A week had passed since the tournament, and the victory high had finally settled into something more manageable. Looking back, I'd gotten surprisingly competitive during those matches—more than I expected from myself. But now, with a clearer head, I could focus on the plans I'd been forming.
First priority: starting a YouTube channel. I decided to call it "The Mentalist," partly as a nod to my Patrick Jane template and partly because it sounded mysterious enough to grab attention. My content strategy was simple—chess videos mixed with gaming content that could showcase different skills.
Chess made sense as a starting point. I could spread knowledge about the game while improving my own understanding, and I had a knack for explaining complex ideas in simpler terms than most chess educators. Plus, adding some wit and personality might help me stand out from the dry instructional videos that dominated the platform.
For gaming content, I had bigger ambitions. Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare had just released and was taking the world by storm. God of War II was another massive hit that year. Both games would be perfect for building an audience, especially if I could demonstrate strategic thinking and quick decision-making.
The only problem? Mitchell.
"Absolutely not," he said when I brought up buying those games. "Ryan, you're nine years old. Those games are rated M for Mature—violence, blood, adult themes. It's completely inappropriate."
I'd expected this reaction, which is why I had backup options ready.
"What about Super Mario Galaxy? It just came out, and everyone's talking about it. It's creative, requires problem-solving, and it's completely family-friendly."
Mitchell paused, clearly caught off guard by the reasonable alternative.
"And Pokémon," I continued. "The games teach strategy, planning ahead, resource management. They're basically portable chess matches with cute creatures."
Cam, who'd been eavesdropping from the kitchen, chimed in. "Oh, I love Pokémon! The little electric mouse is adorable!"
"Pikachu," I corrected automatically.
"That's the one! Mitchell, these sound educational."
After some negotiation, I got approval for Super Mario Galaxy and Pokémon Diamond, along with a basic webcam and permission to use Mitchell's laptop for editing. Both Mitchell and Cam were skeptical about the whole YouTube venture, but they figured it was just another one of my unusual hobbies—like chess or magic—so they didn't push back too hard.
YouTube in 2002 was still finding its identity. The Partner Program had just launched in December, but the platform was nowhere near the polished content machine it would become. Most videos were low-quality, poorly edited, and uploaded by people just experimenting with the technology. That gave me an opportunity to stand out with better production values and consistent content.
My first video was a simple introduction. No face reveal—I wasn't ready for people to take me seriously as a nine-year-old chess expert—but I explained the concept of mentalism, gave some quick analysis of interesting chess positions, and outlined my plans for the channel.
The response was... underwhelming. Fifty likes and about a thousand views in the first few days. I'd been hoping for more, but I reminded myself that YouTube was still young, chess content had limited appeal, and building an audience takes time.
Still, it was a start. My plan was to upload chess content once a week while focusing more on gaming videos featuring popular titles. Super Mario was perfect timing—it had just become the highest-rated game of 2002, and everyone wanted to see how the new gravity mechanics worked.
Meanwhile, school life had taken an interesting turn. Winning the chess tournament made me a minor celebrity for about a week. Teachers who'd barely noticed me before suddenly remembered my name, and other students actually initiated conversations instead of just staring from a distance.
"Ryan! That kid who won the chess thing!" became my unofficial title around campus.
The attention was flattering but temporary. By the second week, everyone had moved on to other topics, and I found myself bored with the routine of elementary school again. The material was too easy, the social dynamics too predictable, and I needed something more engaging to occupy my time.
That's when inspiration struck. If I was going to be stuck in school anyway, why not make it more interesting? I could start a club—something that would let me use my developing Patrick Jane abilities while solving real problems around campus.
Most schools already had the standard clubs: student government, science club (where Alex spent most of her time), music club, drama club. But none of those appealed to me. I wanted something unique, something that would give me opportunities to practice observation, deduction, and problem-solving.
After some brainstorming, I settled on "The Spice Club." Yes, I literally named it that. The concept was simple: investigate and resolve conflicts, rumors, and minor mysteries around school. Think of it as a combination guidance counselor and detective agency, run by students for students.
I approached Mrs. Peterson, one of the teachers who'd been impressed by my tournament performance, and pitched the idea. She was intrigued by the concept of peer mediation and agreed to sponsor the club, probably figuring it would look good on her teaching portfolio.
"Just remember," she warned, "this isn't about gossip or stirring up drama. If you're serious about helping resolve conflicts, you need to be professional and respectful."
Fair enough. I had no intention of becoming the school's gossip central anyway. I was more interested in the analytical challenges and the chance to help people solve their problems.
My first case came from an unexpected source: Alex herself.
She found me during lunch break, looking more annoyed than usual. "I heard you're starting some kind of detective club."
"The Spice Club," I corrected. "We handle conflicts and minor mysteries around school. Why?"
"Someone pranked me during science lab yesterday. My volcano project got sabotaged—someone added extra ingredients that made it foam up way more than it should have. It was embarrassing, and now my grade is probably ruined."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you want the club to investigate?"
"I want to know who did it. Especially since I tried to get you to join science club instead of starting this weird thing."
Fair point. Alex had been trying to recruit me for science club since the beginning of the school year, and I'd consistently declined in favor of my own projects. This felt like both a genuine request for help and a test of whether my club concept actually worked.
"Alright," I said. "Let's start with the basics. When exactly did this happen?"
"Yesterday during fourth period. We were presenting our volcano projects, and mine was supposed to be a controlled demonstration of the baking soda and vinegar reaction. Instead, it exploded like Mount Vesuvius and covered half the lab table."
"Who had access to your project?"
"That's the problem—lots of people. We set up our projects at the beginning of class, then went around observing everyone else's experiments before presenting. Anyone could have tampered with mine."
I nodded, already forming a mental list of follow-up questions. "What ingredients did you originally use?"
"Standard baking soda volcano—baking soda, white vinegar, food coloring, and a drop of dish soap for extra foam. Nothing that should have caused that kind of explosion."
"And you're sure someone added extra ingredients?"
"Positive. The reaction was way too intense, and I could smell something different—kind of fruity."
Interesting. That suggested someone had added citric acid or possibly more vinegar with a different scent profile. Both would dramatically increase the reaction's intensity.
"I'll need to talk to some people," I said. "Can you give me a list of everyone who was in your lab group?"
Alex provided names, and I spent the rest of lunch break forming a strategy. This wasn't just about finding the prankster—it was about establishing the credibility of the Spice Club and proving that student-led conflict resolution could actually work.
After school, I started my investigation. First stop: Mr. Harrison, the science teacher, to get more details about the classroom layout and timing.
"Oh yes, Alex's project," he said with a slight frown. "Quite the spectacle. I was actually impressed by the reaction's intensity until she explained it wasn't intentional. Someone definitely tampered with her experiment."
"Do you remember who was presenting when it happened?"
"Let's see... it was during the second round of presentations. Catherine, Sanjay, Alex, and two other students. Alex went third, I believe."
Catherine. That name stuck out. I remembered her from some of Alex's complaints about class rankings and group projects. Time for some social detective work.
I found Haley after school—if anyone knew the social dynamics of elementary school drama, it would be her, even if she was a few years older.
"Catherine Denise?" Haley thought for a moment. "Oh yeah, the girl who's always competing with Alex for grades. Kind of intense about school stuff, but not mean or anything. Why?"
"Just curious about some school project drama."
"Well, if you're looking into academic rivalry stuff, you should know she has a massive crush on that Sanjay kid Alex is always talking about."
Now we were getting somewhere. I thanked Haley and made mental notes. A crush on Sanjay, academic competition with Alex, and access to the science lab during the critical time period. The pieces were starting to fit together.
The next day, I approached Sanjay directly during recess.
"Hey, quick question about yesterday's science presentations. Do you remember who was around Alex's lab station before she presented?"
Sanjay looked puzzled but answered readily. "Most of us, I think. We were all observing each other's setups. Catherine spent extra time looking at Alex's volcano, I remember that. She seemed really interested in the ingredient measurements."
"Did she say anything about it?"
"Just that she was surprised Alex went with such a simple design. Catherine's project was much more elaborate—she'd researched different acid-base reactions and used more exotic ingredients."
Perfect. Catherine had both motive (academic rivalry complicated by romantic jealousy) and opportunity (access to the lab station and knowledge of chemistry). She probably saw Alex's simple but effective volcano design and realized it might score better than her overly complicated project, especially since Alex was presenting right after her.
The next day, I requested a meeting with both Alex and Catherine in room 207—a small classroom the Spice Club had been assigned for mediations.
Catherine looked nervous the moment she walked in and saw Alex already seated at the table.
"Catherine," I began, "I think we all know why we're here. Alex's volcano project was sabotaged yesterday, and evidence suggests you were responsible."
Her face went pale, but she didn't immediately deny it.
"I have witnesses who saw you spending extra time examining Alex's experiment setup, you had access to additional chemicals from your own project, and frankly, your motive is pretty obvious."
"What motive?" Catherine asked weakly.
"Academic competition with Alex, complicated by your feelings about Sanjay's attention being focused on your rivalry with her instead of... other possibilities."
Catherine's expression crumbled. "I didn't mean for it to be that dramatic! I just added a little extra vinegar to make her presentation less perfect. I didn't know it would explode like that."
Alex looked surprised. "You like Sanjay? That's what this is about?"
"He's always talking about how smart you are, how you challenge him academically. He never even notices anyone else in class!"
I could see this was heading toward emotional territory that needed careful handling.
"Catherine, I understand feeling overlooked, but sabotaging someone else's work isn't the solution. Alex, did you know Catherine felt this way?"
Alex shook her head. "I'm not even interested in Sanjay that way! I just like competing academically. I don't care about boyfriend stuff—I want to focus on learning."
"See?" I said to Catherine. "This whole situation was based on a misunderstanding. You were competing with Alex for something she wasn't even trying to win."
The conversation continued for another twenty minutes, with both girls gradually working through their misconceptions about each other's motivations. By the end, Catherine had apologized sincerely, Alex had accepted the apology, and they'd found some common ground in their shared interest in science.
"I'll talk to Mr. Harrison about letting you redo your presentation," Catherine offered. "I'll explain that the sabotage was my fault."
"Thanks," Alex said. "And... maybe we could work together on the next project? I'd like to learn some of those advanced techniques you researched."
As they left the room chatting about chemistry, I felt a genuine sense of satisfaction. The Spice Club had successfully resolved its first case, and I'd gained valuable experience in mediation and conflict resolution.
Patrick Jane – Beginner (285 / 15,000) +50
More importantly, I'd discovered something I genuinely enjoyed beyond chess and gaming. There was something deeply rewarding about helping people understand each other better, about using observation and deduction to untangle complicated social situations.
Maybe growing up meant finding multiple passions instead of just one. Chess had taught me to think strategically, YouTube was teaching me about content creation and audience building, and the Spice Club was developing my interpersonal skills.
As I packed up my notes and headed home, I felt optimistic about the direction my life was taking. Nine years old and already building a foundation for the future—not bad for a reincarnated soul still figuring out this second chance at childhood.
The next video for my YouTube channel was already planned: a chess puzzle featuring a queen sacrifice similar to the one I'd used against Sanjay. With titles like "The Art of the Queen Sacrifice" and proper editing, it might just break through to a bigger audience.
Time to get back to work.
[Status Screen: Updated]
Mikhail Tal – Beginner (1000 / 10,000)
No change. Ready for intermediate tier breakthrough.
Kazuma Satou – Intermediate (10 / 10,000)
No change.
Patrick Jane – Beginner (285 / 15,000)
+50 EXP: Successfully resolved first Spice Club case using observation, deduction, and mediation skills. Beginning to understand interpersonal dynamics and conflict resolution.