Twenty men stepped forw
Victoria glanced at them . "Here's how it works: each gambler picks their GM. Tal is already taken by me—he isn't a grandmaster, so his chances are moderate at best. The highest amount you can stake is fifty thousand dollars.
The men murmured among themselves. "Fifty thousand?!
Victoria continued, unfazed. "First place gets paid by everyone from second to last, based on the amount they staked on their GM. For example, if Tal has the highest win and I placed fifty thousand dollars on him, everyone from second place down to last pays me—fifty thousand dollars each.
The men nodded, acknowledging it as a surprisingly favorable deal.
Victoria didn't pause. "This system applies for the second-highest finisher down to second-to-last. Only the last-place finisher loses significantly."
Her gaze swept the assembled gamblers. "Clear?"
Heads nodded. The stakes were set. The game—and the gamble—was about to begin.Extra rules were handed to each player and gambler. Eyes scanned the fine print, some frowning, others smirking.
Then, without another word, the game began.
Tal opened with 1. e4.
His opponent replied instantly: …c5.
The Sicilian Defe
The first moves flew across the board—each under five seconds.
Nf3 Nc6
Bb5 e6
Nc3 Ne7
d4 cxd4
Nf3xd4 cxd4
Qxd4 Nc6
Qe3 a6
Bxc6 bxc6
The position exploded open.
Bot players leaned forward.
Eyes locked on the board.
Calculating. Anticipating. Recalculating.
The blistering opening pace slowed into a tense middlegame.
Moments later,Tal glanced at the clock.
he had 38 seconds.
His opponent: 43 seconds.
Speed returned.
Material imbalance:
Tal — Knight and Bishop.
Opponent — Rook
A dynamic imbalance. Pure calculation now.
Time:
19 – 13 seconds, Tal ahead.
Then—
Tal blundered his bishop.
Time 13.5 – 11.2seconds.
The tempo increased violently. The clock's ticking grew louder than the spectators. Pieces slammed down.
4.7 – 3.8.
2.4 – 2.1.
His opponent suddenly accelerated.
1.8 – 2.1 — now Tal behind.
Tal leaned in. No hesitation.
1.2 – 1.7.
He shoved a pawn forward — check.
0.9 – 1.0.
His opponent responded instantly.
Check.
Another check.
The rook slid beside Tal's king like a blade.
0.0 – 0.6.
Flag.
Tal loses.
They shook hands.
Tal stood up, pushed his chair in quietly, and walked away.
I had that game, he thought.
I was just too slow.
"Oliver Tal."
Victoria's voice cut through the noise.
Tal stopped. Turned.
"Going somewhere?"
"Just to grab a drink," Tal replied calmly.
She studied him for a second… then stepped forward.
"Good. I'll join you."
They walked side by side toward the house, the hum of post-game chatter fading behind them.
After a moment, she spoke.
"So, Oliver Tal… any questions?"
"No."
She raised an eyebrow. "That's strange."
"Is it?"
"You're not curious how I knew who you were?"
Tal glanced at her. "You watched over me. That's what you revealed—in summary.
She smiled slowly.
"Mmm. That's romantic."
Tal frowned slightly. "What?"
"What you just said," she replied.
Tal stopped walking.
He said evenly, "I'm saying you're a stalker."
She blinked. "Oh my… what a rude way to say you hate someone."
"I don't hate you."
"Then you love me?"
"No."
"So you don't hate me… and you don't love me."
He hesitated. "There's a third option."
"Like."
"…I might."
She smiled slowly. "That's a good start for a healthy relationship."
They arrived at the entrance of the house.
"Could you wait outside for a moment?" Tal said. "I'll grab the drinks."
Victoria stopped walking.
"Oliver Tal… are you saying I'm embarrassing?"
"No—no," Tal replied impulsively. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
He hesitated. "I just don't want people looking at us."
"Together?" she added, one eyebrow lifting.
"…Something like that."
She stepped closer, studying him.
"Doesn't that suggest we're good-looking?"
"Please," Tal said, a note of impatience in his voice. "Just stay here. I don't have time for this—besides, I've got a prize to win."
"That's true," Victoria said with a nod. "You go inside alone… and I'll head back. If I get there before you, I'll call off the tournament."
"You can't do that… can you?" Tal asked, incredulous.
Victoria smirked, eyes glinting. "Try me."
She started walking fast.
Tal didn't hesitate. He rushed in, grabbing two bottles of wine.
"Tal! Where have you been?
He froze, caught mid-stride.
"I thought you left the party," she said.
"I didn't… I just—can't talk now. We'll talk later."
Before she could respond, Tal raced out of the house, clutching the bottles.
Freya stepped outside, curiosity turning to unease. Why was Tal in such a hurry?
Panting, Tal finally caught up to Victoria
"That was quick," she said, grabbing one bottle and continuing to walk.
Freya's eyes narrowed, unease growing. She's… beautiful, Freya thought. Who is she? Who invited her here? And why… why is she wearing Tal's suit jacket?
A voice behind her answered smoothly.
"Seems you admire Tal… and his new friend."
Freya snapped around. Ethan.
"Stop invading my privacy.
"Privacy?" He raised an eyebrow. "You mean secretly staring at Tal and his new girlfriend?"
"What girlfriend?" Freya's voice sharpened. "What are you talking about?"
"You know," he smirked, "girl close to guy… guy close to girl."
"She wishes," Freya muttered.
Ethan studied her. "Why do you feel threatened.
"I am not threatened," she shot back. "Why would I be? And stop with your creepy, nasty jokes."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice theatrically.
"Oh, Freya… do you know what a glass filled with wine is called?"
She stared at him blankly.
"A wine-of-glass." He burst into laughter at his own joke.
Freya didn't smile.
" not funny."
She shoved past him and stormed inside.
The music was still playing. People were laughing, unaware.
Freya walked straight to the center of the hall and grabbed the microphone.
The feedback screeched.
Everyone turned.
"Party's over," she announced coldly. "Pack your luggage. Fast."
The room fell silent.
One by one, confusion turned into obedience.
Within minutes, the laughter was gone.
Guests began leaving the house in clusters, murmuring to one another. Tal noticed the shift immediately. The air felt different — thinner.
Victoria calmly handed her drink to Tal.
"I'll handle this one," she said.
She moved toward the guests heading for the door.
"Where are you going?" she called out smoothly. "The party isn't over."
They responded — different excuses, different tones — but Victoria didn't let their words settle. She stepped forward, her voice steady.
"There's a tournament going on."
That changed everything.
Some paused. Some turned back. A few left anyway.
But the chess arena began to fill.
The room tightened with anticipation. Conversations lowered. Pieces clicked against boards. Heat built in the air — not from temperature, but from tension.
Two hours passed.
Now it was the final phase.
Tal already had two wins from the blitz stage — a brutal three hours and thirty minutes, over fifty-four games in total. The grandmasters had pushed him there. Tested him.
But this was different.
The second phase was an hour and forty -five minutes bullet gauntlet - thirty second per game.
Tal stepped in drunk.
And dominated.
Six straight wins.
The GMs started exchanging looks. Concern replaced amusement. Tal wasn't just playing fast — he was playing viciously. Tricks. Premoves. Psychological traps. He was dragging them into chaos and thriving in it.
Meanwhile, Victoria was calculating.
Minimum projection: five hundred thousand dollars.
She smiled to herself.
Adding bullet to the format had been genius. In blitz, the GMs might outclass Tal in pure structure and depth — but bullet?
Bullet was Tal's territory.
Even if he slipped early, recovery would come.
But he didn't slip.
Six more wins.
Twelve in a row.
Tal became the first player to successfully run the gauntlet.
Some victories weren't just wins — they were statements:
14 seconds to 0
0.1 seconds to 0.
1.2 seconds to 0.
He broke them on time.
Round thirteen, he finally lost.
It didn't matter.
Victoria leaned back, satisfied.
Three hours of waiting had not been wasted.
The tournament finally came to an end. Screens dimmed. Pieces reset. The restless murmurs of spectators turned into a thick silence of anticipation.
Then it appeared—
A glowing list.
The highest winners.
Their names ranked coldly beside the sum of their blitz + bullet victories.
🏆 Final Standings (Total Wins)
GM Boris – 9 + 8 = 17
GM Morphy – 7 + 9 = 16
GM Wesley – 4 + 11 = 15
GM Vincent – 7 + 8 = 15
GM Nordirbek – 6 + 8 = 14
Oliver Tal – 2 + 12 = 14
GM Carl– 3 + 5 = 8
GM Nathan– 5 + 1 = 6
GM Daniel – 3 + 3 = 6
GM Garrick – 2 + 3 = 5
GM Gaurel – 1 + 4 = 5
GM joe – 2 + 2 = 4
GM Kelly – 3 + 0 = 3
Everyone had received their money and were leaving.
Victoria looked back and saw Tal lying on the ground. A small, unreadable smile crossed her face before she turned away.
But she didn't leave him there.
With quiet effort, she managed to carry him in front of the house. When she reached the door, she tried it.
Locked.
Freya was already asleep inside.
Victoria exhaled softly and looked around. Just outside the house was a small relaxation area — a simple outdoor lounge with a bench and soft cushions. She carefully carried Tal there and sat down.
She placed a pillow on her lap and gently rested Tal's head on it.
For a moment, she just watched him breathe.
Then she reached for her phone, pressed play, and slipped her earbuds into her ears. Soft music filled her world, separating her from the silence of the night.
The song Set Fire to the Rain drifted softly through the room. The melody pulled Victoria backward through time, to when she was just a little girl.
She remembered sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide with excitement as she watched Tal on television. Every time he appeared, her heart would race. She would stare at the screen, watching him drop philosophical quotes with a calm confidence that felt like a miracle.
Back then, she didn't understand his words. They sounded deep, powerful — like secrets .
What once felt like distant admiration had grown into something stronger. In that quiet reflection, Victoria realized something that had been forming in her heart for years — Tal wasn't just someone she admired.
He had become the man of her dreams.
Victoria, thinking about how far she had come—from the shy fifteen-year-old girl who watched him on television, to the woman she was now.
A few hours later, Tal's phone rang.
Victoria, sitting beside it, picked it up casually.
"Hello? Who's this?"
Silence.
Then the line went dead.
Victoria frowned. That was strange.
A second later, a message notification appeared.
Victoria hesitated before picking up the phone. she unlocked it and opened the message.
"Tal, you can't run from your past. I will ruin you."