The crowd shifted as the chess boards were set. Unlike the roars that filled the gymnasium during powerlifting and arm wrestling, here the noise was different—murmurs, whispers, pens scribbling on notepads, the occasional tap of a clock.
At the center table sat Reina Salvador—the undefeated prodigy, the girl whose name had become synonymous with victory. Across from her sat a girl no one thought twice about.
Clara Villanueva.
Clara's Backstory
Clara adjusted her worn glasses and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She was humble, soft-spoken, always sitting at the back of class. Unlike Reina, she didn't have the privilege of polished coaches or strong support systems.
Her father had once been a chess player too—not a professional, but good enough to earn small winnings at local cafés. Chess was the only way he connected with his daughter. Every night, they'd play on a small board with missing pawns, using coins to replace them.
But tragedy struck when her father fell ill and passed away, leaving Clara with her mother struggling to make ends meet. Chess became her inheritance, her only connection to him.
When Clara first faced Reina years ago in a local tournament, she had been crushed in only twenty moves. Reina barely looked at her, as if she were just another obstacle. Since then, Clara had carried that humiliation like a scar.
Today, she sat across from Reina not just as a competitor, but as a daughter fighting to honor her father's memory.
Reina's Backstory
Reina, on the other hand, was a child born into expectations. The Salvador family was known for discipline and excellence. Her father, a strict academic, pushed her to excel in studies, while her mother ensured she had tutors for everything—piano, math, chess.
Chess wasn't passion—it was pressure. But somewhere along the way, she grew addicted to the thrill of winning. Victory meant approval. Victory meant she wasn't wasting her parents' efforts.
But Reina also carried memories of someone else. Jed.
Back in middle school, before things got complicated, Jed had been a quiet boy she'd occasionally talk to. He admired her focus. Sometimes, he'd stay behind after class, watching her solve chess problems. Though he never played, his curiosity about her dedication had been one of the rare genuine conversations she enjoyed—without judgment, without pressure.
Jed had seen her as Reina, not the "genius Salvador." And though years had passed, and though she now walked beside David Ahn, a part of her still remembered Jed's silent gaze from those days.
The Match Begins
"White pieces—Reina Salvador. Black pieces Clara Villanueva. Start the clocks."
Opening moves:
Reina immediately played the Queen's Gambit (1. d4 d5 2. c4), a bold sacrifice of her c-pawn for central control.
Clara, unshaken, accepted with 2… dxc4, meeting Reina's challenge head-on.
The audience murmured—Reina almost never risked her opening like this in preliminaries. She was serious.
Reina leaned forward, calculating, her eyes cold and sharp.
But Clara's hands were steady. She responded with the Slav Defense variation, carefully reinforcing her pawns instead of rushing for material advantage.
Each move Clara made felt like carrying her father's lessons with her. "Don't rush. Don't panic. Even if you're behind, play for the endgame."
For every sacrifice Reina threw, Clara responded with calm defense. Her strategy wasn't flashy—she wasn't trying to dominate. She was trying to survive.
And with each turn, the board tilted into dangerous waters.
Reina clicked her clock sharply. She pushed her bishop across the diagonal, locking Clara's knight. Her queen loomed, threatening a devastating check.
The crowd whispered—"It's over. Clara's trapped."
But Reina's eyes flickered. Clara had laid a trap of her own. If Reina pressed too hard, she'd fall into a fork that could cost her rook.
For the first time in years, Reina felt something she hadn't felt in chess—doubt.
Clara whispered under her breath, almost like a prayer: "Papa… guide me."
Reina heard it. Her fingers froze above her next move. She looked at Clara—really looked. She didn't see the timid girl from before. She saw someone fighting with everything she had, not for glory, not for trophies, but for love.
And for a split second, Reina remembered Jed. His quiet resilience. His way of never backing down even when life spat in his face.
That memory burned in her chest. She clenched her jaw.
"I can't lose," Reina muttered. "Not here. Not now."
The board spiraled into complexity. Pieces flew—bishops sacrificed, knights exchanged. Pawns marched like soldiers into the battlefield's heart.
Finally, it came down to a razor-thin endgame: Reina with a queen and two pawns, Clara with a rook and three pawns.
The clock ticked down.
Reina's eyes sharpened. She maneuvered her queen with surgical precision, weaving threats until Clara's defenses collapsed.
"Checkmate."
The referee raised his hand. "Winner—Reina Salvador."
The crowd erupted in applause. Some cheered Reina's brilliance, others admired Clara's courage.
Clara lowered her head, hiding the tears in her eyes. She had lost—but not as a nobody. Today, she made the undefeated Reina bleed for her victory.
Reina sat back, chest heaving, heart pounding. For the first time, she felt… uneasy. She had won, yes—but it didn't feel like triumph.
Her gaze drifted toward the crowd where Jed stood in the distance, quietly watching.