Chapter 15 The Indirect Kiss

Chapter 15 The Indirect Kiss
It was late afternoon. The setting sun cast a warm, golden haze through the classroom windows, making the empty room look like a perfectly lit scene from a teen romance drama. It was the exact kind of romantic atmosphere where the main couple would stay after school to flirt.
But right now, the situation was absolutely not romantic.
Ruth Keen was standing there in a state of sheer, unadulterated horror.
What did he just say?!
Hand sweat?!
Holy fucking shit.
She was holding a piece of paper that was completely soaked through. And he was telling her it was covered in some random guy's sweat?!
The second her brain processed the words, her reflexes kicked in. She practically threw the paper away from her like it was on fire.
The "sweat-soaked" piece of paper fluttered through the air, landing back on Matthew's desk with a pathetic, wet smack.
"...Oh my god," Ruth gasped, her eyes wide with pure disbelief. "What is wrong with that guy?! How can someone's hands sweat enough to completely soak a piece of paper?!"
Matthew's face remained a mask of perfect, icy calm. He didn't even blink. "He probably has overactive sweat glands. Theoretically, it's possible."
At this point, Ruth had absolutely zero interest in knowing what the paper originally said. She didn't even doubt Matthew's incredibly sketchy medical diagnosis. Her entire mind was consumed by the horrifying concept of holding someone else's concentrated palm sweat.
She stared down at her own hand in disgust. "I just washed my hands..."
"Then wash them again," Matthew said smoothly. He picked up her backpack from the desk and stood up. "The bathrooms are on the way to the elevator anyway."
Ruth nodded aggressively and followed him out of the classroom.
As they walked, Ruth didn't suspect a single thing. She spent the entire walk complaining about how terrifying human biology was. Listening to her babble on and on in disgust, Matthew’s previously foul mood vastly improved.
When they reached the restrooms, Matthew waited outside holding her bag. As soon as Ruth came out, hands freshly scrubbed, Matthew handed her the bag. His expression was entirely serious.
"I'm going to go wash mine too," he said.
"Oh, right!" Ruth immediately grabbed the bag. "You touched it too! Go, go!"
Without a single shred of guilt, Matthew walked into the men's room and thoroughly washed his hands with scented soap. He scrubbed them like the hand sweat story had actually been true, purely because he was deeply disgusted by the fact that he had held that guy's phone number.
Since classes were over for the day, Matthew walked Ruth back to the dorms.
Olivia was a graduate student at Cal U, and to save time commuting, she had applied for a single dorm room. Ruth had told the class she was living with a grad student friend, which was why she wasn't assigned a bed in the undergrad dorms. Occasionally, if Ruth had a long gap between classes, she would crash on Olivia's bed for a nap.
After dropping her bag off, Ruth didn't head back to her hotel. Instead, she caught a ride straight to The Buckley Estate.
She was supposedly going there for dinner, but in reality, she was going there to get scolded.
"...What have you actually done since you got back to the States? Hmm?" Jamie Buckley paced back and forth in the living room, glaring at her. "I heard you barely show your face at the company! Over the last few weeks, the only thing you’ve done is sign one contract for me! What was the point of going to Harvard? What is the point of finishing a four-year program in two years if you’re not going to work?!"
Jamie huffed loudly. "Yes, the Vanguard Cup is important, but are you going to completely ignore the family business just for a trophy?!"
"But Grandpa," Ruth argued reasonably, "Even if I go to the company, I can't officially take an executive position yet..."
"Shut your mouth!" Jamie roared. "When you're getting scolded, you do not talk back! Are you a child? If a professor was scolding you in class and you talked back, they'd scold you even harder!"
Ruth, completely lacking any self-awareness, talked back again. "I've never been scolded by a teacher in my entire life. All my teachers loved me."
Jamie: "........."
Are you seriously arguing with me right now?!
Because of her blatant disrespect, Ruth's scolding session was extended from twenty minutes to a full forty minutes. It wasn't until dinner was served that Jamie finally muted himself.
After dinner, Ruth sat on the sofa chatting with her grandmother while Jamie sat in his armchair, maintaining a perfectly rigid, cold expression.
Just as Ruth was looking at the clock, preparing to leave, Jamie's phone rang. It was an old friend of his. As he chatted with the other man on the phone, his stony expression finally softened.
When people reached his age, their phone calls mostly consisted of reminiscing about the past and bragging about their grandchildren.
Ruth suddenly heard Jamie's booming voice. "Ah, yes, I have a grandchild studying abroad too... No, not Cambridge. No, no. Harvard."
Wait. Is he talking about me?
Ruth immediately perked her ears up.
"Yes, Harvard is quite decent, yes..." Jamie paused, adopting a perfectly casual, incredibly arrogant tone. "Ah, it's just one of the kids. You haven't seen her in years, you wouldn't know her..."
And then, the exact same man who had spent forty minutes screaming 'What is the point of your degree?!' suddenly shifted gears, his voice dripping with pure, unadulterated smugness.
"Oh, you know how it is. The Harvard curriculum is supposed to take six years, but she finished it in three. I didn't expect her to finish that fast, honestly. I mean, it's just... alright, I suppose."
The way he said 'alright' clearly translated to 'she is a literal god among men.'
Her grandmother covered her mouth, silently shaking with laughter.
Ruth: "........."
This little old man really has two faces, doesn't he?
Even though the evening ended on a happy note, a scolding was still a scolding. Ruth knew she had to show some actual initiative. It was like getting caught playing games in class—you had to write an apology letter proving your heart belonged only to your studies.
So, before the sports festival officially kicked off, Ruth dutifully visited the Sylvan Enterprises VR Research Studio, fully prepared to write a multi-page analytical report for Mr. Buckley.
The cooperative project with Cal U was already under construction, but Sylvan was not a new venture. The Buckley family had been investing in VR tech for years.
Veridian City was the undisputed economic hub of the country. Many top-tier corporations were based there, but The Buckley and The Lynes were the undisputed titans. Insiders often joked that the two families were basically fighting a Cold War. They didn't directly attack each other, they coexisted peacefully, and their power was perfectly matched. One year The Buckley would pull ahead, the next year The Lynes would take the lead.
However, in recent years, The Buckley had started losing ground in one specific sector: IT and Gaming.
The Lynes family had heavily invested in game development. Their PC and mobile MMOs had exploded in popularity, achieving massive nationwide success and generating astronomical, direct revenue for the company.
According to Olivia's elite gossip network, the mastermind behind that massively successful game was actually the Second Son of the Lynes family. While a professional team handled the coding, the entire concept, world-building, and mechanics had been designed by the Younger Master. Olivia and Anne both played the game, and they constantly sighed over how terrifyingly brilliant the man must be.
Ruth had never played an MMO, so she didn't care much about it. She was much more interested in the VR technology The Buckley had been quietly developing for years.
This was Ruth's first time visiting the top-secret Sylvan VR Studio. It was located on the top floor of a massive Buckley-owned skyscraper. The space was expansive, divided into pristine, glass-walled modules.
The man hosting her today was the Lead Engineer, Max Lea. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and a crisp white lab coat, projecting the aura of a refined, highly educated academic.
"You must be Miss Keen?" Max asked.
"I am," Ruth smiled warmly. "Hello, Engineer Lea."
"Mr. Buckley informed me you were coming. I'll give you a comprehensive tour of the project..." After exchanging greetings, Max led her through a series of heavy security doors that required his ID badge to unlock. He looked back at her. "Some of the theoretical foundations can be quite dry. We can skip those and just focus on the visual prototypes if you'd prefer."
Ruth had always loved computer science. Even though she had the opportunity to take CS electives at Harvard, she had never enrolled in them because she was aggressively calculating her credits to graduate in three years. She couldn't afford to waste a single class.
But now? Why would she skip the good stuff?
"No, no, Engineer Lea! Please don't skip anything. I'm actually very interested in the backend mechanics," Ruth said eagerly.
Max smiled. "Alright then. Follow me."
For the next two hours, Ruth meticulously inspected every corner of the research base.
Because she had previously dual-majored in CS, and was currently brushing up on Cal U's curriculum, she understood every single piece of technical jargon Max used. She could follow his logic flawlessly.
The more she saw, the more excited she became. She desperately wanted to get her hands on the code.
When Max finally let her put on the first-generation Sylvan VR headset, Ruth felt like every pore on her body opened up. The visual immersion was unbelievable. It was like stepping into another reality.
She acted like a kid who had just seen a remote-control race car for the first time. She peppered Max with an endless stream of highly technical questions. By the end of the tour, the dynamic had completely shifted—Max wasn't lecturing anymore; he was just answering her rapid-fire inquiries.
"Engineer Lea," Ruth asked as she finally took the headset off. "What industries are we planning to apply this technology to?"
"Currently, we're mostly focused on the exhibition level. There are many potential applications—architectural 3D modeling, for example. In the medical field, it could be used for remote surgical training. We're also looking at virtual tourism, education, and immersive cinema."
Almost as an afterthought, Max added, "But realistically, due to the massive funding required and the current hardware limitations, VR is mostly restricted to specialized professional fields. There's very little application for it in the entertainment sector right now."
Ruth froze.
Very little application in entertainment?
But entertainment is the biggest market in the world!
Not everyone was an architect or a surgeon. But almost everyone consumed entertainment on a daily basis.
A wild, slightly unrealistic idea flashed through Ruth's brain.
Or rather, it was an idea that would have been unrealistic a decade ago. But looking at the technology in her hands... maybe it wasn't that far away anymore.
When Max walked her to the elevator, Ruth finally couldn't hold it in. "...Engineer Lea. I have one last question."
Max had fully experienced her 'curious baby' energy over the last two hours. He laughed helplessly. "Go ahead."
"You mentioned earlier that the technology wasn't mature enough before, but what you showed me today is a proprietary engine that we haven't released to the public yet..."
Ruth looked at him, her eyes burning with absolute, piercing intensity. "Has anyone ever proposed... combining this VR engine with a massive multiplayer online game?"
Before Ruth left the studio, Max promised he would seriously evaluate the feasibility of her proposal and get back to her.
Ruth felt like a literal genius. Her brain was completely fired up. The second she got back to her hotel room, she sat down and drafted a three-thousand-word analytical report in under an hour. She not only summarized her thoughts on the tour but wrote a massive, detailed proposal on integrating their VR engine into the gaming sector.
When she finally hit 'send' on the email to Mr. Buckley, she felt an overwhelming surge of confidence. She truly believed her crazy idea was going to happen.

Two days later, the Cal U Sports Festival officially began.
The class sports rep was completely out of his mind with stress. He had apparently consulted a feng shui master, claiming that their old jerseys were cursed. He forcefully ordered new jerseys for the entire team—white fabric with bold red numbers.
Because Matthew was the undisputed ace of the team, carrying the hopes and dreams of the entire Finance class, the rep came to him first to ask what jersey number he wanted. He explicitly stated that Matthew had priority over the entire roster.
Matthew didn't hesitate. "Number 7."
The rep practically sprinted away, screaming at the top of his lungs: "Mat picked Number 7! The fortune teller told me 7 was our lucky number! WE ARE GOING TO WIN, BOYS!"
Ruth looked at him, genuinely curious. "Does the jersey number really matter that much in basketball?" She thought back to the games she had watched. "I know NBA players have their iconic numbers. Have you always used 7?"
"It's not that it's important," Matthew replied casually. "7 was just the random number I picked the very first time I played."
"Then why stick with it?"
"Because I've worn it for so long, if I look up and see a teammate wearing that number on their back..." Matthew slowly lifted his eyes, his tone completely deadpan. "...I'll automatically assume they're a basketball god."
"And if I think they're a god, I might accidentally pass them the ball and cause an unnecessary turnover."
His tone, combined with the utterly serious expression on his devastatingly handsome face, was incredibly punchable.
Ruth's first thought was: Wow, this guy really knows how to brag.
Her second thought was: ...Wait. Considering how good he is, is it really bragging?
Conclusion: She could not out-smug him.
According to Helen, the Sports Festival was the most chaotic and highly anticipated event of the year. The campus forum traffic always peaked on the first day of the group basketball tournament.
Since there were dozens of classes participating, the courts were packed.
The sports rep's original master plan was simple: While they played garbage-tier teams like Accounting and Marketing, Matthew would sit on the bench to conserve his stamina. He would remain their ultimate trump card, only unleashing his full power in the finals to completely obliterate International Trade Class 3.
When Matthew heard the plan, he looked entirely unimpressed. He asked a single, quiet question: "I haven't played against these other classes before. Are you guys actually confident you can make it to the finals without me?"
The sports rep: "......"
The rep felt deeply, personally attacked. "We might never beat International Trade, but we're the undisputed second-best team in the department! Mat, you can't disrespect us like that!"
Ruth was drinking water on the sidelines. Hearing the rep's tragic, whiny defense, she almost choked.
She swallowed the water and laughed. "Rep, are you just worried that the enemy teams are going to study our tactics?"
The rep, thrilled that someone finally understood his genius, nodded aggressively. "Exactly!"
"But our tactic..." Ruth glanced at Matthew, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "...isn't our entire tactic just 'One God carries Four Idiots'?"
There was absolutely no team synergy to hide. And the other teams didn't have a God to counter them. What was there to study?
Matthew leaned back against the bleachers, listening to them talk. He didn't say anything, but his silence was a clear agreement.
The rep: "........." I cannot win an argument against this married couple. I am so angry.
In the end, the rep's master plan was vetoed, and Matthew agreed to play from the very first game.
The preliminary matches were held simultaneously across the indoor and outdoor courts, decided by drawing lots. Thanks to the massive hype generated by the forum, the crowd surrounding the Finance 101 court was exponentially larger than any other game. And a solid two-thirds of the audience were girls.
Ruth sat next to Helen on the bleachers. She glanced around and realized that the crowd was packed with upperclassmen and incredibly beautiful, fully-glammed girls from other majors.
Down on the court, the Finance team was warming up. Even though all the guys were roughly the same height, the Number 7 jersey was painfully obvious. He stood out from the crowd effortlessly.
Even from a distance, the sharp, elegant lines of his face were striking, not to mention his incredible, lean physique.
He had pale skin. He was devastatingly handsome. And he was an absolute magnet for female attention.
Sigh.
Ruth had realized this the second time she ever met him.
Hot Ass is a literal femme fatale. A kingdom-destroying beauty.
Just as she was lamenting her terrible taste in men, her phone vibrated in her pocket.
It was a text from Matthew.
ML: Do you have water? I forgot to bring a bottle.
Ruth blinked, confused.
How could he not have water?
The sports rep had been treating Matthew like a fragile piece of porcelain all week. He was so paranoid about Matthew catching a cold that he had forced everyone to drink preemptive cold medicine. The rep was insanely meticulous. There was absolutely no way he forgot to provide water for the players.
But the game was about to start, and she didn't have time to interrogate him about it. She decided to just tell the truth.
Ruth: I only have one bottle, but I already opened it and drank from it...
Ruth: [Sad crying cat sticker]
Two seconds later, her phone buzzed.
ML: ...Then that's the one I'll drink.