“Before we start, can you promise me something?” she asked, teeth chewing on her bottom lip. Dead skin already started to peel off.

  “Depends on what you want me to promise.”

  “No mercy. No pity. Play seriously against me.”

  He gulped, silently scrutinizing her sorrowful expression. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t refuse to make a promise of this type. It would be a no-brainer to respect her wish in order to not strip her of her honor as an opponent.

  Too bad their situation couldn’t be considered normal in the slightest. As much as the professional chess player in him would like to agree with her demand, this was simply different.

  “Please. I want it to be fair and square,” she insisted after he didn’t answer, almost begging him.

  Ever since she was little, she knew how she could innervate his empathy by exploiting her puppy-eyed expression to get anything she wanted. Not only did it work on him, it had also worked on their parents when they were still alive.

  He just silently nodded in defeat, “I’ll give it my all.”

  In pursuit of one of the most aggressive techniques to start a game of chess – the King’s Gambit - he took the white pawn and executed his opening move, placing the small figure on E4.

  Just like he had expected, his sister replied with sending her pawn into a head-on battle with his own.

  Black pawn. E 5.

  Thanks to yearslong experience, he had the strategy engraved in his brain. Practice had made it easy to memorize and muscle memory executed his plan ultimately. Immediately, he shoved the pawn to its new destination.

  Another white pawn. F4.

  His sister’s moves slowed down tremendously. Moments passed where she spent the time with burying her face in her hands. He observed how her tired eyes danced left and right across the board in between the gaps of her fingers, probably thinking of what would the next smart play. Waiting a bit before one’s opponent made the next move was considered normal when playing chess, but she took a moment longer than usual. Despite having played against him a few times in the past, she was an amateur and it was painfully obvious.

  “Do you need help with remembering the figures movements?” he asked carefully.

  Embarrassed, she nodded.

  “Pawns can attack diagonally if another figure is in front of it, right?” she whispered in shame, the question as audible as a breath.

  Her struggle was real, which teased a slight awkward chuckle out of him. Voice soft and laced with affection, he confirmed, “Yes, go ahead.”

  Few moments passed, his eyes focused on the board in front of him, anticipating her next play.

  “So this means I can …” Hesitantly, she moved her piece across the board, the figure scraping slowly against the wood.

  Another black pawn. F4.

  His eyes widened. It had worked. She took the bait and copied his moves, which resulted in her capturing the decoy pawn he previously had placed on F4. Now he would -

  A gurgling sound made him prick up his ears. Someone’s stomach had growled and it for sure wasn’t his, despite his hunger, which ate away at his ability to concentrate properly. He looked up to meet the gaze of his sister, face flushed red with embarrassment, mumbling a tiny “Sorry.” In a swift motion, her hand slid to her stomach in an attempt to calm down the painful rumbles – to no avail.

  Smiling, he shook his head. He couldn’t blame her in their state. “No need to apologize.”

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, lips pressed together tightly, while she removed the white pawn from the board to place it on the side. Impatiently, she nodded towards the chess board, her message clear.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  His turn. For his plan to succeed, he’d have to keep playing defense.

  White knight. F3.

  “Come to think of it, I think I faintly remember this strategy of yours when I watched some of your tournaments ...”

  His sister retorted, this time with more confidence after having successfully claimed one of his pawns as her own.

  Black pawn. G5.

  He suppressed a cough. She was inexperienced, of course she wouldn’t know that just moving her pawns into the front of the battlefield would weaken the back.

  “Yes, you’re correct. It’s a pretty aggressive opening move,” the older brother explained. “Since you asked me to give it my all,” he added, a bit more quiet this time.

  Despite his concentration waning, he had already pulled off the King’s Gambit successfully. In silence, he prayed his next scheme would do just as well as his first.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” she answered, pulling her blanket closer to her body, the smile on her lips genuine.

  The look of defeat was written all over her face and contrary to what she felt, she showed him the happiest smile as a mask to hide her own pain. He knew she would be truthfully glad to lose this game. Keeping that in the back of his mind, his next move made it even harder for him to continue. For a moment, he questioned and doubted the decision he had made at the very start of this chess game, but remembering what was at stake, he moved his hands with determination.

  They played for what felt like an eternity. In a battle of wits, he had the upper hand and after an hour, his brilliant scheming had finally paid off. Satisfied, he watched her reaction.

  “How could it have come to this? What the -”

  His sister buried her face in her hands, looking at the game board in disbelief. She was about to beat him. Just how? Her brother was a professional chess player and here she was, an absolute rookie, defeating him at his own expertise. Her figures circled his white king with no option left to avoid defeat.

  “You have to say it,” he urged.

  “Don’t force me to,” she refused, now hissing in complete panic, “If I say it, you’ll-”

  “Say it,” he demanded, his voice more fierce and raspier this time, “Please.”

  If she did like he told her to, she would emerge victorious and get the prize. If she didn’t follow suit, they’d have to keep playing until hell froze over. Personally, she’d rather take the latter, but her brother would never let it happen. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. No other choice left, she inhaled deeply, her rib cage and lungs bursting painfully with air, while maintaining eye contact with her brother.

  “… Checkmate,” she croaked and furiously put her figure down to seal her victory. His king was caught, his battle lost.

  “I lost,” he laughed happily, running his fingers through his hair. As he leaned back in his creaking chair, immense relief exited his body abruptly. The tension that had taken a hold on him vanished into nothingness.

  It had worked. Everything had went according to plan.

  The little sister banged her fist on the table, causing the figures to fall over with scattered thuds. Only the white king and the black queen remained standing.

  “I told you to play seriously, goddamn!”

  On the brink of tears, she bit her lower lip, hard. “You went easy on me, you idiot,” she cursed, only realizing now what he had been doing all game, “I told you to play serious! You deceived me with that opening move of yours, so I would -”

  “We agreed that the winner gets it, right?” he asked, a faint smile ridden with guilt on his lips. Slowly, he bent down to reach for the prize hidden in the drawer.

  “I don’t want it.”

  Gulping and teary-eyed, she just shook her head, mouthing for him to stop. In one motion, he put the black metal down on the middle of the table, which his sister only eyed with pure horror.

  “Don’t even-”

  “This gun is yours, dear sister,” he stated, now without regrets, almost triumphant, “You’re gonna be the sibling who shoots themself.”