Being left with just the two of us年轻人 after such ambiguous words was rather troubling.
Especially after such an embarrassing exchange.
I averted my gaze from Lady Cecilia, who was blushing furiously and hanging her head without stirring, and instead picked up my warm cup of black tea in an attempt to console her.
What in the world were we supposed to talk about in this state?
It wasn’t unbearably uncomfortable, but the uneasy silence lingered on as the awkwardness only grew. When the teapot emptied and the tea snacks were almost gone, a soft, timid voice broke the stillness.
“…Shall we play a game?”
“EH?”
When I looked up, her face was still flushed, head lowered as she repeated her invitation to play another round. Without much thought, I nodded, to which she extended her hand beneath the table and retrieved a set of military chess from a hidden compartment.
It seemed there was a shallow storage area tucked beneath the table where it had been kept.
The rich inlaid wooden board cast a stunning glow in the moonlight, its stage-like brilliance reflecting off the beautiful pieces nestled in the box. Crafted from black obsidian and black marble, these were unmistakably top-tier pieces. The moment I trembled to handle them, I recognized their unmatched craftsmanship, far superior to the pieces I made in my spare time.
Most surprising of all was the revelation, thanks to my keen “appreciation for fine art,” that the pieces were specifically tailored for this very setting. Everything from the angles to the moonlight’s reflection had been exquisitely calculated.
This was undoubtedly the masterpiece rumored to be worth as much as an estate. Lady Cecilia truly hailed from an extraordinary family.
“Next move is…”
“Mine, I believe.”
With great caution, I picked up the exquisite white Emperor piece, placing it on the board as per the rules of military chess: the first move always goes to the white side, with the Emperor and Crown Prince set in place next. As we rapidly arranged the pieces, the atmosphere today felt distinct from previous matches—her formation today was uncharacteristically aggressive.
Not only her favored Empress, but her entire front line bristled with offensive positions, as if the goal was a swift charge to overwhelm with larger pieces. In response, I adjusted toward a defensive stance suitable for the middle stage, though I had to admit—if not skillfully handled, she could scatter my forces in an instant.
The game progressed with a satisfying clatter of pieces, their movements fluid and calculated. Every single piece’s movement carried meaning, changing its significance in the blink of an eye: what was useless suddenly becoming vital, and what was vital losing its relevance. Such is the artistry of military chess.
By the time the uncomfortable tension had dissolved after around five moves, we were both fully absorbed in the game. By the tenth move, as the strategies unfolded, all traces of unease had vanished.
Every move she made felt like a fresh self-introduction, and I responded in kind. The difference in location, our changed positions, and the differing pieces we touched did not alter our fundamental selves—she was a fine player, a person of integrity.
Her knight exploited a gap created by a sacrificial pawn, and the dragon knight crashed through with unyielding force. Her heavy attacks felt almost primal, the strategic moves so precise that my formation groaned under the strain, pieces falling like worn-down comb teeth.
With every move, pieces carried their meaning; I struck back with pieces of my own, adjusting positions to redirect her attacks while occasionally sacrificing to curb her advance.
Finally, our dialogue through the pieces wound down as her aggressive push subsided. The smaller pieces failed to keep up with the heavy ones, disrupted by my unexpected insertion of a dragon knight into the fray.
A bowman blocked her critical retreat, important pieces unable to reposition easily, torn between protecting the dragon knight or the knight. There was also a strong chance I could capitalize on the momentum to close the game.
“…Can’t reach?”
“Still unclear,” I said honestly. While the endgame was in sight, this game’s subtlety lay in its demand on the advantaged player to stay focused. One misplaced piece could render the otherwise fatal move too late. Thus, the player grasping victory was destined to endure mental strain until the final move.
Especially if something significant rested on the outcome, the winner could end up more drained than the loser.
With the remaining pieces marching forward recklessly, I meticulously positioned my counters until the decisive blow was achieved. The knight and dragon were defeated, the royal guard fell protecting the Emperor.
“…I concede,” she declared as the elaborately designed board rang out with her imperial piece’s decisive move. Even the sound of the emperor falling was dramatic, the beautifully crafted scene completing the performance.
“Seems you’re still you,” I said with relief.
This grueling game had allowed me to finally settle my anxieties. Though I was aware our prior interactions had been genuine, seeing her as someone from an entirely different world had unsettled me. Up until now, it had been me versus her—just our two-person relationship.
But now, I must recognize her as Cecilia Berncastle, and acknowledge the familial bond she shares with her aunt, who also bore the Berncastle bloodline.
Connections can bring people together, but they can also distance them. Especially so between the privileged and the common folk.
The fallen emperor piece carried deep implications, though one thing became clear: she had never been disingenuous with me. She remained the same Cecilia.
Even with a strategy to step down a few moves earlier, feign retreat, and bait me into a protracted battle, she had opted to march forward, determined to win, and eventually ended the game by defeating her own emperor piece.
Not a single one of her trademark moves had changed—she was truly the Cecilia I knew, unaltered by anything.
Then perhaps I should resolve this way too. I’ll keep my manners, but also maintain my usual approach to interacting with her.
“…That makes you true to yourself as well, Erich,” she replied as the hint of a smile softened the corners of her intense, pigeon-blood eyes. The smile carried no strength but reflected a clear sense of relief, perhaps shared by both of us.
Just as I thought, this game served as a formal re-introduction. Through the medium of chess pieces, we had once more introduced ourselves and confirmed lasting impressions that hadn’t wavered from the start.
I am I, and you are you. Knowing this much was sufficient for us.
“Truly, the nighttime patrols around here have been unbearably bothersome…”
“Yes, at one point I thought I might have failed, but after this point… I knew it was going well.”
Without further ado, we exchanged smiles and moved into analyzing the game, marking our continued friendship…
…
Crying children are irresistible; that’s been a known fact for ages.
As I reflected on this déjà vu, I sighed deeply while cradling Eliza’s weeping head against my stomach.
After the chess game, I was escorted in a four-horse carriage to the Magic Academy—a nerve-wracking experience for a commoner. It was a necessary courtesy in this imperial society, where refusing a noble’s offer out of principle was considered rude.
We arrived around evening, when professors were about to leave, and the front entrance hosted a cluster of luxurious carriages, allowing us to blend in without drawing undue attention.
But upon my quiet return, here was Eliza, a mess of tears and sobs.
The moment I entered Agrippina’s workshop, I felt a solid impact to my stomach. Even without the aid of my “Reflected Lightning” time extension or “Insight” abilities, I knew instantly it was Eliza hurling herself at me like a rocket.
It was painful, hitting the lower abdomen, but I absorbed the impact silently. What kind of brother would push away his crying sister and leave her to hit the wall?
I redirected her gently and sat down with her across the chaise, adjusting her to sit comfortably in my arms. Her grip on me, markedly stronger than before we left the manor, filled me with quiet joy at her evident growth.
Why, though, was she crying like this? Her fragmented words, alternating between worry for me and expressions of her distress, made little sense, despite it not having been long since our last encounter and her not enduring any major injuries—though I did heal her before leaving.
Comforting her, caressing her back, I eventually saw her settle onto my lap, her face puffy and red. Her repetitive rubbing of her eyes and nose signaled she might need some soothing cream from Agrippina’s supplies before her skin got too irritated.
I wanted to place some ice on her swollen eyelids, but before I could, she looked up at me tentatively and began to speak…
“Big Brother… a friend… told me you got hurt.”
“Told you what? Who told you?”
“I asked a friend to check… because I was worried about you… and then, they told me… then…” she sobbed uncontrollably again, unable to finish her sentences. Piece by piece, I gathered that she had somehow learned of my battle’s events through the fairies around her.
She’s a half-fairy, her spirit fundamentally bound to the fairies rather than the mortal world. While most humans lose their connection to fairies as they grow, her bond endures. Even more so, fairies tend to lavish attention on a child of another species they’ve taken to, creating a strong bond. While there are rules and boundaries, when solicited for help, their powers far surpass those of ordinary sorcerers.
Apparently, Eliza, concerned for my wellbeing, had asked some fairies to check on me, only to learn of my peril from afar, leaving her feeling helpless and distraught.
That’s why she cried so much…
“…And then, I understood,” she sniffled, wiping her snot and tears with her sleeve, before continuing hesitantly. “Big Brother… no matter how worried I get, you will always choose the dangerous path.”
Her words and tears felt like needles piercing my chest. I had never considered how it would feel from the side that waits behind.
Is waiting harder? Or is being waited for worse? A quote from some famous writer—though I recall him being quite the scoundrel—resonated with weight in my thoughts as I absorbed this.
“So… I decided…” her red rimmed eyes met mine earnestly. Her previous babyish way of speaking transformed into a more polished tone with correct intonations and accents, her language now perfectly suited for imperial speech. This sudden change unsettled me.
“Since there’s nothing I can do to stop you from rushing into danger, I’ve been learning from Master to grow stronger, so I can protect Big Brother in the future.”
As I wiped her tears and snot, her resolve and change in demeanor struck me. A strange shiver ran down my spine—not fear as I feel in battles or around people like Margit—but an unfamiliar sensation of anxiety. Like a formless insect crawling across my back, causing cold sweat to break out.
“Because, if I work hard to become stronger and learn more magic, then I will always be able to stay by Big Brother’s side. And if that’s true, Big Brother will never be in danger again, right?”
Her father’s chocolate brown eyes, unstable, teetering between hazel and sometimes shimmering with a golden light under the moon, bore into me. The adorably innocent face framed her unsettling gaze, causing an unnameable dread to creep up my spine. It felt as if Eliza was not my Eliza anymore…
Such impossible thoughts overwhelmed my mind with unwarranted fears.
In a frantic attempt to suppress this illogical fear, I tightly embraced Eliza…
“I will become stronger. So please, big brother, never leave me behind again.”
Her usually familiar and now somehow new voice vibrated low and haunting in my ears, seeping into my mind. Was it to affirm my fears? Or wash them away?
…
[Editorial Note: According to convention, the losing player announces their defeat in the military chess game.]
It is said that the growth mechanisms of beings vastly different from humans also vary greatly.
I sincerely apologize for the long hiatus. I initially planned to add a short preparation stage before entering the youth phase of the story, and it appears there will be a continuation after all.
Due to relentless work pressure, with long hours of overtime stretching well into the night, I was utterly spent. Now, with the busiest season over and the book publication process complete, I feel we’ve reached a natural pause.
I’m pleased to announce that my humble work will be published in book form and released on April 25th, 2020. If the occasion arises, I would be honored for you to consider purchasing a copy.
Thanks to the inclusion of illustrations and thorough editing, this edition has attained a depth I could have never achieved alone.
Given the current emergency declaration, visiting bookstores may be challenging, but I would be grateful if it could occupy a corner of your thoughts.
