Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 233

"Brilliant! That was a magnificent move!"

The tearoom was packed with spectators. Edmund couldn't hold back his excitement and shouted his praise.

Graham and Caspian, who had been chatting over tea, were immediately intrigued and walked over to the board. Alaric and Julian naturally stepped aside to give them a view.

The chess match was a bloodbath, an intensely gridlocked battle where both sides seemed perfectly matched.

At a glance, it looked like a brutal stalemate. But if one looked closer...

Caspian subtly glanced at Cyril.

Graham sucked in a sharp breath. As a lifelong chess fanatic, it only took him one glance to realize exactly what was happening.

This wasn't a fiercely fought stalemate. It was an orchestrated illusion.

Graham's expression twisted into disbelief as he stared at Cyril. This kid was actually playing a teaching game with his grandson?!

The casualty rate on both sides was mathematically identical. The board had been entirely cleared out until only three pieces remained, completely locking both kings into a defensive trap. Graham waved his hand. "Alright, that's enough. It's a draw."

Preston's expression was grim. Halfway through the game, he had realized he was being completely led by the nose. He tried every aggressive tactic in his arsenal to break the gridlock, but his opponent was like an abyss, swallowing every attack. Whenever Preston took a piece, Cyril would flawlessly calculate a counter and take one back.

It was an absolute, humiliating psychological domination. But what infuriated Preston the most was that this bastard had the audacity to claim he was 'self-taught'. Self-taught?! Was he born a grandmaster?

Seeing Preston preparing to initiate another round, Graham patted his shoulder firmly. "Preston, that's enough."

Fighting the overwhelming urge to flip the board, Preston controlled his breathing and slowly pulled his hand back.

"I lost."

Cyril's face remained composed, a harmless, gentle smile resting in his eyes. "I didn't win either. It's a draw."

In chess, the board dictates the victor, not verbal concessions.

Preston's eyes narrowed as he finally viewed the boy across from him as a genuine threat.

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