At the detention center

  Aiko shoved her tray aside and held out her hand at the meal slot. “More paper.”

  A guard slid a stack of yellow legal pads through. She’d already gone through piles of them, pages scattered everywhere. The scribbles didn’t make sense if she stared too long—but when she was in it, when she let her brain go—it felt like the symbols connected themselves.

  It wasn’t math. Not really. More like… a video game map. Highways of light, branching paths. Sometimes she hit a dead end and it was like—BOOM—she got blasted sideways into another path.

  She tried explaining it to Ginger once. Ginger just blinked at her.

  “You sound crazy,” Ginger had said. “Talk to the warden. He might actually get it.”

  “Malcolm?” Aiko had asked.

  “Yeah. Him. Not me.” Ginger left shaking her head.

  Now, Aiko bent over the paper again, pencil flying. Her hand cramped, but she didn’t care. More routes opened in her head the more she drew.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “I hear you’re on the brink of a discovery,” Malcolm said.

  Aiko jolted. She hadn’t heard the door. She stuck her hand out. “More paper.”

  He set another stack in her palm. She didn’t even look at him, just scribbled. Pages filled, then tore free and landed all over the floor like confetti. By the time she hit the last page, her pencil stopped. The zone broke. Her cell came back into focus—bare walls, harsh light. Malcolm sat calmly on her bunk, watching.

  “Does any of this make sense to you?” she asked, waving at the mess.

  He tilted his head. “Not the numbers. But the feeling, yes?”

  “Yeah. It’s like… a giant road with a million exits. If I take the wrong turn at the wrong time, everything crashes.”

  “Fascinating,” Malcolm murmured.

  He stood. “It’s time to upgrade your cell. You’ll get a digital wall so my team can see your work.”

  Aiko dropped her pencil and marched up to him. “No. First, I need something.”

  His brow lifted. “Oh?”

  “My body’s dying in here. My head’s busy but I’m going soft. I need to train. Mats. A pull-up bar. A punching bag.”

  Malcolm chuckled. “You’ve barely eaten. I doubt you could handle training.”

  Before he finished, Aiko’s hand shot to his throat. She shoved him back against the bunk, squeezing until his eyes widened.

  “Make. It. Happen,” she hissed. “Or the puzzle stops. Maybe you don’t want me to solve it after all?”

  He stared at her, startled but calculating. “That… won’t be necessary, dear. You’ll have one hour of exercise daily—”

  “Two,” Aiko snapped. “Or no deal.”

  Silence stretched. Then Malcolm smiled thinly. “Very well. Two. Just keep working.”

  He handed her another notebook.

  Aiko let him go, snatched the pad, and went right back to scribbling.