REBORN TO RULE

The First Move

Luke smiled. The familiar landscape from his childhood soothed his tangled thoughts a little.

The hills, tinged with only a hint of green, the church—thankfully still standing despite being nearly a century old—and the rows of almost identical suburban homes.

Lawton might have one of the highest poverty rates in America. Still, its houses and social life weren't much different from those in other parts of the country. It was a typical town with a slower pace of life.

Luke regretted giving in to despair back then. He should have come home and talked to his parents. Maybe it would've lifted some of the weight off his chest.

Looking at the familiar scenery made him feel like he had a place to return to.

But that mistake was a road he would never take again. This homecoming wasn't just a visit—it marked the beginning of a carefully planned new chapter.

Luke knew Emma's family wouldn't easily accept what he had done the day before, and he had prepared for that.

With knowledge from his previous life, Luke would catch anything Rufus tried to throw his way.

"Mom, I'm home!"

As soon as he opened the door, the smell of home-cooked food greeted him. A brown-haired woman peeked out from the hallway, her face showing surprise.

"Luke? Is that you?" His mother, Mariane, stepped out, still wearing her faded strawberry-patterned apron.

"How did it go?" Mariane gripped his arm, tense.

"Number one." Luke's words made her scream in delight before wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Congratulations… You did it! I knew you would!" Her joyful shout quickly melted into tears, and Mariane could finally breathe easily.

"I always knew you'd be amazing. You and that brilliant mind of yours. Come on.” She took his hand and led him to the dining table without wasting a second.

"Look, I prepared everything for Emma. I made all your favorite dishes and hers so you could celebrate the good news together. You said she liked chicken-fried steak with ranch, right? I even made a homemade sauce—Lawton's own recipe. She'll love it." Mariane pointed at each of her creations with pride.

Luke stared at the food with a storm of emotions—his eyes burned with gratitude and regret.

His mother hadn't changed. She always prepared food like this whenever he came home.

But he hadn't always appreciated it. Luke used to think his mom's cooking was old-fashioned, and he felt embarrassed showing it to Emma—he'd thrown it away more than once on campus.

He had been so wrong. Small acts like these were the purest forms of love. He had thrown away something genuinely precious.

"Thanks, Mom. I love it," Luke said softly, hugging her tightly while holding back tears. "And I'm sorry," he whispered.

Mariane didn't hear it, and that was just as well. Luke didn't want her to—he didn't want to confuse her.

"I'm sure Emma will love it too." He let go of the hug and helped her pack up the food while she explained how she had spent the entire day preparing everything.

***

Luke double-checked that no sauce had spilled before tucking the food into his bag and stepping into the main hall.

The cultural center filled up quickly with guests attending the town's annual charity event.

These events always attracted a crowd—locals from all walks of life joined in, browsing the bazaar stands, participating in auctions, and engaging in community activities.

One of the most popular segments was the amateur chess tournament.

As a volunteer, Luke was assigned to help coordinate the tournament room.

He didn't mind the task—he'd gradually rekindled his old passion for chess over the past few years.

While checking the tournament area, he noticed two elderly men who had just finished their game.

One had a white beard and wore an old leather jacket; the other had a checkered scarf and thick glasses. They were deep in discussion as they exited the hall.

"If you hadn't moved your knight to E5, I would've won!" the man with the scarf grumbled.

"You always blame my move, but that one saved my position," the bearded man replied calmly.

Luke smiled faintly at their exchange. The man with the scarf turned to him. "Are you laughing?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Luke replied politely. "I happened to watch your game. Your move as Black was quite interesting. The formation resembled the Nimzo-Indian Defense but later shifted as if using a Budapest Defense."

The two men stopped. The bearded man raised an eyebrow. "You know the Nimzo?"

"A little, sir," Luke answered. "I studied it on my own. Your match reminded me of the game between Fischer and Spassky."

The man in the scarf looked intrigued. "Then let's test your knowledge. We're going to replay the match in the park. Help him make his moves—I'll play just as I did earlier."

They sat on a bench facing a small pond. Luke sat next to the bearded man, whose name was Ryan.

"Sir, try moving the knight to F6. Then shift your rook to D8. That'll force White to open the king's path earlier," Luke advised.

After a few more moves, the man in the scarf sighed and raised his hand.

"Unbelievable… I lost twice today," That man muttered before walking off with a tired smile.

Ryan chuckled and turned to Luke. "You have a sharp eye. What's your name?"

"Luke Anderson, sir."

"Ryan Bennett. Do you work or study?"

"I've completed the USMLE. Right now, I'm volunteering in a few community programs."

"Wow! That's impressive. I hope great things lie ahead for you." Ryan clearly meant it.

Luke nodded. "Thank you... Oh! Sorry, I'm starving."

He patted his stomach as it growled. He had skipped breakfast on purpose.

"Oh... Did I interrupt your break?" Ryan looked apologetic.

"Not at all. May I open this?" Luke pulled out the food his mom had packed.

"Of course. Eat up. Young men like you need to eat well." Ryan nodded, watching Luke take a piece of fried chicken and pour homemade ranch over it.

"This aroma... It's familiar," Ryan murmured.

"Would you like to try it? I promise it's good. My mom made it." Luke offered it naturally.

Ryan accepted the container and inhaled the scent. His expression shifted. He went quiet for a moment before speaking softly.

"This sauce… My wife and I met for the first time in a small diner that served food like this. In a small town… what was the name…"

"Is it Lawton?" Luke asked gently.

Ryan looked at him, eyes widening. "Yes! Lawton. Are you from there?"

Luke nodded. "Yes, sir. Both my parents are from Lawton. This sauce recipe is local to the area."

Ryan smiled, lost in nostalgia. "My son, James—the police chief—has been to Lawton several times, especially when unusual reports come in."

Luke smiled. Of course, he already knew that. It wasn't a coincidence that he brought his mother's cooking, let himself go hungry, and watched two old men playing chess.

"I know his name. I've helped some residents file reports, sir. Including complaints about aid distributions that never arrived. I've read several of your son's reports as well."

Ryan looked surprised but listened intently as Luke continued.

"The case is closed now, but unfortunately, not everyone was caught. The police should've made sure who was involved before making arrests. That way, no one could destroy evidence or walk away clean. I'm certain someone is still out there—free."

"You know a lot for someone your age," Ryan said, impressed again.

"I know because it broke my heart. That money belonged to people who needed help—they could've starved without it. It's despicable. I can't let that damage continue," Luke said firmly.

His words were deliberate, meant to plant a seed. Still, his heart pounded in his chest, hoping everything he'd said had been enough to catch Ryan's attention.