The King is the representation of the person sitting at the board. Every other piece is expendable, but without the King, there can't be a game.

[It ends, after all, at precisely the point the King would be slain. Having played chess and other, really death games from a young age, L has probably contemplated this more than most.

Strange things are happening before him. It's a dream and he knows it, so this is not horrifyingly outside of the realm of possibility.

It's still somewhat disturbing, to see that soul, that pulse, that child speaking so sullenly with broken laughter.]

Isn't everyone a lie? We aspire and claim, and who can tell us we're right or wrong?

[L Lawliet, Liar Extraordinaire, is almost blasé about claiming this particular title. It's sad, for one who covets and seeks the truth so much, but bleakly appropriate.]

What is true, to you?