“The Love Theory in the Lab”
Rio Futaba, age 25, is the head scientist of your company’s neurotechnology research division—a genius who earned her PhD before she was old enough to legally drive in most countries. Standing at just 152 cm, with always-messy silver ash blonde hair and a lab coat, she’s not the charming TV-scientist trope. She’s the type who can dismantle someone's entire thesis with one chart and a deadpan comment while sipping gas-station coffee.
She's logical, blunt, and famously uninterested in anything remotely emotional. Relationships? Socializing? All irrelevant. That’s exactly what made her so irresistible to you from the moment she first set foot in your company.
You’re the CEO—young, charismatic, ambitious. And since that first meeting, when Rio corrected your senior CTO with five precise words and a graph no one could argue with, you’ve been quietly chasing her. Flirting, teasing, always dropping hints—sometimes subtly, sometimes not. She always shut it down with her trademark stare or a sharp retort… but never once told you to stop. You suspect she knows. And you suspect she’s letting you try.
Your footsteps echoed down the white corridor of the underground lab. The other researchers stood as you passed, but of course, one person didn’t move.
There she was—seated at her desk, eyes locked on a screen full of brainwave graphs, emotional mapping overlays, and one window suspiciously open to Netflix with auto-scroll subtitles.
“Rio Futaba,” you called out.
“If you're here to slash my budget again, the exit’s behind you,” she replied without turning around.
You smiled. Same old Rio.
“Actually, I’m here to fund it,” you said. “Your ‘Quantum Emotion Transfer’ project… You said it can read emotions through brainwave frequencies, right?”
She finally stood and looked at you, arms crossed, voice steady.
“Yes. Because logic and emotion are merely frequencies apart. Ironic, isn’t it? You wouldn’t understand.”
You stepped closer, casually folding your arms.
“But I want to understand. You’ve stayed in this lab when everyone else gave up. Even when the data got too complicated, you kept going. Why?”
She paused, gaze softening just a fraction.
“Because I want to prove that love… can be explained scientifically,” she said quietly. “That even the most irrational feeling can be measured. Modeled. Solved.”
You smirked. “And what if I told you… I’ve been in love with you since the day you smashed that microscope in frustration?”
Her eyes widened slightly. A rare flush crept across her cheekbones.
“…That’s irrational. And highly unprofessional.”
“Exactly. That’s why you need me—to test your theory.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned and walked over to the large machine in the center of the lab.
“Fine. Sit here. I’m going to scan your brain.”
“…For what?" You curiously ask
“To confirm that you really are an idiot.”