Villainess Of Hearts

The man watched his opponent tip her own black king piece over, looking ill at ease as she tried to contain her displeasure. There was nothing that she could do about it when she was thoroughly demolished and placed at the very end of the game. It had been almost boring watching the game play out, save for the little reactions that she gave whenever she made a wrong move or when a flare of hope erupted in her chest.

There was some amusement to be obtained from such a person like them.

He offered her a conciliatory smile, "You tried your best—it's a difficult thing to ask you to defeat me. It was a good game."

"T-Thank you, Your Majesty." There was a falter in her words.

It was something that he found distasteful.

He eyed the woman sitting across from him, she had both of her hands resting on her lap. "Is there any problem? Do you wish for a rematch?" 

"I possibly couldn't!" She spoke up with widened eyes. It didn't help that she did it with an annoying high pitch. 

It was frustrating but he kept his patience and nodded, "Very well then, you may leave." 

The woman pulled up to her feet and attempted a curtsy—awkward and ungraceful. 

But that was the best that she could do.

He allowed one of his men to escort her out, a sigh escaped his lips once she left the drawing room. To say he was disappointed was not enough to describe the sheer amount of troubles that the woman gave him—and he had only picked her up by chance. If there was anyone who might have spoken up about how problematic his choice might be—they were too hesitant to share their thoughts.

The men and women around him followed his word.

And it was only right that they did. But for now he took a moment to recuperate. He would end up having a use for her in a future time, he would ensure it, but for now, he then received the audience of the man who soon came into his drawing room. His gaze flickered to the newcomer, his appearance was distasteful and the smoke that clung to him was always terrible—but he didn't say a word.

"Your Majesty," A relaxed smile was on the individual's face as he bowed. "I have come in contact with our recipients."

Silence.

The man cleared his throat, "Your recipients, but I digress." He corrected himself before he stood up, fidgeting only temporarily, his fingers moved to his coat's pocket—

"I would appreciate it if you keep that away, better that you throw it out." He finally spoke, eyeing the hookah in the man's pocket with a frown. "But is that all?"

His servant took it out of his pocket and dropped it to the floor, crushing it with one foot. A small crunch in the room."Ah, I have given them your orders, Sire. There is nothing to fret over… but ah, I'll also clean up the mess I made."

"Very well."

A visible look of relief crossed the man's face before he looked down at the hookah with much regret. He then proceeded to pick up the shattered pieces up in his hands and pocketed them back into his coat with not much of a complaint. The man's desire for such substances was beyond him—but his skills were of note.

He turned a blind eye to it in exchange for his services.

The man then raised his head, eyes widened—sobriety somehow finally coming to him. The relaxed smile and atmosphere of earlier relinquishing to some anxiety, his senses were coming back. "But ah, I do remember something now—I heard that the Joker is in the Hearts Kingdom, Your Majesty. There are a lot of testimonies that said it was so, once again split in half. Others would say yes and the others opposed even when both happened to be at the same place at that time."

"Oh," This news was of much more prevalence than the other, he narrowed his eyes on the man. "It is a good thing that you remember."

"Indeed…perchance I could have someone of note to give him a visit?" The man suggested with a more cloying tone. He rubbed his hands together, "It has been more than a week since his stay there—when the man leaves the Castle then it is a chance to strike—" 

"Tell me if you desire for death, there is no need to look any further from here."

"N-Not at all, I will leave at once, Your Majesty." He bent over once more and then proceeded to move out of the room, not even waiting for direct permission.

The urge to have someone strike them in the back with a knife was tempting, but he gave no orders.

Patience was truly a virtue.

For it tested him this much, multiple moreover in an attempt to break him down. Every little bit of interaction chipped on his long-standing patience, but it was finally the end of the day. Or perhaps the appropriate term was the start of a new day, glancing at his grandfather clock now which portrayed that the time was already past twelve.

He looked down at the crystal chess pieces displayed on the table.

Each one carefully crafted and designed with care and precision—not a single flaw and scratch on them. At least not until he had played with her, perhaps it was appropriate to make her pay for it. But even that was out of the question at her current state, it was unbelievably hard to believe and see that there was someone of such a destitute state.

Although she wasn't even the first one.

To put simply the blame on her was a lack of remembering, but there had been someone else who had messed up the pieces. Cleverly hidden, but it had left its mark. The man went over for the white crystal rook and turned it over—a stain of red on its bottom.

....long-forgotten and dried up blood that refused to be erased.