Chapter 33: The Unsolvable Equation

The door softly clicked shut behind her, sealing away the room fraught with intense emotions and unresolved conflicts. The cold, empty air of the corridor enveloped Xia Yue, yet it did nothing to quell the unfamiliar heat still coursing beneath her skin.

Instead of leaving immediately, she leaned against the frigid wall, slowly sliding down to the floor, much like the girl she had just left behind in the room. For the first time, her usually ramrod-straight spine seemed to curve, a slight hunch appearing, as if burdened by an invisible, crushing weight.

Her fingertips still trembled slightly.

She lowered her gaze, staring at her hands—the very hands that had just moments ago, in a surge of uncontrolled force, pinned that person against the wall. Long and slender, pale and with distinct knuckles, they were typically steady enough to manipulate the most delicate instruments, to wield the sharpest ice blades. Yet, just moments ago, they had utterly lost control, all because of a few… illogical, emotionally charged words.

‘Why did I lose control again?’

The question pierced her mind like a cold needle, puncturing her brain that had abruptly ceased its rapid calculations.

The last time she had lost control was at the school gates, upon seeing Jin and Yu Niannian together, and hearing Lin Wan’s casual jest about ‘money’. That dark, surging tide of emotion, which had instantly breached the dam of her rationality, remained vividly etched in her memory. She had attributed it to the primal instinct of her ‘possession’ being coveted, and swiftly devised a solution: to construct an unassailable cage with superior resources and more stringent rules, thereby ensuring the absolute stability of her ‘ownership’.

She had believed that marked a return to pure reason.

Yet just now, when that seemingly weak witch, who had always been a vessel of passive endurance, met her gaze with tear-filled, stubborn eyes, and declared, “You give me what you want, but it’s never what I want,” even going so far as to make that absurd request—to hear her utter the words, ‘I need you’…

The rational defenses she had so meticulously erected, believing them impregnable, crumbled once more. This collapse was far more complete than the last, and infinitely more… ignominious.

Was it anger? Indubitably. To be rejected, to have her meticulously calculated ‘optimal solution’ dismissed, was an affront that undeniably ignited her fury.

But what lay deeper still?

It was a sense of… panic.

A panic born from the sudden, catastrophic collapse of a meticulously constructed, supposedly flawless logical model in the face of reality. A panic stemming from the discovery that her proudly honed ‘problem-solving’ capabilities were utterly useless in a particular domain.

And… a profound shame and helplessness at being stripped bare of her facade, forced to confront the secret desires lurking deep within her heart.

‘I do need Jin.’

This realization surfaced like an iceberg in the darkness—cold, unyielding, and impossible to ignore.

‘What did she need her for?’

Did she need those eyes of hers, always tinged with timidity, yet at odd moments revealing a stubborn tenacity, to gaze only upon her?

Did she need the pitifully weak magical fluctuations from her, which inexplicably stirred her own emotions?

Did she need the distinct ‘essence of life’ that only permeated her small apartment when Jin was there, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile order of the student council office?

These needs were immeasurable, incapable of being integrated into any mathematical model, and could not be quantified by ‘resources’ or ‘efficiency’. They were emotional, nebulous, and rife with uncontrollable variables.

And to admit such a need aloud?

‘That would be tantamount to showing weakness, proving my incompetence.’

Showing weakness. Exposing her own needs to others, particularly to the witch who appeared weak but could so effortlessly disrupt her composure, was tantamount to relinquishing control, to admitting a ‘weakness’ that could be exploited. It violated every tenet of her conduct.

It simply shouldn’t be this way. Emotions were redundant, needs inefficient, and relying on others, utterly foolish. She had always held these beliefs as immutable truths, constructing her entire world upon them.

‘Why?’

Closing her eyes, she forced herself into a state of calm, beginning to retrace every ‘minute detail’ related to Jin, much like analyzing anomalous data.

Not as a ‘witch specimen’ requiring surveillance, nor as a ‘possession’ bound by contract, but… as ‘Jin’ herself.

She recalled the first time she had noticed the transfer student in class—always relegated to a corner, with unremarkable grades and abysmal physical prowess. Then, Jin had struck her as so utterly unremarkable as to be worthless, even somewhat irritating; an excessively weak presence inherently disrupted the equilibrium of any environment.

She remembered the subtle flicker of displeasure that had stirred within her when Lin Wan had latched onto Jin like a child discovering a new toy. It wasn’t born of concern for Jin’s identity as a witch, but rather felt more akin to a primal instinct—that of her territory being encroached upon.

She recalled that absurd afternoon when they had been forced to share a shower, Jin’s flushed cheeks and rigid posture amidst the swirling steam. What had her mood been then? It seemed… not entirely the pleasure of control, but also a trace of an indescribable… flutter?

She remembered Jin, slumped on Lin Wan’s lap playing games, wearing an expression of utter resignation after their antics made the news. Beyond merely finding Lin Wan’s behavior ridiculous, had there also been… a flicker of irritation at being excluded?

She recalled her uncontrollable fury and… apprehension, when Jin hadn’t returned home for the night, staying with Yu Niannian instead?

She recalled her own uncontrollable, desperate protectiveness when Ouyang Na had tried to take Jin away at the organization’s base.

She recalled just moments ago, when Jin had stumbled, carrying Huo Hualan on her back, her face smudged with dirt and scrapes, yet defiantly arguing back at Huo Hualan. That fleeting… peculiar emotion that had surged within her. It wasn’t revulsion for Jin’s witch identity, nor anger at her defiance, but rather… a tremor of almost admiration?

These fragmented images and emotions, like disparate data streams, raced through her mind. She attempted to decipher and categorize them through logic, only to find they stubbornly resisted all rational analysis.

She had always believed she was ‘cultivating’ a unique pet, one requiring strict management. She provided sanctuary (the apartment), offered sustenance (resources), and established rules (the contract), convinced this would secure its loyalty and dependence.

Yet, only at this very moment did she vaguely grasp that the ‘pet’ might never have truly belonged to her. It possessed its own independent thoughts, a will both fragile and tenacious. It would wag its tail for another’s ‘bone’ (Lin Wan’s affection, Yu Niannian’s pocket money), yet scorn her own meticulously prepared ‘premium feed’, even… biting the hand that fed it.

What was even more unacceptable was the dawning realization that she… didn’t merely wish to be a ‘keeper’.

That intense, overwhelming urge to utterly control, to monopolize all of Jin’s attention, to have her depend solely on Xia Yue, to reveal her true emotions (even anger and rejection) only to her… what, precisely, was it?

Was it jealousy of Lin Wan’s straightforwardness? Disdain for Yu Niannian’s childishness?

No, it was more than that.

It was she herself… who yearned for that illogical, inefficient, chaotic yet… warm connection.

A yearning so profound that… when she discovered it couldn’t be acquired through her accustomed methods (calculation, rules, resources), she would spiral into a rage, lose control, and resort to childish, crude behaviors she herself couldn’t comprehend.

Xia Yue slowly lifted her head, and within her ice-blue eyes, the perpetually frozen expanse seemed to splinter with new fissures, revealing the fathomless darkness beneath, churning with a maelstrom of unknown emotions.

She understood.

It wasn’t that Jin had rejected her ‘optimal solution’.

Rather, she herself had fundamentally misunderstood the problem.

What she needed, perhaps, was never a cold ‘Resource Provision and Behavior Protocol’.

It was…

The answer hovered on the precipice of her awareness, yet its revelation brought with it an unprecedented surge of trepidation and… fear.

To admit it would be a thousand times more difficult than confronting an army of shadow beasts, or devising the most intricate battle strategy.

Rising to her feet, she smoothed the impeccably wrinkle-free hem of her clothes, her face regaining its customary calm and cool detachment.

Only the fingers, subtly curled at her sides, betrayed the turbulent unrest still churning within her.

She turned and departed the empty corridor, her silhouette remaining tall and solitary.

But some things, once reflected upon, could never truly return to their starting point.

A new, unsolvable variable had been introduced into the equation of her heart.

Named—Kazami Jin.