The Student Council room grew heavy with silence as the chessboard was set between them. Riser sat opposite Sona, his posture relaxed yet radiating pressure, as though the match had already begun the moment he walked through the door.
Sona adjusted her glasses, her gaze steady. "You understand, Phenex, that if you lose, you will not ask me again."
Riser smirked. "Of course. If I can't even win here, I don't deserve to claim you. A king who cannot triumph on the board cannot hope to stand beside the Queen of Chess."
The first moves came quick. Sona opened with precision, her bishops cutting diagonals like blades of calculation. Riser's fingers hovered before he moved his knight forward—not recklessly, but aggressively, like a warrior testing the waters of battle.
"You play like a general," Sona remarked quietly. "Direct, forceful, always pressing."
Riser chuckled. "And you play like a queen—sharp, graceful, always keeping the king where you want him." His golden eyes glimmered. "It suits you, Sitri."
Her peerage looked at one another, stunned at the banter, but neither player faltered.
As the match unfolded, Riser leaned back slightly, watching her with something more than a competitor's eye. "You know," he said casually, "I made my decision before walking in here."
"Oh?" Sona asked, moving her rook to cut off his advancing pawn.
"Yes." His gaze sharpened. "After realizing that I like you… a little. You know?"
The words made Sona pause for just half a second—an opening Riser immediately exploited, sliding his knight forward to pressure her bishop.
"You… like me?" she repeated, carefully neutral.
He smirked. "Don't look so surprised. The way you carry yourself, Sitri—it attracts me. You stand tall, like a true devil noblewoman. Independent. Steady. Unshaken by the petty games others play. That is what I want at my side."
His rook captured one of her pawns with a decisive clack.
"You're beautiful, of course," he added lightly, "but beauty is common. What's rare is someone who dares to have dreams, someone who works for them. Someone who isn't just another vase in the gallery of nobility."
Sona's lips tightened, though her eyes flickered faintly. "Flattery will not win you this game, Phenex."
Riser leaned forward, his voice lowering to a smooth, teasing tone. "Who said it was flattery? It's truth. I've seen countless women throw themselves at me—yet here I am, choosing you. Not because of your clan, not because of status—but because I want you, Sona Sitri."
The board clashed again, queens cutting across the ranks. Every exchange was tense. Sona's strategies boxed him in, but Riser kept breaking out with unorthodox counters, like a martial artist refusing to bow to formality.
Her peerage watched in awe. Few opponents lasted this long against their King.
At one point, Sona leaned in slightly, studying the board. "You speak boldly. But is this truly serious for you—or just another game?"
Riser's smile faded into something harder, sharper. He met her eyes directly, his will pouring through. The pressure of his Conqueror's spirit made the room heavier, and even Sona felt it—though she refused to flinch.
"I don't waste my time on games, Sitri," he said with cold sincerity. "If I say I want you, it's because I mean it. I could have come here and played along with the Gremory farce. I didn't. I came to you, because I choose you."
His knight cornered her queen. His bishop cut across, forcing her hand. For the first time in years, Sona felt herself pressed not just intellectually, but personally.
"I am serious," Riser said, his golden eyes never leaving hers. "I want you—no one else. Not Rias. Not any other noble girl paraded before me. You, and only you, Sona Sitri."
The room was silent except for the sound of pieces striking the board. The weight of his words lingered heavier than any move.
Sona's hand hesitated over her queen before she steadied it again. She pushed forward, her voice calm, but her eyes betraying the faintest flicker of turmoil.
"…Then prove it, Phenex. Show me through victory."
Riser smirked once more, his flames flickering faintly around him, his Haki pressing like a storm.
"Gladly."
The chessboard had become their battlefield—and the first true spark between them was lit.