Chapter 33: The Third Wheel Protocol

【Seda PoV】

Ryuuji Kanzaki does not know when to quit.

I watched from the corner of my eye as he approached Alfred’s desk before homeroom, leather-bound notebook clutched against his chest like some kind of sacred text. The morning light cut through the windows at sharp angles, painting everyone in washed-out gold. Most students were still half-asleep, slumped over their desks or scrolling through their phones. But not Ryuuji. No, the rich transfer student was wide awake and laser-focused on my target.

Yesterday’s “Genre Shift” incident should have scared him off. Elizabeth had programmed that shock specifically to warn away potential interference. Apparently the golden retriever lacked basic survival instincts.

Ryuuji stopped beside Alfred’s desk, looming over him with those stupidly earnest eyes.

“Sensei.”

His voice carried that same reverent tone that made my skin crawl. Like Alfred was some kind of enlightened master instead of a panicking virgin who couldn’t handle basic intimacy.

Alfred looked up, and I caught the expression that flashed across his face. Terror mixed with something else. Something that looked suspiciously like pride.

The idiot was flattered.

A growl built in my chest, low and dangerous. I swallowed it down before it could escape. The app locked Alfred to us, not to some transfer student with expensive hair and daddy’s credit card. This connection needed to be severed immediately.

But I couldn’t break character. Had to maintain the hypnotized doll persona Elizabeth and I had built. Had to seem obedient and mindless and completely under Alfred’s supposed control.

Fine. I could work within those parameters.

Ryuuji leaned in closer, invading Alfred’s space with zero awareness of appropriate social boundaries.

“I have drafted a comprehensive plan to restore our honor.”

He opened the leather notebook, revealing pages of neat handwriting. Actual bullet points. Color-coded sections. The psycho had made a literal training manual.

Alfred’s mouth opened, probably to say something stupid and encouraging.

Time for a tactical malfunction.

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor with a screech that cut through every conversation in the room. Heads turned. Whispers started. Perfect. I needed witnesses for this performance.

I walked toward them, each step measured and mechanical. Elizabeth had programmed specific movement patterns into my “hypnotized” persona. Stiff joints. Minimal arm swing. Dead-eyed stare. I executed every detail perfectly.

My reflection caught in the window as I passed. I looked like something from a horror movie. Excellent.

“Target acquired.”

My voice came out flat and emotionless, each word clipped and robotic. I walked straight toward the narrow gap between Alfred and Ryuuji’s desk.

Ryuuji’s eyes widened as I approached. He didn’t move fast enough.

I squeezed myself directly into the six-inch space between them, my shoulder slamming into Ryuuji’s chest hard enough to make him stumble backward.

“Space violation—”

His protest died as I positioned myself like a physical barrier. My back pressed against Alfred’s desk. My body blocked Ryuuji’s line of sight completely.

“Calibration error detected.”

I tilted my head at an unnatural angle, like a robot processing corrupted data. The fluorescent lights caught my eyes at just the right angle to make them look glassy and unfocused.

Ryuuji backed up another step, confusion replacing his earlier confidence.

“I apologize for the interruption, but—”

“Gyroscopic sensors malfunctioning.”

I turned away from him completely, facing Alfred instead. His expression was priceless. Pure panic mixed with that trademark confusion that made him so easy to manipulate.

“Master.”

The word tasted like honey on my tongue. Sweet and sticky and perfect for this trap.

“My center of gravity is fluctuating. I require immediate stabilization.”

Alfred’s hands came up in that useless hovering gesture he always did when panicking.

“Seda, what are you—”

I didn’t let him finish. I collapsed forward with controlled precision, draping my entire body over his chest. My arms locked around his neck. My weight pinned him to his chair. I could feel his heartbeat hammering against my ribs, rabbit-fast and terrified.

Perfect.

“Stabilizing.”

I murmured the word directly into his ear, letting my breath ghost across his skin. He shuddered. His hands landed on my shoulders, pushing weakly, accomplishing absolutely nothing.

“Systems rebooting. Estimated time to completion: twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?!”

His voice cracked on the second word. Behind me, I heard Ryuuji shifting awkwardly, his expensive shoes squeaking against the floor.

“Do not release.”

I tightened my grip around Alfred’s neck, pressing closer. His cheap laundry detergent smell mixed with fear-sweat created this oddly endearing combination. He was so warm. So solid. So completely and utterly mine.

“Premature disconnection will corrupt the calibration sequence.”

Alfred’s breathing went shallow and rapid. His hands stopped pushing and just kind of hovered there, touching my shoulders but not really doing anything. Classic Alfred paralysis. The same response he’d had in the classroom, the storage room, the shoe lockers.

Some things never changed.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to see Ryuuji through my peripheral vision. He stood there clutching that stupid notebook like a shield, his face cycling through approximately seventeen different emotions. Confusion. Embarrassment. Awkwardness. A little bit of horror.

Good. Feel awkward. Feel like the third wheel you are.

“Sensei, I—”

His voice wavered. I felt the exact moment he realized he’d lost this battle. The way his posture deflated. The way his grip on the notebook loosened.

“I will return later.”

The words came out stiff and formal, his default response when socially overwhelmed. He bowed awkwardly, nearly dropping the notebook in the process, then turned and practically fled toward his own desk.

Mission accomplished.

I stayed draped over Alfred, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow from hummingbird-speed to merely elevated. The classroom had gone back to its usual morning chaos. Conversations resumed. Someone laughed at a video on their phone. Kenji whistled from somewhere behind us, probably entertained by the show.

“Are you rebooted yet?”

Alfred’s voice came out as barely a squeak. His hands had settled on my back now, not pushing but not exactly pulling either. Just resting there like he didn’t know what else to do with them.

“Buffering.”

I let the lie hang in the air between us. The morning sunlight shifted, warming my shoulders through my uniform. Alfred’s heartbeat continued its steady rhythm against my chest. He smelled like fear and detergent and something uniquely him that I’d grown weirdly addicted to over the past few weeks.

I snuggled closer, adjusting my position to get more comfortable. His breath hitched. His fingers twitched against my back.

“How long does buffering usually take?”

“Variable duration. Dependent on system complexity.”

Total nonsense. Pure improvisation. But he bought it because he was Alfred and he bought everything we sold him.

I felt his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. His chest rose and fell with increasingly controlled breaths, like he was trying to manually regulate his panic response. It wouldn’t work. It never worked. Alfred’s anxiety was hardwired into his operating system.

“People are staring.”

“Irrelevant. Prioritizing stabilization protocol.”

Actually people had mostly stopped staring. We were old news now. The weird hypnotized exchange student and her “master” had become background noise in the classroom ecosystem. Just another day, another bizarre interaction that everyone had learned to tune out.

But Alfred didn’t need to know that.

I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in that detergent smell again. His pulse jumped under my lips. He made this tiny strangled sound that he probably thought was quiet but definitely wasn’t.

“Seda—”

“Buffering.”

One word. One lie. Complete shutdown of his protest. I felt the fight drain out of him, that familiar resignation settling over his shoulders. He was accepting the situation because he thought he had to. Because he thought I was just a malfunctioning robot following corrupted programming.

The irony was beautiful.

Behind us, Ryuuji sat at his desk, staring at his notebook without really seeing it. I could feel his presence like a bad smell. Lingering. Unwanted. A threat to the carefully constructed dynamic Elizabeth and I had built.

This had been a warning shot. A clear demonstration of hierarchy and ownership. Alfred belonged to us. The app connected him to us. No transfer student with money and muscles and stupid earnest eyes was going to change that equation.

The morning bell rang, sharp and intrusive. Mr. Tanaka would walk through that door any second, and I’d have to return to my seat. Had to maintain the illusion of normalcy.

But not yet. Not quite yet.

I tightened my arms around Alfred’s neck one more time, a final possessive squeeze that made him gasp. His hands gripped my back harder in response, an involuntary reaction he probably wasn’t even aware of.

“Calibration complete.”

I released him abruptly and stood up, returning to that stiff mechanical posture. My face went blank. My eyes unfocused. Perfect hypnotized doll, ready for the next command.

Alfred slumped in his chair like a puppet with cut strings, his face flushed red and his hair messed up from where I’d been pressed against him. He looked thoroughly debauched. Thoroughly claimed.

Thoroughly mine.

I walked back to my desk with those same robotic movements, each step measured and precise. I didn’t look at Ryuuji. Didn’t acknowledge his existence. He was irrelevant now. A problem solved. A threat neutralized.

Mr. Tanaka entered the classroom, calling for attention. Students shuffled to their seats. The morning routine began.

But I could still feel Alfred’s heartbeat against my ribs, still smell his cheap detergent on my uniform, still taste the victory of watching Ryuuji retreat with his tail between his legs.

The third wheel had been removed, and the machine could continue running smoothly.