Ethemon walked up to Astarion, his gaze falling upon the chessboard. The game was nearing its end, with Raphael playing white and holding a winning position, while Mol opposite him wore a furious expression. "You set me up. I didn't want to move this piece at all."
Raphael maintained a composed expression, looking at Mol as if observing a harmless cub—after all, Mol was merely an underage Tiefling. "Those are the rules of the game, my dear. Whichever piece you touch, you must play."
"Bullshit! No matter how I move this knight, it's a dead end!" Mol dropped a curse word, her mood exceptionally volatile. From the look of it, she seemed ready to flip the board over.
Chapter 82