A sardonic smile was on my lips as I watched a crowd gather around her, celebrating her victory. A part of it was the natural attention the winner receives. However, most were about the distaste of the other players.

My sudden burst of ability, knocking out many favorites out earlier than predicted, was hardly appreciated. However, it wasn't enough to earn all the dark gazes looking at me, happy with my loss. Normally, chess had a cozy, respectful community, and a dark horse victory would have been appreciated.

I was the exception. Whether my nickname, the assassin — a well-earned one — or my recently revealed identity as a football player, I stuck out like a sore thumb, making my eventual loss something to celebrate.

However, the sardonic nature of my smile was not about their angry gazes. No, it was about the loss I received. Or, more accurately, the failure of my Traits, preventing that loss.

If I ever needed a lesson that my Traits were not invincible, I had received it.

Still, even with the loss, it was not a bad day. Losing wasn't fun, of course, but the second place wasn't too bad, especially since top sixteen was my best result yet.

At least, my chess scholarship was safe.

So, I say on my seat, waiting for the reward ceremony, my surroundings noticeably empty.

Then, the boring part began. The reward ceremony started several long-winded speeches from the sports coordinator, the dean, and other officials, each boiling their self-importance as they mentioned their great help enabling this 'historic' event, before shifting to their other so-called achievements. None of them actually cared about the game, or the victory. They just wanted a platform with an intellectual reputation to sell their pointless victories.

We stayed in the background, scarcely more than decoration.

I would have loved to say that listeners were bored out of their minds, but there weren't many listeners in the first place. Most of the visitors were already gone, leaving a small crowd. More than a few local reporters were there, recording the speeches despite their disinterest.

They were clearly there as a favor, to write a few pieces trying to sell the intellectual reputation of Sunset College.

I wouldn't have been shocked if they were actually paid to be there, to write a fluff piece to celebrate the school.

During the third long-winded speech, my victorious opponent, no less bored than me, finally leaned toward me, and whispered.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have played that hard," she murmured. And the way her shoulders fell down told me that she wasn't just saying that. She was genuinely felt bad about winning.

"What are you feeling sorry for," I said, keeping my tone light. "That was an amazing game, and you did your best, but you were the better player. That simple."

"Really?" she said, sounding surprised. "Most guys don't like to lose to a girl, and with your…" she murmured, only to fade.

"With my reputation, you expected me to react badly, right?"

"Well," she said, blushing. "You have a sketchy reputation…"

I hit her with another crooked smile, earning a blush. Seduction Trait was really useful.

"I'm a competitor, and I'm doing my best to win. If intimidating my opponent is going to help me to that, I'm not going to ignore it. That doesn't mean I don't appreciate the amazing show you have put in. I don't always have the opportunity to play against grandmaster opponents."

"I'm not grandmaster yet," she murmured, though rather than the blush I was expecting, she looked sad, her gaze falling down, and she avoided talking to me.

Apparently, I had poked a wound.

"Why not?" I asked, curious. "You certainly have the ability to push for it."

She stayed silent for a moment while the sports coordinator started buzzing in the background, before a sigh escaped her mouth. "I can't," she murmured. "I don't have the luxury to play as much as I want."

It was certainly an interesting statement, but not because of her skills. She certainly had the skills to be a grandmaster, but that didn't necessarily make her playing full-time a good idea. Indeed, many grandmaster-level players chose to stop playing before they even reached their prime, for a very simple reason.

There was no money to be made in chess. Oh, top players made millions through tournament earnings and sponsorships, but that only applied a select bunch, maybe a few. Below them, maybe a couple of dozen players were able to make a meager living out of tournament winnings.

For other grandmasters, a couple of thousand dollars was the best they could make, forcing them to have full-time work, either tutoring other chess players, or other works.

Altogether, it was a terrible way of making a living, considering the amount of time, mental energy, and focus they had to waste.

I certainly wouldn't have bothered with it if it wasn't for the scholarship.

However, I doubted that it was the reason for my cute opponent, because, while her clothes were casual, making her look like she was just another student, I had managed to catch a glimpse into her bag while she was digging in for her phone, only to notice two things.

A platinum credit card that required a very hefty bank account to even qualify, and a room key from the most prestigious hotel of the city.

Together, it implied a certain amount of money, which made the income potential less of a deciding factor.

She clearly had a different reason. Normally, I would have respected her privacy, but, after the boring speeches, I wanted to distract myself. "Why?" I couldn't help but ask.

"I can get a bit too competitive," she admitted. "It's not a good quality."

"Says who," I answered. If there was one thing I despised, it was passive people, not putting the effort to do their best, to extract themselves out of the situation. Growing up in the streets, I had seen too many people that accepted their position in life, afraid of acting even when they literally had nothing to lose.

Maybe it wasn't completely fair. I had grown up in the streets, but I wasn't closed-minded enough to realize that some people had worse than me, occasionally much worse. And constant misfortune had a way of sapping people out of their potential.

"Says my family," she admitted. "They think it's … unseemly."

I shrugged, accepting her comment passively. I had no intention of intervening in her familial conflicts, especially since, clearly, said her family was rich.

Proper rich.

"Why don't you play more seriously?" she followed up. "You clearly have the skills, but you lack the depth of knowledge. I wouldn't be surprised if you can reach grandmaster level easily," she suggested. "Why are you wasting your time with a barbaric sport instead."

"There's no money to it," I said with a shrug. "If I can join a team, even just the practice squad, I will earn more than a thousand dollars a week during the season and the training camp, easily, and much more if I can make into the roster even as a backup."

Her expression turned stern at the moment. "Not everything is about money. Chess is a noble profession. I can't believe you compare it with such a barbaric activity just because it pays more."

I sighed, trying to bite my tongue to not to let her what I was actually thinking. "And then what?" I asked. "Dashing tournament to tournament, filling the rest of my time dealing with snot-nosed kids to earn a minimum wage?"

She said nothing, but her gaze told me that she was not convinced. Even more, I could see a dismissive shine behind them, like she was absolutely convinced of the superiority of her position, and everything I had told was garbage.

It was a gaze that managed to destroy all the goodwill she had managed to generate with her cuteness and attitude. I hated when people dismissed money when it was nothing, because the only people that could do it were the rich people, somehow believing that the thing that allowed them to do everything was nothing.

"Interesting, then why don't you put your mouth where your money is?" I challenged her, unable to hold my tongue.

"What do you mean?" she asked, shocked.

"Simple, you said that you're not playing more because you were concerned with your family's decisions. You're an adult. Just say them that you don't want to compromise your principles for money, find a part-time job to focus on your work, and focus on your chess career."

The shock on her beautiful face was simply beautiful. She opened her mouth, but she made no sound, her words lost, as she had never even considered that as a possibility. There was no way she would actually do that, of course, but still, it was amusing.

"Not everything is about money. Chess is a noble profession," I said, echoing her earlier words with a mocking tone. "I can't believe you are considering not to follow it just because of a simple thing like your family wealth."

"But…" she murmured, only for her words to fade.

Before I could dig deeper, the Dean invited the winner of the tournament for photos, ignoring me. Clearly, he decided that a beautiful girl was better for the pictures than a student of their own school, leaving me alone with my thoughts.