The night air was sharp, carrying the smell of rain-soaked concrete. From the rooftop of the west dormitory, the city stretched out like a sea of lights, cars crawling like insects along glistening streets. Ethan stood alone near the edge, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, watching the horizon as if it might whisper secrets only he could hear.
He had expected this.
Derek Langston was too proud, too volatile, to let yesterday's humiliation go unanswered. Predictable. Childish. But useful.
Footsteps echoed against the rooftop door before it slammed shut. Ethan didn't turn. He didn't need to.
"Well, well," Derek's voice carried through the night, laced with venom. "Guess I was right. You've been hiding behind that smug face long enough."
Ethan's reflection glimmered faintly in the glass of the rooftop railing. Calm. Unmoving. He spoke without looking back.
"You're late."
That single phrase — dismissive, effortless — cut deeper than an insult. Derek's footsteps grew heavier, angrier, as he closed the distance.
"You think you're clever, don't you?" Derek spat. "Whispering in Ryan's ear, feeding him lines. Without you, he's nothing. Everyone knows it."
Ethan finally turned, his gaze meeting Derek's. His eyes were sharp, clear, cold — the kind of eyes that didn't reflect fear or even anger, but calculation.
"Correct," Ethan said. "Ryan is nothing. He's weak. A puppet."
Derek blinked, thrown off by the bluntness. "Then why bother with him?"
"Because," Ethan replied smoothly, "a puppet doesn't need strength. Only strings. And you…" He took a slow step forward, his voice softening like velvet wrapped around steel. "…you're so busy proving you're the strongest that you can't see how easily strings wrap around your throat."
Derek's jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists, knuckles whitening.
"You're playing games, Cooper. But I don't scare easy. People respect me. They follow me. I don't need tricks."
Ethan tilted his head slightly, studying Derek like a scientist observing an insect.
"Respect?" he murmured. "No, Derek. What you have is fear. Fear bleeds away the moment someone realizes the monster they imagined is just a loud boy with fragile pride."
Derek's face darkened, rage twisting his features. He lunged forward, shoving Ethan hard against the railing. Metal rattled, the city yawning hundreds of feet below.
"You think I won't drop you?" Derek snarled. "One push, and you're done."
Ethan didn't flinch. His expression didn't waver. His heartbeat never spiked. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice a whisper against Derek's ear.
"Do it."
The word slithered between them, colder than the night air.
For a second, Derek faltered.
"Go on," Ethan continued softly, his gaze unblinking. "Kill me. Throw me off. Then explain to the police why a promising student snapped. Explain to your family why their reputation is ruined. Explain to yourself why you lost everything over one boy who dared to humiliate you."
Derek's breathing quickened. His grip trembled. The image of his life unraveling, of his carefully curated persona shattering in front of everyone — it gnawed at him.
Ethan's lips curved into the faintest smile. "That's the difference between us. You fight to prove yourself. I fight to control the board. And I don't lose pieces to tantrums."
Slowly, deliberately, Derek released him. Ethan straightened his coat, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve as if nothing had happened.
"You think you're untouchable," Derek hissed.
"No," Ethan said, his voice chillingly calm. "I think you're predictable. And that makes you mine."
Derek's face flushed with fury. "This isn't over."
Ethan stepped past him, his presence as commanding as the silence that followed.
"It's already over," he replied, walking toward the rooftop door. "You just haven't realized you've lost."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Derek alone, fists trembling, rage eating him alive. For the first time in years, Derek Langston felt powerless.
The next day, campus buzzed with whispers. Word of Ryan's debate win had spread, exaggerated in retellings. Some called it luck, others skill. But one thing was certain — Derek's image was no longer flawless.
Clara watched it unfold from her seat in the café, sipping her coffee slowly. Her gaze drifted to Ethan across the room. He sat alone, reading, as if untouched by the chaos.
But Clara wasn't fooled. She remembered the way Derek had looked after class, his expression thunderous, his composure cracking. Someone had rattled him — and the only candidate was Ethan Cooper.
Her pen tapped against her notebook. She scribbled a line in the margin, a private observation:
Ethan doesn't play for survival. He plays for dominance.
The realization unsettled her. And yet, beneath the unease, a flicker of curiosity burned brighter. What was he really after?
That evening, Ethan returned to his dorm, Ryan practically bouncing at his side.
"Did you see people today? They looked at me differently, Ethan. Like I was someone worth noticing!"
Ethan offered no congratulations, only a cool glance. "Enjoy it while it lasts. Tomorrow, they'll forget."
Ryan's smile faltered. "Then… what do I do?"
Ethan closed the door behind them, his tone as sharp as a blade.
"You climb higher. One step at a time. And when Derek moves against you again — because he will — you'll already be above him."
Ryan nodded, swallowing hard. His admiration was tinged with fear now, but fear that bound him tighter.
Ethan sat by the window, watching the campus lights flicker in the dark. Pieces were moving. Derek had been destabilized. Ryan was climbing. Clara was watching.
And Ethan? Ethan was exactly where he wanted to be.
The board was set.