"He researches whatever is most difficult?" Juniper chewed on a snack, intrigued. This old professor sounded interesting.


    "Oh, and he has a peculiar hobby," Hattie continued, sharing the intel she''d gathered. "He loves snacks. Hisb is filled with them, second only to equipment and research papers."


    Snacks? At that word, Juniper''s previously mild interest sharpened, her eyes widening.


    "He''s the one," she dered, clicking the selection button without even bothering to read the rest of the professor''s profile.


    Hattie was dumbfounded. "Juniper, is there anything you wouldn''t do for snacks?!"


    That afternoon, Juniper arrived promptly at the old professor''sputer researchb. She knocked politely.


    "Come in," a deep, aged voice called from within.


    Juniper pushed the door open and scanned the room, which was crammed with towering stacks of papers and various pieces ofb equipment. Amidst the chaos, she spotted a pile of colorful candies and an assortment of snacks on a desk. She paused. The candy brands were the exact same ones she loved.


    "Professor?" she called out, seeing no one.


    "Over here!"


    After a moment, she located a white-haired old man wearing reading sses, emerging from under a desk.


    "So you''re this year''s top scorer?" the old man asked, dusting off his clothes as he turned to face her.


    "I am—" Juniper began to answer, but the words caught in her throat when she saw his face.


    Well, well. If it wasn''t the same old man from the World Computing Conference a few years back, the one who had insisted on bing her apprentice.


    Their meeting had been an ident. They had both eyed thest slice of cheesecake at the conference. To settle it fairly, they decided to


    program in under thirty mil


    would with She finished in ten


    earning herself a slice of cake and a persistent, unshakeable "apprentice."


    She had refused at first, but the old man offered her his entire suitcase of snacks, many of which she had never tried before The temptation was too great to resist, so she


    reluctantly agreed.


    He was a handful, constantly


    pestering her with questions and refusing to let any detail go. Eventually, when her grandfather fell ill, she no longer had the energy to deal with him. She sent him @trove of her research findings and then... faked her death. She''d even had a formal obituary written. The old man had been devastated, messaging her to say he would bring her flowers every year.


    Juniper winced at the memory. She''d almost replied: "Don''t bring flowers, bring snacks. And go easy on the chili."


    "You..." The old man''s voice trailed off as he got a clear look at her face. He pushed his sses up his nose and leaned closer. "You look awfully familiar."


    Just like his young master. Although his master always wore a mask and he''d never seen her full face, those identical eyes were unmistakable.


    But that was impossible. His master had died two years ago, a tragic loss of talent. This girl had just graduated high school. It couldn''t be her. He was just imagining things.


    "Do I?" Juniper asked, rubbing her nose guiltily. She forced a polite, if slightly awkward, smile. "I just have one of thosemon faces."


    Amon face? The old man frowned. There was nothingmon about her face. Maybe it was just the eyes.