Chapter 2
Rio sent the text without hesitation.
Come over. I will teach you Tetris.
It was efficient. Direct. Straight to the point.
There was no need for unnecessary words.
Agatha needed instruction. Rio was willing to provide instruction. That was the entire equation.
Agatha had potential.
Her reaction time was passable.
Her decision-making was inconsistent but not entirely flawed.
Her overall efficiency, however?
Insufficient.
She hesitated. She second-guessed herself. She placed pieces suboptimally.
And that was frustrating.
Watching Agatha struggle against something as precise, as mathematical, as beautifully optimized as Tetris was…
Rio frowned slightly.
It was unpleasant.
She did not like inefficiency.
It was better to correct it.
And the most logical way to do that was through hands-on instruction.
Her apartment was the optimal location.
No distractions.
No outside variables.
No noise pollution from arcade machines.
No flashing lights or erratic background music.
Controlled conditions.
That was how one achieved mastery.
So when Agatha responded with Yeah, okay. When? Rio’s reply was instant.
Now.
She put her phone down. Waited.
Agatha would arrive.
There was no reason for her not to.
This was a simple exchange of knowledge.
Rio had not considered the possibility that Agatha might overthink it.
That would have been illogical.
After all—
What was there to overthink?
Rio expected a direct transition from arrival to instruction.
Agatha would enter. She would sit. The lesson would begin.
Instead—
Agatha had paused.
She was looking around.
Taking in the space with a critical expression.
This was unexpected.
Rio watched, waiting.
Agatha was clearly assessing something.
But what?
Everything was in order.
The apartment was clean, structured, and logically arranged.
There was no unnecessary furniture. No excessive decoration.
Everything she owned, she used.
Everything she kept, she needed.
It was optimal.
So why was Agatha still staring?
Agatha’s gaze moved slowly.
From the bookshelf to the workspace.
From the workspace to the plants.
From the plants to the lack of general décor.
Rio noted a slight crease in her brow.
This was not a neutral reaction.
But it was also not immediately classifiable.
Agatha was not pleased.
But she was not displeased.
She was…
Considering.
Analyzing.
For what reason?
Agatha’s gaze shifted again.
This time, toward the plants.
Rio noted her brow furrowing slightly.
Agatha was trying to make sense of the setup.
Rio assumed it was immediately clear.
It was a controlled system.
A row of small potted plants, placed at varying distances from the window.
Different species, different hydration levels, different soil compositions.
Clear labels documenting experimental variables.
Rio had no questions about this setup.
Agatha, however, had several.
“Wow,” Agatha muttered. “Are you growing plants, or running a full-blown research study?”
Rio didn’t look up. “Both.”
Agatha exhaled sharply. “Of course.”
She didn’t elaborate.
But Rio could tell she found the answer unusual.
She did not understand why.
Plants were a system.
They grew based on specific conditions.
It made sense to observe, analyze, and adjust variables accordingly.
Did Agatha not do this?
How did she expect plants to survive without proper assessment?
Rio decided this was a topic to revisit later.
Agatha’s focus lingered on the bookshelf.
She was frowning.
“…How do you organize these?” she asked.
Rio barely glanced up. “By usefulness.”
Agatha paused. “What, like—most useful at the top?”
“Yes.”
Agatha snorted. “And the ones at the bottom?”
“Less relevant,” Rio said simply.
Agatha stared at her. “So you rank your books?”
“Yes.”
This was self-explanatory.
Yet Agatha still seemed baffled.
Rio did not understand why.
Books had a function.
Some were frequently referenced.
Others were occasionally referenced.
Others were not referenced at all.
The most useful should be most accessible.
This was logical.
Why was Agatha reacting like it wasn’t?
Agatha had not stopped looking at the apartment.
Rio could feel her gaze moving between different areas.
“Have you ever heard of clutter?” Agatha asked.
Rio blinked. “Yes. Why?”
Agatha smirked. “What, no ‘home sweet home’ sign?”
Rio frowned. “Why would I need that?”
Agatha let out a sharp exhale. “Never mind.”
Rio noted the reaction.
Agatha’s tone suggested frustration.
But the corners of her mouth had turned up slightly.
Her expression did not indicate genuine distress.
So Rio concluded that the frustration was non-critical.
Which meant she could return to the original objective.
She adjusted the game settings.
Then, without looking up, she said, “Sit.”
Agatha raised an eyebrow. “No ‘make yourself comfortable’?”
“You won’t be comfortable,” Rio said evenly. “I am going to make you good at Tetris.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. “Okay, first of all—rude.”
Rio did not react.
Because it was not rude.
It was simply a fact.
And facts were not rude.
They were just correct.
Agatha exhaled sharply.
Rio was not sure why.
But it did not matter.
The lesson was about to begin.
And Agatha was about to improve.
Agatha was struggling.
This was not unexpected.
Rio had anticipated resistance.
New players always had difficulty understanding the mechanics at a higher level.
But Agatha was struggling in a way that Rio had not accounted for.
Her reaction time was slow.
Her decision-making was imprecise.
Her movements were stiff, uncoordinated.
She was overthinking.
“You hesitate too much,” Rio said, watching the screen. “Your reaction time is too slow. You need to anticipate your next move before the piece even spawns.”
Agatha tensed.
Rio noted the reaction but continued.
“You’re overthinking.”
“No, I’m not—”
“You are.”
Agatha exhaled sharply.
Rio adjusted her grip on her own controller. “You are not understanding the fundamentals.”
Agatha’s jaw tightened. “I understand fine!”
“No, you don’t.”
Agatha let out a frustrated noise. “Okay, champ, then show me how I’m supposed to—”
She cut off abruptly when Rio moved closer.
Shifted into her space.
Reached out—
And adjusted Agatha’s hands.
Rio did it without thinking.
It was an automatic correction.
Agatha’s grip was too tense. Her hand positioning was off-balance.
Small adjustments were needed.
So Rio made them.
Effortlessly.
Precisely.
Her fingers lightly pressed against Agatha’s skin as she guided her hands into the correct position.
She had expected immediate improvement.
Instead—
Agatha went completely still.
Rio frowned slightly.
That was not the expected outcome.
“Your grip is too tight,” she said, adjusting Agatha’s fingers. “You need to relax.”
Agatha did not respond.
Her posture remained unnaturally rigid.
That was incorrect.
“I—” Agatha’s voice cracked.
Rio waited.
Agatha cleared her throat. “I am relaxed.”
Rio hummed slightly.
“No, you’re not.”
She repositioned Agatha’s fingers.
Just a small movement. Just a slight shift.
But Agatha’s entire body reacted.
Her shoulders tensed further.
Her breath hitched slightly.
Her grip on the controller twitched.
Rio paused.
That was not the expected response.
Agatha’s reaction was illogical.
Had she miscalculated something?
She was about to ask—
When Agatha jerked her hands away.
Agatha nearly dropped the controller.
She pulled her hands back too quickly, like Rio’s touch had been an electric shock.
Rio blinked.
That was not a rational reaction.
“Okay! Great! Lesson over!” Agatha said, voice far too loud.
Rio frowned. “You didn’t learn anything.”
Agatha’s expression was unnatural. Forced.
“Sure I did.”
Rio tilted her head.
That was incorrect.
“If you learned something,” she said, “then why are you still bad at Tetris?”
Agatha shot to her feet so fast her chair nearly knocked over.
“Welp, this was fun, gotta go.”
Rio narrowed her eyes slightly.
That was not an appropriate response.
“We haven’t finished.”
“Oh, we finished.”
Agatha was already moving.
Backing toward the door.
Her behavior was inconsistent.
Her movements were rushed, unfocused.
Her voice had taken on an unnatural cadence.
This was…
This was unusual.
Agatha had almost made it out.
Almost.
She reached for the doorknob—nearly missed it—wrenched the door open, and stepped out into the hall like she was escaping a crime scene.
Rio watched this happen.
Did not react.
Did not understand.
This was not normal behavior.
None of this aligned with expected post-lesson outcomes.
Agatha’s movements were too erratic.
Too rushed, too imprecise, too unnatural.
Something had changed.
Something had disrupted her behavior.
Rio had not yet identified the variable.
“Okay, thanks for the lesson,” Agatha said, voice slightly too loud. “See you—sometime. Probably. Who knows.”
That sentence was not structured correctly.
The cadence was wrong.
The pacing was off.
Agatha was not speaking normally.
She was seconds away from getting out before Rio could analyze further.
And then—
“You left your coat,” Rio said.
Agatha froze.
Cursed under her breath.
Rio noted the tension in her shoulders.
The way she turned halfway—not fully, not properly—just enough to make a vague, unnatural movement.
“…I’ll get it later,” she said.
And then she power-walked down the hall.
Fast.
Deliberate.
Not looking back.
Rio watched her disappear.
Then turned her gaze to the coat still draped over the chair.
She blinked.
That had been illogical.
Agatha was cold frequently.
She had stated so on multiple occasions.
Leaving the coat behind was not a rational decision.
Which meant—
Agatha had been too distracted to remember it.
Which meant—
Something had affected her ability
to think logically.
Rio frowned slightly.
That was interesting.
She folded the coat neatly.
Set it aside.
And made a note to observe Agatha closely the next time they met.
She would figure this out.
Because Rio did not like unsolved puzzles.