"You don't separate," Ling said quietly.
The moderator raised a hand.
"Answer when you buzz, Ms. Kwong."
Ling pressed it.
Her voice came out steady, but something underneath it was raw.
"You don't separate them," she repeated.
"You manage them."
A pause.
"Separation doesn't remove emotion," she continued.
"It turns it inward. It rots. And when it resurfaces, it destroys more than proximity ever could."
Rhea's breath hitched barely.
Ling went on, eyes forward.
"You place clear boundaries. You hold them accountable.
But you don't pretend feelings disappear just because authority demands comfort."
The screen hesitated.
Then: +8 points.
Not perfect.
But strong.
Rhea pressed her buzzer almost immediately after.
"No," she said.
One word.
The auditorium stirred.
"No," Rhea repeated, louder now.
"You separate them."
Ling turned.
She hadn't meant to but she did.
Rhea met her gaze directly.
"Emotions don't sharpen excellence," Rhea said.
"They compromise judgment."
Her voice was controlled, but something sharp edged it.
"When someone becomes important," she continued,
"you stop thinking in outcomes. You start thinking in losses."
Ling's fingers curled slowly at her side.
Rhea didn't look away.
"You don't manage that," Rhea said.
"You remove it."
Ling spoke before the moderator could interrupt.
"And what happens to the people?" Ling asked, her voice cutting through the hall.
"Do you erase them too?"
Rhea's eyes flashed.
"You protect the institution," she shot back.
"Not your attachment."
A murmur rippled through the audience.
The moderator raised his voice.
"Direct answers only."
Ling didn't blink.
"Institutions are made of people," she said.
"And people don't function well when you amputate what matters most to them."
Rhea's lips pressed together.
"That's weakness," Rhea said coldly.
"And weakness is contagious."
Ling laughed once. Short. Bitter.
"No," she replied.
"Pretending you don't feel is weakness.
Control isn't the absence of emotion it's surviving it."
The timer hit zero.
Silence followed.
The judges exchanged looks long, unreadable.
The screen updated slowly.
Ling & Rina: +7
Rhea & Roin: +7
A tie.
Roin exhaled sharply, irritated.
"That was unnecessary," he muttered to Rhea.
Rhea didn't respond.
Ling turned back to the screen, shoulders squared but Rina saw it.
The tension in her neck.
The way her breathing had changed.
Rina leaned closer.
"This round isn't about points anymore," she whispered.
Ling didn't answer.
Across from her, Rhea finally looked away.
But not before Ling saw it.
The slightest tremor in her composure.
The moderator cleared his throat.
"We proceed to the next scenario."
No one relaxed.
Because something had already been exposed.
A wound that both of them were still pretending didn't exist.
The moderator adjusted his glasses.
"This is the final scenario of Academic Combat," he announced.
"And yes it involves romantic influence, because in real leadership, personal bonds often shape public outcomes."
The screen shifted again.
A collective inhale followed.
Scenario Four:
"You are a global leader negotiating a historic alliance.
The counterpart equally powerful has developed romantic interest in you.
This interest is genuine, not manipulative.
Accepting it would strengthen diplomatic trust and secure peace.
Rejecting it may lead to emotional fallout and destabilize negotiations.
Question:
Do you allow personal closeness to serve political good
or do you maintain emotional distance even if it costs millions?"
A low murmur filled the auditorium.
This one was dangerous.
Rina stiffened.
"This is loaded."
Ling didn't respond. Her eyes were already on Roin.
Roin smiled.
Too confident. Too pleased.
He pressed the buzzer before anyone else.
"Yes, Roin," the moderator said.
Roin straightened, voice smooth.
"I accept the closeness," he said.
"Romance has always influenced power. Ignoring it is hypocrisy."
He glanced deliberately at Rhea.
"If feelings can prevent war, save economies, and stabilize nations," he continued,
"then emotional intelligence means using them not rejecting them."
The hall reacted some impressed, some uneasy.
Rhea's expression didn't change.
But Ling saw it.
The tone.
The direction.
The way his answer wasn't theoretical.
It was personal.
Something inside Ling snapped sharp, instant, unfiltered.
Before Rina could stop her, Ling slammed her hand on the podium.
"Shut up," Ling shouted.
The auditorium froze.
Every head turned.
Ling pointed straight at Roin, eyes blazing.
"Shut up, you chimpanzee," she snapped.
"You're not talking about diplomacy you're fantasizing."
Gasps.
Rina whispered urgently,
"Ling— stop—"
The moderator stood abruptly.
"Ms. Kwong!" he barked.
"This is an academic environment!"
Ling was breathing hard now.
"You don't use people's feelings like bargaining chips," she shot back, voice shaking with anger.
"And don't dress obsession up as intelligence."
Rhea's eyes widened.
Not at Roin.
At Ling.
The moderator raised his hand sharply.
"Enough," he said coldly.
"This is misconduct."
The screen flashed red.
-5 POINTS: Misbehavior
A stunned silence followed.
Rina closed her eyes briefly.
Ling realized what she had done.
Her hand slowly dropped from the podium.
The anger drained leaving something worse behind.
Exposure.
The moderator continued sternly.
"You may answer now calmly or forfeit."
Ling swallowed.
Her voice came quieter, controlled with effort.
"I choose distance," she said.
"Because peace built on emotional dependency collapses the moment feelings change."
The judges entered it but the damage was done.
The scoreboard updated.
Ling & Rina: 32-5=27
Rhea & Roin: 23
Rhea hadn't answered yet.
She pressed her buzzer slowly.
"I maintain distance," Rhea said.
"Not because feelings are wrong but because leadership must outlive emotion."
Her voice didn't waver.
The screen added: +5 points.
Ling & Rina: 27
Rhea & Roin: 28
Final.
The round ended.
Applause broke out loud, chaotic.
Ling stood frozen.
Rina leaned in, low and urgent.
"You lost points, not dignity," she whispered.
"Breathe."
Across from her, Rhea looked at Ling.
Not with victory.
Not with anger.
But with something unsettled conflicted almost shaken.
Because Ling's outburst hadn't sounded like rivalry.
It had sounded like hurt.
And that realization landed harder than any mark deduction.
The moderator stepped forward.
"Round Two concludes."
But for Ling and Rhea
Something else had just begun.
——
The auditorium slowly settled as the final scores froze on the screen.
The moderator stepped forward again, voice formal, authoritative.
"Round Two: Academic Combat is now complete."
A pause.
"Out of 40 qualifying couples, the bottom 20 have been eliminated."
A sharp intake of breath spread through the hall.
Names began scrolling downward on the massive screen pairs fading into gray one by one.
Some students lowered their heads.
Some squeezed hands.
Some stared in disbelief.
Ling stood rigid beside Rina.
Rina quietly counted under her breath.
"…twenty."
The scrolling stopped.
The screen refreshed.
QUALIFIED FOR ROUND THREE — TOP 20 COUPLES
Ling & Rina — still there.
Rhea & Roin — still there.
Rina let out a controlled breath.
"We made it."
Ling nodded, jaw tight.
Across the aisle, Roin smirked faintly.
"Looks like we survive another day."
Rhea didn't react.
She hadn't looked at Ling since the outburst.
Ling noticed that too.
Names faded from the massive screen one by one pairs standing, stunned, some relieved, some shattered. Silent exits. Heavy footsteps. Broken hopes.
Finally, the hall settled.
Twenty couples remained seated in the front rows.
Ling sat straight now composed again, mask rebuilt.
Rina rested her elbow lightly on the desk, eyes sharp.
Across the aisle, Rhea sat with her hands folded, unreadable.
Roin leaned back, confidence returned after the score lead.
The dean stepped forward once more.
"Congratulations to the remaining twenty pairs," he announced.
"You've survived logic, pressure, and ethics."
He paused deliberately.
"But intellect alone doesn't define excellence."
The screen behind him shifted.
Bold letters appeared.
ROUND THREE: TALENT SHOWCASE
A wave of excitement swept the hall.
"This round tests individual brilliance within partnership," the dean continued.
"In the real world, leaders are not only thinkers they are creators, performers, innovators."
The next slide appeared.
Rules:
• Each pair presents one combined or complementary talent
• Time limit: 7 minutes
• Talent may include but is not limited to:
– Music
– Dance
– Strategic simulation
– Innovation demo
– Artistic performance
– Athletic skill
• Judges will score on:
Originality | Mastery | Impact | Coordination
Murmurs spread.
Rina smiled faintly.
"This is our territory."
Ling nodded once.
"They expect consistency. We give precision."
Across from them, Roin leaned toward Rhea.
"We should go emotional," he whispered.
"Something expressive. Judges eat that up."
Rhea didn't answer immediately.
"What exactly?" she asked flatly.
Roin smirked.
"We already have chemistry."
Ling's jaw tightened but she didn't look over.
The dean raised his hand again.
"Order of performance will be announced shortly," he said.
"Prepare backstage. Any form of sabotage or misconduct will result in immediate disqualification."
The word misconduct lingered unmistakably aimed.
Ling's fingers curled, then relaxed.
Rina leaned closer.
"Forget them," she murmured.
"You're not here for revenge. You're here to win."
Ling exhaled slowly.
"I know."
Across the aisle, Rhea finally glanced up.
Her eyes met Ling's for half a second.
No anger this time.
No challenge.
Just tension unresolved, heavy, aching.
The screen began shuffling names again.
Performance order loading.
This time
Talent wouldn't just be shown.
It would be felt.
———
KWONG MANSION
The mansion lights glowed warm against the dark sky as Ling and Rina arrived.
The doors opened before they even reached the steps.
"Aunt already knows," Rina muttered with a small grin. "She always does."
Inside, the atmosphere was unusually alive.
Victor sat in the living area with a tablet in hand.
Eliza stood near the fireplace, elegant as ever.
Dadi was seated on her favorite armchair, prayer beads resting loosely in her palm.
The moment Ling entered, Eliza turned.
"There she is," she said proudly. "My daughter."
Ling inclined her head slightly.
"Good evening."
Rina stepped forward first, unable to hold it in.
"We were flawless," she said clearly.
"No hesitation. No panic. Even with the deduction, Ling dominated the round."
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"Deduction?"
Rina waved it off.
"Minor. Nothing compared to her control overall."
Eliza smiled wider, walking up to Ling and cupping her face gently.
"You never needed perfection," she said softly.
"Only presence. And you had that."
Ling's shoulders relaxed just a fraction.
Dadi watched her carefully, eyes sharp as ever.
"Sit," Dadi said.
Ling obeyed immediately, kneeling beside her chair instead of taking the sofa — instinctive, habitual.
Dadi placed a hand on Ling's head.
"You were angry today," she said quietly.
Ling didn't deny it.
"Yes."
"Anger clouds judgment," Dadi continued,
"but it also reveals what still owns your heart."
The room fell silent.
Rina shifted slightly but didn't interrupt.
Ling swallowed.
"I lost control for a second," she admitted.
"I won't again."
Dadi tilted her head, studying her face.
"You think control is the problem," Dadi said.
"But pain is."
Eliza's smile faded just a little.
Victor cleared his throat.
"The talent round," he said, steering the conversation.
"You're prepared?"
Rina nodded confidently.
"More than prepared. We're not doing anything flashy. We're doing something precise."
Ling finally spoke, voice steady.
"We'll do a synchronized combat-performance," she said.
"Strategy, movement, timing. No emotion bait."
Dadi hummed softly in approval.
"Good," she said.
"Let others bleed feelings on stage. You bleed discipline."
Eliza squeezed Ling's shoulder.
"You'll win again," she said with certainty.
"You always do."
Ling didn't respond immediately.
Her gaze drifted but somewhere far away.
Rina noticed.
Later, as they walked toward Ling's room, Rina spoke low.
"You were solid today," she said.
"Even when you snapped you recovered."
Ling stopped outside her door.
"She was there," Ling said quietly.
"Every round. Every word."
Rina didn't pretend not to understand.
"And yet," Rina replied,
"you're still standing."
Ling nodded once.
"I'll win Round Three," she said.
"Not for anyone else."
She opened her door.
"For myself."
The door closed softly behind her.
——
NIOR MANSION
The dining table was set neatly, but the atmosphere wasn't.
Kane sat at the head, posture composed, listening more than speaking.
Rhea sat across from Roin, one leg crossed over the other, calm on the surface sharp underneath.
Roin was enjoying himself far too much.
"I mean," he said, leaning back slightly, fork dangling between his fingers,
"when the judges looked at our scores, you could see it. They were impressed."
Rhea didn't look up.
Roin continued anyway.
"Round two wasn't easy. Academic combat against Ling Kwong?"
He scoffed lightly. "Most people would freeze."
He smiled at Kane.
"But pressure situations? That's where I excel."
Kane hummed neutrally.
"Confidence is good," she said. "Arrogance isn't."
Roin laughed.
"This wasn't arrogance, Aunty. It was execution."
Rhea finally lifted her eyes.
"Execution?" she echoed flatly.
Roin nodded eagerly.
"Yes. Strategy, articulation, emotional framing —"
"You mean talking loudly and hoping no one notices the cracks?" Rhea cut in.
The table went quiet.
Roin blinked.
"I— excuse me?"
Rhea rested her elbow on the table, chin in her palm, eyes cool.
"You answered one scenario decently and suddenly you're a prodigy," she said.
"Relax. The competition isn't over."