3. PoLR (The Path Of Least Romance)

I looked at her in disbelief, not quite realizing how this conversation had escalated so quickly.

“So, dumbass.”

“Why don’t you study? Are you stuck in the middle of nowhere or something?”

Her face froze.

Not gradually. Not subtly.

Instantly.

Like a computer program that had just encountered a fatal error.

The kind that hasn’t even loaded its user interface yet.

Her entire body language screamed one clear message:

“Oh no. He didn’t.”

Her lips parted.

Closed again.

Then she swallowed hard, her throat working overtime to suppress whatever explosive response was forming.

“D-d-dumbass?! How… how dare you!” she sputtered.

“And I’m not stuck! I’m just… conserving effort! Yeah, that’s it! Conserving effort!”

Conserving effort?

Don’t you mean the path of least resistance?

I know this might sound boring to some of you, but in physics we usually have statements like these:

“What goes up must come down.”

“Heat flows from hot to cold.”

Now apply those ideas to human behavior, and you get something similar: the principle of least effort.

These ideas usually apply to individuals or isolated systems. When something feels like a waste of time, people naturally try to conserve their energy and effort.

Hanase-san’s face burned red as she desperately searched for a counterattack.

“How prideful.”

The arsenal had just been launched to destroy her confidence. Or at least reduce her haughtiness.

“I’m not prideful! I’m confident! There’s a difference. A huge difference! And… and…”

She paused.

Her brain was clearly buffering, yet she kept muttering like some kind of agitated squirrel.

“Oh, shut up! You’re just jealous. Yeah. Jealous. That’s it.”

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, chin tilted upward with exaggerated stubbornness.

A textbook sulking posture.

Emotional turbulence detected.

Now, I got two options: Storm off or stay and argue.

Probability remained undecided.

I sighed.

“Me? Jealous of you?” I asked calmly.

“How many quantum physics theories have you mastered to support that hypothesis?”

She flinched.

“Besides,” I continued,

“we are only lab partners because of a questionable decision made by our teacher.”

A truly questionable decision.

Apparently she believed we were “made for each other.”

An absurd hypothesis with zero empirical evidence.

“Silly match-up,” I added. “You can’t even keep that haughtiness to yourself. When will you learn?”

Her eyes flashed.

Anger.

But underneath it—

uncertainty.

Interesting.

No one had apparently spoken to her like that before.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk!” she snapped immediately. “Mr. Stoic-and-Emotionless!”

She pointed an accusing finger at me.

“You’re always so quiet and brooding like you’re better than everyone else! At least I show emotions! What’s your excuse for being such a brick wall?!”

Her words tumbled out rapidly, each one trying to reclaim the upper hand.

“And for your information,” she continued, puffing out her chest,

“I’ve mastered more quantum theories than you’ll ever care to read.”

Bold claim.

Unverified.

“Don’t even try comparing us. Or have you forgotten who always helps you understand the harder concepts? Who makes sure you keep up with me?”

She snorted.

“Accident or not, we’re stuck together. You might as well accept it. Although clearly, you need to learn to appreciate having me as your lab partner.”

I nodded slowly.

“Good.”

I began gathering my things.

“That’s it. Fine, I'm leaving,” I said while picking up my backpack.

Her reaction was immediate.

“Wait, wait, wait! No!”

Shiro Hanase practically jumped off the table.

Unfortunately, gravity remained undefeated.

Her landing was clumsy, her feet tangling briefly before she caught herself.

Then she grabbed my arm.

“Hold on, you’re actually leaving? Just… just like that?”

Her voice carried a strange note.

Desperation.

Which seemed to irritate her even more.

Her grip tightened.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare!”

I looked down at her hand.

Then at her.

“…Huft.”

“Alright, Hanase Shiro,” I said.

“What do you even want from me?”

She released my sleeve immediately.

Apparently she had just realized how tightly she had been holding it.

She cleared her throat.

Her gaze drifted away.

“I… um… I…”

The great Hanase Rin was malfunctioning.

She fidgeted with the hem of her blazer.

“I don’t know,” she muttered quietly.

Then even quieter—

“Just… stay, okay?”

Her cheeks turned red again.

“Don’t go.”

She looked anywhere except at me.

“It’s… boring when you’re not here.”

A pause.

“And Nakamura’s exam is tomorrow.”

Another pause.

“We should… study together. Like usual.”

She gestured awkwardly toward the empty chair beside her.

Thus, the pride-preservation protocol was active.

And with the emotional confession postponed, I sat back down.

“Sure.”

She relaxed almost immediately.

“…Also,” I added calmly,

“I wasn’t that incompetent when you taught me.”

“So save yourself the embarrassment.”

Her reaction was predictable.

She puffed out her chest.

“Hey! You were clueless! Admit it!”

She poked my shoulder.

“Half of those concepts would’ve gone right over your head without me, you know?”

She smirked, saying things she would definitely regret later.

“Besides, you’re being generous. You were pretty bad. But… I guess you’re slightly less hopeless now.”

She leaned back in her chair, elbows resting on the table.

Her expression softened for a brief moment.

Then she quickly hid it again.

Interesting.

“Really?” I asked.

“What are Einstein’s classical mechanics?”

Her eyes immediately narrowed.

“Oh, you’re trying to trap me.”

She straightened.

Confidence restored.

“Fine.”

She crossed her arms proudly.

“Einstein’s classical mechanics… well, it builds on Newton’s laws of motion, right? But then Einstein introduces relativity. So it’s about understanding motion with additional factors like time dilation and spacetime curvature—”

She stopped.

Realizing she had begun rambling.

She narrowed her eyes at me.

“See? Easy. Child’s play.”

Then she muttered something under her breath.

Probably an insult.

Unfortunately for her, I ignored it.

“And the calculation?” I asked.

She blinked.

“I already understood relativity long before you did,” I continued. “So I was simply testing you.”

I slid a piece of paper toward her.

“Now solve this.”

“If Planet A and Planet B rotate every forty days and thirty days respectively, how much time difference will occur after ten years due to time dilation?”