Yvette nodded, settling comfortably and raising her eyes impassively. "Okay."

Jeremiah was surprised. Given her personality—her aversion to trouble—this initiative was unusual. She must intensely dislike Robin. He hadn't even known she played chess. He set down his towel. "What made you decide to compete?"

Yvette propped her chin on her hand, her gaze downcast. Jeremiah could only see her flawless features and the alluring curve of her collarbone, half-shadowed and captivating.

She wiggled her toes, a lazy smile playing on her lips. "He's too ugly. I can't stand the sight of him."

Jeremiah chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. If Robin knew… he thought, he'd explode. "Yeah," he agreed, "he is pretty ugly."

News from Betrico Hospital confirmed permanent damage to Robin's leg—a devastating blow.

Jeremiah pushed open a secret door, heading for his bedroom. The three-minute journey felt interminable; his feet felt leaden.

Yvette watched his retreating back, a faint, enigmatic smile on her lips. "Jeremiah," she said slowly, "if you're walking that slowly, you might as well give up those legs."

He paused, turning with a softer gaze and a low, captivating voice. "It's fine. I still have a third leg."

Instantly, a coffee cup sailed from Yvette's direction, aimed at him. He caught it effortlessly.

Yvette wiggled her toes, giving him a slow, indifferent glance, remaining silent.

Jeremiah sighed, pushed open the secret door, and returned to his bedroom, a touch of loneliness and pity coloring his departure. The person on the sofa silently observed. His acting is too clumsy!

The long, lonely night, sleepless with an empty pillow, a young wife untouched… who could understand? Jeremiah finally understood.

After he left, Yvette logged back onto Black Gold. Robin had bombarded her with messages since her last logoff.

[Are you there?] [Why did you log off?] [Can you reveal how you’re going to kill this person?] [If possible, I’d prefer you assault her before killing her. Of course, I can tell you this woman is quite beautiful. I’m sure you’ll like her, Mr. Zola.] [Did you log off?] [I can add another 15 million dollars if you send me some pictures of her on her deathbed. How about it?]

Yvette's gaze sharpened. She typed: "Add 160 million dollars, and I’ll agree to what you said. A fool wouldn't take money when it's offered. Only idiots wouldn't make money!"

In his hospital room, Robin scoffed. What top-ranked assassin? Just a money-grubber. How do people glorify Zola so much? I knew it, no one is untouchable.

He gritted his teeth. "This Zola is as greedy as Kaiden. Fine, 160 million dollars. As long as Yvette is dead, I'll pay anything! This is most of my secret stash."

The Jenkins family's wealth was a façade; their finances had been declining for years. The 160 million came from Robin's shady dealings with the Steel Serpents. He'd spent nearly 200 million trying to kill Yvette.

He'd lost his mind. Yvette's death was all that mattered. The more gruesome, the better. After transferring the funds, he collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at a corner, his skin ghastly pale. He endured the pain, awaiting Dr. Ybaulla.

For the chess match the day after tomorrow, I'll compete personally. I will defeat the Clusian people and crush them completely. I'll show them what a real genius looks like! Not someone like Yvette, that savage woman. Ybaulla will always be number one!

On Friday, the media narrative shifted.

Morning news focused on the Clusia vs. Ybaulla chess match. Mainstream headlines remained restrained, reporting the schedule and confirming Robin's participation. Non-mainstream outlets, however, employed sensationalist headlines.

[After being released, Robin has been carefully recuperating and is confidently entering the chess exchange competition.] [Who will take the chess competition title? A surprise or a shock new national chess champion, Louis, has decided not to compete; another person will take part instead.] [Why hasn’t the Clusia chess competition’s participants been announced yet?]

Clusians spent their days online, debating fiercely on domestic and foreign websites. Robin's café incident had captivated global attention, igniting online discussions with festival-like fervor.

Early that morning, Andrew burst into the living room, brandishing fried spaghetti. "Yve, Jeremiah! Even the old ladies are talking about the chess match! It's everywhere!"

The spaghetti was Yvette's craving; otherwise, Andrew wouldn't have undertaken Charles's commission so enthusiastically. He even posted a picture to their group chat, boasting, Yve wants to eat it.

The group erupted. A bidding war ensued, with Jared ultimately winning the delivery rights for $660,000.

Andrew was delighted. He'd easily made $660,000. He knew clinging to Yvette's side ensured wealth. He placed the spaghetti before her. "Yvette, freshly made. Free, either way, hehe!"