The system screen with its 85% failure prediction was a death sentence for his plan.
Max reclined in his chair, the cold logic of [Player Mind] battling a growing sense of frustration.
For the first time since his return, he felt truly stalled.
Attacking Isa Lovelace head-on was social suicide.
He spent much of the night in his room—now the command center of his headquarters.
He discarded one idea after another.
He couldn’t outmatch her in conventional financial knowledge; she lived and breathed that world.
He couldn’t impress her with money; his was a drop in the ocean compared to the other members of the Circle.
And he couldn’t use his connections, because his only real connection was, in Isa’s eyes, a symbol of everything she despised.
If I can’t storm the fortress, he thought, I have to find a back door.
Something she cares about more than business, something that engages her on a purely intellectual level.
With that new directive, his research focus shifted drastically.
He left the investment forums and business news behind and dove into the university’s academic archives.
Using his [Eidetic Memory] to process and cross-reference course catalogs, lecture lists, and old publications at superhuman speed, he looked for an anomaly—a pattern.
And then, after hours of searching, he found it.
Two years ago, Isa Lovelace, the pragmatic finance student, had enrolled in an elective from a completely different department: “Advanced Economic History: Models of Crisis and Systemic Collapse.” The professor in charge was a man named Dr.
Alistair Finch.
Max dug deeper into Finch.
He was a brilliant but marginal academic, a genius whose theories on “collapse cycles” were considered too radical and pessimistic by the economic mainstream.
He didn’t publish in popular journals or seek sponsorship from large corporations.
He was a pure intellectual, obsessed only with the truth of his models.
A bold hypothesis began to form in Max’s mind.
He used his last daily use of [Predictive Analysis].
System, calculate the probability that Dr.
Finch’s work is an area of significant and respected personal interest for Isa Lovelace.
The answer was almost instantaneous.
[Probability: 92%]
I’ve got it, Max thought, a slow, calculating smile spreading across his face.
Isa doesn’t respect businessmen; she respects true intellectuals.
She doesn’t care about the money; she cares about the understanding of systems.
Finch is her academic idol.
The key to reaching Isa isn’t Isa.
It’s Finch.
The new plan—Plan B—was risky, subtle, and far more complex.
He called it the “Trojan Horse” play.
First, he would enroll in Dr.
Finch’s current class as an auditor—a total anomaly for a freshman.
Second, he would use his knowledge of the future, specifically regarding the 2008 financial crisis, to prepare an argument that not only validated Finch’s theories but expanded them in a way only he could.
His goal wasn’t to impress Isa, but to impress Finch.
An academic like him, upon finding a student who understood his work at such a profound level, wouldn’t be able to help but talk about it.
And the person he was most likely to share it with was his star pupil, Isa Lovelace.
The end result would be Isa, intrigued by the recommendation of the only person whose judgment she respected, reaching out to him.
The next day, Max headed to the Economic History department and, after a brief conversation, obtained permission to attend Dr.
Finch’s graduate seminar as an auditor.
The classroom was a small seminar room with an oval table, occupied by barely a dozen graduate students.
His presence was immediately noticed; curious glances landed on him.
Dr.
Finch, a man in his sixties with messy gray hair and thick glasses sliding down his nose, gave him an inquisitive look but said nothing.
The class began.
Finch spoke with contagious passion about mathematical models of financial panic.
He wasn’t a dynamic lecturer; he was a deep thinker sharing his ideas.
Max didn’t say a word.
He simply listened, absorbing every equation and every theory with his [Eidetic Memory], nodding at key moments, his silent understanding evident.
When the class ended and the other students began gathering their things, Max stayed behind.
He approached the professor as he was erasing a complex equation from the board.
“Professor Finch,” Max said, his voice quiet but steady.
Finch turned, expecting a typical student question.
“Your analysis of positive feedback loops in bank runs was fascinating,” Max continued.
“I was wondering if you’ve considered applying that same model to the housing market collapse from a few years ago, specifically regarding the opacity of synthetic credit derivatives as a catalyst.”
Dr.
Finch stopped dead in his tracks.
He took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with a handkerchief—a gesture Max interpreted as a way to buy time to process.
He looked at Max, but this time, he really saw him. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
The question wasn’t that of a freshman looking to impress; it was that of a colleague who had connected the dots in an original way.
“That is…
a very astute perspective, young man,” Finch said, a spark of intense interest lighting up his eyes.
“Very astute indeed.
What is your name?”
“Max…
Adler,” he replied.
Right at that moment, a figure passed by in the hallway, pausing briefly upon seeing the scene through the open classroom door.
It was Isa Lovelace.
Clearly, she was coming to see Finch after class.
Their eyes met for a second.
In that instant, Max instinctively activated [Player Gaze].
[Isabel “Isa” Lovelace]
Level 3: Hidden Genius
Status: Bewildered.
Analyzing anomaly.
Surface Thought: Max?
With Professor Finch?
What is Victoria’s toy doing here?
Max processed the information in a fraction of a second; the confirmation that his plan was working sent a surge of satisfaction through him.
He saw the pure confusion on Isa’s face, a crack in her normally impassive facade.
There was no disdain or irritation, only total perplexity.
He was a variable she couldn’t calculate.
What on earth was Victoria Mont’s protégé—the betting “oracle”—doing discussing advanced economic theory with Dr.
Finch?
The image didn’t fit into any of her boxes.
Max deliberately ignored her presence, returning his full attention to the professor.
“I believe conventional models vastly underestimate the speed at which misinformation can propagate through those instruments,” he added.
The first seed, the most crucial one, had just been planted in the most fertile ground possible.
The game had shifted to a new board.