Chapter 6: Chapter 5

The past, which felt like it happened yesterday, was filled with careless errors and agonizing mishaps. Those were the experiences that corrected my lack of a global perspective. How could I have known that my actions would result in me becoming who I am now?

When I stepped into the obscure future I could not emulate, everything finally aligned. Every action came together to materialize an apparent conclusion. Whether they are painstakingly difficult to accept or not, accepting them is inevitable. 

I always thought that maybe I could have done an even better job at pulling myself out of that devastating disaster. Although, years later, I was the one who went against the idea.

Things were changing, and regret was fading out of the window.

I arrived here due to all the suffering and the harsh reality. This served as the catalyst for me to finally understand the fundamentals of thinking and the power it entailed to alter both my own circumstances and the world I lived in.

Yet, when I figured that out, my life had already reached its breaking point.

I had been deprived of my own emotional receptivity. This has set me apart from my peers, and my mistrust of everyone has grown. In fact, I lack the heart and emotion to feel empathy or care about anything. 

Having to go through life without any color made me want to vanish.

But I'm afraid of dying, regardless of how painless it might be. It just sucks to try to put an end to things when there is a vast world waiting for me, especially since I do not believe in life after death. So here I am, searching endlessly for my life's meaning.

"But if I had found a purpose for my life, would I not have also found my purpose?" This contradiction flits in and out of my mind sometimes.

Sure. My journey would embrace a contradictory course. However, the purpose that I want should be answered by my own solution, as well as bringing it to fruition.

This was what kept me motivated to advance. I live my life with the hope that one day I will definitely discover what I am truly passionate about.

Days passed, and the wounds began to mend on their own. I also found something I could devote my entire attention to.

"Dammit!" He lets out a voice of anger. 

"You're such a loser," I said. "I am not even trying my best, and you're still losing."

"Shut the hell up, Gran."—flailing his hands with a serious glare towards me—"I was just warming up."

In a fiery (supposedly) hot classroom, we sat in the opposite direction and concentrated on a single board with 36 squares. 

It was chess, which is presumably the only form of entertainment a student like me could enjoy. I played only with my classmates a lot, however, and I always found the games to be disappointing.

I did love this sport called "chess," but I don't think I ever had any respect for my opponents. Maybe it's time I stopped looking down on anyone I played with. Unlike me, they only want to play for fun or to win against the people they are up against. 

But what can I say? It's just a waste of time to try something that they won't even master. 

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I do think it's good to try everything they haven't tried so far, but it is different when they put their time into something and then abandon it because it was just for fun.

That's bullshit.

We appropriately put the chess pieces back in their proper places and began to play the game again without any clocks. 

Clocks didn't really mean much because we were playing faster anyway. There were times when we began to think deeply about the given situation, but we didn't want to let each other wait for a long time, so our intuitions were tested throughout the match.

I don't really care either way because I've always played using my intuition.

"Open Sicilian again?"

Oh. And I had the black pieces this time. It's a shame he didn't realize the real potential of the push of the F7 pawn to F5. Sicilian is a much more theoretical and complicated opening with a lot of variations to consider. 

"It doesn't matter. If you play well in the middle game, everything doesn't matter," I vocally suggested.

"What are you talking about? Of course the opening matters! If you don't have a good opening, you won't have a good middle game!"

"I didn't ask. Besides, almost all your mistakes lie in the middle game. I don't think you're in the position to start spouting about why openings matter."—the Open Sicilian then turned into Najdorf after A7 was pushed to A6—"You lack the smarts to understand the position you willingly created yourself."

"Yeah, yeah." Not showing any interest, he advanced his bishop from C1 to E3.

Playing faster, the position turned out completely worse for White because of how he played it. I don’t even remember the moves played within the minute, but I kept pushing the moves that felt enticing and amazing to me. With a single move, the game was over, and defeat was crystal clear to anyone who knows the basics of chess.

“Checkmate, loser.” I laughed at him.

"Chess sucks! I am done with this," he said, going back to his chair and slumping down at the table in frustration.

Spoken like a true sore loser.

"Anyway, I am done." I cleared out the pieces from the board mat and put the pieces back into the bag. After that, I went to the cafeteria to get some food, feeling frustrated and disappointed. 

I knew I was going to be disappointed, but if this keeps happening, I'm not going to get better. 

However, I already knew that this was not the ideal training facility. I need to learn more and keep running into new foes. I'll be able to absorb their knowledge and skills in this way.

With refreshed vigor, I promised myself I would reach the national team. 

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