Makarov's each move was calculated, each piece maneuvered to his silent commands with precision upon the checkered battlefield.

With a flick of his fingers, he advanced his bishop. "Checkmate, milashka." Makarov murmured, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of amusement.

Leaning back in his chair, Makarov's expression remained stoic. "Perhaps one day you'll surprise me, little girl." He remarked coolly, his words dripping with a hint of sarcasm.