The library was hushed, its silence broken only by the rustle of pages and the occasional tapping of keys. Clara Lang sat at one of the back tables, her pen poised above a notebook she hadn't written in for several minutes.
Her gaze was fixed on Ethan Cooper.
He was seated across the aisle, surrounded by a fortress of books. Not messy piles, but neatly aligned stacks. He didn't shift or fidget, didn't look around to check the time, didn't even blink as often as a normal person would. His focus was absolute, mechanical — as though reading wasn't an act of learning but a process of assimilation.
Clara's pen scratched against paper at last:
He reads like he already knows the ending.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn't sure why she cared. But Derek had come back from his rooftop "talk" with Ethan rattled, though he refused to admit it. He was quieter, angrier, more restless than she had ever seen him. And Derek didn't break — not unless someone forced him to.
That someone was Ethan.
She closed her notebook with a soft snap and stood, approaching his table with quiet steps. Ethan didn't look up until she was standing across from him.
"Clara," he said evenly, acknowledging her without surprise.
She tilted her head. "You knew I was watching?"
"I always know when I'm being observed." His tone was calm, factual, not boastful. He gestured to the empty chair. "Sit."
She hesitated for a fraction of a second before lowering herself into the seat.
"You're interesting," Clara said, folding her arms.
"That word usually means 'dangerous,' when people can't admit it outright," Ethan replied, eyes still on the page in front of him.
Her brows arched. "And are you dangerous?"
"Not to you." His gaze finally shifted, locking with hers. "Unless you make yourself my opponent."
The directness startled her, but she didn't show it. Instead, she leaned forward slightly. "You're manipulating Ryan. Why?"
Ethan turned a page with deliberate slowness, as if considering whether her question even deserved an answer.
"Because he listens," he said at last. "Because he's malleable. Because he doesn't realize yet that a pawn can become a queen."
Clara frowned. "That's not altruism. That's strategy."
"Correct."
The bluntness of his admission unsettled her more than a denial would have. People lied to protect themselves. Ethan didn't bother.
"You sound like you're planning a war," Clara murmured.
Ethan's lips curved faintly. "Wars are loud. Crude. I prefer… revolutions. Quiet ones. The kind people don't notice until the world has already shifted beneath their feet."
Her pulse quickened at the icy certainty in his tone. There was no bravado, no posturing. Just inevitability.
She studied him, searching for cracks. Humanity. Something. But all she saw was a cold genius wrapped in calm restraint.
Finally, she said, "Derek doesn't like you."
Ethan's smile sharpened. "Good. Hatred is the surest sign that my strings are tight."
Meanwhile, Derek's dorm room looked like a storm had passed through. Books lay scattered, his desk overturned from a fit of rage earlier that evening. He sat on the edge of his bed, fists pressed against his temples, breathing raggedly.
He had never felt like this. Humiliation was foreign, unbearable. For years, he had ruled the campus by sheer dominance — charisma, strength, family influence. But Ethan Cooper had cut through all of it without lifting a hand.
And that infuriated him.
Ryan. It had to be Ryan. Derek convinced himself of it. Ethan was clever, sure, but he wasn't the type to step into the spotlight. No — Ryan was the one winning debates, stealing whispers of admiration. Ethan was just the parasite behind him.
His phone buzzed. Messages from classmates:
"Crazy how Ryan beat that last debate, huh?""Never thought he had it in him.""Hey, is Derek okay? He seemed… off."
Each ping was another needle under Derek's skin.
He slammed the phone down, chest heaving. He would crush Ryan. And by extension, Ethan. He had to.
Back in the library, Clara closed her notebook and stood. "You're dangerous, Ethan. More than Derek realizes."
Ethan didn't move. "Observation noted."
"You're planning something. I don't know what, but I'll find out."
He looked at her then, really looked, as though weighing her value on his mental chessboard.
"Be careful, Clara," he said softly. "Curiosity is a beautiful trait. Until it makes you a liability."
Her breath caught, but she forced herself to meet his gaze with equal intensity. "And what happens when a liability becomes too costly?"
Ethan leaned back in his chair, closing the book in front of him with a soft thud.
"Then I remove it."
The air between them tightened, thick with unspoken threat and something else — a tension Clara couldn't name. She gathered her notebook and walked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her shaken.
Ethan watched her go, his expression unreadable. But behind his stillness, thoughts churned. Clara Lang was sharp, sharper than he had anticipated. Not a pawn. Not yet an opponent either. Perhaps… a queen of her own kind.
For now, she would watch him. That was fine. Let her. Because in the end, watching meant stepping closer. And the closer she stepped, the tighter the strings could wrap.