Eat Me Up If You Can

Dark clouds loomed beyond the large window that spanned the entire wall. They flickered with occasional flashes, revealing their displeasure, and let out another ominous growl.

Ashley Juliet Dawson returned to Dominic’s penthouse three days later. Unlike last time, he wasn’t asked to confirm his identity. The security guard who opened the door greeted him with a friendly smile, and the lobby staff guided him to the elevator without a single question. And now he was sitting on the reception room sofa, playing chess with Dominic seated across from him.
“Do you really stay home during your vacation? That’s unexpected.”
He started the conversation in a smooth tone.

“I thought you’d be at your villa overseas.”
Dominic, studying the piece he had just moved, replied,
“I decided not to go this time.”

Juliet asked casually, noting his indifferent tone.
“Because of me?”
Dominic whispered, watching his eyes crinkle with that faint smile.

“Check.”
“Oops.”
He quickly dropped his gaze and searched for a counterplay, and Dominic reminded him coolly,

“If you lose, the scout offer’s off the table.”
He glanced up briefly, then moved a piece.
“It’s not over till it’s over.”

He easily slipped his king out of danger and smiled. The threat had passed. Dominic, seemingly expecting it, made his next move without hesitation. Juliet examined the board intently and picked up a pawn. Just as he was about to block the rook’s path, Dominic spoke suddenly.
“Why Juliet?”
“Ah.”

Startled, Juliet’s hand slipped and he placed the piece in the wrong spot. Dominic took the knight in front of him, almost theatrically, while Juliet let out a deep sigh and stared down at the board.
“How did you know my middle name?”
His voice was hard to read—caught somewhere between annoyance and resignation. He hadn’t gotten to ask that question last time. Dominic placed the captured knight among the other pieces and answered flatly.

“My secretary’s competent.”

“Figures. He does background checks for a living.”
His tone wasn’t sarcastic so much as resigned. A lawyer’s job is to uncover and exploit the other party’s hidden vulnerabilities. The secretary’s job is to dig those up. Dominic let out a chuckle.
“How did that happen?”

He asked offhandedly, like it didn’t really matter.
“I didn’t want it to be this way.”
Juliet answered with quiet detachment.

“It was the name my parents picked out for a daughter. But I was born a son, and my mother didn’t want any more children.”
He moved his rook, lost in thought.
“Didn’t you ever think about changing it?”

Dominic asked, scanning the board after Juliet’s defensive play. He already had a strategy in mind, but he wasn’t in a rush. Juliet let out a quiet breath, almost amused, as he took his time before speaking.
“My middle name? What’s the point?”
And really, who would care? Middle names can be skipped or abbreviated to initials. Just like this man, who always used his initial in place of it. Dominic was probably the first person to actually call him by that name.

“Giving your child the name of a tragic heroine... That’s one hell of a hobby.”
Dominic moved his queen to the opposite side. Juliet’s brow furrowed deeply, clearly thrown off—his planned move had been blocked. He would need a new path now.
“Tragedies move people.”

Juliet said absently, calculating his next move. Dominic replied with ease, watching him scan the board in silence.
“I don’t call self-destruction a tragedy.”
Juliet looked up and met Dominic’s eyes just as he nudged a pawn forward. Dominic leaned back lazily in his chair, smiling.

“I call it moving when someone self-destructs and you feel relieved it’s not you.”
Juliet stared at him, incredulous, and answered lightly.
“I don’t think they saw it as self-destruction. Some people follow their loved ones because they can’t bear the despair of being left behind, right?”

Dominic nearly laughed out loud. Fortunately, he’d never laughed that way before, so all he did was curl the corners of his mouth.

“So, he dies? A child who isn’t even fourteen?”
“Yes. Maybe he loved more purely—and more fiercely—because he was young.”

Juliet answered without hesitation, but Dominic responded with only a vague frown. He couldn’t comprehend the feeling of despair itself. Especially despair so deep it would drive someone to take their own life? Ridiculous. It wasn’t real emotion—it was weakness dressed up as something noble. Just someone too feeble to handle reality, glamorizing their own escape.
“You don’t seem to empathize.”
Juliet gave a small, awkward smile. An attempt to soften the mood—but a critical mistake. Seizing on that tiny lapse in focus, Dominic moved his queen and said,

“Checkmate.”
“Ah!”
The exclamation came from somewhere deeper. Juliet immediately scanned the board, but it was hopeless. No way out. He was completely cornered. One misstep, and everything had collapsed.

Dominic watched his face, waiting. That distraction had been intentional. Juliet would know that was what cost him the game—so how would he react? Would he accept it quietly, or call out the dirty play and ask for a do-over?
Of course, not the latter. If he were going to protest, he’d have done it already. So that left…
“Oh, I lost.”

Juliet conceded with a bright smile. He raised both hands in a light gesture of surrender and spoke with cheerful composure.
“As expected—Mr. Miller, you never miss a weak point, whether it’s in court or on the board. This is the most aggressive game of chess I’ve ever played. You’re incredible. I don’t stand a chance.”
Dominic narrowed his eyes and lifted the corners of his mouth at the steady stream of praise.

“You’re awfully good at saying things you don’t mean.”
Juliet replied with playful ease to his relaxed tone.
“I’m doing my best to charm you. Haven’t I gotten better?”

Despite his delicate appearance, he had a sly streak. Those mischievously gleaming eyes only made him seem more ill-fitting as the protagonist of a tragedy.
If he was the kind of immature person who couldn’t even picture himself dying that way—well, that made more sense.
“How about the next game?”

Juliet’s voice cut into his thoughts. Dominic looked across the table at the man [N O V E L I G H T] clearly eager to play again—eager to even the score right away. But of course, Dominic had other ideas.
“In a week.”
He whispered smoothly, voice soft like a lover’s murmur.

“The next match is in a week, Juliet. Don’t be late.”
“Um… right.”
Juliet made a slightly unsure sound, but nodded quickly enough.

“Then I’ll see you at the same time in a week. Thank you for the game today.”
Even at the end, he didn’t drop his polite tone as he said his goodbye.