Ghost Chess King (2)
“So, between you and Roin, wanna see who’s got the higher IQ?”
Int flashed a sly, sticky smile at Cliche’s words.
“Bring it on!”
Int, who’d claimed the national chess championship at the ripe old age of two, was a genius of the highest order. There was no way he’d back down from a battle of wits.
“What’s the game?”
“How about chess?” Cliche suggested.
Chess was a board game where black and white pieces clashed in a duel of minds—the ultimate psychological showdown for two players. It could even be seen as a strategic war between nations.
Int called it without hesitation. In his current position, he had to seize any opportunity, no matter how unfavorable. Plus, chess was his favorite game, one he excelled at beyond measure. A chilling smile crept across both corners of his mouth, victory already in sight.
“To dare challenge me to chess? How absurd.”
Int chuckled as he sat at the table. In an instant, the chessboard and pieces appeared.
“If Roin wins this match, I’ll renounce my claim to the throne.”
“And if you win?”
“Naturally, we’ll have no objections.”
“Fine.”
Int nodded eagerly. In his no-lose situation, this was pure profit. He’d already earned his ninth dan in chess at age four—and hadn’t lost a single game since. He’d even swept the superhuman chess tournament hosted by the mighty Midland Empire.
‘Sorry for winning the tournament hosted by Midland.’
‘It wasn’t Rok that did it. I did.’
‘I’m not confident. Confident I’ll lose.’
Twenty years had passed since Int’s arrogant boasts upon claiming that trophy had left Midland’s top masters trembling in rage. And he’d pushed himself relentlessly ever since. His current mental prowess was surely beyond what his contemporaries could comprehend.
Roin knew it all too well. Her face fell as she poked Cliche’s side repeatedly.
“What are you thinking!?”
“Huh? Why?”
“Int oppa’s a genius monster! Every tutor who taught him called him a once-in-a-continent prodigy! He’s ninth dan in chess!”
“I’m ninth dan housewife, hundredth sense, rock-solid biceps. I memorized my times tables up to nine.”
“That’s not the point! There’s no way I can beat him at chess!”
At that moment.
Beep! It's my turn to step up.
AlphaGo, who’d been quietly observing from the back, waddled forward to Roin’s side. Then—pop!—she detached one of her ears and plugged it into Roin’s.
“Eek! What’s this!?”
Beep! Bluetooth earphone activated.
“Blue… tooth?”
Roin blinked in confusion, but AlphaGo opened her mouth with her signature blank expression.
Beep! I'll give you commands. Just follow them.
“……”
Roin glanced back anxiously. There was Cliche, spraying WD-40 into AlphaGo’s armpit and elbow joints.
Soon enough.
The chess match began.
Rok’s chess had a unique twist. The board was massive compared to standard chess— a whopping 19x19 grid with 361 intersections. And there were way more pieces.
“Hmph. I’ll let you have black.”
Int snorted, arrogantly picking up a white piece. Beginners usually took black for the first-move advantage, so it was a slight edge.
Roin’s trembling hand grasped a black piece. The moment it did—
Roin whipped her head around.
“Gasp!”
Far off, against the wall, AlphaGo raised her wine glass of WD-40 in a mock toast.
It was definitely her voice.
“……What’s the move?”
Roin jumped at the irritated voice from ahead, whipping back around with a squeak. Int glared at her, eyes bloodshot.
Roin shrank, head bowed. Apparently, Int couldn’t hear AlphaGo.
Meanwhile, the match kicked off.
“……”
Roin squeezed her eyes shut. She was decent at chess, but beating the Int before her? Not a chance. The board stretched out like an endless sea. Why had Cliche thrown this trial at her when things were going so well!?
Then—
Roin perked up her ears. Int was still staring at the board, oblivious.
Urged by AlphaGo, Roin snapped her finger forward.
Clack! The black piece hit the board’s edge.
Int raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“……Hmph, you’ve got some moves from somewhere.”
Ignoring Int’s jab, AlphaGo’s commands kept coming.
Roin placed each piece without a second’s hesitation the instant AlphaGo spoke. Black stones began dominating the board. What started in the corner rooted and spread—along the edges, into the center, leaves unfurling relentlessly.
Drip.
Something fell. A thick bead of sweat from Int’s forehead.
“This can’t be……”
Int stared at the board in shock. It was nearly all black. White was nowhere to be seen.
The result came in 30 minutes.
Int gawked at Roin in disbelief. No need for time controls—she’d placed her next move the instant she dropped a piece, zero hesitation.
“Re… rematch! Just one more!”
As Roin subtly rose, Int clutched her skirt hem, pleading desperately. His pupils shook; reality hadn’t sunk in.
“Ho ho ho. Oh dear, what a sore loser.”
“Yew bastard~~ Can’t even accept yer~~ defeat gracefully~~”
“Kek. Ahh, so this is submission.”
Unicef, Hotse, and Diablo jeered. Int bit his lip until it bled.
“One more… please!”
Roin was stunned— she’d never seen her aloof, icy second brother begging like this, clutching her skirt.
No choice. She agreed.
This time, she took white.
Next match.
“Stay calm……”
Int resolved not to get rattled by Roin’s lightning pace. He breathed deep, sticking to his rhythm, deploying moves steadily without chasing her tempo.
Clack. Clack! Clack. Clack! Clack. Clack!
Int bit his lip watching Roin slam pieces down the instant he played.
“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.”
He coached himself three times, steadying his impatient hands. No need to match her speed. He used the full one-minute limit per move.
The result?
“Impossible!”
Like hell he could. Int tore at his hair. Where had it gone wrong?
“Please! Just one more!”
Int was whining now, dignity gone. Roin glanced at Cliche.
“……”
Cliche nodded—crush him.
Third match. Roin black again, Int white.
Int poured his soul into every move. His defensive style flipped 180 degrees into all-out aggression—seizing the board, shaking it violently! Attack after attack after attack! He burned with a ferocity that bared his very soul!
Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!
They raced to place pieces, neck and neck. Int matched Roin’s speed, no overthinking—just bite and tear.
The result……
Thud.
Int collapsed into his seat.
“A chimp would’ve lasted longer. What was that about kingly qualities?”
Cliche’s barb pierced Int’s lungs.
“One… more……”
“No dice. Get lost.”
Int was cuffed—Outdoor, Anne Desk. He’d lost at brains and brawn alike. Their fates now hinged on Roin’s mercy.
“……”
Roin gazed down at them sadly. Siblings from the same womb, once closer than anyone. Why had it come to this?
“I……”
Roin hesitated, then spoke. Int knew the usual fate of royals who lost throne wars. He hung his head, eyes closed.
“The loser stays silent. I even hired assassins against you. Dispose of me. I’ll accept it gladly.”
Int’s words rang resolute.
But Roin’s response was unexpected.
“I sentence you to one month in prison for treason, oppa.”
A pink question mark popped over Cliche’s head. Int and his men paled, convinced they’d misheard.
But Roin repeated firmly.
“One month for Int oppa.”
“……Any reason?”
“Father’s funeral is soon. He’d hate us fighting among siblings.”
“……”
“And oppa’s genius brain is a national treasure. We can’t treat it lightly.”
Int looked up at Roin, eyes misty, deeply moved.
“Nngh……”
Cliche scratched his head. He’d just hyped Roin’s warm heart—hard to gripe now.
“Do whatever. Long as I get the warehouse open.”
Cliche left it to her.
Meanwhile, Int stared at his father’s portrait beside Roin. The smiling father.
‘Now I get it, Father. Why you chose Roin.’
Int smiled bitterly, his heart swayed. That was it—Roin’s greatest weapon.
Roin was pure, untainted, innocent. She hurt for others’ pain, cherished bonds. A true kingly trait.
‘Serving a queen like this… might be bliss.’
A ripple stirred Int’s cold heart. He stood, cuffs on.
“All my documents in my room are state secrets, domestic and foreign.”
“……?”
“Tons of top intel from every nation. Encrypted—only I can decode.”
“……!”
“Let me take them to prison. I’ll decrypt them all there and hand them over. They’ll help you govern.”
Roin nodded with a smile.
“……What do I even trust here.”
Cliche shook his head watching Roin chat with Int.
Right then.
Beep?
AlphaGo fiddled with her ear, tilting her head.
“What’s up?”
Cliche asked. AlphaGo tilted again, blank-faced.
Beep! Bluetooth cut out after first game. Probably water damage.
AlphaGo tapped her ear—yellow fluid oozed out.
“Wha~, wha’s this~, wha’s tha yellow goo~”
“Ho ho ho. But then… how’d Roin play all that chess?”
Hotse and Unicef exchanged puzzled glances.
“……”
Suddenly, exclamation points popped over every Pink Dragon Knight’s head.
“Kek. Ahh, so it was pure skill.”
Diablo nodded in admiration.
“……”
Cliche looked up. Roin, chatting with second prince Int. She was a genius on his level.
* * *
After Roin and the Pink Dragon Knights left.
Second prince Int remained alone in the empty room, packing for prison.
“Midland military secrets. Western forest ecology report, northern pirate status……”
Int sorted top secrets domestic and foreign—soon, a towering pile.
“How am I gonna carry this?”
With his slender build, it’d take hundreds of trips. As Int fretted—thunk!—his body lightened instantly, heavy stack lifted.
“Shall I take this, sire?”
It was Outdoor the lieutenant general. Desk the bureau chief stood beside him.
“You two……”
Int’s voice trembled. The men bowed.
“If you’ll have us, we’ll serve you to the end—even as barbarians now.”
“I want to serve you till the last, too.”
“Everyone……”
Tears welled in Int’s eyes. He turned away, staring at the pile.
“……Fools. A failed royal’s worth less than a peasant. What’s left for me to squeeze outta you?”
“Who knows. Might be somethin’ left to mooch.”
“You need some meat on those bones.”
Outdoor and Desk bantered as they hauled Int’s load. True iron men—they whisked away stacks Int could barely lift with two hands.
“……Putting it down reveals something. I thought it was just losers’ whining.”
Int murmured softly, watching his men’s retreating backs.
Soon, the three descended to the deep underground prison—and weren’t seen for a while.