As Yelodia had predicted, the Emperor greeted the two of them with immense delight.
“Ah, welcome! The two of you visiting my drawing room together—there could be no greater joy. I see your aunt hasn’t joined you?”
“Regrettably, I failed to persuade her this time. But I will make sure to bring her next time.”
“Ah, that’s exactly what I’d expect from my loyal subject! Use today’s failure as a stepping stone and make sure you succeed next time in convincing her.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
At Edward’s response, the Emperor chuckled heartily, then turned his attention to Yelodia, looking her up and down.
“Has the palace ever seen such a beautiful flower bloom?”
“It’s all thanks to Your Majesty’s careful watering and nurturing.”
“Oh my, and it’s a talking flower!”
Edward barely managed to stifle a laugh.
Meanwhile, Yelodia continued the banter earnestly.
“What do you think about hugging a flower?”
“It would be my utmost honor.”
As the Emperor spread his arms, Yelodia scampered over and threw herself into his embrace.
“I missed you, Uncle.”
“Then why did you return to the estate without a word last time? Didn’t you miss your poor uncle even a little?”
“Well, I did meet with the Empress that day. Afterward, I just wanted to collapse into my bed.”
“Ah, in that regard, you’re just like me. Yes, Yedi, you truly take after me.”
The Emperor’s face radiated contentment. His fondness for Yelodia was evident in every glance he cast her way.
“I wanted to see Io, though. That’s the only thing I regret. It’s been so long since I last saw him. He must have grown a lot by now, right?”
“I’ll bring the Crown Prince next time. Since Yedi wants to see him, it’s only right that she should be able to. …Chamberlain.”
“Your orders will be carried out, Your Majesty. The tea will cool if we delay much longer. Please, have a seat.”
At the chamberlain’s suggestion, the Emperor unceremoniously sat on the sofa by the table. Edward and Yelodia seated themselves side by side to his right.
The chamberlain set out a carefully brewed tea, along with biscuits and scones, on the table. He didn’t forget to include the fig jam Yelodia loved, placing it beside the scones.
“First, have some tea. For the record, there’s no sleeping potion in it.”
At this, Yelodia couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.
“That’s considered cheating nowadays, even in the Ginger Club, Uncle.”
“Really? It seems the battle-hardened warriors of the social clubs have grown rather soft lately.”
Edward found himself at a loss for words. At the same time, he felt slightly bewildered. He hadn’t realized how close the Emperor and Yelodia were in private.
Edward was certain: Yelodia was likely the only person in the Empire who could interact with the Emperor so freely.
He was equally sure of another thing—should anyone ever make Yelodia cry, they’d face dire consequences.
“Getting hung upside down in Lilith Park might be the least of their worries,” he mused.
Yelodia glanced at the chessboard prepared in one corner of the room, then hesitantly looked at the Emperor.
The Emperor grinned and spoke.
“Looks like you have something to say.”
“Just so you’re not disappointed later, I’ll tell you now—I’m rooting for my fiancé today.”
“That’s hardly a disappointment. Your nature is to support the underdog, isn’t it?”
The Emperor answered with a confident tilt of his chin, making it clear he had no intention of losing. Yelodia barely managed to suppress her laughter as she sipped her tea.
Deciding he’d teased enough, the Emperor stood and spoke.
“Come now, let’s take our seats. You’re welcome to sip your tea while playing chess—I won’t scold you for that. Just don’t eat biscuits like a glutton.”
He added casually, “Not that I’d ever suspect you of having such unsightly habits.”
“Are there any other special rules to follow?”
Edward asked, gazing intently at the exquisitely crafted marble chess pieces.
“Such as?” the Emperor asked, relaxed.
“For instance, whether the first move will be with the pawn in front of the king or the one in front of the queen.”
“Ah, this will be an open game.”
“Then the pawn in front of the king will move first. Shall we decide colors with a coin toss?”
“Of course.”
With a grin, the Emperor pulled out a gold coin from his pocket. He showed no inclination to offer white to his opponent despite their rank—when it came to chess, concessions were not in his nature.
“I choose heads.”
“Then I’ll take tails, naturally.”
The Emperor tossed the coin to Edward, who caught it deftly and revealed it in his palm. It was heads.
“White, huh? A promising start,” the Emperor said, laughing heartily, his golden eyes glinting with mischief.
In chess, when skill levels were evenly matched, white’s first move could offer a significant advantage.
However, the Emperor’s grin would not last long.
Soon after, his expression turned grave as he stared at the board with growing intensity.
“When did this happen?”
A wave of bewilderment coursed through him as he studied the white pieces on the board.
At some point, the dominating position of his black pieces had crumbled into utter disaster.
Unbeknownst to him, Edward’s bishop had performed a near-miraculous maneuver, leaving the Emperor at a complete loss.
The Emperor belatedly realized that the real issue wasn’t the bishop but the pawns.
“How on earth did those pawns manage to survive this long?”
Those lowly pieces, which could only advance one square at a time, had somehow seized control of the center with startling power. From that point onward, it was an onslaught, relentless and merciless.
“There’s no need to see this through to the end.”
Had the Emperor been an intermediate player, he might have played until the bitter end and succumbed to a glorious checkmate. Dragging the game out with dogged determination, only to meet an unsightly defeat.
But the Emperor was a master among masters, with few equals even in the social clubs known for their skilled players. With a sense of humiliation, he saw the inevitability of being checkmated.
“I concede.”
As he dusted his hands and declared this, Edward raised a single eyebrow.
“You’re not playing on?”
“Blast it! Do you think I’m so incompetent that I can’t even see where this is going?”
“My apologies, Your Majesty. That was not my intention.”
Edward quickly offered a contrite apology. Most opponents he’d faced in the past only admitted defeat after putting up a desperate struggle to the very last move.
He couldn’t help but acknowledge that the Emperor’s skill was far greater than he’d anticipated—though he had secretly wished otherwise.
“Regardless of what Your Majesty may think, it was an incredibly difficult match.”
“What an infuriatingly smug thing to say.”
The Emperor ground his teeth as he reset the pieces to their original positions. Unlike his usual graceful and composed demeanor, his movements were anything but elegant.
Then, to Edward’s dread, the Emperor uttered the words he had been most afraid to hear.
“Let’s play again! I was careless the first time!”
“…Understood.”
Without complaint, Edward reset the board and took a sip of his tea. The now-cold brew was bitter and astringent, almost numbing his tongue.
“Again!”
The Emperor’s eyes burned with determination.
It was already their eighth match.
Despite losing all eight, the Emperor stubbornly refused to acknowledge that his skill barely measured up to Edward’s. To Edward’s misfortune.
“Again!”
On to the ninth match.
Yelodia thought she might sigh but kept it to herself.
For someone who only knew the basic rules of chess, this was a rare spectacle. Moreover, watching Edward in such a serious light wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Yes, not unpleasant at all.
Yelodia was well aware of how seriously the Emperor took his chess matches. She also understood how extraordinary it was for Edward to so effortlessly defeat him.
Click.
The Emperor, after much deliberation, moved a piece. Edward, in contrast, moved his own after barely a breath, his speed making it unclear if he even needed to think.
Click.
Edward, with a nonchalant expression, moved his rook. The Emperor’s brow furrowed deeply. Another loss.
“How much of a monster are you? I haven’t felt so helpless in chess since I first started learning the game.”
“You flatter me, Your Majesty.”
Edward’s tone was neither boastful nor smug, which only seemed to irritate the Emperor further.
“When did you start playing chess?”
“As far as I remember, when I was about five years old.”
“Your father taught you?”
“Yes.”
The Emperor clicked his tongue in regret, knowing that Edward’s father was no longer alive.
“A great teacher lost—what an irreplaceable loss for the Empire.”
“Your words honor me greatly, Your Majesty.”
“It’s only the truth. Surely your greatest rival must have been your father?”
“Not quite.”
The Emperor’s eyes lit with curiosity at Edward’s unexpected answer.
“Then who was your greatest opponent?”
Edward remained silent for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, and sipped the freshly poured tea from the chamberlain.
The Emperor, growing impatient, pressed further.
“Who was it?”
Edward quietly sighed before giving his answer.
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