Against the Algorithm

Chapter 64: Before the Game Began

Yao gaped, half-standing from the couch.

Kaya didn't move, but her brow lifted—curious.

Kazime turned slightly and sipped his tea with all the solemn composure of a man watching justice unfold.

Jinyang, now breathing hard, stared down at Ai Jia with fire in her eyes. "What do you say," she hissed, "to the person who has been your friend for over a year? Huh? Who listened to you? Who never judged you for being you? Who stood up for you every time you got heat for playing professionally when you were supposed to be focusing on school?"

Ai Jia's mouth opened.

Jinyang cut him off. "No," she barked. "You don't get to speak until you get this one right." She turned to Yao. "This girl," she said, pointing fiercely, "is the reason I stopped harping on your ungrateful ass for chasing OPL in the first place! Because she explained it to me. She helped me understand you. And this—" she gestured to the wreckage behind them, "—is how you repay her?"

Yao stood frozen, eyes wide, hands trembling as they hovered just in front of her chest.

Ai Jia, breathless, finally looked up at her. "...Yao." His voice cracked.

But Jinyang was right there again. "No. You apologize to her. Not me. Not Kaya. Not Kazime. To her."

Ai Jia swallowed hard and then, finally—his head bowed low, his voice hoarse, "I'm sorry."

Kaya didn't say a word as Ai Jia's voice broke the silence. She simply reached for her tea, lifted the cup with smooth, unhurried grace, and took a slow sip. The act alone made Ai Jia flinch. Then, without looking at him, she set her cup back down. "Out," she said quietly.

Jinyang blinked. "Kaya—"

"I said out," she repeated, calm but absolute. "You, Kazime, and you too, Jinyang. This isn't your conversation to manage anymore."

Kazime didn't argue. He simply stood, gave Yao a small nod that held far more respect than pity, and left the room without a sound.

Jinyang opened her mouth, hesitated, then gave Yao a look—part concerned, part protective—but ultimately trusting. She followed, pulling the door shut behind her with a quiet click.

Only two remained.

Yao stood by the edge of the rug now, stiff and silent, her hands twisting at the hem of her sleeve. Ai Jia was still on his knees in front of her, no longer trying to pretend he had any footing in this room. He didn't even try to get up.

He took a breath.

Then another.

"I didn't know it was you in that match," he said finally, voice low, rough, but not defensive. "I didn't look at the tag. I was annoyed. Competitive. Jian Yang started running his mouth, and I let it happen. Worse, I agreed with him. Laughed at things I didn't mean. Things I never should've—" He stopped himself. Then forced the words out again. "I was an idiot."

Still no reaction from Yao. No forgiveness in her eyes. Just silent, careful observation. The same kind she used when she wasn't sure if someone was about to hurt her.

"I let him get in my head," Ai Jia continued, hands curling slightly on his knees. "He was going off, saying cruel things, and instead of shutting it down, I let him carry me with it. Because I was embarrassed. Because I couldn't believe I'd lost like that and didn't know who it was." He looked up at her then—truly looked, no longer flinching. "I know I don't deserve forgiveness right now. I'm not asking for you to fix this tonight. But I need you to know that you didn't do anything wrong. Not a thing. And if I could take it back, if I could drag the words out of his mouth and mine and bury them under a thousand apologies, I would."