Chapter 67
Benjamin Molding, a third-year student in the upper school who plays middle board for Serendia Academy in the chess tournament, is the son of a court musician.
He has studied music since childhood and handles everything from performing to composing, and apparently already has fans in high society.
Benjamin is a young man with a delicate, ethereal appearance, his straight flaxen hair hanging to his shoulders.
...I repeat: he is an ethereal young man.
"Chess is music! The game record is a score! Look at a game record, play a game, and you'll see the musicality in your opponent's chess! Forte! Forte! Sforzando! Some chess attacks fiercely, while other chess has the solemnity of a stately classical piece! Elliot's chess is a march! The disciplined army's alla marcia melody has a beauty and strength born of form! Yes, if you listen closely, you'll hear it! The ringing trumpet announcing the start of battle! The sound of cavalry's hooves striking the ground!"
Monica seriously wondered when on earth Benjamin, who was arguing passionately with his face bright red and spittle flying, ever stopped to breathe.
Elliot, standing beside him, merely shrugged with a weary look.
"He's a bit of an artist. Once he gets started, though, he goes on forever."
"I-I see."
"You're better off just letting it wash over you."
Whether he could hear Elliot or not, Benjamin moved his slender, delicate fingers as though wielding a conductor's baton and gazed at the chessboard with rapture.
The pieces on the board are in the positions they occupied when Monica and Benjamin finished their game.
"Miss Norton's chess is, if I were to compare it to something, a suite performed by an orchestra! From the opening movement to the finale, every single note is a meticulously calculated, utterly waste-free score. The grand and solemn melody created by the perfect harmony of every instrument is the culmination of a musician's soul! It would be no exaggeration to call it the miraculous score bestowed upon us by the god of music! ...In other words, what I'm trying to say is..."
Benjamin turned to face Monica, rested a hand on her slender shoulder, and said:
"You're our anchor. Do your best."
"Yeah, I agree."
Elliot readily agreed with Benjamin.
Monica clutched her head, curled up, and let out a scream.
"I-I-I can't!"
＊ ＊ ＊
Until the day of the chess tournament, the selected players stayed after school and did nothing but play chess.
It was during this training that Monica first played against Benjamin Molding, the middle player.
Benjamin was a formidable opponent, as one would expect of someone selected for the team. But Elliot had warned her, "No stalemates," so Monica held nothing back, played him at full strength, and defeated him.
That was what led to the scene at the beginning.
"I'm the weakest one here. Therefore, it stands to reason that I should be our first player!"
Benjamin declared with his arms folded, as though it were self-evident.
Monica vigorously shook her head.
"N-no, th-th-that's not true. I'm the biggest amateur here."
"Whether you're an amateur or a professional, the strongest player should be the anchor. I don't lie, and I don't make false modesty! 'You may lie to debt collectors and lovers, but never lie in music or chess' is my family motto!"
It was hardly the sort of family motto one should proclaim proudly. Elliot merely shrugged in exasperation, though. Apparently, he was used to this sort of exchange.
Benjamin expounded, wagging a finger, apparently oblivious to Elliot's exasperated stare.
"Now, Miss Norton. My chess is music without end. Sometimes fierce, sometimes poignant; light, weighty, grand, and solemn! I can reproduce and perform every kind of musical expression through chess—but that doesn't mean I'm ridiculously strong at it!"
He struck a dramatic pose only for that last sentence.
"Um... you're plenty strong already..."
"It is true that I am reasonably strong—fairly, moderately, more or less—but I know I'm not exceptionally strong. Your strength, however, is genuine. If you don't serve as our anchor, who will?"
Elliot, too, nodded along in agreement.
Oh no. At this rate, there was no doubt they would make her their anchor.
Monica desperately clung to the two of them and pleaded.
"Please, please... Even being the first player scares me... If you make me the anchor..."
A dizzying flood of memories from her past came rushing back to Monica.
The interview where she hyperventilated. The ceremony rehearsal where she threw up everything in her stomach.
If she became the anchor, it was obvious she would suffer the same fate.
As Monica sniffled and cried, Elliot rested a finger against his chin and narrowed his drooping eyes.
"Well, Void-sensei has probably already submitted the player order, so changing it would be a bit of a hassle... I suppose we'll have to go with this... Which means I'll remain the anchor..."
Elliot ran a hand roughly through his bangs, looking as though the prospect weighed on him.
"People are expecting a lot from us this year, you know. Last time, Serendia Academy won by a landslide."
Elliot's words suddenly reminded Monica of something Felix had said.
'It's wonderful that two members of the student council have been selected again this year.'
Felix had said that when Monica and Elliot reported the other day that they had been selected as players.
"Um, did someone from the student council... compete last year?"
"His Highness and Maywood, our general affairs officer. His Highness was the middle player, and Maywood was the anchor."
"...What?"
Monica's eyes went wide at Elliot's words.
As a rule, in this sort of match, the third player—the anchor—is the strongest. So Monica had assumed that must be Felix, but...
Neil, the general affairs officer, had been the anchor? Of all the student council members, he was the furthest thing from the image of a "sharp operator"!
"Maywood is thoughtful, right? It's like he immediately senses what we want him to do."
"...Y-yes."
"That's exactly why he can do the opposite in chess. He attacks the places where we least want to be attacked, without mercy... He's pretty ruthless."
It was difficult to imagine that the kind-looking Neil could completely shut down an opponent's strategy.
As Monica tilted her head, recalling Neil's friendly smile, Benjamin cut in, flicking his finger like a conductor's baton.
"Maywood's chess is like a highly sophisticated impromptu. He reads his opponent's moves and responds to them perfectly—truly magnificent!"
"Um... then what about His Highness's chess?"
As she asked Benjamin in a small voice, Monica recalled the game she had played against Felix the other day.
Monica had won that game by an overwhelming margin, but Felix had not seemed to be giving it his all—or rather, Felix's chess was the sort that never showed its hand.
She had glimpsed something like Elliot's convictions in his chess, but Felix's seemed to hide them completely.
That was why Monica was curious to know how Benjamin had perceived Felix's chess.
At Monica's question, Benjamin rested a hand on his chin and closed his eyes.
"It's extremely difficult to discern any musicality from His Highness's chess. But, let me see... If I had to put it one way... it might resemble Miss Norton's chess."
"...Huh?"
When Monica stared at him blankly, Benjamin stopped the finger he had been moving like a conductor's baton, holding it aloft in midair.
Then he brought his finger straight down, as though lowering the blade of a guillotine.
"It is precise, with no wasted motion... Chess that uses every possible move to butcher the king without fail."