Chess is more than a game. It is a mirror in which our world is reflected: struggle and strategy, order and chaos, intuition and calculation. Every game is a small life, full of decisions, risks, mistakes, and victories.
On the chessboard, as in life, it is important to see several steps ahead. To endure when everything is against you. To find unconventional moves when it seems there is no way out. To admit mistakes, learn from defeats, and move forward with renewed strength.
It opens doors — to self-discovery, to freedom of thought, to infinite growth. It gives you a chance to look inside yourself and see who you can become. And if you can win on 64 squares, you can win in life as well.
It had been four years since Fischer left the board. I was twenty-eight now. It was 1979.
How quickly time flies, I thought with a smile.
Over these years, I have become much stronger. Tournaments? I won them easily. But really — what else could anyone expect from me?
I am the Emperor of the Chessboard.
As I already said, this game opens all the doors of the world before you. With each passing year, I expanded my influence, made more and more diverse connections and acquaintances.
Even a man named Grey Mole, the most powerful criminal authority in our world, turned his attention to me.
At first, we just met. We talked to each other out of curiosity. But over time, he became my first friend.
He opened before me the doors to the most dangerous and secret organization on the planet — Mangulat.
He was its leader. Seeing my talents — not only in chess tactics and strategy, but also in real games of power and influence — he made me Co-leader.
Now I am the second person in the most wanted criminal structure in the world. Of course, no one knew about it. Not even my dear mom. If she found out the truth — she would be terribly disappointed... and I really wouldn't want that.
Mahaha… It's just ridiculous. I stand at the top of this pathetic world.
And just six years ago I was a nobody. Empty. Without a goal. Without ambition. Without a will of my own.
Gert Keller, the so-called "world champion," hadn't played any single official match in four years.
And honestly, who's surprised? Mediocrity always fears the light. He was handed the title — and disappeared to avoid the disgrace.
But now… In two days, we will face each other.
For the first time over the board. The match between me and the plebeian who spent four years humiliating the title with silence.
At last, the world will witness what I've always known: he is nothing. And I am everything.
Mahaha... I will crush him as the God crushes a turtle.
I stepped out of the building where I had just won the final qualifying match.
Outside — a sea of flashing lights and
microphones. Voices, faces, tension in the air.
A young journalist pushed her way forward — confident, charming, with fire in her eyes.
Acting like the queen of the press.
Of course, she came for one thing:
To interview the future world champion.
Her voice reaches me, poised but eager:
"Um... Excuse me, could you give us a moment of your time?" she asked.
Right now, I have no desire to answer any banal questions from the press.
"Well… I will answer just one of your questions." — I replied with a cold smile.
She should understand that even if I answer just one of her questions — it would be an honor for her.
I hope she asks something worthwhile — something that's actually worth my time here.
"Mr. Nobell, could you share a few words about your upcoming match with Mr. Keller?"
Argh, Silly. You gave me such a banal question.
She and everyone else already know what my answer would be. Probably only a hermit in the mountains hasn't heard about my hatred for him.
A complete waste of time.
She and her press are probably trying to provoke me, just to hype things up and grab a piece of the fame.
Well then, you want a show — I'll give you one.
I look at her, a slow smile touching my lips.
She handed me the microphone.
The crowd fell silent and focused its attention on me.
"Ahem! Hey there, my dear chess fans! My name is Angelo Nobell. In the chess world, people call me the Emperor of Chessboard. In just a couple of days, my game for the chess crown begins. Honestly, I'd call it more like baby beating. The whole world already knows who the next champion will be..."
Hearing that, the crowd went completely silent. Looks like my speech got them intrigued.
Smirking, I kept on speaking.
"Let me say it clearly and without explanations: the plebeian is not equal to an Emperor."
A murmur cuts through the crowd — then a voice, loud, emotional, from somewhere behind the cameras:
"Hey! You're full of yourself! Talent or not, you have no right to speak about him with such disrespect!"
I spotted in the crowd a man who had dared to bark at me.
"Huh? And who are you, plebeian, to interrupt my speech? The pathetic player has pathetic fans."
It seems my words made him a little angry.
"Hey wunderkind! One day… your arrogance will be your downfall!" he said angrily, pointing his finger at me.
"Oh, really? How amusing... Many pawns have told me the same. But as you can see — I'm at the top. And you, pathetic plebeian, can only look up at it."
His face twisted with rage after my words.
"No one ever taught you respect, huh? Maybe it's time someone did." he snapped angrily, clearly hinting he was ready to use force.
"Mahaha… Try it if you got the balls."
Let him dare touch me. I'll crush this pathetic being into dust.
I'm not a martial arts expert, sure, but I do have some skills.
And I think they'll be more than enough to smash his face in.
But luckily for him, the one standing next to him — probably his friend — stopped him in time.
"Hey Andrew! What are you doing? We don't need any trouble."
Hearing that, this plebeian realized he had crossed the line. But even so, because of his stubbornness, he still didn't want to back down.
"B-but he..."
He began, but his friend cut him off:
"Forget it! Let's go! You see — the press is here, and a ton of people. Many of them are his fans, by the way! Better we leave before it gets worse!"
"Damn it!!!"
He listened. And they both left — disappeared from my sight, dissolving into the crowd.
This Silly finally decided to join the conversation — and from what I could tell, she was looking for a bit of trouble.
"How awful! Mr. Nobell, your words are a clear insult — not just to your fans, but to the game of chess itself!"
The crowd slowly began to murmur in agreement, their disapproval turning toward me.
So that's how she thanked me for giving her my precious time.
I immediately understood what she was after.
Silly… Do you even realize the price you'll pay for provoking me?
"Huh… Me? Disrespectful? Don't make me laugh."
She actually dared to go against me. She's clearly out of mind.
Lol. Looks like she doesn't even realize the price she'll have to pay for this provocation.
I thought, and continued speaking:
"Mahaha… I'd love to see someone who could bring me — the Emperor of Chessboard — down to earth. Maybe your beloved Keller? He's just as pathetic as the rest of you."
Upon hearing that, most of the crowd was furious. But there was also a part that looked at me with admiration.
There will always be those who love you and those who hate you. Even Jesus Christ was no exception.
Then I shifted my attention to this silly journalist and began speaking a bit more quietly — so that only she and the members of her press could hear me.
"Hey, Silly… I'd advise you not to stand in my way. I'll grind you and your press company into the dirt."
Hearing my words, I saw a flicker of anger in her eyes — as if she was ready to tear me apart right then and there. But that's not my fault. You were the one who tried to provoke me first.
After that, I raised my voice so everyone could hear — snatching the microphone from her hands.
That only irritated her even more.
I even heard her quietly mutter, "Idiot... How dare you talk to me like that?"
Mahaha! Gotta admit, this girl is as brave as a bull — but unfortunately, she's got just as many brains.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'll say this for the last time! The only person who could've given me a real challenge was Fischer. But unfortunately, he left the arena," — I said with the same proud, theatrical look in my eyes.
And then it happened — just as I expected.
A moment later silly girl snapped.
"Disgusting! I knew you liked acting like a jerk with everyone… but I didn't think you'd be this rude even to a woman. How I regret ever approaching you," she said with a hint of irritation in her voice.
Huh? Regret ever approaching me?
Lmao... She has no idea how much I regret it — wasting my time here because of her.
A silly journalist who loses her composure over petty jabs and remarks is pathetic.
Ah… women are such impulsive creatures.
I stepped closer, leaned toward her ear, and whispered.
"Listen to me, Silly — I believe in gender equality. I'm not just capable of being rude… I can do something far more painful."
After I finished speaking, she shoved me away furiously.
"H-hey you! No one has ever talked to me this rudely before…" — she said out loud, nearly grinding her teeth.
Lol, it's obvious this silly girl is still green. She hasn't fully faced this cruel world yet. Today, I'll give her the first free lesson.
"Mahaha! Get used to it... This is reality. Not everyone's going to like you just because of your pretty eyes."
I delivered those words theatrically, using expressive gestures — as if I were performing a play right in front of her.
"Ugh! No wonder an idiot like you doesn't have a girlfriend.
She blurted out, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and embarrassment.bIt was the kind of outburst that comes when pride is wounded — loud, emotional, and just barely holding back tears.
She wanted to get under my skin with those words?
Mahaha... How amusing.
If that's the case — then here's your payback, silly.
"A girlfriend? Why would I need one?"
I smirked.
"I'd rather live my whole life in solitude, peace… and pleasure, than with someone like you — a silly with breasts instead of brains. No woman in this world is worthy of me."
I said it provocatively.
"Hey, stop calling me Silly! My name is Rachel." she snapped, clearly irritated.
I looked at her twisted, ridiculous face.
"Silly, Silly, Silly, Silly, Silly... Miss Rachel, if you don't mind, I might just say it a hundred times more. Mahaha!"
And, as I expected — the explosion wasn't long in coming.
"Y-you, you jerk! You're dead… I'll kill you!" she hissed through clenched teeth and swung her hand out in a sudden strike.
Her palm was already close to my face — just a bit more, and she would've struck me.
But, to her luck, a middle-aged man standing next to her stopped her hand with a swift motion, right in front of my face. That was close.
Mahaha… that could've been my first slap from a woman.
It seems like this man is her coworker.
"Miss. Gartner... You're a journalist. You have no right to act impulsively. Don't fall for such cheap provocations. His words aren't a bluff. This man has a lot of influence and support. If he really wants to, he truly can grind our press into the dirt. It's better to back off for now."
Oh, so her name is Rachel Gartner. I'll keep that in mind. Something tells me… this won't be our last meeting.
"No way! Mr. Kluger, I can't just let it go!" she said, unwilling to back down.
Seeing that his words didn't convince her, he decided to continue.
"Besides, the crowd is watching us, and many are already displeased with your unprofessional… behavior. If this continues, your career might be in jeopardy."
His rational arguments did reach her after all.
"Hmph, fine, I'll listen to you and let this cockroach go."
She muttered with defeat on her face, pointing at me with her finger — hinting that she was letting me go just this once.
Cockroach? How amusing.
Mahaha... I got new nickname.
Some people in the crowd heard it, and a few smiles appeared on their faces.
I wondered what exactly made them laugh — was it the fact that she's a journalist who can't control her emotions, or was it because she called me a cockroach?
She was stopped. But her eyes still burned with fury — yet she obeyed.
This man stands above her in the hierarchy — perhaps her chief.
Mahaha... This Silly doesn't dare to defy him.
A pawn does not go against the will of the king.
To be honest, it no longer matters whether she stops or not — she'll have to pay a high price anyway for her rudeness and unprofessional behavior.
After putting her in her place, he walked toward me — stopping about four meters away — and said:
"Good evening! My name is Peter Kluger. Mr. Nobell, please accept my apologies on behalf of my subordinate and the press for their disrespect."
He said apologetically, lowering his head.
Hypocrite.
If he really felt sorry — he would've stopped her earlier.
But he didn't. Probably because he, in his own way, was waiting for a show too.
Just sat there, watching. Enjoying it.
To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one who put this Silly up to provoking me.
And then… the girl went too far. Things got heated — and he jumped in, acted all noble, apologized.
That's what these people are like...
Deceitful. Selfish. Slimy.
They don't act out of principle — they act out of fear.
Not for justice — but just to keep their hands clean.
Mahaha… Not a bad show they gave me.
I'll forgive their insolence this time — I don't have the time today to put themr in their place. I have somewhere to be.
I simply smirked at his hypocritical apology.
I said nothing more. The crowd parted before me like the sea before Moses. I got into the car and drove away.