Yvette walked to the stage and sat, ignoring Robin across from her. She glanced at the black pieces and curled her lips. “Black clothes and black pieces, quite a match!”
The media instantly captured her smile and uploaded it online, knowing her image generated significant traffic. Yvette's fans reacted immediately, flooding the internet. Her relaxed posture—long legs slightly bent—projected an air of casual confidence.
Robin gritted his teeth. "This woman can really act. Wait till I see how I crush her!"
Meanwhile, Braydon, in the Goodman family home, watched the live broadcast, his brow furrowed. "Just a little longer," he muttered. "I'll be free from Matthew soon. Then I'll find the instructor; I'll get him back, no matter what. We'll be together! I won't allow the instructor's ashes to be with anyone else, only with me."
At Mysonna Medical Lab, Silas rejected all experiments, fixated on Yvette's broadcast. He was surprised to learn of her Interpol affiliation. "If this keeps up, my lab will get no recognition. Imagine being stuck here until eighty! I have to regain control!"
In Betrico, James and Michael watched the broadcast on TV. "My granddaughter's a physics genius and first-class Interpol," James exclaimed proudly.
At the chess competition, Yvette and Robin sat opposite each other, their contrasting demeanors evident. Before the match began, Robin had already lost the initiative. Chess is a battle of minds, and a chaotic mind leads to a flawed strategy. Yvette's powerful aura completely suppressed him.
Robin, a chess master, recognized this psychological shift. He forced himself to calm down, but his trembling hand betrayed his nerves. The previous day's events had left a lasting impact.
Yvette offered a faint glance, a slight smile playing on her lips.
The audience murmured, questioning her sudden laughter. Jeremiah, however, understood. "She clearly isn't taking him seriously," he observed.
At ten past the hour, the match began. The banquet hall fell silent; even online viewers held their breath. This highly anticipated match had arrived. Could Yvette uphold Clusia's honor?
Robin took the white pieces, Yvette the black. Black moved first. Yvette casually placed her first piece.
Robin observed her move skeptically. "Why isn't she playing normally? This loses the initiative. Can she even play chess?" He placed his white piece, aiming for an aggressive, controlling strategy.
The match progressed rapidly. While Robin pondered each move, Yvette played with seeming nonchalance.
As time passed, Robin felt his options narrowing. This, however, was a deliberate illusion, a trap to catch Yvette off guard.
Chess experts among the audience offered their analyses. Jase, sipping coffee, told Clifford, "Robin's luring her. If this continues, the game is lost."
Clifford, less experienced, murmured, "Dad, Robin's skilled. This is hard for her to win."
Jeremiah, his voice hoarse, countered, "She's using his methods against him." His gaze remained fixed on Yvette.
Jase and Clifford, stunned at first, then understood. They saw the subtle counterplay, Yvette gradually dismantling Robin's strategy. "Her mind is terrifying," they agreed.
Robin felt confident. "Three more moves," he thought, "and I'll sweep in." His eyes burned with hatred.
Yvette casually placed another piece. Robin, still misunderstanding her strategy, felt no real advantage.
Ten minutes later, Yvette rested her chin on her hand, observing the tense board.
Robin's confidence crumbled. The black pieces had formed an unseen siege. He made a move, his eyes fixed on Yvette, desperate to win before she understood his intentions.
In the audience, Kaiden, seated beside Charles, asked sharply, "Who do you think will win, the instructor or Robin?"
Charles remained silent, irritated by Kaiden's proximity. He remembered Kaiden's past misdeeds, including using children to further his ambition as the instructor's apprentice—an ambition that resulted in the loss of one of Kaiden's fingers.