CHAPTER 35: THE HAND THAT MOVES THE KING

Checkmate.

Gasps spread through the courtyard as Kael adjusted his glasses, the chessboard silent in its finality.

Kairon stood up without a word. Calm. Composed.

"I lost," he said simply — then turned and walked away.

No reaction. No emotion. Just silence.

Aria, watching from the side, blinked.

Is he... sad about losing? Is that why he walked away like that?

She looked toward her brother, Kael, who was already leaving with Juan trailing behind — neither of them saying a word.

She followed quietly.

---

Caden let out a frustrated sigh. "Ugh... I was seriously hoping he’d win."

Torin stepped beside him, grinning. "You owe me 100 points."

"Huh?! No way!" Caden groaned. He turned toward Riven. "Hey... can you loan me 100 points real quick?"

Riven didn’t even blink. "No."

Caden’s jaw dropped. "Bro—?!"

Riven smirked faintly. "Stop betting with your points."

Torin burst out laughing. "Thank you, Riven. I couldn’t have said it better."

---

Nearby, Ivy glanced up toward the board thoughtfully.

Rika crossed her arms. "Seriously, what was Kairon thinking? That he could beat the Student Council President? Delusional."

Sena scoffed. "I think he’s just a sore loser. Walked off like a ghost."

Yua frowned. "He should’ve just said he wasn’t good at chess instead of losing so awkwardly."

Akira, sitting at the edge, looked down and spoke quietly. "I... don’t think that’s what happened."

Meira nodded, folding her arms. "Exactly. Kairon did well. None of you volunteered — yet now you’re judging?"

Sena turned sharply. "Meira!"

"I’m just speaking the truth," Meira said flatly.

Ivy chuckled lightly, raising her hands. "Alright, alright — let’s not get too fired up. Tomorrow’s the sports festival. We should focus."

"Agreed," Riven said, already turning. "Let’s get to work."

---

At the edge of the crowd, Kei stood silently.

His fists were clenched at his sides.

Head lowered. Teeth gritted.

But he said nothing.

Only stared in the direction Kairon had walked away.

Council Lounge

Kael stood before the long window, arms behind his back. The late afternoon sun traced golden bars across the tiled floor.

Aria entered, silent at first. Then softly:

"Congratulations... I didn’t think you’d win."

Kael didn’t turn around.

"I didn’t."

She blinked. "What?"

He finally turned — eyes unreadable behind his silver-rimmed glasses.

"One could say... he let me win."

"...What are you talking about?" Aria frowned. "Kairon said himself he wasn’t good at chess. You beat him cleanly."

Kael walked over to the polished wooden board laid out on the center table.

"No, I didn’t. Not cleanly. And certainly not unknowingly."

He began setting up the pieces again.

"Pawn to E4. A simple king’s pawn opening," he said, moving white.

"He responded with knight to F6. The Alekhine Defense. A passive but tricky response — meant to invite overextension."

Aria stepped closer, her arms crossed. "That doesn’t mean anything."

Kael continued as if he hadn’t heard her.

"I pressed the center. Pawn to E5. He responded with d6. Normal. Then I developed my knight — he mirrored."

He placed the black pieces down slowly, deliberately.

"His positions were conservative. Reserved. But never sloppy. His bishop fianchettoed on the king’s side. A defensive posture."

He looked up at Aria.

"But then something changed."

Kael advanced the white queen on the board.

"I offered a risky gambit — a queen-side attack. Most would have countered aggressively."

"And?"

"He didn’t. He sacrificed his bishop... and then his knight."

Aria’s brows drew together. "Maybe he made a mistake."

Kael shook his head slowly.

"No. That wasn’t a mistake. He had at least three available counters. I was giving him bait — and he took it, but not to win. He was shaping my perception."

Kael’s finger tapped a square on the board.

"He placed his rook here — F8 — exposed, without protection. It made no sense... unless he wanted me to believe he was under pressure."

He stepped back from the table.

"And finally, when he had a chance to escape check — he didn’t. He moved his king directly into my line."

"...You’re saying he threw the match?" Aria asked slowly.

"I’m saying..." Kael said softly, "...he dictated the match."

Silence.

"I tried to provoke him. Test his reactions. I studied his eyes, his breathing, even his posture. Nothing cracked. It was like playing against fog."

He glanced at her again.

"The game wasn’t for the board. It was for me."

Aria looked at the board, stunned.

"So... he knew you were watching. Suspecting."

Kael nodded once.

"He knew I’d come for answers. And he decided to give me silence. A silence so deliberate it screamed."

Aria’s throat tightened.

"Then why throw the match?"

Kael turned fully toward her now.

"To let me think I won. To lower my guard. Or maybe to send a message: I don’t need to win to control the outcome."

She stepped back, unsure whether to feel impressed... or unnerved.

Kael reached for the black king, turning it between his fingers.

"Kairon Vale didn’t lose."

He set the piece down slowly.

"He checkmated me... by losing."

Aria’s breath hitched as she realizes.

"You mean to tell me... he lost on purpose?"

Kael didn’t look at her. His lips curled faintly.

"It seems so," he said. "Class D got themselves... a very strange student."

Aria scowled. "Tch. I bet I can surpass him. I’ll reach Class S—just like you, Brother."

Kael stopped.

She halted too.

He turned slightly, just enough for his words to land.

"It’s no use."

Aria’s eyes widened. "No... use? Why would you say that?"

Kael’s voice was quiet—but final. "You’re far from him. You’re not even close to his level."

She took a step back, stunned. "You can’t be serious..."

Kael didn’t respond. He simply turned and walked off, his cape fluttering behind him. Juan followed silently.

Just before disappearing down the corridor, Kael added—

"It would be better if you stayed away from him."

The door slammed.

Aria stood frozen, Kael’s words echoing in her head.

Far from him... not even close...

Her hands curled into fists.

"...What are you hiding, Kairon?" she whispered to herself.

---

Council Corridor — Moments Later

Kael strode through the long marbled hallway. Juan walked just behind him, hesitant.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"President... how do you feel about all this?"

Kael stopped.

Juan froze too.

He turned to her slowly—coolly—and removed his glasses with deliberate calm.

His eyes, now unfiltered, were piercing.

He stepped closer.

Juan backed up instinctively until her back hit the wall.

Kael raised his hand and slammed it beside her head, making her flinch.

He stared into her eyes with icy intensity.

"How do you think I feel..." he said darkly, "...knowing I won only because a first-year let me?"

His voice dripped with restraint, cold fury behind his words.

Juan’s voice shook. "I... I was only concerned."

Kael held her chin between two fingers.

"Concern doesn’t erase humiliation," he whispered.

Then, like a switch flipping—he let go.

His expression shifted.

His voice softened as he calmly slid his glasses back on.

"...Sorry. I let my anger get the best of me."

He turned and walked off without another word.

Juan stood in the quiet hallway, her pulse still racing.

She touched her chin where his fingers had been.

Then whispered to herself—

"...Which one are you...?"

Her gaze darkened.

"The calm, kind Kael... or the monster hiding behind those glasses?"

Kairon’s Room—5

Kairon sat silently on his chair, one leg crossed over the other, eyes half-lidded behind the soft glow of the evening light slipping through the curtains.

Meira bounced onto the bed beside him with casual energy, her hair swaying, her voice breaking the silence.

"You should learn to sit calmly," Kairon said without looking at her. "That kind of behavior is bad for a girl."

Meira huffed. "Fine, fine. But seriously—leave that. I still can’t believe you lost."

Kairon blinked once. "I’m not good at chess, I suppose."

"Huh?" Meira tilted her head. "I was really thinking you would win against the president."

At that, Kairon rose quietly from his seat. Not abruptly — just... controlled. Every step he took toward her was smooth, silent, deliberate.

Meira sat up straighter. "Oops... Did I say something wrong?"

Kairon said nothing. His eyes stayed locked on her, unreadable.

Then he reached out — gently holding her chin between two fingers.

His voice was calm. So calm it was unsettling.

"What makes you think I could stand a chance against the president?"

A pause. Meira’s breath caught.

"Was it trust...?"

She tried to answer — but he leaned in slightly, not close enough to threaten, just close enough to pull.

"Instinct?"

Her lips parted, but still... no words.

Then his voice softened, colder somehow.

"Or was it the part of you... that needed me to win?"

The words lingered like frost.

Kairon released her chin and stepped beside the bed, half-turned away.

"There’s something I must teach you, Meira."

She blinked, still recovering from the weight of what he’d just said.

"Learn something from that match."

His tone carried no emotion — only finality. As if it weren’t advice, but a silent law.

Meira looked down, struggling to follow his rhythm. The game... the loss... his words... What did it all mean?

Then his voice came again, lower this time, almost distant.

"There’s something about you..."

He turned his gaze on her, calm and neutral.

"...that pulls me closer."

Meira’s eyes shot up. Her heart quickened.

"Something... about me?" she echoed, her voice barely stable.

Kairon took a single step closer. Then, without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her.

Meira froze. Just for a moment.

Then slowly... she melted into him. Her arms lifted and rested on his back. Her cheek pressed to his chest. Her body relaxed — like falling into still water.

But Kairon?

He didn’t close his eyes. Didn’t smile.

His gaze stared past her — cool, precise, hollow.

He reached up and gently tapped her hair.

Once.

Then again.

Soft.

Rhythmic.

A movement that mimicked care...

...but meant control.

Later—

Meira smiled brightly as she waved.

"Good night, Kairon."

He nodded once, voice steady.

"Good night."

The door closed with a soft click.

Silence returned.

Kairon stood still for a moment, then turned slowly to face the window. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting faint reflections across the room. His eyes followed nothing — only shadows and thoughts.

Then, he spoke. Quietly. To no one.

"Control... That’s the only thing that matters when handling a pawn."

His reflection in the glass looked back, distant and cold.

"In chess, you don’t just move pieces — you direct outcomes. There might be a piece called the king..."

He tilted his head slightly, voice colder now.

"...but what makes it a king?"

A pause.

"Is it power?"

"No. It’s the hand that moves it."

He let that hang.

"Some would call that hand a god."

A slow blink.

"I don’t."

His fingers lightly tapped the glass.

"The world isn’t divine. It’s logical. Predictable. Like a board — black and white. Opposing forces. Sacrifices."

His tone didn’t shift.

It didn’t need to.

"Every piece has value only when used correctly."

"A queen. A knight. A friend. A girl."

"All are expendable."

He turned away from the window now, his coat catching the low light.

"Pain? Death? Regret?"

He shook his head slightly.

"Collateral."

Then, his voice dropped to a whisper.

"All that matters... is checkmate."