Chapter 64
Corry Lipson is a third-year male student in the Senior Division of Serendia Academy.
As the third son of a baronial family, he had no particular talent to speak of, so he sensibly chose chess as his elective. Chess was the one thing he had enjoyed playing with his older brothers since he was little, so he figured he could play it about as well as the average person.
But as it turned out, the level of Serendia Academy's chess class was far higher than Corry had anticipated.
The chess class was divided into three groups—upper, middle, and lower—according to ability. Students generally played against others in the same group, and their groups changed depending on their win rates.
Anyone who had placed in a tournament before or had already taken the chess class the previous year started in the upper or middle group, but Corry had started in the lower group. And not just the lower group—he was near the very bottom of it.
As a result, third-year students in that bottom tier naturally ended up being saddled with looking after the first- and second-years.
"All right, all right. First- and second-years, pair up with whoever's nearby and get started."
At Corry's offhand direction, the younger students paired up with those nearby and began their games.
But there was one female student who had been left without a partner and stood there all alone. She was a petite girl with light-brown hair. She was so small that Corry wondered if a student from the Junior Division had wandered in, but judging by the trim on her sleeves, she was probably a second-year in the Senior Division.
"Ah, you got left without a partner. Guess you're with me, then."
"Y-y-yes! P-please be kind to me!"
The girl bobbed her head repeatedly as she sat across from Corry. Female students were a rarity in chess class.
There were not many girls who took the chess class, and they tended to be weaker than the boys. Chess was a man's pastime, after all.
Easy pickings, Corry thought with a private smirk.
The class kept records of every game's results, and anyone with a high win rate could move up to the upper group.
As he arranged the chess pieces, Corry plotted how he would quickly beat this girl and use the win to raise his own win rate.
"How long have you been playing chess? Have you ever entered a tournament?"
"I-I only started recently... Yesterday, I read a textbook and learned only the rules and standard openings."
(Oh, come on. There are always people like this—the kind who read a textbook and think they can play chess.)
He was, of course, talking about himself.
"This game is going on the record, so no handicap. Is that okay?"
"Y-yes, that's fine."
The girl nodded repeatedly and stared intently at the board.
Ah, this was going to be an easy win. Corry smiled without letting it show on his face.
"...Checkmate."
The girl moved her black knight and declared checkmate.
Corry looked down at the board, cold sweat pouring down his face.
(...No, no, no, no.)
He looked away from the board for a moment and rubbed his eyes.
Then he looked over the board again...
(...No, no, no, no. What is this? What is this? Uh...)
At last, he covered his face with both hands and bowed his head.
If he had to sum up the game honestly, there was only one way to put it: "Somehow, I lost before I even realized it."
The girl had overwhelmed Corry with terrifying speed and precision. Corry knew that kind of merciless strength. It was the same as when he played against people from the upper group—if anything, she might have been even stronger.
"...I've lost."
When Corry conceded, the girl let out a long breath and pressed a hand to her chest in relief.
Suddenly, Corry's shoulder felt terribly heavy. It was not because he was crushed by the feeling of defeat and had slumped his shoulders. Someone had braced an arm on Corry's shoulder and was leaning on him.
When Corry turned his head, he found Elliott Howard, a fellow third-year, leaning against his shoulder and peering at the board.
If Elliott Howard had been just an ordinary classmate, Corry would have brushed him off and demanded to know what he thought he was doing. But Elliott Howard was in the honors class and served on the student council. He was in an entirely different league from Corry, the ordinary third son of a baronial family.
After studying the board for a while, Elliott straightened up and patted Corry on the shoulder.
"Mind if I take over?"
"Ah, sure."
When Corry hurriedly gave up his seat, Elliott settled deeply into the chair in his place.
The girl sitting opposite him twitched her shoulder. Elliott gave her his usual carefree, frivolous smile as he spoke.
"Yo, Miss Norton. Play me this time."
"B-but... aren't we in different groups...?"
"No problem. There's nothing stopping us from playing just because we're in different groups."
Elliott was right. There was no rule forbidding students from the upper and lower groups from playing each other. However, in that case, a victory by the upper-group player was not added to the record. If the lower-group player won, on the other hand, their win rate changed dramatically.
In other words, for someone in the upper group, there was nothing to gain from playing someone in the lower group. To put it plainly, it was a waste of time. That was why nobody did it.
And yet Elliott had personally challenged a younger student from the lower group.
Elliott was one of the top three players in the upper group. It was considered all but certain that he would be selected as one of the academy's representatives for the chess tournament.
(The chess tournament is just around the corner. Why would he play against a lower-group underclassman at a time like this? What is he thinking?)
Suspicious, Corry left his seat to find his next opponent.
＊ ＊ ＊
Elliott picked up one white piece and one black piece, switched them quickly beneath the table, and held his closed fists out in front of Monica.
"Choose whichever one you like."
"...Then... um... this one."
When Monica pointed to one of his hands and he opened it, a black king appeared.
Elliott had white and would move first, while Monica had black and would move second.
As Monica fussed over arranging the black pieces, Elliott finished setting up his own pieces, propped his cheek on one hand, and murmured, "Hey."
Monica stopped arranging the pieces and looked at Elliott.
"Y-yes? W-what is it?"
"That game the other day."
Elliott prodded one of the pieces with his fingertip and spoke as though to himself.
"Why didn't you point out in front of everyone that I'd used castling to win, even though I hadn't taught it to you?"
Monica blinked at him in bewilderment.
That last game—her first game of chess—was still fresh in Monica's memory.
Elliott had played without his queen and let Monica make the first move.
Monica had held the advantage in the opening, but at the very end, Elliott had used a special move called castling, which involved moving the rook and king, and Monica had lost.
At the time, Monica had not known the special rule called castling, so it was only natural that she lost.
When Monica struggled to answer, Elliott continued.
"You had every right to call me out. To say it wasn't fair."
Monica suddenly remembered something.
For the past few days, Elliott had repeatedly tried to say something to Monica in the student council room, only to hurriedly put some distance between them. Could he have been trying to bring this up?
"Um, about that..."
Monica answered carefully, choosing her words.
"I think someone I know would probably have said to me...
'You were foolish to sit down to play without looking up the official rules yourself and simply taking someone else's explanation at face value.'
...something like that."
It went without saying who that acquaintance was.
As Monica remembered Louis Miller's booming laughter and gave a wry smile, Elliott looked at her with half-lidded eyes.
"Hey, isn't that acquaintance of yours a little too mean?"
"Um, but... I really do think that's exactly right, so... That person also said, 'The match begins before you sit down at the table.'"
Elliott let out a deep sigh and raised both hands in surrender.
"Come on, give me a break. I didn't withhold castling from you because I was trying to trick you. Honestly, I thought a novice couldn't possibly understand it, and I underestimated you, thinking I could win easily without using it."
When Monica responded vaguely, Elliott raked a hand through his bangs as if completely thrown off.
"That's where you're supposed to get angry, isn't it? I underestimated you, then got stubborn and forced a win by using castling even though I hadn't taught it to you. That wasn't fair. It was shameful behavior, unworthy of a noble."
"Um... well..."
Monica was at a loss. She had no idea which part of Elliott's words she was supposed to be angry about.
Monica had never felt angry when people looked down on her. If anything, she found it more troublesome when people praised her excessively.
As for Elliott not teaching her castling, if it had not been deliberate, Monica could find even less reason to blame him. Monica was the one at fault for not looking up the rules herself.
"...I'm sorry. I can't think of a reason to be angry."
For some reason, Elliott opened his mouth wide in surprise when she said that.
Had she really said something so strange? Confused, Monica continued speaking.
"I just want to be able to play chess. That's enough for me."
Monica arranged the remaining pieces on the board and looked at Elliott.
"Please play a game with me."
The expression vanished from Monica's face.
There was no trace of nervousness on her young face. Her calm, still eyes waited for Elliott to make the first move.
Elliott slowly exhaled and reached for a white pawn.
"I'm going to play to win, and I won't hold back."
"...I'd prefer that."
"Really? Was the last game not enough for you?"
"...I had more fun playing chess with you."
"That's an honor."
Elliott smiled, showing his white teeth, looking oddly delighted.