Page 115 of His Hell Girl

Still, it's no wonder that Miles has chosen this, aside from his personal interest in it. The game relies on the strategic placements of the stones to maximize territory. In his eyes, our success on the board should mirror our success in the outside world.

There is just one tricky aspect.

Three minutes.

With three minutes on the clock, it's unlikely that we'll be able to finish a Go game and proclaim a winner. These games can last hours, if not days, so three minutes is really absurd.

Yet as I look at Miles, his insidious smile wide and almost feral, I realize he knows that too.

I shut down my skeptical side and instead focus on the game at hand, victory my only aim. So what if it's nearly impossible? I've been defying the impossible for as long as I remember. This shouldn't be too hard.

The seconds stretch as we start placing our pieces on the board. I'm black while my opponent is white. The moment the game begins, though, my mind hones on anticipating every move he could possibly make.

As long as I manage to calculate his moves in advance, I should be able to also calculate the amount of tries it would take me to win the game.

Our hands move with extreme speed as piece after piece is settled on a square, the territories starting to take shape.

My opponent isn't bad. But he's not great either, which works in my favor.

One minute and thirty-five seconds.

By now half the board is full, my pieces overshadowing his. But there is one tricky aspect to Go. Unless he declares that he's forfeiting, then the game could go on forever.

And so with the seconds trickling by, time ticking, my resolve for victory strengthens. I double down my efforts, picturing all possible outcomes in my mind as I lay a piece down.

I need to corner him so badly that he won't have any other option than forfeiting the game.

Three more moves and I have him where I want. One look at him and his lips are trembling, his entire face sweaty from the mental exertion.

I raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to make a move where there's none.

His shoulders slump, and eventually he resigns himself to being the losing party.

There's a resounding bleep in the room, and everyone suddenly stands up.

"Well, well," Miles says, uncrossing his legs and rising from the couch. He's slow as he comes toward me, his hand on my back.

"It seems we have a winner," he declares and a smug expression appears on my face. I don't even stop to think what might be happening to the ones who lost, basking in the praise Miles is offering me and knowing it is limited.

As a mini celebration, Miles takes me to his office, offering me a glass of his precious bourbon and telling me his grand plans.

"We're almost there, Vlad," he sighs happily. "I don't think I've ever seen someone as impressive as you, my boy. You've certainly surpassed my expectations."

I just nod, taking in all the compliments and vowing to do better. Because while I'd been reluctant in the beginning, I now recognize that this isn't just about me.

It's about revolutionizing science and the way humans are seen. It's simply evolution, and I aim to be at the top when these findings are made public.

Certainly, in the beginning I'd thought that Miles' ideas were strange and a little irrational. But soon it had become clear that he was onto something.

After repeated trials, my skin stopped hurting, the pain a slow echo reverberating in my brain, but one I could shut off. My mind too acquired a new focus as clarity started to filter through my old haze of emotions.

He was right. Getting rid of feelings, and especially of fear, was liberating unlike anything. That coupled with the rush of adrenaline when I cut into flesh, dissected organs and played with tissue was almost godly.

I'm smart enough to realize that there seems to be an inverse proportional relationship between my feelings and my hubris. As my emotions became muted, my arrogance grew, my vanity knowing no bounds.

But that arrogance also made me the best, because it made me want to continually strive to be the best.

"And now for your prize," Miles adds, getting up and showing me a poker with a metal circle at the top, the number one hundred etched inside.

---