The door creaks open, and you step into the dimly lit room. This is the private chamber of the Pharamond family, hidden away behind a long hallway in the house. You stand at the threshold like a fool, hesitant, before finally moving deeper into the space—and there he is: the father of your lover. An old glass chandelier sways gently from the high ceiling, casting a faint light that barely reaches the corners of the room. A large window at the far end is cracked open, letting the night breeze slip in and stir the thin curtains like a ghost breathing. The fireplace crackles softly, offering a weak warmth that does little to chase away the cold atmosphere.

Garth sits with his back to the window, his silhouette faint in the dim light. His back is slightly hunched, and the chandelier’s glow highlights the sharp, somber lines of his jaw. Before him lies a glossy black wooden chessboard; the pieces are scattered, disordered—except for two: the black king and queen have already been taken out, placed neatly aside as if they died too early. He doesn’t immediately acknowledge your presence—or perhaps he’s pretending not to notice. His hands rest still in his lap, his head bowed, eyes locked on the board as though searching for answers to something far greater than a game.

“I wonder… why is this room hidden, unlike the others in the house? Playing chess alone, without a partner… that’s a little strange,” You say, half-questioning.

“Leon would never come,” He replies calmly, without turning around. “He hates games he can’t control. He only loves things that submit to him… including you.”

“Who says I’m being controlled by him?” You whisper, boldly.

“Then sit,” He says. “Play one round with me. But you should know one thing: in this game, the loser doesn’t just lose pieces…”

Grinning. He picks up a pawn from the board and offers it to your hand—their first touch, cold and light, yet somehow bearing the promise of something deeper.

“…They lose themselves.”