"Stop it!" Rhea snapped. "What is wrong with you?"
Ling stumbled a step.
The sound of Rhea's voice sharp, public, defensive of someone else hit harder than the push.
Reality crashed in.
Ling looked at her own hands.
At Roin's crushed collar.
At Rhea standing between them.
Her expression changed instantly.
The anger drained.
Replaced by horror.
"I—" Ling said, breath uneven. "I didn't mean to."
Her voice dropped, fractured.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
No one spoke.
Ling stepped back again, shaking her head at herself.
"I didn't mean to," she repeated, softer now not for the room. For Rhea.
Then she turned and walked out.
Fast.
Like someone escaping themselves.
The door closed behind her.
The classroom stayed frozen for several seconds after she left.
Roin adjusted his collar, still stunned.
Rhea didn't look at him.
Her chest was tight.
Because for the first time, Ling hadn't looked angry.
She had looked scared of herself.
————
The Kwong mansion was quiet when Ling came back.
Too quiet.
She walked straight past the servants, past the hall, past everything that usually anchored her, and went directly to Dadi's room.
Dadi was seated on the bed, glasses low on her nose, prayer beads loose in her hand.
Ling didn't speak.
She dropped to her knees beside the bed and leaned forward, burying her face in Dadi's lap.
Her control broke instantly.
Her shoulders shook.
"I lost her," Ling cried, the words coming out raw and unguarded.
"I lost Rhea."
Dadi's hand paused in mid-air for a second then settled on Ling's head, firm and grounding.
Ling clutched at Dadi's clothes like she was drowning.
"I reacted like I still had a right," she sobbed.
"Like she was still mine."
Her breathing hitched violently.
"She showed me my place, Dadi," Ling whispered.
"She defended him. In front of everyone."
Her voice cracked completely.
"I saw it. I understood it. And I still—"
She shook her head, choking on the words.
"I still crossed the line."
Dadi didn't interrupt.
Ling pressed her forehead harder into Dadi's lap.
"I can't live without her," she said, barely audible now.
"I don't know how. I don't know who I am without her."
Her fingers curled into fists.
"But I have to," she forced out.
"I have to. Because she doesn't want me."
Tears soaked into Dadi's clothes.
Dadi finally spoke, her voice low and steady.
"Loving someone does not give you ownership," she said.
"But losing them does not erase love either."
Ling let out a broken sound half laugh, half sob.
"It feels like dying," Ling whispered.
Dadi's hand tightened slightly in her hair.
"Then you will learn how to breathe while dying," Dadi said.
"And you will not shame yourself for it."
Ling stayed there.
Small.
Unguarded.
Crying into the one place that did not demand strength from her.
Outside the room, the mansion stood still.
And somewhere else, Rhea was alive and unreachable.
———
UNIVERSITY AUDITORIUM
The auditorium was full.
Students filled every row, noise buzzing low with anticipation. Faculty members sat on the stage. Banners hung high above the screen.
Rhea entered with Roin beside her.
They sat together, close enough to be seen. Not hidden. Not subtle.
Ling entered later.
She didn't look at them while walking in, but she knew exactly where they were. Her posture stayed straight, expression controlled, jaw tight. Rina, Jian, and Rowen followed her silently.
The Dean stepped forward, tapping the mic.
The hall quieted.
"This year," the Dean announced, voice clear, "we continue the Student of the Year Competition."
A pause.
"As you all know, Ling Kwong has remained the winner for the first year."
Murmurs spread.
The Dean looked directly toward Ling.
"Let's see," he said calmly, "whether she can retain that title for the second year."
Applause followed louder, heavier.
Ling did not react.
Rhea's fingers tightened slightly on Roin's sleeve.
The Dean lifted a file.
"There will be five rounds," he continued.
"Each round will test different aspects of personality, skill, discipline, and teamwork."
The screen behind him lit up.
ROUND ONE: COUPLE DANCE
"For the first round," the Dean said, "participants must perform a couple dance."
A ripple of shock ran through the auditorium.
"This round requires you to participate with a partner," the Dean clarified.
"No solo entries will be accepted for this round."
Whispers exploded instantly.
Rhea's breath stalled for half a second.
Ling's fingers curled slowly against her thigh.
"The dance will be judged on coordination, emotional expression, synchronization, and stage presence."
ROUND TWO: ACADEMIC COMBAT
The screen changed.
"Round Two will be Academic Combat," the Dean announced.
"Rapid-fire intellectual challenges between competitors."
He adjusted his glasses.
"Logic, subject knowledge, pressure handling, and accuracy will be evaluated."
Ling had won this round every time before.
She didn't move.
ROUND THREE: TALENT SHOWCASE
"Round Three," the Dean continued, "will be a Talent Showcase."
Murmurs again.
"You may choose any skill — artistic, athletic, creative, or unconventional."
He paused deliberately.
"Judges will assess originality, confidence, and execution."
Rhea glanced down.
Ling's eyes stayed forward.
ROUND FOUR: LEADERSHIP TASK
The slide changed again.
"Round Four will test leadership and crisis management."
The Dean's tone sharpened.
"Participants will be assigned teams and placed in simulated high-pressure scenarios."
He looked over the crowd.
"We will judge decision-making, control, influence, and moral judgment."
Roin shifted slightly in his seat.
Ling finally exhaled slowly.
ROUND FIVE : ATHLETICS
The slide changed to round five.
"Participants will be assigned teams and we will judge your athletic skills, pressure handling and strength."
"You will be judged as individuals."
"This isn't just about physical it's about mental pressure too so don't take it just physical."
Ling smirked already sensing her victory.
ROUND SIX : INTERVIEW
The slide appeared.
Dean said, "Round six will be a personal interview."
The auditorium went quiet.
"This round will evaluate personal growth, values, accountability, and vision."
A pause.
"No rehearsed answers," the Dean added.
"We want truth."
ROUND SEVEN: THE GAUNTLET
Last slide appeared.
The crowd leaned forward.
"This will be an individual trial.
No teams.
No assistance.
No substitutions."
Rhea's fingers curled against her palm.
"Five contestants will face a multi-stage course designed to exhaust the body before it exposes the mind."
A murmur rippled through the auditorium.
"There will be no rehearsal footage.
No practice rounds.
No allowances for reputation."
The Dean's eyes flicked briefly very briefly toward Ling.
"You will be timed.
You will be ranked.
And you will finish alone."
The screen went dark.
"The competition begins next week," the Dean concluded.
"Prepare yourselves."
Applause filled the hall.
Ling remained seated for a moment longer than necessary.
Her face stayed unreadable.
But her mind wasn't on the trophy.
It was on one word.
Couple.
And on the fact that Rhea was already sitting beside someone else.
Students were still standing, voices overlapping, excitement spilling everywhere.
Rhea gathered her bag, about to move, when Roin leaned closer.
He didn't lower his voice.
He didn't try to be discreet.
"I'm in," Roin said clearly, loud enough to travel across the row.
"Would you be my partner?"
The words cut clean through the noise.
Ling heard them.
She didn't turn, but her jaw tightened once.
Rhea paused only for a second.
Then she lifted her chin.
"Of course," Rhea replied, equally loud.
"Why wouldn't I?"
A few students glanced back. Whispers sparked instantly.
Roin smiled, satisfied.
Ling stood then.
She adjusted her blazer, controlled, precise. She moved toward the aisle without looking in their direction.
Rina caught up with her halfway.
"I'll be your couple," Rina said quietly but firmly.
"For the dance."
Ling stopped walking.
For a brief moment, she looked at Rina really looked at her.
Then she nodded once.
No emotion. No argument.
"Okay," Ling said.
Rina squeezed her shoulder once before moving ahead.
Ling followed.
Behind them, Rhea's laughter echoed light, intentional, aimed.
Ling didn't react.
She just kept walking.
———
The practice hall was crowded.
Mirrors lined the walls. Speakers sat in the corners. The polished floor reflected tension more than light.
Couples stood together paired, uneven, whispering, laughing, nervous.
Ling entered with Rina.
She stopped the moment she saw them.
Rhea stood with Roin near the center.
Roin's hand rested casually at Rhea's waist not possessive, but placed deliberately. Rhea didn't pull away. She stood straight, composed, chin lifted, eyes forward.
Ling felt it like a physical hit.
She didn't stare.
She moved to the side with Rina and stood still, hands clasped behind her back, face unreadable.
The Dance Master walked in tall, sharp-eyed, no patience for drama.
"Alright," he said loudly, clapping once.
"Everyone line up. Couples together."
Movement rippled through the room.
Rhea stepped closer to Roin. Their shoulders brushed.
Ling's jaw flexed.
The master paced slowly in front of them.
"This round is not about technique alone," he said.
"It's about connection."
He stopped.
"Your bodies must talk before your faces do."
Some students laughed nervously.
The master turned to the mirror wall.
"Watch yourselves," he instructed.
"If your partner doesn't exist in your body language, you've already failed."
He clapped again.
"Positions."
Music started — slow, controlled.
"Hand placement," the master said sharply.
"Partners, face each other."
Roin immediately lifted his hand to Rhea's waist again.
Rhea placed her hand on his shoulder.
Their reflection was clear.
Ling's fingers twitched.
Rina noticed.
She adjusted her stance and placed her hand correctly on Ling's shoulder, grounding her.
"Focus," Rina whispered.
Ling inhaled slowly.
The master walked past them.
"Expressions," he said.
"No dead faces. I want intimacy, not performance."
He stopped in front of Rhea and Roin.
"Good posture," he said.
"But you," he pointed at Roin,
"don't stare like you're proud. Stare like you're afraid to lose."
Roin adjusted instantly, softening his gaze.
Rhea responded naturally her eyes shifting, expression controlled but alive.
Ling saw it.
This was the expression Rhea used to give her.
The master moved on.
"And you," he said, stopping before Ling and Rina,
"your frame is strong, but you're closed."
Ling met his eyes.
"I'm listening," she said calmly.
"Then open," he replied.
"Dance is vulnerability. If you're guarding, the audience will feel it."
Ling nodded once.
Music resumed.
"Step sequence," the master called out.
"Left. Turn. Hold. Pause."
Couples moved.
Rhea laughed lightly when Roin misstepped.
It wasn't loud.
But it landed.
Ling's foot missed half a beat.
Rina corrected instantly, pulling her back into rhythm.
"Stay with me," Rina murmured.
Ling swallowed.
"I am," she replied.
The master clapped again.
"Good. Now repeat but this time," he said, voice firm,
"feel it."
He walked to the center.
"This is a couple round," he reminded them.
"If you dance like strangers, don't bother showing up on stage."
Music filled the room again.
Bodies moved.
Hands tightened.
Eyes locked.
Ling danced flawlessly.
Every step was exact.
Every move was controlled.
But her eyes never softened.
Across the room, Rhea moved in sync with Roin fluid, expressive, intentional.
She didn't look at Ling.
Not once.
When the music stopped, the master clapped.
"Practice again tomorrow," he said.
"Some of you are dancing with your partners."
His gaze flicked briefly toward Ling.
"And some of you," he added,
"are dancing with ghosts."
Ling didn't react.
She simply nodded.
Practice ended.
Couples broke apart.
Rhea stepped back from Roin, smiling faintly.
Students began to disperse.
Laughter returned. Bags were picked up. Couples drifted toward the exits, some still practicing steps in half-movement.
Ling was turning to leave with Rina when the Dance Master's voice cut through the room.
"Ling Kwong."
She stopped.
Rina paused beside her, then instinctively stepped back, giving space.
Ling turned around.