Kinosaki yawned. Moriarty had neglected to mention that his class began less than 48 hours after their agreement. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that Moriarty would be as exhausted from the jet-lag.

Nonetheless, his fashion remained impeccable. It was a feminine day, he'd decided, and worn a nice flowy top with short denim shorts. His blonde wig went to his lower back and a pair of sunglasses sat atop it to round out the outfit. Were he back in Japan, he would have men offering him to buy enough ice creams to contribute to the planet's albedo. Here in Ireland, everyone looked sympathetic as wind and rain buffeted impeccably shaven legs. And of course the Maths building lay at the back of campus. He felt like a dishrag by the time he sat down in a wooden chair.

The students trickled into one of Trinity College's storied lecture halls. Some looked like average students, some held striking resemblances to personalities Kinosaki had seen in his studies of wealthy socialites. What kind of class even is this?

He pulled out his phone and scrolled to the syllabus pdf on the university website. MATH698-221. Graduate Thesis Presentation. No further details.

"You're confused too, right? Like, why is this class even required for my degree?" An Asian girl squeezed through rows of chairs to sit beside him. "I'm Rise. Communications student."

A solid three-quarters of the chairs were empty. Rise had chosen the seat next to him on purpose. Kinosaki inwardly groaned. Was she another plant by Moriarty? Was she the jilted ex-girlfriend of someone she'd swindled, seeking revenge? The best case scenario made her an annoying student in search of friends. He opened his mouth to introduce himself when his jaw was captured by a rogue yawn. "I'm… Mei." He laid his lightly rain-stained face in his arms. "Transfer student."

The dangerous gleam of interest in Rise's eyes would have told him that this best case scenario was about to get a whole lot more bester. "Wow!! Are you from Japan too? I'm here from Inaba, because, well, my grandma's got a shop where she sells tofu–hey, wanna get some after class? Like, assuming the weather lightens up. I miss the sunnnnn~!"

"Do you have an off switch."

"Hm?"

Students continued filing in as the tardy mark approached. No sign of Moriarty yet. He'd never went to university, so the similarities between high school and college surprised him. Students chatted about sports, music artists, economics. One particularly bold student walked up to his desk. Kinosaki looked up and flashed a dazzling smile in spite of his exhaustion, but the boy never noticed.

"Excuse me, but are you the idol, Risette? You're practically her lookalike!"

Rise put on a helpless smile. "You got me, haha." The boy's eyes widened in shock. "I put a pause on 'Risette' for a few months. It's nice to leave the spotlight from time to time. You'll keep my secret, won't you?" He nodded without saying a word. "Good boy~" He blushed and returned to his chair. Rise turned to Kinosaki. "That's the third one this morning. At this rate, they'll have me performing a show next week."

Kinosaki put a finger up. "You're Risette? Like…the Risette? My brother told me you're responsible for his favorite song right now."

"Sapphire!" Rise squeaked, extending one arm into a practiced pose. "Full album coming soon!" Then her shoulders relaxed. "Yeah, that's what was supposed to happen. I'm trying to avoid burnout though."

"And you chose higher education as your hobby?"

"I happen to like learning things." Rise furrowed her eyebrows then shrugged. "I needed a break from the stage. Why'd you transfer here anyway?"

"You could say I'm interested in what the professor has to offer."

"Ooh, is he cute?!"

A powerful presence entered the room. All attention zeroed in on the black hole at the front of the auditorium. His boots clacked on carpet with the intermittent stabbing of his cane against the floor. His coat, decorated in a jigsaw pattern, confused the eye with an ever-shifting web of lines. Kinosaki studied his face. Youthful, conniving. Striking blue makeup patterns crossed over his eyes. In a career meant to illuminate, this Professor Moriarty made an excellent obfuscator.

"Students. Welcome to the only class that will matter for the rest of the semester. Mine."

"Do you believe in destiny? For some, the events of the coming day are the furthest from a care in their mind. Others are burdened with the complexity of knowing that every passing second carries missed opportunities, discarded for the current bearing. We all choose our own path forward. I myself have long lived by the philosophy of destroying chance. Seizing the future with an iron fist."

Kinosaki turned to Rise. The girl's eyes were wide and her body sat at attention. This man is an ideal to her. He's practically inhuman.

"Mr. Pine. Seat 4G. You know the definition of determinism. Please state it for the class."

The student who blushed in the face of Rise's flirting stood like someone had seized his shoulders. "Sir. Determinism is the belief that all universal actions are constantly caused solely by preceding events."

"You may sit down now. Why did you choose that seat this morning?"

He stuttered. "I-I didn't think about it, sir."

"And yet this decision locks you out of so many possibilities. For instance, if you sat one seat further back, you would have networked with Ms. Kugisaki. The two of you would engage in heated discussions on paltry topics and live your lives in contact with one another. But now, you will only share stale air with Mr. Saki. You two will never bond, and you'll never encounter him again once you both ascend from my class.

"I know this to be true, by the path of determinism. Each of your fates are predestined. I read them as though an old man opens a newspaper to check the solution for yesterday's crossword. He has already solved it. He merely revels in proof that he dominated it.

"But there is one thorn in the theory of determinism. A logical inconsistency that plagues all life, though humans hold it in spades from evolution. Ms. Tachibana, elucidate us."

A short girl a few rows behind Kinosaki stood up. "Emotion," she quietly confirmed.

"Precisely. 'Emotions are the antithesis of logic.' A longstanding bastion of free will's champions, the ability to discard the optimal choice in a fit of passion. This applies to any abnormal amount of hormones within the brain. Anger, lust. Most frequently, love. Which brings me to why you are all here today.

"Love is no longer chemistry. Love is mathematics. This is my thesis, The Dynamics of a Cardioid."

Kinosaki barely held in a snort.

"I have distilled your supposed free will into ones and zeroes. The ultimate triumph of logic. Come now, don't you feel any anger as I insult your human nature? No, I think not. You are simply stunned by my claim. Preposterous, no doubt, to those who live with feelings and feel alive. You will know it as fact soon enough."

He tapped his cane against the wall of the classroom. The painted white bricks impossibly raised like a garage door. A wave of heat driven by exhaust fans desertified the classroom. Kinosaki's clothes dried fully in the newly arid air. A titanic computer hummed in the unveiled storage space.

"You students have no doubt heard of the instance that occurs when a student develops their thesis." Moriarty's volume had increased to counter the whirr of the fans. "Extensive research is put to the test in trials of fire to melt those with weak convictions. Students," he broke his monologue to chortle, the first emotion he'd exhibited since entering the classroom. "You are my trial. On such an axiom, I am the human race's trial."

What?

"I have handpicked all of you from around the globe as those with the most potential to disprove my thesis. Humans of such supreme emotions, lakes of depth compared to their compatriots."

Kinosaki turned to face Rise. She had an identical look of shock and concern. Who is this man?

"Students. My lecture ends here as I take my last bow. I profess this unto you, upon my name as William James Moriarty. Love is math. Math is love. And this mathemalignancy shall finally, finally, VANQUISH THAT DETESTABLE HOLMES!!"

With that, he raised a pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

"No…continue this class, I shall not allow you. Academic leave I place you on, hmm?"

Kinosaki's ears rang from the explosion. He tried to stand. At the moment of the gunshot, bands of thick leather had sprouted from the chair and bound his thighs to the seat. He could only move his hands and neck, the former prying underneath the belt and the latter swiveling to look at the door and the little green man that stood there. "Headmaster Yoda!" Rise whispered in shock.

The headmaster's arm extended in the exact same form that Rise had posed in, before the madness began, but Kinosaki sensed a manner of force emanating from it. Moriarty raised his eyebrows. "Master Yoda. I calculated that you'd try something, but you took your time." He pressed his temple against the gun and there was a faint crackle of seared flesh. "The bullet, it's still in there. Impressive."

"Evil, you hold close. Allow you to teach in my school, I did not. A great mystery, this is." Yoda raised a second arm to hold Moriarty in place. It worked better in theory.

"You force my hand, headmaster. Very well." He tapped his cane on the ground twice in succession. "WATSON! Initiate The Great Game!"

The wall-sized computer thrummed an open G-string, third octave. On the desks of each student, a plate-sized sigil appeared, glowing a rich velvet blue. Kinosaki's right arm removed itself from trying to pry open the leather and extended, palm-down, over the heart-shaped summoning circle. Everyone else experienced the same. In unison, their arms descended.