"This is your method?!?"
Evening light slanted through the study hall as three incredulous faces stared at Lanen—and the mountain of reference books he'd dumped onto the table.
"You promised to try it," Lanen said. "Worst case, it's as effective as textbook review. No loss."
Hale: "..."
Elina: "..."
Sophia: "..."
"Don't look at me like that. Hear me out first."
Noting Elina's bruise had fully healed, Lanen launched into his pitch:
"The Ocean of Exercises isn't mindless drilling. It's systematic, efficient. Three core principles:"
1.Quality Over Quantity (But Quantity Still Matters)
"I've pre-screened these. Good problems beat endless repetition—but volume is still key."
2.Comprehensive Coverage
"Map problems to textbook concepts. Identify weak spots. Hammer them."
3.Synthesis
"Analyze why you got things right or wrong. Use an error log—" He tapped a fresh notebook. "—to track mistakes."
"Well? Convinced?"
"Sounds… plausible," Elina ventured.
"Won't it eat all our time?" Sophia worried.
"What if we haven't covered half the material?" Hale added.
"Time invested now pays off during exams," Lanen said. "Hale, Sophia—use this to cement what you've learned, then catch up on reading. Elina and I can dive in now."
"Wait—you've finished half the textbooks? In a month?" Sophia gasped.
Hale and Elina's jaws dropped.
"Not 'finished.' Just previewed. At this rate, I'll complete the rest in 2–3 months alongside problem sets. You could sync your pacing too."
"Let's start!" Elina grabbed a book. "If this works, can I tell my brother?" Hale asked between problems.
"Spread the word. No patents on learning."
The Abacus Project
Fashioning an abacus from scratch was harder than expected—especially drilling uniform holes into wooden beads.
Why did I buy beads? Slicing dowels would've been cheaper and easier, Lanen lamented as his hand-cranked drill whirred. At least campus hardware stores stocked decent tools for student projects.
Assembly was quick; drafting a beginner's manual took longer. Diagrams were essential—showing bead positions, finger techniques, step-by-step tutorials—
"Lanen! Mail for you!"
A classmate's shout interrupted him. By the time Lanen responded, the messenger had vanished.
At the mailroom, old Mr. Albert fished out a thick envelope from a crate. "For you—Lanen Banneray, first-year."
The stamp bore Lorendan's crest. The sender: Borant Banneray.
Breaking the wax seal, Lanen unfolded his father's reply:
"Dear Son,"
"Glad you're settling in—your mother fretted endlessly. Friends are worthwhile, even if ultimately useless."
"Your magazine suggestion was inspired. The fiction weeklies enliven our teatimes—though your mother monopolizes the romance section."
"The job is admirable (as was our own frugality at your age). Since you've no romantic entanglements, your expenses should remain manageable. Thus, we decline your funding request."
"P.S. The estates will prosper. Your mother's vegetable obsession remains unchecked—"
Lanen's heart sank—until he flipped the page.
Scrawled at the bottom:
"P.P.S. Check the back. Don't tell your father. —Mom."
A gold coin, meticulously taped to the paper, glinted up at him.
He could picture the scene: his father drafting the letter at his desk; his mother stealthily affixing the coin before mailing it.
Smiling, Lanen pocketed the windfall.