Change || The Promised Neverland

⚜ Chapter Thirty-Two: Mask ⚜

Then again, Norman was practically unmatched in intelligence. Only Ray, and maybe herself could catch up to him.

Still, [Name] expected more of a challenge from an adult, especially a scientist. Even Emma, who wasn't the best at reading her opponent's moves, could do better than this. The ginger wasn't great at strategies, so she asked [Name] to help her through practice matches.

If an instinct-reliant person like her could do better, then the scientists were either idiots, or weren't trying. [Name] knew that they weren't stupid, as they were scientists employed by Peter Ratri himself, leaving one option.

They were looking down on her, and the experiments in general.

Now, there was the chance that they didn't care, and that was why they weren't trying. [Name] had tested this by occasionally making an offhand comment that "Adults weren't as smart as she thought they were." That seemed to hurt their pride, for they'd always ask to play again, and then, they were considerably more difficult.

Some of their movements would be reckless, but [Name] considered those a byproduct of their damaged ego. Nevertheless, this confirmed that the scientists weren't trying hard because they didn't feel like they needed to try harder. She was merely food, after all.

This mentality wasn't unexpected. [Name] knew that the workers here thought of the children as mere food, as she saw in her dreams. She was merely doing this as a precaution.

"User 2 is now online."

[Name] moved her bishop, trapping her opponent's king between that and her knight. "Checkmate."

"Congratulations," the scientist praised. "They really are smart, where you come from."

"Thank you," [Name] hummed mindlessly, resetting the board.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"That should be my question," User 2 responded.

"Of course," [Name] couldn't help say sarcastically. "Forgive me for that."

"You aren't the white-haired boy," they said slowly. [Name] was the white side now, beginning by moving her pawn up.

"I am not," she agreed.

"Who are you?"

"I asked you first," [Name] hummed, taking out her opponent's rook. Her eyes flicked back and forth across the board, checking for traps and which ones she should willingly put herself in. It seemed as if the scientist was trying a bit harder now.

"Touché," they conceded. "I'm Vincent."

"Vincent, hm?" [Name] folded her hands after evading a trap. "I'm the sheepdog."

"Sheepdog?!" Vincent exclaimed. [Name]'s hand stiffened at his loud volume.

"Volume, please," she sighed. "I've already spoken with owl boy, so don't think of me as an enemy. Or you could, after all, I could tell Doctor Sidra everything."

Vincent stalled, seemingly intimidated. [Name] casually moved another piece.

"But I won't. Owlet has already realized what leverage you can use against me," she murmured.

"Owlet?" Vincent repeated. "Do you mean Norman?"

"That's him," [Name] confirmed. "Check," she told the scientist.

"Good job," he praised once more, but [Name] had already lost interest. Praise of any kind had lost its effect on her, long before she left Grace Field. There was always something that seemed so fake about it, like the person never meant it.