Chapter 52: A Midnight Game

Awakening from a deep slumber, Dorota fought to shake off the lingering drowsiness. She rubbed her heavy eyes, slowly sitting upright.

The moon still hung suspended in the night sky, its light streaming through the opulent marble windows and lingering within her boudoir. A chill had crept into the air, and her thin silk nightgown offered little defense against the cold breeze.

A shiver ran through Dorota. She lay back down, pulling the covers tightly around her body. There were no tasks awaiting her today, so she could indulge in a leisurely morning.

Having grown accustomed to a life fraught with danger, Dorota was a light sleeper, often startling awake in the dead of night. Were the specters of her slain siblings coming to claim her life? She couldn’t be certain.

She knew only one thing: this harrowing existence was nearing its end. In just one week, her wedding to Cliff would take place, and afterward, her sole duty would be to bear children for Cliff as the Queen of Saint Fros.

Dorota held no aversion to such a stable life. In truth, like many young girls, she had yearned to become a princess or a queen since childhood.

Tragically, both wishes had been granted, though in ways she could never have imagined.

Dorota closed her eyes, attempting to banish the unpleasant memories.

“Knock, knock.”

Someone was knocking at the door, but Dorota wasn’t keen on braving the cold to open it.

“Knock, knock.”

Dorota buried her head beneath the covers, feigning sleep.

“Knock, knock.”

With a sigh of resignation, Dorota pulled on a fox fur coat and got out of bed to answer the door.

Most people would simply leave if no one responded, yet this person had knocked three times in a row, and in the dead of night, no less. Only her endearing fiancé would behave in such a manner.

Dorota opened the door to find Cliff’s hawklike eyes fixed on her face. He was dressed in pajamas, suggesting he too had only recently awakened.

“Play chess with me.”

Cliff brazenly strode into Dorota’s boudoir, a set of Saint Fros Battle Chess clutched in his arms.

“Do you even know what time it is?”

“Three-thirty.”

Cliff glanced at the grandfather clock. He set the Saint Fros Battle Chess on a round table, skillfully arranging the pieces on the board.

“Then why are you disturbing my sleep?”

Dorota looked at Cliff with exasperation. Despite the late hour, his eyes gleamed with alertness, undoubtedly from another night spent poring over books.

“Because you’re usually awake by this time.”

A chill went through Dorota. Clearly, Cliff had thoroughly memorized her daily routine.

This was by no means an act of love; rather, it stemmed from his desire to keep his subordinates firmly under his control.

Cliff tapped the table, stating with a hint of impatience, “Come on, quickly.”

Dorota wasn’t very familiar with Saint Fros Battle Chess, but she had heard its rules were similar to international chess, though with a greater variety of pieces.

Dorota took a seat opposite Cliff. She looked up, realizing she was on the side of the black pieces.

No matter the game, Cliff always preferred playing black, as the first move offered a higher win rate. This time, however, he had chosen the white pieces, moving second.

“I’m playing black? Are you sure?” Dorota inquired.

“Mm.”

Cliff had already lowered his head, seemingly engrossed in contemplating the game.

Dorota moved her Knight in front of Cliff’s Guard. Since the Guard couldn’t capture the Knight directly, Cliff made a different move.

He advanced his Traveler deep into Dorota’s territory. While the Traveler could move freely across the board, this particular move seemed to be a suicidal one.

Dorota eyed Cliff with suspicion, but he remained expressionless.

Dorota moved her Queen beside the Traveler, eyeing it menacingly.

“Using your Queen so soon? My Queen.”

Cliff smiled. His Prime Minister moved the Prince to the Traveler’s original position, and Dorota promptly captured the Traveler.

After a chaotic skirmish, Dorota had lost her Knight, Bastard, Traitor, Settler, Butler, Dwarf, Cabinet, and Bishop. Cliff, in turn, had lost his Traveler, Prime Minister, Loyal Vassal, Mount, Madman, Guard, Spearman, Mage, and Ally.

Only five pieces remained on the board: the Emperor, Prince, Queen, Lord, and Elder.

Cliff chuckled as his Emperor captured the Queen, but Dorota still held her Prince and Elder.

“You’ve lost. Two of my pieces against your one will completely block your movements,” Dorota declared.

However, Cliff shook his head. He picked up the silver-white Lord piece.

“I still have her.”

“The Lord can only move one square; her utility is even less than a Guard’s.”

Dorota looked disdainfully at the pitiful piece. She had already moved her Prince close to the Lord, ready to capture her at any moment.

“But if used well, she can decide the entire battle. I hope you haven’t forgotten that the Lord can convert an adjacent piece to her side.”

Cliff converted Dorota’s Prince to his side. Now, he commanded the Prince, Emperor, and Lord, three pieces forming a united front against the Elder.

Dorota pushed over her Elder, answering plainly, “I’ve lost, Cliff. Mainly because I truly didn’t know the Lord could turn pieces.”

“The Lord can only use this ability when playing as white. Because Saint Fros Battle Chess has a strong bias towards black, the designer created her to balance the game.”

“So that’s why you chose white.”

Dorota understood, realizing that every action Cliff took had a purpose. “It’s no fun playing with someone who doesn’t know the rules.”

“Then why don’t you play international chess with me?”

Dorota was evenly matched with Cliff in international chess. It was highly probable he chose an obscure game to avoid losing face.

“It feels… inferior to Saint Fros Battle Chess.”

Cliff gathered the pieces back into the board. He stood up, leaned closer to Dorota, and lightly kissed her forehead.

“Jeannagos is the chessboard, and my lovely pieces are willingly offering themselves.”

Cliff, carrying the chessboard, walked to the door. His slender eyes fixed on Dorota.

“Good night, my love.”

Cliff left directly, casually closing the door behind him, leaving Dorota alone in the room once more.

Dorota clutched her chest, feeling a pang of loneliness. In the past, Bloen would have playfully bickered with her, but now, that dead dwarf was nowhere to be found.

In a week, she would no longer be Dorota, but Queen Dorota.

Dorota sat back on her bed, gazing out the window.

In the obsidian-colored night sky, the figures of her siblings slowly materialized.

“Will you bless me too?” Dorota murmured.

But she quickly dismissed this unrealistic thought.

They were likely watching her from somewhere, filled with profound resentment, cursing her with the most venomous words imaginable to ensure she met a terrible end.

This was her due. Dorota’s seemingly brilliant next life would forever be overshadowed by these sins.

Dorota refused to dwell on the past. She curled back into her covers, allowing the darkness to steal her consciousness away.