Against the Algorithm

Chapter 64: Before the Game Began

"Ow—Jinyang, wait, can we just—ow—!"

"No. No, we cannot," she growled, already hauling him toward the hallway. "Because if I don't talk to you right now, I might break your nose in front of witnesses."

Kazime exhaled slowly through his nose, arms crossed.

Kaya looked marginally satisfied.

As Jinyang reached the doorway, she paused, just long enough to look over her shoulder, her glare slamming full force into Jian Yang like the cold end of a steel blade. "You get the hell out of my house," she said, voice burning with hatred. "If you even breathe in her direction again, I'll make sure Kaya-jie doesn't have to lift a finger, I'll ruin you myself."

Jian Yang's face twisted, but he said nothing.

Didn't dare.

Jinyang turned, hauling Ai Jia down the hall like a soldier dragging a traitor into interrogation, and the last words heard before the door slammed shut were: "You're going to explain everything, Ai Jia. Every word. Every lie. Now."

The study was silent, save for the faint ticking of the lacquered wall clock and the delicate sound of ceramic clinking as Kaya poured two cups of tea from a cast-iron pot she had sent in not long ago. The lights were low, golden and soft, casting warm shadows against the bookshelves that lined the walls like quiet sentinels.

Yao sat curled on one of the armchairs beside the fireplace, knees tucked beneath her, sweater sleeves pulled back over her hands once more, not for comfort this time—but to keep herself from fidgeting. Her eyes were rimmed pink, not from sobbing, but from holding everything in.

Kazime sat across the room, one leg crossed over the other, flipping idly through a leather-bound journal, not reading it, not speaking—simply being there, the quiet gravity of his presence a constant just like it always was when he didn't want her to feel alone.

Kaya moved quietly as she approached, setting the tea down in front of Yao without a word.

"Thank you." Yao murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kaya didn't say anything in return. She simply sat beside her, reaching out to smooth a stray strand of platinum hair back from Yao's cheek. Her touch was not doting, it was reassuring. Solid. Measured. "They don't get to define you," she said quietly, fingers light against Yao's temple. "And they never did."

Yao closed her eyes briefly, holding back whatever was still knotted tight in her chest.

Kaya let her be.

Kazime eventually set the book aside, stood, and moved to the sideboard to refill his own cup, the scrape of porcelain and quiet clink of the spoon the only sounds in the room for several long, still minutes.

Until—

The door slammed open.

Both Kaya and Kazime turned their heads in the same smooth motion.

Yao jolted upright, eyes wide, just in time to see Jinyang storm into the room, her hair half-tangled from the speed with which she'd apparently run across the house, her grip iron-tight around the front of Ai Jia's shirt. He looked—if not terrified—deeply aware that he was in serious trouble. Jinyang didn't slow. She dragged him across the room like a sack of bad decisions and then, with a dramatic shove, tossed him down at Yao's feet.