Jared Alonzo didn't go straight home.
Instead, he turned left at the intersection near the jeepney terminal and walked toward a small bookstore he had passed countless times—but never entered.
Until today.
The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside.
The smell of paper and ink filled the air.
"Welcome," an old man behind the counter muttered without looking up.
Jared nodded slightly and walked past the shelves.
Let's test this properly.
His eyes scanned titles rapidly.
Mathematics. Psychology. Economics. Philosophy.
Before, these sections intimidated him.
Now?
They intrigued him.
He pulled out a college-level calculus book.
Flipped it open.
Read one page.
Then another.
Then another.
His eyes moved quickly—but not carelessly.
Every line registered.
Every concept connected.
"…I understand this," he whispered.
Not perfectly.
But far faster than before.
Jared closed the book slowly.
This isn't normal improvement.
This was acceleration.
Exponential acceleration.
"Planning to buy, or just reading for free?"
The old man's voice broke his thoughts.
Jared turned.
"…depends," he replied.
The old man raised an eyebrow. "On what?"
"On whether this book is worth finishing."
A pause.
Then the old man chuckled.
"Confident, aren't you?"
Jared didn't answer.
Because it wasn't confidence.
It was observation.
He placed the book back and picked another one.
This time—psychology.
Human behavior.
Manipulation.
Decision-making.
He flipped through it.
People follow patterns.
Emotion overrides logic.
Perception shapes reality.
Jared's eyes sharpened.
So if I understand the patterns…
A slow realization formed.
I can predict them.
"Kid."
The old man spoke again.
"You're reading too fast."
Jared looked up.
"I'm understanding," he corrected calmly.
The old man stared at him for a moment.
Then smirked.
"Dangerous."
Jared tilted his head slightly.
"…how so?"
The old man leaned back in his chair.
"People who understand too quickly…" he said slowly, "…either change the world…"
A pause.
"…or break it."
Silence.
Jared held his gaze.
Then smiled faintly.
"…what if I do both?"
The old man laughed.
"Then I hope I'm still alive to see it."
Jared left the bookstore without buying anything.
But he didn't need to.
He had already gained something far more valuable.
Understanding.
That night, his room was silent.
A single light illuminated his desk.
Books were spread out—borrowed, old, some nearly falling apart.
Jared sat in the center.
Reading.
Writing.
Analyzing.
Hours passed.
But he didn't feel tired.
Not even slightly.
Test 1: Memory retention.
He closed a book.
Then recited an entire page.
Word for word.
"…perfect."
Test 2: Pattern recognition.
He opened a problem set.
Solved ten questions.
Then predicted the next five without looking.
"…consistent."
Test 3: Emotional response.
He paused.
This one was harder.
Jared leaned back.
How do I feel?
He thought about earlier.
About Mark.
About the laughter.
About the attention.
…
Nothing.
Or at least—
Very little.
"…that's new."
Before, he would've felt nervous.
Embarrassed.
Anxious.
Now?
Just… calm.
Detached.
Jared stared at his hands.
"…so intelligence affects emotion."
He tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
Or maybe… it suppresses it.
A thought crossed his mind.
Slow.
Careful.
Dangerous.
If I keep doing this…
Will I still be… me?
Silence filled the room.
For a moment—
He hesitated.
Then—
He smiled.
"…does it matter?"
He picked up another book.
Hours later, his phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
Iris: You're not normal.
Jared stared at the screen.
Then typed back.
Jared: Neither are you.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Then—
Iris: Good. Then we'll get along.
Jared leaned back, a faint smile forming.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
He looked out the window.
The city lights flickered in the distance.
Each one representing a person.
A life.
A pattern.
"…I need more data," he whispered.
Three months was too long.
His eyes darkened slightly.
"…what if I don't wait?"