Rise of Underdog

2

“Do you think you can just walk away from this?”

The deep, angry voice stopped him in his tracks. Ethan turned, finding himself face-to-face with a man in a sleek black suit. A bodyguard stood beside him, posture rigid, eyes cold.

Ethan sighed, unimpressed. "If 'this' means your threats, then yes. I can and I will."

The man clenched his jaw. "Scarlett’s father isn’t someone you can ignore. You embarrassed him."

Ethan smirked. "Did I? Or was he just not as powerful as he thought?"

A flicker of irritation crossed the man’s face. "You think you're untouchable?"

Ethan stepped closer, his voice lowering. "I think if you came all this way just to intimidate me, you should’ve done better research." His eyes met the bodyguard’s. "Tell your boss I don’t play games I can’t win."

Without waiting for a response, Ethan walked away. He had expected something like this. Scarlett’s family was predictable. But he had already prepared.

When he arrived home, the scent of warm spices and grilled meat filled the air. His mother was setting the table, arranging neatly packed boxes of local specialties—delicacies from their town.

His father noticed his entrance. "You’re back just in time." He motioned toward the table. "Your mother made sure to prepare some of Scarlett’s favorites."

Ethan glanced at the boxes. In his previous life, he remembered these same dishes being discarded without a second thought.

He picked up one of the boxes. "Actually, I think I’ll take some of these to the charity event later."

His mother hesitated. "But these were meant for—"

"It’s fine," Ethan cut in gently. "They’ll be appreciated there."

His father studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Do what you think is right."

Ethan took the boxes and left, knowing exactly how to make better use of them.

The charity event was already in full swing when he arrived. Volunteers moved busily between stalls, arranging donation bins and organizing food distribution.

Ethan handed over the food to one of the coordinators, who beamed. "Thank you! These will be perfect for the guests."

He gave a small nod, then glanced at the large crowd gathering around a stage. A banner read: International Chess Exhibition Match.

Curious, he walked closer. A row of chessboards was set up, where multiple matches were already underway. An announcer explained that some of the best international players were competing in exhibition rounds, showcasing their skills.

Ethan wasn’t particularly invested—until he noticed two elderly men standing near the exit, deep in an argument.

"You were reckless," one of them, an old man with silver-rimmed glasses, huffed. "You had an advantage, but you threw it away."

The other man, slightly taller, scoffed. "You don’t know what you’re talking about. My opening move was solid."

Ethan slowed his steps as he passed them. "Your opening move was predictable," he said, stopping just beside them.

Both men turned sharply.

The taller one frowned. "Excuse me?"

Ethan gestured toward the chessboard still set between them. "You played the King’s Indian Defense, but you didn’t adjust when your opponent countered aggressively. You overcommitted to your fianchetto setup, leaving your queenside exposed."

The man with glasses narrowed his eyes. "And you think you could have done better?"

Ethan tilted his head. "Why don’t we find out?"

The two men exchanged glances. Then the taller one smirked. "Fine. Sit down. Let’s see what you’ve got."

Ethan took a seat as the man reset the board. "I’ll let you make two moves," he said, nodding at his opponent.

The man raised an eyebrow but made his first move. Ethan responded effortlessly.

Within moments, a rhythm developed. The taller man’s expression tightened as Ethan maneuvered with ease, guiding the board into an advantageous position.

A few spectators gathered, watching as Ethan subtly dictated the pace of the game. Finally, after ten moves, Ethan leaned back. "Checkmate."

Silence.

The man with glasses burst into laughter. "Well, Robert, it looks like you’ve been outplayed."

Ethan’s fingers stilled. Robert? He knew that name. Robert Hughes—one of the most respected senior prosecutors in the state.

Robert exhaled sharply, rubbing his chin. "I hate to admit it, but that was impressive." He looked up at Ethan. "Who are you?"

Ethan leaned forward slightly, offering a knowing smile. "Just someone who appreciates a good game of strategy."

Robert chuckled. "Strategy, huh?" He tapped the table. "Play a round with me."

Ethan didn’t hesitate. "Gladly."

They played for nearly an hour. Robert was sharp, experienced, but Ethan had the advantage of knowing. He had spent his past life analyzing power, control, and deception. Chess was no different.

Robert studied him with a newfound interest. "You’re not just playing for fun, are you?"

Ethan smiled. "No game is ever just for fun."

The old prosecutor laughed, then leaned back. "Alright, you’ve got my attention."

Ethan reached for the package of local specialties he had brought. "Then you might like these," he said, sliding the box toward Robert.

The old man frowned slightly but opened the box. His expression shifted the moment he saw the contents.

"This..." His fingers brushed the neatly wrapped food. "I haven’t seen these in years."

Ethan feigned innocence. "They’re from my hometown. You seem familiar with them."

Robert exhaled, a distant look in his eyes. "My wife loved these. We used to get them from a little restaurant before she passed."

Ethan nodded thoughtfully. "It’s a small town, but it has its charm."

Robert studied him. "You’re from there?"

Ethan nodded. "Applying for a civil service position here, actually." He let the words hang in the air before adding, "I heard your son, Daniel, has been handling some complicated cases lately."

Robert’s gaze sharpened. "You know about that?"

Ethan shrugged. "Hard not to. A few key cases have been getting attention, and some of them seem… problematic."

Robert didn’t speak immediately. Then, he sighed. "Daniel is stubborn. Takes his work seriously."

Ethan chose his words carefully. "That’s a good trait. But sometimes, a fresh perspective helps. Patterns can be hard to see from the inside."

Robert drummed his fingers on the table, thoughtful. "You have an interesting way of looking at things, kid."

Ethan smirked. "I’d say the same about you."

Robert chuckled. "Alright. I’ll keep an eye on you."

Ethan nodded. That was all he needed. A foothold in the right place.

As he stood to leave, Robert called out, "Ethan."

He turned.

The old man’s eyes were shrewd. "Tell me—what exactly are you hoping to accomplish?"

Ethan stepped outside the bustling charity event, the cool evening air refreshing against his skin. The vibrant atmosphere of laughter and chatter faded into the background as he contemplated Robert's question. What was he hoping to accomplish?

He walked away from the venue, his mind racing. The chess match had felt invigorating, but it was more than just a game for him; it was a way to strategize his life, to position himself against the powerful entities that threatened to crush him.

Scarlett’s family was formidable, and Thomas Sinclair’s wrath was a force to be reckoned with. Ethan needed allies, people who could help him navigate this treacherous landscape. Robert Hughes was one such ally, but he needed more than just one connection.

As he strolled through the quiet streets, his thoughts drifted back to Scarlett. Despite the tumultuous relationship with her father, there was something undeniably magnetic about her. He remembered their late-night conversations, the way her laughter could light up a room, and how, despite everything, he still felt a pull towards her.

But that pull was complicated now. It was no longer just about love; it was about power dynamics, reputations, and the chess pieces they all represented. He had to be careful.

He arrived home, the familiar scent of spices wafting through the air once more. His parents were still up, chatting in the kitchen. His mother turned to him with a warm smile. "You’re home late. How was the event?"

Ethan shrugged, deciding not to share the details of his confrontation with Thomas. "It went well. I met some interesting people."

His father raised an eyebrow. "You always have a knack for making connections, son."

Ethan smiled, appreciating the faith his father had in him. "Just trying to make the most of my opportunities."

As he settled in for the night, he began to formulate a plan. He would need to reach out to more influential figures in the community, to ensure that Thomas Sinclair didn’t have the upper hand. He needed to understand the landscape, to identify the players and their motivations.