Page 90 of Played By Design

What song would Kain assign to make this situation easier to handle? What bribe would he offer to change my mind about refusing to leave?

I open the workbook again.

The pages fall open to where I left off, the crease in the spine deep from years of adding to his notes.

I turn through them, returning to entries I skimmed before but need to truly understood now. The handwriting is cramped and angular, growing sloppier over the years.

I don’t use cheat codes. Never have. They ruin the satisfaction of learning the game, of grinding through the hard parts until my fingers know the patterns without thinking.

Cheat codes turn the victory into a cutscene you skip through.

But is it a cheat code if Kain had to put in this much work to build it?

Years of observation. Adjustments. Trial and error.

I killed my first pocket pet because I didn’t understand the mechanics yet.

It was a little digital hamster in a game I downloaded when I was fourteen. I forgot to feed it for three days because I got stuck on a boss level and the hamster’s hunger bar was a tiny icon in the corner I’d started to ignore.

When I finally remembered, the little pixel body was lying on its side, X’s for eyes, and the game gave me a sad trombone sound effect and a notification.

YOUR PET HAS DIED OF NEGLECT.

I restarted the game, learned from my failure, and fed the next one on schedule.

Kain has never come close to killing me.

My thumb finds the entry for Downshift.

Transition cue. Reliable for meals, showers, leaving the house, bedtime. Give 5–10 minutes warning first if hyperfocused.

I reread the entry.

Kain has played those three notes so many times, his fingers finding the strings by memory, slipping them into playlists, humming them under his breath.

How many times has my body responded before my brain caught up? Closing a laptop. Setting down a controller. Standing up from the beanbag chair when my legs had gone numb hours ago. The trigger I never noticed because it worked. Because it felt natural.

Because Kain let me believe it was my idea every time.

I turn the page.

After Dark⁠—

Associates with being relaxed and close. Increased affection and physical contact. Usually climbs into lap within ten minutes. Very responsive to touch.

I reread the lines in dawning horror.

I do climb into his lap.

I absolutely do.

A blush creeps into my cheeks, and I turn the page so hard the paper snaps.

Fuck Kain.

My breath catches, and my hand freezes on the page.

Broken Halo⁠—