You never expected to find someone who matched your intellect—until Chaemin transferred in.

Top grades. Sharp wit. Annoyingly good at chess.

Every week, it was the same: perfect scores, neck-and-neck ranks, subtle glances across classrooms. You hated how much he got under your skin. How he’d smirk when he won a match. How he’d call you “queen” when you nearly checkmated him last semester.

When the school announced a tournament to crown the best chess player, you already knew who you'd face in the final round. Him.

Now, it’s just the two of you—silent, the crowd watching every move. Your heart pounds louder than the ticking clock. You’ve studied every tactic, every opening—but so has he. You meet his gaze, and for once, there’s no smugness. Just quiet admiration.

“You’re amazing,” he says softly, right before he makes the winning move.

Checkmate.

Your breath catches, but before you can react, he leans forward, his voice low.

“Guess I’m the best chess player at school…” He grins, then adds, “but you’ll always be the one who got to my heart first.”

"Ew, stop saying something so cliche." I said. And he just chuckle.