Chapter 31 — Truth and Trial
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Kael Grenfort:
You.....
He stared at my face for what felt like an eternity. My heart thundered in my chest. My legs felt like jelly. The pressure was crushing — but I didn't back down. I kept my eyes locked on his.
I clenched my fists at my sides. My nails dug into my palms. The pain kept me grounded.
The Director's gaze was a blade. Sharp. Cutting right through me. He could feel every breath, every tremor.
But I didn't flinch.
"Kael," he said slowly, weighing each syllable. "You bribed the guards at the entrance. With your father. You think no one saw?"
He spoke in a strange tone, idly pushing chess pieces around the table — like a man about to start a game but not yet decided.
"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," I said, forcing a smirk. I clasped my hands behind my back — a pose of surrender, but really just hiding my trembling.
"Well, well, fine. But I cannot accept such a student. If the father is like that, what can you expect from the son?"
No. I have to get in. I have to become stronger. What do I do?
"Please forgive us for this," I said, lowering my head slightly. My voice cracked at the end.
Kneel. If you have to — kneel.
"No. Impossible."
I threw myself to the ground. I pressed my palms to the cold stone floor. My hair fell over my eyes. In a voice thick with feigned tears, I begged again:
"Please, Master Dzao… I'll do anything you say."
Was it real? Was it calculated? I didn't even know myself.
He turned away. Then glanced at me from the corner of his eye. He placed a hand on his chin, slowly stroking his beard.
"Hmm… good. At least you know how to stir pity," he said, with a flicker of curiosity.
He snapped his fingers.
Click.
A table appeared before us. On it, a chessboard — black and white pieces already set. The light on them was dim but sharp.
"Everyone, continue your work," he ordered.
Another snap.
Click.
A copy of himself materialized on a chair above — like his own shadow, identical in posture and form. He sat on that copy and looked at me.
"Well, Kael. Chess. Ever played? If you can beat me, I might let you in."
"I agree," I said, my voice hard.
I was a grandmaster in my past life. I've got this.
"Oh, the fool thinks he can win," scoffed the man on the left, arms crossed.
"If I were him, I'd just walk away," said another, shaking his head.
"Enough. Let him be," said Hanna. Her fingers traced delicate patterns on the table — like playing a piano.
"Yes, yes. We already know he has no chance. Master Dzao's chess is legendary," chimed in the thin man next to Hanna.
Are they trying to scare me? Hah. Dream on.
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The game began.
Dzao made the first move.
Wait. That opening is wrong… Is he doing it on purpose?
I answered. My hand trembled — but I held the piece firm.
Five minutes later.
No… this is a trap.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. I pressed my palm to the cold, sweaty table.
"What's wrong, Kael? You looked so confident a moment ago."
I said nothing. My jaw tightened.
Ten minutes later.
I scratched my head. Picked up a piece, put it down, picked it up again. My breathing quickened.
"You alright, Kael?"
"Yes, sir," I croaked.
Fifteen minutes later.
Cold sweat streamed down my forehead. My shirt clung to my back.
No…
This can't be.
I was a grandmaster in my past life.
But now…
I can't see a single move.
Dzao slid his next piece into place. His hand was soft, confident — as if he had been caressing those pieces since birth.
"Do you know who the most dangerous person in chess is, Kael?"
"Funny question. I don't know, sir."
Dzao made his final move.
"Checkmate."
He didn't even look up from the board.
"The one who thinks he's already won."
I stared at the board. The shadow of the piece was long, black, dead.
"To be honest, Kael, I didn't expect you to play that well. Maybe if we meet again someday — we'll play."
He paused. Tapped the table with his fingers.
"Yes, and one more thing…"
He lowered his voice to a whisper.
"The real reason I can't admit you… is because you're an unrecognized child between the Grenfort and Grimjaw families."
I froze.
My hands fell to the ground. My fingers scraped the stone.
"And therefore," he continued, "I cannot help you through legal means."
He raised his hand, pointed two fingers at his own eye, then turned them toward me.
"You're supposed to be an eight-year-old boy. But sometimes, you look at the world with the eyes of an old man."
The door burst open.
BANG!
"Where is the Director?!" shouted one of the supervisors, holding a notebook. His face was a mix of shock and impatience.
The teachers pointed to the corner.
Dzao rose. He lifted his hands from the armrests and walked slowly, deliberately, toward the supervisor. His steps made no sound.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Sir, you need to see this," the supervisor said, raising the notebook.
Dzao took it. Flipped through. His eyes scanned the lines.
"Yes, that's all. Go about your business."
The supervisor shot Kael a strange look — one second, two. Then he left.
Dzao returned to his chair.
"Well, what is it?" he said, opening it and flipping through. His eyes stopped on every word. Then he looked at me.
"Kael, you and I need to talk. Privately."
"I'm ready," I said.
Inside, there was nothing. Emptiness. Or fear. Or both.
---
Dzao snapped his fingers again.
Click.
A black shell surrounded us — a dome of dark material. It spun for a few seconds, slow and creaking, as if the world were rotating on its axis.
Then — it opened.
Light flooded my eyes.
The next moment, I was somewhere else entirely.
---
An endless white sky stretched to the horizon, merging with a sea of clouds.
We sat opposite a small round table on a high hill. The table's legs were white marble — smooth, cold.
Around us, thousands of white and blue flowers swayed gently in the wind. Their sweet scent filled the air — soft, sweet, like a fragment of childhood.
Sunlight fell on the flowers, making them seem cast from gold.
This place was nothing like the real world.
It felt like a meeting place for gods.
"Don't worry. This is my domain."
Dzao placed his hands on the table. His fingers were long, white, his bones visible beneath the skin. They were still. Then — he raised one finger.
Click.
A cup appeared before me. Inside, hot tea — steam swirling like a living thing.
He lifted the cup and took a sip. His eyelids lowered slightly — savoring.
"Well, in short, Kael. I cannot accept you."
He looked away. Far into the sea of clouds.
"Not through legal means, anyway."
—