess treatises resting on the shelf.
Every single one was a basic classic.
Had she really defeated him just by reading these…?
Ryan pulled one down, scanned through a few pages, and closed it.
They were all standard principles he already knew. Frustrated, he turned to leave the library, but the titles of surrounding books caught his eye.
There were several insightful volumes on the classics, the humanities, and military science.
The shelves were also lined with novels, heroic epics, and biographies that seemed capable of holding his interest.
Drawn to one as if under a spell, he leaned quietly against the shelf and began thumbing through the pages.
· · ·
For a fleeting second, it all felt utterly futile, but the words he read after so long an absence swept his boredom clean away.
Flooded with information, stories, and forgotten knowledge, his mind—which had grown blank and stagnant—stirred back to life.
“Young Master, why not take a seat while you read?”
Ryan had become so absorbed in the book that he had failed to hear Paul, the head butler, step into the room.
“Ah…”
Only after finishing a third of the volume did Ryan realize he had been standing the entire time.
Glancing at the clock, he saw that the lunch hour was fast approaching.
After a moment’s thought, he selected a few titles that had piqued his curiosity, along with two of the chess manuals, and handed them to Paul.
“Have these moved to the desk in my room.”
Paul stood in stunned disbelief at receiving an order from him for the first time in nearly two years.
“When does Father return?”
Ryan asked as he pushed open the library door.
“He departed on official business and will not return for another two weeks. However, should you wish it, Young Master, he would come back immediately.”
“Two weeks, then…”
That was more than enough time.
“Shall I send word to the Duke?”
“There is no need. I have no desire to see him.”
“Mr. Duran has returned to the estate.”
“Ah. The failing student?”
A sneer crept over Ryan’s lips.
“He has been residing in the main house since yesterday.”
“Living in the annex does have its conveniences, then. One is spared from laying eyes on that failure’s face.”
· · ·
“To think that fool is the next Duke of Soltaire. A word of advice, Butler: you would do well to seek service with another house. Once that failure inherits the title, House Soltaire will crumble into ruin.”
Ryan paused on the library threshold.
“Ah, one last thing.”
“…Yes?”
“Place a chessboard in Anasta Winterlit’s room.”
“Pardon?”
“To ensure the match is fair.”
END
