"Grandma!"

I stepped out of the carriage with a broad smile. I rushed forward, with my gaze fixed on my grandmother, who stood between two neat rows of servants, radiating her usual warmth.

The sky behind the villa was streaked with pink and purple hues, casting the late hour in a tranquil light.

"Ah, Luca, it's so good to see you." She smiled brightly as she pulled me into a familiar embrace, the comforting scent of honeysuckle wrapping around me.

She pushed me back slightly, her dark red lips pursed in mock disapproval as she looked me over while repeating the same lines as in Round 7. "Oh goodness. Are they not feeding you properly?"

Her tongue clicked in mild dismay as her eyes swept over my frame.

"Come, let's put a little meat on those bones." She hooked her arm in my right arm, guiding me toward the entrance. "Dinner's just about ready. It was prepared by none other than Arnold Bumblefudge, as you requested."

I smiled as I walked arm-in-arm with my grandmother.

"Did Arnold happen to prepare you lunch as well?" I asked hopefully.

"Oh goodness no, it was far too late for that. He's been busy with that curious notebook you sent over." Her eyes sparkled with a knowing glint. "I'm quite eager to see what he's concocted."

As am I, human.

I felt my hair stir as Leona shifted on top of my head. With my right arm linked through my grandmother's, she had chosen my head rather than my shoulder as her perch.

She could easily have flown alongside us, but given her light weight, it didn't bother me that she had settled atop my head while awaiting her much-anticipated feast.

~Hahh, I'm curious too. You talked this Arnold up the whole carriage ride to the gluttonous phoenix, and now I'm intrigued.

Apophis coiled leisurely around my left arm, his cool body a stark contrast to the warmth of my grandmother beside me.

"I hope your journey here was without any great excitement?" Grandma asked.

I smiled, sensing her concern. "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. There was quite a bit of excitement on the road."

"Nothing all too terrible, however," I added quickly, noticing her eyes widen. "I met Claude Noire on the road. He suggested an alliance."

My grandmother's face underwent a slew of minute emotions, none of which were distinguishable enough to note her true feelings on the matter. "Is that so, now? I'm certainly intrigued to hear more about that event. As am I about the new pet you have."

Her gaze shifted pointedly to Apophis, still coiled around my arm.

***

"I'm glad that Arnold had the foresight to prepare so much food. It seems we also have a rather ravenous ghost at the table?" Grandma remarked with a chuckle as food mysteriously vanished from the plates before us.

I smiled awkwardly. "Ah, yes, something to that effect."

In hindsight, suggesting that Leona take on a visible form might have saved me from this strange situation. Though, to be fair, her prior form—an innocent-looking baby chick—wasn't exactly less bizarre. Watching the tiny bird unhinge her jaw to devour a meal meant for three grown men was arguably more unsettling than food disappearing into thin air.

"Though, that snake of yours doesn't seem to have much of an appetite," my grandmother remarked.

I glanced at Apophis, who was idly rolling a green pea with the tip of his tail.

I also noted that he hadn't eaten more than a few bites. I had never seen him eat before, and I wasn't sure what his dietary preferences were, but something seemed off.

[[ Is Arnold's food not to your liking? ]]

I utilized illusion magic on him to keep our conversation private.

Apophis turned his head toward me, his voice slipping into my mind with a soft hiss.

~Master, the food is to anyone's liking, but… it is much too rich for me.

I frowned at his choice of words. Arnold had prepared dishes incorporating meat, but they were far more vegetable-heavy.

Unless it's the very magical element that is too heavy for him?

Given Apophis' past as an ex-Celestial, that explanation seemed more plausible yet brought up more questions.

I absently speared a soft piece of potato and popped it into my mouth, my gaze drifting out the large windows beside us.

Besides the cozy table set for my grandmother and me, the large windows revealed a lovely view of the town. The dark sky had filled with stars, while the town below had transformed into a mosaic of bright yellow lights. The farmlands beyond twinkled with scattered light stone lanterns, giving the whole scene a peaceful glow.

Arnold's food certainly did wonders for me, relieving any and all tension that had built up and energizing me to my core. Per Leona's fervent account and the quickly disappearing plates of food, she clearly approved as well. I hoped the same magic-infused meals would benefit my grandmother's health too and it may have been my imagination, but she wasn't coughing as much.

However, my good mood dampened as Ben walked over and handed my grandmother a vial with a pink liquid inside. "Madame," he said softly.

She accepted the Red Poppy Potion and downed it, handing the empty vial back to him. "Thank you, Ben."

I knew one meal wasn't going to cut it, but it was still a bit of dismay seeing her relying on that potion to alleviate her condition, as it also ultimately sped up her body's demise.

"Now then," she smiled mischievously at me. "Shall we have a round of chess?"

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I nodded.

"Ben, bring the board and pieces here," she ordered.

While Ben excused himself to bring the wooden checkerboard and two sets of marble playing pieces, two additional servants swiftly gathered and removed the empty dishes from the table. Leona had licked them all clean.

I felt her weight return to my right shoulder, albeit without so much as an ounce heavier.

Phoenixes truly are amazing.

The pieces were placed, and soon, the soft taps of the marble chess pieces filled the air as our first game commenced.

Your knight will be taken if you don't do something, human.

Leona's voice sounded in my head.

~Silly phoenix. If he moves to save the knight, he'll be sacrificing his bishop. He'll have to decide which one he cares more about. And what his opponent cares about more, too.

The two of them had been bickering into my mind the whole game, which was more distracting than helpful.

My fingers hovered over my remaining pawns, each having inched closer to the opposite side of the board, where they could be upgraded into queens or other powerful pieces.

"You're pushing your pawns forward quite aggressively," Grandma observed with a smile, her eyes twinkling as she studied the board. "A bold strategy. You're aiming to turn your pawns into stronger pieces, right?"

I nodded. "Why settle for one queen when I can have several?"

Grandma chuckled softly, moving her black rook with a calculated tap. "It's a smart approach. Pawns are often underestimated, but they can become quite dangerous."

Despite her compliment, I could sense something in her tone. There was a warning wrapped within the praise.

I frowned.

I was missing something.

We continued to play silently for a few more moves, analyzing the board and plotting the other's downfall. Albeit in my grandmother's case, she was taking it easy on me, playing with me like a cat entertained a mouse.

However, I was playing quite well. I had advanced several of my pawns, two just a few moves away from promotion. Victory was within reach, or so I thought.

Tap.

She slid her bishop across the board.

Damn it.

I reviewed the board, realizing my queen was now in danger. Panic flashed through me as I moved her forward to the only available square that would keep her safe.

Tap.

Grandma raised an eyebrow. "Interesting," she murmured. "Now, tell me, why did you move your queen?"

I blinked. "Because... she's my most powerful piece..."

My words trailed off, and I grimaced, realizing I was repeating the same actions and words from a previous game against my grandmother in a previous round, no less.

Damn it. Didn't I learn from my mistake then?

Her dark lips curved into a knowing smile, and she silently watched me process the chess board for myself.

I gazed down at the positions of both our pieces, and my heart sank as I saw the trap. A few moves from now, she could quickly checkmate me. I hadn't been thinking far enough ahead.

"I should've let you capture her," I muttered, frustration creeping into my voice as I leaned back, feeling the weight of my mistake.

"Perhaps." She shrugged lightly, her hand moving to place a knight into a position that threatened my king in two moves. She didn't offer any more advice.

I leaned forward, clasping my hands together, and instead of focusing on the board, I studied her expression. There was something there—something subtle.

Why isn't she ending the game? In the past, she had never hesitated to call it once my defeat was certain to both of us.

Apophis hissed on my left shoulder, his amusement evident in the way he flicked out his tongue, and I felt Leona adjust herself on my right. For once, though, neither offered any insight.

I stared at the board again, scanning it for a way out of this mess. And then, I saw it like a flicker of light in the dark. It was a move a bit unexpected, making me pause.

My grandmother had me focused entirely on my queen's protection and the pieces looming over my king, but in doing so, she left a small opening. My pawn, the one I had been so focused on advancing, was just two moves away from becoming a queen. But instead of using it as an offensive tool, I could sacrifice it.

A diversion.

A tactic she wouldn't expect—using the very piece I'd been pushing for power as bait. It wasn't glamorous, but it might buy me enough time to save my king.

Tsk.

I didn't particularly like sacrificing the piece I had tried so hard to promote throughout the game. However, if I sacrificed it now, I could disrupt her rhythm just enough to make her rethink her plan.

I felt my heart race as I moved the pawn forward, the piece sliding across the board with a soft tap.

Grandma's eyes narrowed, the barest flicker of surprise crossing her face.

"Interesting," she said, her voice laced with approval. She leaned in slightly, her eyes studying the board anew. I knew that look. She was recalculating, reassessing her position.

I felt a rush of satisfaction as I watched her process the move. It wasn't a guaranteed win for me, but it was enough to disrupt her momentum. And sometimes, as I had just learned, disruption was just as valuable as victory.

"Well played, Luca," she finally said, her fingers resting lightly on her knight. "You're learning."

Tap.

I grinned involuntarily as I moved my knight, my confidence returning. Maybe not all of her lessons went over my head after all. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I had a fighting chance.

"Ah, but don't get too comfortable," she warned, her eyes gleaming with that all-too-familiar mischief. "You only bought yourself a bit of time, is all, my dear."

The match ended just a few moves later, in my defeat.

I let out a deep sigh, sinking back into my chair. Both Leona and Apophis consoled me telepathically. Across from me, my grandmother quietly reset the pieces on the board, her face composed, as usual.

~Such a shame, Master. But you did well.

[[ I thought I had a fighting chance of winning. ]]

But you did! Leona's voice sounded into my mind. There was a way you could have won.

I straightened up in my seat, my frown deepening as I faced my grandmother. "Wait… I could have won that match. After I moved my queen, I mean?"

Her dark lips curved into a knowing smile. "Indeed. There was a way. Are you curious how?"

Before I could respond, she began rearranging the pieces, resetting them to the critical moment—the knight poised to corner my king in two moves. She leaned back, her eyes inviting me to figure it out myself.

I stared at the board, replaying each step in my mind. Then it hit me.

Ah, damn it.

I had thought sacrificing my pawn was a clever tactic. However, the most obvious solution was staring me in the face, and I didn't even notice it.

"I could've castled," I muttered. "I forgot I hadn't moved my king or rook."

My grandmother nodded in approval. "Exactly. Staying calm is key. You were too focused on advancing your pawns, tunnel-visioned on turning one into a queen. Then, when your original queen was threatened, you panicked. Then again, when your king seemed doomed. You overlooked a simple defense."

"I could've had both," I sighed. "Promoted my pawn and saved my king. I didn't need to sacrifice anything."

"True." Grandma's voice softened as she motioned a servant to bring over a new pot of tea. "Sacrifices are often necessary in chess and life, but sometimes, taking the simplest, least exhausting route leads to the best outcome. But, to do so, you must retain a calm mind, no matter what happens on the playing field. You have to filter distractions, including what I, as the opposing player, say to you mid-game in an attempt to sway you."

I accepted the servant's cup of chamomile tea. Its warmth grounded me, and the floral taste soothed my lingering frustration.

"You know, Yelena—your birth mother—was one of the laziest and most unmotivated individuals I had ever met," my grandmother remarked suddenly.

I nearly choked on my tea. "She was what?" I sputtered, hastily wiping my mouth and tunic.

Mom was rarely mentioned nowadays, especially in casual conversation, and grandmother's description left me wholly thrown off. But the glimmer of respect in her eyes made it even stranger.

"She wouldn't lift a finger if she could avoid it, always finding ways to get others to do her work for her," she continued, an amused smile curling her lips. "But because she was so unbothered, she had the clearest mind I'd ever seen—like a lake without a single ripple."

I blinked, trying to process this version of Yelena. I'd heard stories of her bravery and cleverness, how she saved both Mother's and Micah's lives years ago, but no one had ever spoken of her like this.

"You remind me of her in many ways," Grandma said, sipping her cup of tea. "You've inherited her gift for laziness and lack of motivation, knowing how to get others to handle things so you don't have to."

I balked, not sure whether to feel insulted or complimented. It sounded like an odd mix of both.

"And," she added, her tone softening, "you've inherited her spirit—the part that never gives up, no matter the odds."

Now that I could take as a real compliment.

"But," she continued, leaning back in her chair, "you still lack the calmness that accompanies the virtues of the lazy and unmotivated."

Her hands glided across the chess pieces, placing them back in place.

"Ready for another round?" she asked, eyes gleaming.

I downed the rest of my tea, feeling its warmth settle in my chest, and set the cup on the table.

"I'm ready for as many rounds as it takes to win this," I replied.

My grandmother smiled. "That's the spirit."