The top of the Zurich tower. The most expensive restaurant was closed to the public: the entire floor belonged to Angelo Nobell. Beneath him, the city glittered, its lights forming a giant chessboard.
A waiter leaned down softly:
"Sir, your guest has arrived."
"Let him in," Angelo replied.
Grey Mole entered the hall. His stride was calm, with not the slightest trace of haste. He looked like a man accustomed to being the master of any room.
"Well, hello, Emperor," he smirked, removing his gloves. "I barely had time to open the newspaper, and already the whole world is screaming: Nobell — enemy of women! Misogynist! Monster! Ku-ku-ku… Ah, how they love to invent legends. Crush one proud woman — and suddenly there's a new myth."
Angelo lifted his gaze, cold and indifferent.
"The words of the crowd are noise to me. Noise has no value. But tell me: was it you who silenced the press?"
Grey Mole poured himself wine as though he owned the evening.
"Yes, that was me. They barked too loudly. I forced them quiet. Ku-ku-ku. But understand, I didn't do it for you. I maintain balance. Still… it seems you came out the greatest victor."
"And what then? Do you expect thanks?" Angelo answered indifferently.
Grey Mole smiled; something almost warm glimmered in his eyes.
"I expect no gratitude from you. To me, you are like a son. And whoever dares lay a hand on you — will vanish."
Angelo raised an eyebrow slightly.
"A son? Amusing. I never had a father. And, as you see, I've managed well enough without one."
Grey Mole laughed quietly.
"Ku-ku-ku… a sharp tongue, a cold stare. I like that. Still, Emperor, remember: even the greatest can fall. You have a match with Keller ahead. Are you ready?"
Angelo took an unhurried sip of wine.
"Ready? I don't prepare for spectacles. I conduct executions. Keller will be crushed like a turtle beneath the foot of God."
Grey Mole nodded approvingly. Then he reached into his inner pocket and produced a black chess king. The figure gleamed beneath the chandelier's light.
"Take it. Not just a souvenir. They say it carries magical power. A symbol of authority. Let it be yours."
Angelo looked at the piece with a faint smirk.
"There's only one power I believe in — calculation and my own will. Magic belongs to fairy tales. But…" He reached out and took the king. "This black king will fit nicely into my collection."
Grey Mole narrowed his eyes, smirking again with that strange laugh.
"Ku-ku-ku… That is exactly what I wanted to hear. You don't take because you believe. You take because you can. That's what sets you apart from the rest."
Angelo raised his gaze, icy and direct.
"You're mistaken. I don't take. I choose."
For a moment, a spark flickered in Grey Mole's eyes. But then he only laughed again:
"Ku-ku-ku… Careful, Angelo. With a character like that, you will either have the whole world — or nothing."
They raised their glasses. The wine blazed in the glow of the city. And in the silence it became clear: this was not an alliance, nor a friendship. It was a new game. And both of them knew — sooner or later, one of them would be removed from the board.