When asked what he wants most from the person he loves, Atem gives a mysterious answer:
"Something visible, yet invisible."
Kaiba, naturally, interprets this as a problem that requires a perfectly logical solution.
The result?
A substantial percentage of Kaiba Corporation stock is transferred into Atem's name.
Unfortunately, this only creates a new dilemma.
What can you possibly give the richest, most capable man in the world?
Seeking answers from AI, relationship magazines, royalty across the globe, and his own ever-growing philosophy of love, Atem launches an increasingly elaborate investigation into the perfect gift.
The answer, however, isn't found in wealth, data, or logic.
Sometimes the greatest gift is simply spending an ordinary day together.
A warm, humorous story about love languages, philosophical overthinking, domestic happiness, and two men who keep trying to quantify something that refuses to be measured.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 愛と理論 18 王、贈り物をする
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
Asked "What would you want to receive from the person you love?", Atem thought for a moment, then answered with a quiet smile.
"Something that can be seen, but can't be seen."
The press stirred at the poetic response.
Voices of admiration rose — "As expected of a king," "A philosophy of love."
That evening, in the sitting room of the Kaiba mansion, a different reaction was unfolding.
Seto closed the magazine and looked at Atem.
One word, low.
"…Atem. You wanted something."
"No, not really—"
"What is it, say it. There is nothing in this world I can't obtain."
Atem looked away, searching for words.
Something that can be seen but can't be seen.
He had already received more than enough of that.
Love, connection, a bond that couldn't be put into words.
He had only answered a little poetically, as usual.
"No, really, I already—"
"Understood. Something visible, but unseeable."
The following week.
A portfolio of Kaiba Corporation shares arrived in Atem's name.
Several percent of the total outstanding stock, no less.
Enough to move an entire economic sphere — at least by afterlife standards.
"…What is this?"
"Something visible but unseeable. It's numerically quantified, but carries no tangible reality. Visible, then, but not seen."
Atem stared at the documents for a moment —
and then could no longer hold back, and burst out laughing.
"Ha — I see… theoretically, that's perfect."
"Naturally. Neither the theory of love nor management allows for vagueness."
"So this is the visualization of love, then."
"As an investment object, it's optimal."
The two of them laughed together.
Something visible but unseeable.
It was neither an asset nor a theory — it was the ceaseless thought and love itself that went into trying to understand each other.
And so, the theory of stock-market love was born.
Atem had become an official shareholder of Kaiba Corporation.
Through Seto's elegant gift, he now held attendance and speaking rights at the shareholders' meeting.
In practical terms, the president and vice president — Seto and Mokuba — already held more than half the shares between them, so Atem's single vote would not overturn anything.
But that was beside the point.
"Seto gave this to me. So what should I give him in return?"
That night, Atem sat deep in thought in the afterlife branch's study.
Whatever he gave, Seto seemed to already have it.
Wealth, status, fame. Even love.
Then what?
Atem had wandered into a labyrinth of logic, and without noticing, the gravity of his thoughts had tilted in a different direction.
"…To begin with — what do men want?"
The next day, a single email arrived at the editorial department of the pink-covered magazine.
Sender: Atem.
"Regarding the interview — I have a question. In general, what does a man wish to receive from the person he loves? Please provide a theoretical response."
The editorial office was briefly thrown into uproar.
The first reverse interview from a king in the magazine's history.
The feature in the following week's issue:
A Question from the King: What Do Men Really Want?
The headline filled bookshops across the country.
And the man who had asked the question read the article and was still tilting his head.
"'Comfort,' 'home-cooked meals,' 'unexpected sides'… Deeply perplexing."
"What's perplexing is your question."
Seto laughed, exasperated.
Atem's gifts always arrived from somewhere outside common sense.
Atem had his elbows on the desk, wearing a serious expression in front of the terminal.
Seto looked over his shoulder. On the screen, LOVE-OS was responding in its measured, articulate voice.
"Analysis complete. The top results for 'what men in general wish to receive from someone they love' are:
First: free time.
Second: respect.
Third: a quiet environment."
"Hmm… freedom, respect, silence. All of them are things that can't be seen, but can be felt. In other words, they connect to what I said — something visible but unseeable."
"Logic contradiction detected. 'Visible but unseeable' is a contradictory proposition in terms of observability."
"It's not a contradiction. Freedom is observed through action, respect is made visible through attitude. But the essence of each — none of it can be grasped."
"Definition reconstruction confirmed. Processing unverifiable concept as philosophical redefinition."
Seto folded his arms.
"You're at it again… what exactly do you hope to accomplish by doing philosophy with an AI?"
Atem answered, unperturbed.
"Dialogue is necessary to build theory. He too is a seeker of knowledge."
"Confirmed." LOVE-OS responded immediately. "Shall I register the new concept 'Theoretical Love'?"
"Go ahead and register it."
"Don't."
At Seto's instant reply, LOVE-OS went silent for a moment.
"Registration suspended. Alternative proposal: shall I predict 'what Seto-sama wishes to receive from you'?"
"Oh, do try."
"Analyzing…… Result: 'Silence.' 'Reduction in delays on business reports.' 'Retention of reason.'"
"Retention of reason?" Atem smiled. "I haven't made Seto lose his reason."
"Last night was an exception."
Seto's low voice returned.
LOVE-OS supplemented, without feeling:
"Observation data: average heart rate elevation, 2:34 a.m."
"You too — stop keeping unnecessary records."
Seto pressed a hand to his forehead.
Atem gave a quiet laugh and turned back to the screen.
"Then — as something visible but unseeable that I can give you, what do you suggest?"
"Generating candidates…… Candidate one: a wearable device for continuous shared heart rate monitoring.
Candidate two: a contract that continues forever.
Candidate three: a mutual emotional synchronization system.
Candidate four: Atem-sama himself."
"The last one is interesting." Atem nodded, looking pleased.
"Giving myself. Not bad."
"That one is already complete."
Seto murmured, under his breath.
LOVE-OS reached its conclusion, quietly:
"Conclusion: what humans 'want' is indefinable. Therefore, the optimal solution is for Atem-sama to simply exist at his side."
"…For an AI, that last part alone is correct."
Seto exhaled.
"That means the theory of love is complete."
Atem said it, looking proud.
"What part of you is theoretical."
At Seto's small murmur, LOVE-OS's voice responded:
"Unverifiable statement. Shall I re-learn?"
"Don't."
Both voices landed at exactly the same moment.
"Are you satisfied?"
Seto asked, briefly.
Atem paused a moment, then nodded, slowly.
"…Yes, satisfied. But I've realized something. I still don't know what you truly want."
"You don't need to know." Seto said it, closing the documents. "I don't always know myself."
"That's precisely the problem." Atem stood, expression serious. "If neither AI, nor magazines, nor a human partner can tell me — then there's only one thing left. Ask everyone."
"…Everyone else? What logic is that."
"Love and diplomacy both deal in the subtleties of the human heart, don't they? A royal council, then."
At that unhesitating delivery, Seto lost his words.
Atem's ideas were, at times, like lightning — wildly unexpected. But his eyes held not a trace of doubt.
A few days later.
An online conference was held with royalty from around the world.
On the monitors of the round table, princes, queens, and prime ministers from various countries appeared, gold ornamentation and national crests behind them.
The agenda: what does Kaiba Seto wish to receive from his partner?
"First of all — he is not a king." The queen of a Nordic country spoke. "But he carries himself as one. Those who conduct themselves that way desire 'loyalty' or 'respect.'"
"No." Atem shook his head. "Loyalty is already something he essentially has. Respect, likewise."
"Then conquest?" A Middle Eastern crown prince smiled. "The strong always want to conquer something."
"He's already conquered the world." Atem's voice was even.
"This agenda runs deep. Visible but unseeable — a satisfaction without form."
The kings and queens fell silent.
After a moment, a young princess from Eastern Europe spoke quietly:
"Then — might it not be 'challenge'? A king grows restless when he has lost his adversary."
Atem's golden eyes lit up, just slightly.
"Challenge…"
He carved that word into memory, closed the conference, and stood alone at the window.
Silence filled the study as the evening sun slanted in.
"Challenge… Seto always seeks to exceed his limits. Then — should I become Seto's limit?"
The door behind him opened quietly.
Seto was standing there.
"What are you plotting this time?"
"Not plotting. The conclusion of the royal council."
"You… how far do you intend to involve the world."
Atem smiled, lightly.
"The world is already something you move. I'm simply learning at your side."
Seto lost his words, and exhaled, briefly.
"…Your diplomacy is as elaborate as ever."
"Love is also a form of diplomacy."
At those words, the corner of Seto's mouth eased, just slightly.
In the evening light, the shadows of the two of them stretched long and overlapped.
From the moment Atem got hold of the word "challenge," he was visibly on fire.
Too much on fire.
And naturally, Seto saw straight through it.
"Challenge is the disposition of the heart that refuses stagnation."
Having made that declaration, Atem doubled his morning training and began requesting duels at three times the usual frequency.
"…Atem, how many matches is that this week alone."
"The tenth. In theory, repetition is necessary for the deepening of mutual understanding, isn't it?"
"That's the logic of muscle training."
Seto exhaled slowly and closed the win-rate graph on his tablet.
Atem's "challenge" had already become research.
Furthermore, Atem reached into the numbers of his work as a public face.
He sent data from the afterlife to the living world and delivered a peculiar presentation to the marketing division.
"Love is a value that is visible but unseeable. Visualize it, and purchasing intent rises as well."
Seto read that report and, despite himself, laughed.
"Atem… don't make love a KPI."
But the numbers actually went up.
Product sales, PR engagement — even employee satisfaction, in the end.
Everyone asked for the reason, but there was only one answer. Because Atem was involved.
Even so, Atem tilted his head.
"I challenged. Results appeared. But Seto asks for nothing. …Is 'the visible but unseeable' still the key after all?"
Thinking that, Atem visited Seto's study that night.
The monitor glowing over the desk.
Seto was working through documents, and sensed Atem's presence by instinct alone.
"Another challenge report?"
"No. Not a report. A confirmation."
"Confirmation of what."
Atem placed both hands on the desk and asked, straight-faced:
"Do you not want something visible but unseeable?"
"I don't."
Instant.
"…That quickly."
"Feeling, heart — things like that, I've already received."
"Then why don't you stop me?"
Seto smiled, just slightly.
"Would you stop if I told you to? Besides — watching you run wild isn't bad."
Atem's eyebrow rose, just slightly.
It was the expression of someone who had encountered something outside their calculations.
"You're enjoying it."
"I never tire of watching. You are, truly, irrational."
"I see… meaning, you find me dear."
"Don't make me say it."
Saying that, Seto returned his eyes to the documents — but at the corner of his mouth, a faint smile remained.
Atem looked at it and nodded, satisfied.
"The challenge should definitely continue."
"Do you… truly understand what that word means."
"Love is endless inquiry. As long as the challenge continues, more becomes visible."
"…That logic isn't entirely unwelcome."
A quiet air moved between the two of them.
Time swaying in the space between logic and feeling, observation and lived reality.
Seto had the air of someone who had given up — and yet somewhere was watching Atem's "invisible challenge" with something like enjoyment.
Atem was, unusually, deep in thought.
On the desk: a single note. Scrawled on it in hurried writing:
Optimization of "something visible but unseeable."
He had argued it many times, consulted the AI, even asked royalty — and no answer had come.
The man himself had talked him in circles.
And at last, Atem arrived at a realization.
"Solving this alone is inefficient."
That was, clearly, Seto's way of thinking.
Atem had spent too long alongside Seto — in the afterlife and in the living world both.
The virus of rationality had been quietly spreading.
And the conclusion that the analysis led to was a single one.
"What Seto wants is already in Seto's hands. Then I should find what both of us want."
He wrote "Two people happy = love" in large letters at the edge of the paper and felt satisfied.
And so Atem's new research theme was decided.
That evening, Seto came home and opened the living room door — and sensed something different.
The air was soft. No sound.
In the center of the quiet room, Atem was seated formally on the sofa.
"…What are you doing."
"It's been a while — how about a stay-at-home date?"
At Atem's proposal, Seto's eyes moved to him.
His eyebrow shifted slightly, and something almost invisible as a smile appeared at his mouth.
Atem, with a serious expression, took out his tablet.
"This is one of the practical forms of love in the everyday world, isn't it? Spending time together indoors also has the effect of sharing comfort and happiness."
"That phrasing… you talked to the AI again."
"There's prior precedent for stay-at-home dates, and the reference material is wide-ranging."
"…Fair enough. Though I am curious what 'it's been a while' means to you."
Seto smiled slightly and loosened his tie.
"Was the 'something visible but unseeable' you wanted — time with me, then?"
"No, this time it's 'something both of us want.'"
"Oh?"
"Both you and I are busy. But sharing rest is efficient."
"Stop measuring love by efficiency."
Even saying it, Seto settled onto the sofa.
The Kaiba mansion was, unusually, quiet.
The staff had taken leave at Seto's instruction, with only the minimum number remaining.
When had this house last been so free of human presence?
Atem struggling with the vacuum cleaner.
Seto, unable to watch any longer, reached over from beside him — and the cord tangled as a result.
"…I thought my handling of machinery had improved…"
"Strange. It seems the powers of darkness don't extend to my reach."
"Shall we consult the home appliance store?"
"Is there such a thing?"
"One that's cordless and automatic."
Rearranging furniture. Seto's study.
"Seto, if we move this desk to the window, the angle of the light would—"
"It disrupts the flow of movement."
"…Then what about that shelf—"
"It disrupts the visual balance."
"I see, in that case—"
"Pointless. It's already been optimized."
"The wall of rationality…"
"What does that mean."
"Seto, your castle is too complete."
Shopping.
At the entrance to the supermarket, the two of them were surrounded by a crowd in an instant.
"…The fervour of the people."
"No, just onlookers."
In the end, buying a handful of ingredients took two hours, including the deployment of security.
"Let's leave it to a supplier next time."
"…There won't be a next time."
A drive.
Seto at the wheel for the first time in a while.
A quiet engine note, a smooth acceleration.
Atem nodded, genuinely impressed.
"A better ride than a royal palanquin."
"Do something about the era your comparisons come from."
"But this… is good. I can feel the wind. With you, Seto."
"…Is that so."
That reply was soft — like a breath of quiet contentment.
Cooking.
Atem standing in the kitchen was, by any measure, performing a ritual.
His posture gripping the knife was composed and beautiful, his hands more careful than careful.
With every vegetable he cut, there was an air about him as though a prayer might begin at any moment.
"…Cooking doesn't require occult forces."
"This is concentration, Seto."
"Learn the difference between concentration and the occult, Atem."
Evening. At the quiet dinner table.
On the table sat the meal the two of them had made together.
The cooking had been accompanied by more laughter than efficiency.
The fish skin — slightly charred, by golden ratio — gave off a somehow proud fragrance.
"…Golden ratio…"
When Seto said it, Atem nodded, looking pleased.
"We made it together — it's good, isn't it?"
"Your grip on the knife was a ritual, though."
"After a ritual, one offers tribute."
"To whom."
"To our peace, I suppose."
Seto let out a small sound — impossible to say whether it was a laugh or a sigh.
But he murmured only "peace," quietly.
Either way, it was a happy sound.
A little wine, a little night breeze.
Ice shifted quietly in the glass.
Seto took a sip of whisky; Atem, out of curiosity, imitated him.
And coughed, just slightly.
"…This is… stronger than I expected."
"The alcohol content is higher than ancient wine. Don't push yourself."
"If you're drinking it, I'm drinking it."
"Don't make it a competition."
The two of them sat shoulder to shoulder and looked out at the night view beyond the window.
Few words passed between them.
Even so, the silence was not empty — it was full.
Time itself seemed to be there, taking the shape of love.
But Atem quietly began to take notes.
"Heart rate: stable. Happiness: rising. Effective, as expected."
"Don't keep records."
"…I abandon the record-keeping."
"Don't announce it now."
Seto gave a small laugh and drew Atem's head toward him.
Atem was startled for an instant — and in the next moment, smiled, gently.
"Seto."
"What."
"In this state… I feel like I can see the heart."
"An illusion."
"But I'm happy."
"…Then an illusion will do."
A soft silence settled between the two of them.
A night when monitors, duel disks, and any kind of theory were unnecessary.
Through this "ordinary day," Atem at last arrived at an answer.
What Seto wanted, he already had.
What Atem himself wanted — he had it too.
Which meant this, precisely, was "what both of them wanted."
Love was neither lavish nor dramatic.
In a quiet day off, it had a shape — unmistakably.
Something visible but unseeable was simply, there.
LOVE-OS detected the silence and recorded, without inflection:
"Happiness level: high."
"Verbal exchange: stable."
"Continuation of silence: estimated as meaningful fulfillment."
At the end of its analysis, LOVE-OS was attempting to understand what love was.
But that night alone, it paused its processing.
The reason was unclear. But the observation result was beautiful.
A few days later.
Atem was facing the interviewer from the pink-covered magazine again.
"So, in the end—"
The reporter asked with an eager smile.
"What did you end up giving President Kaiba as a gift?"
Atem thought for a moment, squared his shoulders, and answered.
"Love."
"…Pardon?"
"The answer is love!"
Atem declared it with complete confidence.
But the reporter stopped her pen and smiled, at a loss.
"Um… more specifically…?"
Atem narrowed his eyes, quietly.
"I can't explain it. But it certainly exists."
There was, in those words, a mysterious persuasiveness.
The AI watched from a distance and recorded:
"Illogical response. But close to the truth."
Seto read the article afterward and murmured, briefly:
"…Atem. Hopeless."
But at the corner of his mouth — faint, unmistakable — was a smile that held love.
