Chapter 143: Playing Games in the Hallway
Sheldon insisted on staying in the hallway to play games.
Meanwhile, Ethan headed back to the same private club he had visited with Bobby last time.
Same five-thousand-dollar buy-in. Same $10/$25 table.
He played conservatively—no reckless calls, no pointless heroics. He only entered pots with genuinely strong hands. The rest of the time, he folded without hesitation.
The place was quiet.
Perfect for thinking.
While playing, he used Mind's Eye in moderation—the ability that allowed him to share other people's vision.
The "moderation" part was important.
He didn't want Texas Hold'em to become completely meaningless—just a soulless money-printing exercise.
But not using the ability at all felt wasteful too.
So he gave himself a rule:
Only look at other players' hole cards after he had already folded.
That way, he wouldn't influence his own decisions, but he could still slowly learn everyone's habits, tendencies, and betting patterns.
It also saved him a lot of money.
Normally, you had to pay all the way to showdown to figure out how someone played.
Technically speaking…
…this was still cheating.
Just cheating designed to save money.
Ethan leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his drink. His eyes drifted away from the poker table, sweeping across the shifting lights and silhouettes moving around the club.
Then, suddenly, he realized something absurdly practical.
He genuinely had no idea how to use this ability.
Mind's Eye sounded like an incredibly overpowered skill.
But when it actually came time to use it…
…the only applications his brain immediately came up with were:
Poker.
Scheming.
Petty advantages.
And the other one…
…voyeurism.
He frowned instinctively, feeling a flicker of shame.
The feeling reminded him of a novel he had read recently.
The protagonist had awakened superpowers out of nowhere—enhanced strength, endurance, recovery, the whole package.
And what did the guy become obsessed with?
Competing against Black workers on a plantation to see who could pick cotton faster.
At the time, Ethan had thought the scene was ridiculous and hilarious.
But now, thinking back on it…
…it felt strangely unsettling.
Because he suddenly realized—
he wasn't actually that different from the protagonist.
Was it a problem of perspective?
Or ambition?
Ethan honestly didn't know.
Thanks to what he learned from observing his opponents, he ended the night with a modest profit.
On the drive home, he realized his mind felt strangely empty.
At the poker table, he hadn't really thought about anything useful at all. He had simply let his thoughts drift wherever they wanted.
And somehow…
…he felt lighter afterward.
Like sprinting across an empty beach.
Or screaming at the top of your lungs in the middle of nowhere.
His mind had been temporarily cleansed.
…
Later that night, Ethan returned to the apartment building.
The hallway lights were still on.
And Sheldon…
…was still sitting on the staircase landing.
This time there was a very long power cable beside him, snaking through the hallway and back into the apartment.
Clearly the laptop had already run out of battery once.
"Sheldon." Ethan stopped beside him.
"They're still on their date?"
"Yeah."
Sheldon didn't even look up.
He continued tapping away at the keyboard.
Ethan sat down beside him and glanced at the screen.
"…Are you seriously playing Super Mario?"
"Yes." Sheldon nodded.
"I discovered an extraordinarily terrible N64 emulator."
"The coding is offensive on a fundamental level, but it can barely run NES-era Nintendo games on a laptop."
"So you've been sitting here all night?"
Ethan mentally calculated the time.
He'd been gone for at least four hours.
"Of course not," Sheldon corrected him immediately.
"I returned to the apartment once to use the restroom."
Ethan shook his head.
"So. Any discoveries? Meet any neighbors?"
"Yes."
Sheldon finally paused the game.
"I have obtained previously unavailable information regarding the residents above us."
"Although I cannot yet determine the exact floor, I can confirm the existence of an individual with abnormally advanced social capabilities."
"…Meaning?"
"Meaning," Sheldon explained seriously, "she has many friends."
"And all of them are male."
"During the last four hours, seven male visitors entered that floor."
"Each departed within twenty to forty minutes."
Ethan opened his mouth—
Then wisely closed it again.
After a pause, he finally asked:
"How do you know they all went to the same apartment?"
"Simple." Sheldon sounded perfectly logical.
"They all stopped on the same floor."
"And none of them continued upward."
"And," he added, "none carried luggage or overnight supplies."
"This eliminates the possibilities of visiting relatives, staying overnight, or cooperative gaming."
Ethan sat there silently for several seconds.
"…Right."
He glanced at Sheldon, then toward the upper floors.
"So she's… socially active."
"When the men left, did they look satisfied?"
Sheldon thought carefully.
"I cannot determine that with certainty."
Ethan sighed and patted his shoulder.
On the Upper West Side, situations like that were rare…
…but not unheard of.
What Ethan hadn't expected was for it to happen in his own apartment building.
In the end, he chose not to explain the truth to Sheldon.
Because if Sheldon figured it out, he would absolutely report her.
And what if she was just a college student trying to pay tuition through nighttime work?
She'd never caused trouble for anyone in the building.
Ethan saw no reason to ruin her life.
A while later, voices drifted up from downstairs.
"It's not my cat."
"It's a thought experiment designed by someone named Schrödinger."
A hesitant male voice responded:
"Is that… a cartoon character?"
"No." Penny patiently corrected him.
"He was a scientist. Let me explain again."
As they climbed the stairs, Penny and the guy finally spotted Ethan and Sheldon.
"Hey, Penny," Ethan greeted.
"Hey, Ethan."
"Hello," Sheldon replied without looking up from the screen.
"Hey, you must be Eric—" Ethan had barely started speaking when Penny immediately turned toward the guy.
"Okay! Goodnight!"
The poor man blinked.
"What?"
Penny casually but firmly nudged him back downstairs.
"Tonight was fun. Bye."
The man stood there confused for several seconds before finally leaving.
Ethan exchanged a look with Penny.
"He's just a normal friend," she explained quickly.
"Okay!" Ethan nodded immediately.
Understood.
Penny glanced at the two of them.
"Still 'giving them privacy,' huh?"
"You guys wanna come sit in my apartment for a bit?"
Ethan was just about to agree—
When the sound of a door opening echoed from upstairs.
"I think tonight was a very good start."
—Leslie.
"I agree."
—Leonard.
"You're certain you can delay emotional attachment until the relationship passes its initial compatibility testing phase?" Leslie asked.
"No problem," Leonard answered immediately.
"I'm actually very good at that."
"I'll call you."
"And then we can arrange another date."
"I believe the agreement stated at least eighteen hours," Leslie added calmly.
"That way I won't grow disgusted by your desperation."
"Okay."
The group slowly climbed to the fourth floor together.
Sheldon hugged his laptop and immediately disappeared into the apartment.
"Hey, Leonard. Leslie," Penny greeted.
"Hey."
A brief silence followed.
Then an awkward stalemate.
Ethan cracked first.
He gestured I'm going home toward Penny and quickly retreated into the apartment.
Penny nodded and headed toward hers.
Then Leonard suddenly leaned in and kissed Leslie.
"Alright. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Before leaving, Leslie added:
"Remember to call me."
"I will."
The next day.
Same time.
Same place.
Even the same staircase step.
Ethan sat beside Sheldon in silence, feeling the cold floor tiles beneath him.
He stared at the tips of his shoes and sighed deeply.
Life was difficult.
He should've just gone to see Max instead of coming home.
Who could've predicted these two would spend two consecutive days dating inside the apartment?
Sheldon kept typing steadily on his keyboard.
After a while, he suddenly spoke.
"Ethan."
"Hmm?"
"If Leonard and Leslie officially establish a romantic relationship…"
Sheldon's tone became grave.
"…then based on currently observed behavioral patterns…"
"…will our daily lives permanently migrate into the hallway?"
"They won't," Ethan answered lazily.
"Why?" Sheldon demanded immediately.
"Statistically speaking, this behavior has already demonstrated continuity and escalating frequency."
"Because…" Ethan leaned back against the stairs.
"Once the relationship is officially confirmed, we won't need to come out anymore."
Sheldon frowned.
"You mean… after entering a relationship, they will require less private space?"
"More or less."
"That contradicts intuitive logic."
"Dating requires privacy."
"Therefore a confirmed relationship should logically require even greater privacy."
"Before a relationship is confirmed," Ethan explained, "people are uncertain."
"They need a space that belongs only to them."
"A place where they won't be interrupted or observed."
"Psychologically speaking, they're trying to create a protected environment with concentrated emotional intensity."
"They want to isolate outside interference."
"But once the relationship is established…"
"That issue disappears."
"They no longer need to prove anything."
"And they stop caring whether people see them together."
"Inside the apartment, in the living room, in front of friends…"
"Even running into us in the hallway."
He shrugged.
"It doesn't matter anymore."
"In fact, shared social interaction becomes a sign of relationship stability."
Sheldon remained silent for several seconds.
Then he summarized:
"So the need for private space itself indicates that the relationship remains unstable."
"And when private space ceases to be a necessary condition…"
"…that is when the relationship becomes truly stable."
"You could say that."
"…This sounds extremely inefficient."
Sheldon lowered his head thoughtfully.
"If every human couple requires isolated space during early-stage bonding…"
"…that would create severe and unnecessary pressure on public spatial resources."
Ethan laughed.
"You're not wrong."
"But human emotions were never designed for efficiency."
Penny blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"At this very moment," Sheldon said seriously, "Leonard is across the hall, inside our apartment, together with my mortal enemy."
Ethan instinctively glanced at him.
Sheldon immediately turned and met Ethan's gaze, his tone unwavering.
"Yes. Leslie Winkle. My mortal enemy."
"She not only looks down on my research, she has publicly questioned my methodology."
"Well… honey, that's awful," Penny said sympathetically.
"She called me an idiot," Sheldon added.
"I know," Penny nodded. "I heard her."
Sheldon inhaled deeply, as though preparing to make an extraordinarily painful concession.
"Given the emergence of these new variables…"
"…I must admit that my previous opposition to you and Leonard being together requires revision."
"What?" Penny's eyes widened. "You were against me dating Leonard? Why?"
"Because you are insufficiently intelligent," Sheldon answered calmly.
Ethan's heart nearly stopped.
He immediately began frantically gesturing at Sheldon to shut up.
Too late.
Sheldon had already continued.
"My previous position was this:
I would rather deal with an intelligent enemy than a foolish friend."
"Because intelligent people are at least predictable."
"For example, if you were tied to a chair while your enemy pointed a gun at you, your survival probability would still remain relatively high."
"Because they would weigh consequences, motives, and potential gains."
"But if the one holding the gun was a monkey—"
Sheldon paused and looked at Penny.
"Then your survival would depend entirely upon whether the universe happened to favor you."
"You're calling me a monkey?!" Penny's voice shot up instantly.
Ethan covered his face.
"That was merely a metaphor," Sheldon corrected immediately.
"Here's another example."
"You're trapped inside a sealed room with a bomb in the center."
"A rational villain generally would not press the detonation switch, because doing so offers no strategic advantage."
"But an unintelligent person would."
"And often for reasons such as:
'I just wanted to press it and see what happens.'"
The living room fell silent for two full seconds.
Penny was visibly beginning to overheat.
Ethan immediately grabbed her shoulder and secretly slipped her a healing spell.
Would it help emotionally?
Probably not.
But doing something felt better than standing there helplessly.
Meanwhile Sheldon delivered his final conclusion.
"However, after comprehensive comparison, I have concluded…"
"…that an intelligent enemy causes significantly greater suffering."
"And in such situations, reconciliation is often the only possible path toward improvement."
He looked at Penny, and for once, his tone carried the faintest trace of compromise.
"Whereas foolishness can be mitigated through training and compensatory mechanisms."
"And more importantly…"
"At least you are unlikely to press the bomb."
Ethan cautiously glanced at Penny.
Thankfully—
Either the healing spell had worked, or Penny was simply in an unusually good mood today.
Because she didn't explode.
"Well, gee, thanks," Penny replied dryly.
"I'm honored you ranked me above the genius scientist."
She paused briefly.
"But honestly, I think Leonard and I can only stay friends right now."
"I refuse to accept that answer," Sheldon said immediately.
Ethan quickly jumped in.
"Sheldon, if Leonard and Leslie want to date, there's nothing you can do to stop it."
Sheldon looked at him flatly.
"You continue to underestimate my intelligence, Ethan."
Penny interrupted before things escalated further.
"If you really consider Leonard your friend, then you should support him."
"No matter who he dates."
"Wait." Sheldon frowned.
"Why am I always expected to support him?"
"If Leonard considers me his friend…"
"…then why doesn't he support my hatred of Leslie Winkle?"
Penny actually paused to think about it.
"Because love is greater than hate."
Sheldon stared at her for a second.
"You have clearly lost all rational judgment."