A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 41: I Give Up!

Chapter 41: I Give Up!

Valentine closed the door of his room behind him.

He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and scoffed in disdain. He strolled further into his room and stood near an antique full-length mirror. His eyes met his reflection, and he glanced at the slight cut that healed as soon as it could.

"Fucking bastard!" he cursed at the recollection of the disgusting look Old Master Lenort had on his face when he threw that knife at him.

With a rough movement of his hand, he reached up to loosen the buttons of his black shirt that hugged his torso. The fabric parted as he took it off, revealing his alluring physique and the faint outline of well-defined abs.

He cast his shirt onto the chair close to him, then fully faced the mirror to look at himself. His frame was lean and sinewy, accentuated by just the right amount of muscle.

His slender waist tapered down to his narrow hips, emphasizing his graceful proportions.

With his brow arched, he asked himself, "Don’t you think it’s time you added a little bit of weight, Valentine?"

But he, however, chuckled in the next moment, amused.

Throughout half of his life, he had always looked like this. No matter how much he exercised, ate, or did whatever, he found it impossible to add weight. It was as though he was meant to look that way and that way only.

He hated how feminine he looked. It kept reminding him of the abuse his father inflicted on him for looking that way. He wanted him to grow more—to look like his brothers and to be worthy of being a prince. He wanted him to change something he had no control over.

Valentine pinched between his brows and burst into laughter. "What a sick bastard!"

He turned around and stepped toward the empty wall of his room, which had nothing pressed against it. He pulled open the curtain that shadowed the wall, revealing a huge hanging board with a chess board and its pieces perfectly drawn on it.

From the way he was admiring it, one could ascertain that he was the artist behind such a simple yet complicated painting. It was as though he had some very visual imagination while making such a painting.

"Let the real game begin!" Valentine spread his arms and smiled widely to the point that it almost became creepy and menacing to the eyes.

"I will personally feed your corpse to the wolves, père," he whispered.

———

At a moderately round table, Avelina sat with a bowl of fresh grapes placed in her arm. Opposite her sat Draven, whose internet gaze was fixed on the chessboard set on the table.

"Your turn," Draven abruptly said.

Avelina threw two grapes into her mouth and looked at her pieces.

Draven has yet to attempt to capture her, so should she make the move first? She thought deeply about it.

One of his white pawns was in close range with her black ones, ready to be captured, so should she take the initiative and capture it or just keep going? She can’t tell exactly what this man had in mind at that point.

Her pawns were literally right there for him to devour, but he was not making a single move on them. Just why?

She furiously scratched her head in confusion and took a subtle breath. She reached for one of her pawns and pushed it one square forward, seizing Draven’s pawn.

Draven raised his eyes and glanced at her. He slowly grinned.

Avelina instantly furrowed her brows. She asked, feeling a little afraid, "Why did you grin?"

Draven shrugged. "Nothing really, but...l want to teach you something."

Avelina gazed at him with curiosity written all over her face.

What could you possibly want to teach me? Aren’t you going to make a move? She wondered.

Draven tersely said, "I once told you that my father believes that the first to make a move will always win. But, that is not always the case. No, most times!"

He moved his piece, but he did not capture Avelina’s pawn, rather, he pushed another pawn two squares forward.

"To guarantee yourself a win, Avelina, you must observe your opponent first. Analyze their moves and find your way into their heads. If possible, read their thoughts and take the lead. Do not let your opponent lead you."

"From what you are doing right now, it is obvious you have not a single clue what you are doing. You are following my lead, unwilling to give yourself a chance!"

"Don’t do this, and things will most likely go your way, guaranteeing you a higher chance of winning. In a bloody game, sometimes you have to be your own leader."

"Now, what is your next move? Will you capture my pawn that is laid out for you?" he asked.

But Avelina did not make a move. She deeply glowered and looked at him. "Is this a trap?"

Draven replied solemnly, "Yes, it is."

"Let’s see if you will fall into it or not."

Avelina’s mind raced with thoughts... Even though he has utterly told me he has set a trap for me, I can’t seem to analyze or figure out what this trap he has laid out for me is.

A short headache hit her and she pinched between her brows. She gave up trying, considering she would still be unable to figure it out, no matter how hard she tried.

Draven with his crossed legs and folded arms, stared at her, exercising his patience on her.

A few seconds passed, but Avelina still didn’t make a move. She heaved a deep sigh and rested back on the chair.

"I give up! I can’t do it!"

Draven immediately scowled at her. "Only cowards give up in the middle of something like that, Avelina! Even if you are bound to lose, still give it your best shot." He smiled at her. "Now make a move."

Avelina couldn’t help but mutter inwardly. Is that supposed to make me feel better?

She sighed and threw another grape into her mouth. She concentrated on the chess pieces and attempted to navigate the possibilities laid out for her.

Draven, on the other hand, was done surveying the board with precision. Right from the beginning, before Avelina even made a move, he had already predicted the start and end of the game.

With a swift, fluid motion, he advanced his pawn after Avelina, finally capturing her pawn.

The game progressed to its midpoint, and the tension in the room heightened. Avelina grew apprehensive, with helplessness written all over her face. She had not a single pawn left.

Despite her valiant effort, she was not able to capture any more of Draven’s pawns except for the one she managed to get a hold of at the start of the game. The game felt completely controlled by Draven, and she felt as though she were dancing to his tunes.

Was this what he meant by being led by someone other than yourself?

Finally, as the game drew to a close, Avelina realized her imminent defeat. She lowered her head and abruptly said in an irritated tone, "I feel very annoyed."

"Why?" Draven asked.