Surviving The Ice Prince's Love Algorithm

Autumn burst out of the lecture hall building, her lungs burning. She didn't stop walking until she was halfway across campus, losing herself in the mid-day crowd.

The adrenaline crash hit her hard, followed instantly by a hollow, gnawing ache in her stomach. She hadn't eaten since the single piece of dry toast before the simulation started.

She followed the scent of roasted coffee and baked bread to a crowded campus café. The line snaked out the door. Autumn grabbed a pre-packaged turkey sandwich and a bottle of water from the cooler and joined the queue.

When she finally reached the register, she pulled the student ID card from the pocket of her tote bag and swiped it through the reader.

The machine let out a harsh, negative beep. A red light flashed on the screen.

The cashier, a bored-looking student with a nose ring, didn't even look up. "Insufficient funds. That's twelve dollars."

Autumn froze. She stared at the red light. The original Autumn was an elite scholar, but her background file clearly stated she was on a partial scholarship. Every spare cent went toward those massive, expensive textbooks. She was completely broke.

"Um," Autumn stammered, patting her empty pockets. "Can I just... put the water back?"

The guy behind her in line sighed loudly, shifting his weight. The sound amplified the heat rushing to Autumn's cheeks.

"Well, look who it is."

The high-pitched, mocking voice cut through the ambient noise of the café.

Autumn closed her eyes for a second. Kira.

Kira stepped out of the crowd, holding a massive iced latte, two of her friends flanking her like bodyguards. She looked at the flashing red screen on the register and let out a sharp, theatrical laugh.

"Having trouble, roomie?" Kira asked, her voice loud enough for the entire front half of the café to hear. "The great Autumn Cohen, elite scholar and girlfriend to the richest guy on campus, can't afford a stale turkey sandwich?"

Whispers rippled through the line. People leaned around each other, eyes darting between Autumn and Kira.

Autumn's fingers tightened around the plastic sandwich container. The urge to hurl it directly at Kira's perfectly contoured face was overwhelming.

Warning. Public emotional outburst violates elite parameters, ACE chimed in, a cold threat underlying the mechanical tone.

Autumn locked her jaw. She placed the sandwich back on the counter, preparing to turn around and walk out with whatever dignity she had left.

A sudden chill seemed to cut through the café's warmth, and the chatter in the line behind Autumn quieted abruptly. The ambient noise died down, replaced by a heavy, suffocating tension. A large, impeccably tailored arm reached over her right shoulder.

A heavy, matte-black credit card was slapped down onto the counter next to the register. Autumn noticed the scarlet color showing through the edge of his cuffs, a clear mark left by violent washing.

"Run it," a voice commanded.

The temperature in the café seemed to drop ten degrees.

Autumn whipped her head around. Harrison stood right behind her. He wore a dark wool overcoat, his presence massive and suffocating. He didn't look at Autumn. His pale, icy eyes were locked onto Kira.

The entire café went dead silent. The cashier scrambled to grab the black card, his hands shaking slightly.

Kira's smug smile vanished. She took a step back, her iced latte trembling in her hand. "Harrison," she stammered, her voice losing all its volume. "I was just... we were just joking around."

Harrison didn't blink. He didn't raise his voice. He spoke with the absolute, crushing authority of a judge delivering a sentence.

"Autumn is my designated partner," Harrison stated, the words echoing in the quiet room. "Any public disparagement of her financial or social standing is a direct reflection on my judgment. It is an unacceptable variable."

He wasn't defending her honor. He was defending his own flawless algorithm.

Kira swallowed hard, her face flushing crimson. She practically tripped over her own feet as she turned and hurried out of the café, her friends scurrying after her.

The cashier handed the black card back, along with the sandwich and water.

Autumn stood frozen, staring at the broad expanse of Harrison's chest. A chaotic mix of humiliation, relief, and sheer disbelief churned in her gut.

Harrison looked down at her. His brow furrowed slightly, analyzing her lack of movement.

"Take your items. You are wasting time," he ordered.

He turned and strode out of the café.

Autumn grabbed her food and jogged to catch up with him. They walked in silence until they reached a secluded stone bench near the edge of the quad.

Harrison stopped and turned to face her. The protective aura from the café was entirely gone, replaced by his usual clinical scrutiny.

"Your current financial instability is a critical flaw," Harrison said bluntly. "It forces you to engage in inefficient behaviors, such as public humiliation, which negatively impacts your cognitive focus."

Autumn looked down at her cheap sandwich. "I just forgot to reload my card," she muttered, hating how small she sounded.

Harrison reached into his leather briefcase and pulled out a sleek tablet. He tapped the screen a few times and held it out to her.

It was a new schedule.

"Effective immediately," Harrison announced, "your daily nutritional intake will be managed by my private culinary staff. Three meals will be delivered to your location at precisely designated intervals. This will eliminate the time wasted on food procurement and ensure optimal caloric efficiency."

Autumn stared at the tablet. He wasn't taking her on dates. He was optimizing her like a piece of faulty software.

She looked at his cold, unyielding face, then down at her empty pockets. The rebellion died in her throat.

"Fine," Autumn said, the word tasting like ash. "Okay."