In a dimly lit room, where only a few slender rays of light slipped through the window blinds, a man in a pristine white suit sat at a chessboard. His chair creaked as he leaned forward, fingers delicately hovering over a black pawn. He had picked it up, but now his hand paused mid-move, the ghost of a smirk curling his lips.
"No checkmate... huh?" he muttered softly, almost as if to himself. His eyes flicked upward, locking on the man sitting opposite him.
The other man was trembling, his head hanging low, lips quivering as he bit them hard enough to draw blood. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and beneath his breath, he whispered a broken mantra: "A chance... a chance..." His voice was barely audible, as if he were trying to convince himself that there was still hope.
Despite the tension in the room, the man in the white suit remained calm, his smirk deepening as if he were in complete control. He couldn't see the trembling man's face clearly, but that didn't matter. The fear was palpable, and it was enough.
The man in the white suit leaned back slightly, his smirk widening as he studied his trembling opponent. "A chance?" he repeated, his voice laced with amusement. Slowly, his eyes drifted back to the chessboard in front of them, where the pieces were arranged in a silent, calculated war.
He tapped the black pawn he had been holding against the board, setting it down with a soft click. His gaze sharpened as he continued, "Look at the board..." His tone was calm but edged with a sinister undertone. "If a pawn is lost, do you think it could come back?"
He let the question hang in the air, his eyes flicking back to the man shivering across from him, waiting for the inevitable, knowing the answer before it was spoken.
The man in the white suit leaned forward, his fingers idly tracing the edge of the chessboard as he spoke, his voice low and venomous. "What do you think this game of carnage is?" His eyes locked onto his trembling opponent, the smirk on his face now devoid of any warmth.
He gestured toward the pieces with a lazy flick of his hand. "Once lost... is forever lost." The room seemed to grow colder with his words. "There's no resurrection, no second chances, not for pawns—nor for anyone else."
His voice dropped to a near-whisper, yet each word was sharp and cutting. "You think there's still hope... still a way out? Look around. Every move, every sacrifice... it's final."
The trembling man's breath quickened, his mantra fading into silence as the weight of those words settled over him. The man in the white suit sat back, content, watching the slow realization creep into his opponent's eyes.
Top of Form
The man in the white suit chuckled softly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the chessboard as if in sync with his cold, calculated thoughts. "Every pawn holds its own role..." he mused, his voice dripping with quiet authority. His gaze shifted to the man across from him, whose trembling had only worsened.
"Your role was simple," the man continued, his smirk widening. "To take control over Na-Seong High. A place of no real worth, except for its strategic value—a stepping stone on the path to Incheon. The lowest-ranking school... nothing more than a weak link in the chain, but an important one. A gateway." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"But you failed," he said coldly, eyes narrowing. "You couldn't even fulfill that small role. The path to Incheon remains closed because of your incompetence." His voice, once calm, was now edged with disdain. "And like a pawn that fails its task, you've made yourself... dispensable."
The tension in the room thickened as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Once lost is forever lost, remember?"
Bottom of Form
The man in the white suit leaned in closer, the smirk on his face vanishing, replaced by a cold, hard gaze. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, but every word struck with chilling clarity.
"What happens to a pawn who couldn't fulfill its role?" He paused, as if savoring the tension in the air, watching the fear in the other man's eyes intensify.
"A pawn that fails... is discarded." His tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of any emotion. "It has no value. No purpose. Once it falters, it's swept off the board, never to return. There's no second chance. No redemption." He tapped the pawn on the chessboard again, his eyes narrowing.
"In this game, failure is absolute. A pawn that can't serve its role becomes nothing more than a forgotten piece... an afterthought." His voice turned cold, like a blade slicing through the air. "And that's what you've become."
The trembling man swallowed hard, his lips quivering but unable to form words, the realization of his fate weighing heavily on him.
The man in the white suit's eyes gleamed with dark amusement as he heard the trembling figure across from him whisper, "But tell me how you failed." The question seemed almost absurd to him, and for a moment, his smirk returned, wider than before.
He leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft, condescending chuckle. "How I failed?" he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. "You think this is about me?"
The room grew eerily quiet, the tension building as he paused, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably long. "I never fail," he said slowly, his voice as cold as ice. "Because I don't move unless I know the outcome. Every piece, every plan, is already in motion long before you ever saw the board. I didn't fail. I simply waited... for the weak pieces to reveal themselves." His eyes locked onto the trembling man again, his gaze burning with intensity.
"If anything, you were the flaw. The miscalculation. But I can always correct that." He straightened up, his voice soft but sharp as a blade. "My failure? No. This is your failure. Your inability to fulfill your simple role... is where this crumbled."
He gestured toward the chessboard once more, the pieces scattered, the game all but over. "A pawn that blames its master never understands the game."
The man in the white suit's expression shifted from condescension to a cold, probing curiosity. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the man trembling across from him. "But I wonder," he said, his voice smooth and calculated, "how you failed to fulfill your role. After all, you were destined to succeed."
He paused, letting the question hang in the air, then continued with a chilling calmness. "Tell me what happened at Na-Seong High."
The trembling man's eyes darted nervously, searching for an escape, but the man in the white suit's gaze was unyielding. He awaited an explanation, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the chessboard, as if the answer would somehow shift the balance of the game.
The man in the white suit's gaze remained fixed, his interest piqued as the trembling man began to speak.
"Everything was going according to plan," the man confessed, his voice trembling as he recounted the events. "Gyeon-Suk High took control over Na-Seong after beating all the students, just as we had anticipated. It was all falling into place."
He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "But then... suddenly, two students from Na-Seong High appeared. They were unexpected. They challenged our plans, turned everything upside down."
The trembling man's eyes filled with a mix of frustration and fear as he struggled to convey the gravity of the situation. "These two students... they weren't just any students. They had skills, strategies, and determination that caught us off guard. They fought back with a fierceness we hadn't anticipated."
The man in the white suit's expression remained impassive, though his eyes narrowed slightly. "And what happened next?" he prompted, his voice icy and controlled.
The man across from him looked down, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Their resistance disrupted our control, and despite our efforts to counteract them, their influence grew. We couldn't contain the situation, and it spiraled out of our control. The plan fell apart."
The man in the white suit remained silent for a moment, processing the information. His gaze remained fixed, as though trying to piece together the implications of this unexpected twist in the game.
The man in the white suit listened intently as the trembling man described the unexpected turn of events at Na-Seong High. His eyes remained fixed, absorbing every detail with a sharp, analytical focus.
"One of the students," the man continued, his voice barely a whisper, "had brown hair and eyes. He was munching on a snack, looking carefree as if he didn't care at all about what was happening around him. Yet, despite his nonchalance, he exuded a powerful aura—a dark seagreen presence that was palpable. From the student who lost to him, I learned his name was Sangji."
The man in the white suit's eyes narrowed slightly at the name, recognizing the significance of such a presence. He nodded for the trembling man to continue.
"And the other student," the trembling man said, "had dark hair and eyes. While he didn't possess the same strong aura as his friend, there was something different about him, something elusive. I wasn't able to pinpoint it clearly. His name was Yin-Shin."
The man in the white suit's expression hardened, his mind racing as he processed this new information. The names and descriptions seemed to fit into a larger, more complex puzzle. He leaned back, considering the implications of these two students and their impact on the failed plan.
The man in the white suit's laughter cut through the tension in the room, a chilling sound that seemed to fill the space. His eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and intrigue as he leaned forward, clearly fascinated by the unfolding story.
"Interesting," he said with a mocking tone, still chuckling softly. "Do go on."
The trembling man, his voice shaky but resolute, continued. "Those two students, Sangji and Yin-Shin, fought like they anticipated our every move. It was as if they knew our strategies before we even implemented them. They defeated the entire Gyeon-Suk High team effortlessly, as though we were mere children playing at a game."
He paused, taking a shaky breath before adding, "And then Yin-Shin said something that struck me. He said, 'We are not a part of this stupid game. Don't lump us in it after you go back.'"
The man in the white suit's expression grew contemplative, his earlier amusement replaced by a sharp focus. "Not a part of the game," he repeated, his voice low and thoughtful. "That's quite a declaration. It seems they view this whole affair with a level of disdain and detachment that's... intriguing."
The man in the white suit stood up, his movements deliberate and calm. He walked toward the window, his back turned to Choi Don-Soo, who was now left alone with his mounting dread. The soft light filtering through the blinds cast a shadowy outline against the man's figure, highlighting his blonde hair, which gleamed faintly in the dim room.
As he reached the window, he glanced out into the darkness, the cityscape beyond seeming vast and indifferent to the events unfolding within the room. His voice, though still calm, carried an unmistakable edge.
"I see," he said, his tone almost reflective. "Even though you failed to fulfill your role, you've provided quite interesting information."
He paused for a moment, his shoulders tensing slightly as he continued, "But you know this, right, Choi Don-Soo? In this game of carnage, a pawn lost is forever lost."
His words hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the consequences of failure. He turned slightly, just enough to cast a sidelong glance at Choi Don-Soo, his expression inscrutable.
Without waiting for a response, he turned back to the window, his attention seemingly fixed on the world outside. The message was clear: in this game, there were no second chances, and the cost of failure was unforgiving.
As the man in the white suit concluded his statement, his smile cold and detached, he spoke one final name into the room's tense silence. "Kavein," he said, as if summoning something from the shadows.
The door creaked open behind him, and a tall figure stepped in. The man wore a sleek black suit, his silver hair catching the sparse light as he moved with an unsettling grace. His dark eyes were devoid of emotion, his face expressionless as he approached Choi Don-Soo.
Without a word, Kavein raised a sleek, sharp knife. The blade gleamed ominously in the dim light as he swiftly and silently closed the distance between them. In one precise motion, the knife drove into Choi Don-Soo's side. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with the finality of the act.
Choi Don-Soo gasped, his eyes wide with shock and pain, the realization of his fate sinking in as he slumped forward. The man in the white suit remained unmoved, his eyes reflecting a cold satisfaction as he watched the scene unfold.
Kavein's expression remained impassive, his actions methodical and devoid of emotion. He pulled the knife free, allowing Choi Don-Soo to collapse to the floor, the life slowly ebbing from him.
The man in the white suit turned back to the window, his gaze once again lost in the distant cityscape. His voice, though softer now, carried the weight of finality. "Your chapter is over, Choi Don-Soo."
As the room fell into a heavy silence, Kavein silently cleaned the knife and stood watch, his presence a stark reminder of the ruthlessness that governed this game of carnage.
The man in the white suit returned to his chair with a deliberate calm, crossing his legs as he settled back into place. He picked up the black pawn, his fingers dancing lightly over the chessboard as he moved it into position with an almost theatrical flourish.
A soft click resonated through the room as the pawn took its place, delivering a checkmate. The chessboard was now a testament to the careful planning and ruthless execution that had marked this game. He looked up, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anticipation and cold calculation.
"Kavein," he said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement, "get ready. I have a feeling something interesting is going to begin soon."
The game of Checkmate finally begins…