The soft rustle of the envelopes being distributed was the only sound in the elegant room. Each girl took one, their expressions a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Kyouya watched them, his gaze dispassionate, almost clinical, as they accepted their task. He knew what he had placed inside those envelopes. Not simple arithmetic, but problems designed to probe beyond mere academic knowledge—problems that would reveal patterns of thought, resilience under pressure, and perhaps, a flicker of something more.
He cleared his throat, the subtle sound commanding instant attention. "Alright, ladies. What you hold are not typical pop quizzes. Consider them... exercises in analytical thinking." His lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "There's no time limit, but I encourage efficiency. Your solutions should be elegant, precise, and most importantly, demonstrably your own. Any attempt at dishonesty or consultation will be immediately apparent and will result in disqualification."
His eyes lingered for a fraction longer on a few faces, scanning their reactions. He saw the flicker of questions in their eyes, the unspoken disqualification from what? that he deliberately left unanswered.
"These are not graded for correctness in the traditional sense," he continued, his voice smooth and controlled, carefully choosing his words. "Think of them as a baseline. A way for me to understand your current... intellectual disposition. The individual who presents the most insightful and compelling resolution will, of course, receive a commensurate recognition for their intellectual prowess."
He paused, letting the formal words hang in the air. Outwardly, he maintained a placid, almost benevolent expression.
Internally, Kyouya's mind hummed with a different frequency, a chilling current beneath the calm surface.
Yes, he thought, commensurate recognition. A profound study. For the one who demonstrates the most intriguing and compelling solution, the one whose mental processes resonate most deeply with the patterns I seek... I intend to worship her.
Not with altars or incense, no. That is crude, barbaric. My worship is of the mind. A devoted study. An unwavering focus on its unique mechanisms, its exquisite intricacies, its every nuance of thought and response. I shall worship her intellect by dissecting it, by immersing myself in its every logical leap and intuitive grace. By exploring its boundaries. By... becoming intimately familiar with its every facet, down to its foundational structures.
This is precisely the kind of intimacy I seek, his intrusive thoughts echoed, precise and cold. Not of the flesh, but of the psyche. To dismantle, to understand, to possess... in the most profound and unsettling intellectual sense. Let the most intriguing specimen reveal herself. This is my true, intimate experiment.
He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, signaling the end of his instructions. "You may begin." The command hung clear and concise in the silence. The girls, unaware of the true depths of Kyouya's contemplation, bent their heads over the challenging problems, their pens scratching, their brows furrowed in concentration. Kyouya settled back into his chair, a silent, predatory observer. The problems were merely the bait. The true test, for him, had just begun.
Just as a few pens began to scratch tentatively on paper, Kyouya's voice, calm and clear, cut through the budding silence.
"Hold that thought, ladies," he interjected smoothly. His gaze drifted to the expansive windows behind them, beyond which lay the estate's meticulously maintained gardens, and further still, a glimpse of the vast, shimmering expanse of the swimming pool. He didn't point, but his focus drew their eyes subtly in that direction.
"Your first task for this morning, the one you hold in your hands, is merely a preliminary exercise," he began, his voice taking on a didactic tone. "A test of fundamental recall. The true challenge, however, lies in applying that knowledge to a more dynamic, real-world scenario."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding a familiar glint of intellectual challenge. "Consider the swimming pool you glimpsed, or perhaps enjoyed yesterday. It is a standard rectangular design: precisely 25 meters in length, 6 meters in width, and 1.5 meters deep at its maximum capacity."
"Now, imagine this pool operates under certain conditions," Kyouya continued, his words painting the scene for them. "It experiences a constant, low-level water loss due to evaporation and minor splash-out, amounting to an average of 0.5 cubic meters per day. Simultaneously, an automated refilling system delivers water at a continuous, steady rate of 1.5 cubic meters per day through a concealed inflow pipe."
He paused, letting the numbers settle. The girls were now either scribbling furiously to capture the details or staring, wide-eyed, trying to process the verbal instructions. Ayaka, always quick to grasp a problem's essence, had already jotted down the dimensions and the flow rates.
"Your task, presented in three parts, is to analyze this scenario using the tools you've been given," Kyouya stated, his voice carrying the weight of expectation.
"Part A: Given the daily water loss and the continuous refill rate, what is the net rate of change of the water volume in the pool? Express your answer in cubic meters per day."
"Part B: Utilizing the principles of calculus, specifically differentiation, determine the rate at which the water's depth (or height) is changing in the pool. Express your answer in meters per day. Show your derivation clearly."
"Part C: If the pool currently stands at a depth of 1.2 meters, and assuming the net rate of change remains constant, calculate precisely how many days will it take for the pool to be completely full to its 1.5-meter depth? Show all your steps."
A fresh wave of murmurs swept through the room. The initial problems on their paper were forgotten. This was different—a live, spoken challenge, immediately more complex than static calculations. Some faces blanched at the explicit mention of "calculus," while others, like Ayaka, seemed to relish the tangible nature of the problem, their pens scratching with renewed vigor as they began transcribing Kyouya's words onto their sheets.
Excellent, Kyouya mused, his gaze drifting over their expressions, noting the varying degrees of comprehension and frustration. This problem is layered. It requires not just calculation, but conceptual understanding of dynamic systems. The flow, the variables, the integration of different rates – it speaks to the interconnectedness of all things.
I'm searching for the mind that doesn't just solve it, but perhaps, finds an elegance in the solution. One that sees the beauty in the differential, the power in the integral. A mind that could intuit the subtle fluxes of human connection as readily as it traces the rise and fall of water levels.
A mind I could... truly explore. A mind that, when presented with the variables of my own desires, might reveal fascinating, perhaps even harmonious, correlations. This exercise is merely a screening. The true depth of my 'worship' awaits the one whose intellect proves most compellingly... receptive.
He settled back once more, his presence a silent, intense pressure in the room. The only sounds were the soft scrape of pens and the hum of minds grappling with the invisible currents of water and time.