The younger woman stepped forward under the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, holding up a poster with Eve’s face and name printed in bold letters. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail that gleamed under the artificial light. She wore a tailored uniform—pressed trousers and an immaculate blazer—with the red and crimson holographic insignia of Phoenix Academy, giving her a polished yet approachable air. She extended her hand toward Eve, offering to help with the luggage.

  “Miss Carter?” she said with a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, nerves faint beneath the surface. “Welcome. I’ll be your driver today.”

  The older woman lingered in the shadows—taller, more imposing, with sharp features that suggested years of experience. Her hair was a silver-blonde bob, styled to perfection despite her no-nonsense demeanour. She wore an elegant black pantsuit tailored for authority, every crease deliberate.

  Eve crossed her arms, sizing them up. She wasn’t used to being deferred to, let alone by someone who looked like she’d stepped out of a luxury magazine.

  “Miss Carter, am I? And what do I call you?” Eve asked, tilting her head, a faint glint of amusement in her voice.

  The younger woman gestured toward her name tag. “Just Mia... Miss.” Her smile tightened.

  “It seems—”

  The older woman stepped forward, her tone calm and cutting. “It’s Academy protocol,” Ms Harper explained. “Students are ‘Miss’, staff are ‘Ms’. Support workers like Mia go by their first names.”

  Eve bit down on a frown.

  “You don’t like it,” Ms Harper said.

  “I’ll live. No name tag for you?”

  “Ms Harper,” she replied, offering her hand.

  Eve hesitated before shaking it. Her grip was firm—more suspicion than greeting. In her experience, rigid hierarchies always meant someone got screwed. It didn’t matter that, this time, she wasn’t at the very bottom.

  “So you’re staff.”

  “Student advisor,” Ms Harper said. “Short of an unbearable personality clash, I’ll advise you until graduation.”

  “Advisor? What kind?”

  Ms Harper didn’t blink. “Any kind. I’m qualified to advise you on academics, personal matters, relationship dynamics...”

  “I’d have thought they’d split those.”

  “They would, elsewhere. At Phoenix, we do things differently.”

  “Better?”

  “I’d like to think so. You’re a complete whole. This way, I can address whatever arises.”

  “And am I ‘Miss Carter’ to you?” Eve asked, her voice low, steady, eyes narrowing—not just about etiquette.

  “Astute,” Ms Harper said, the single word landing with quiet approval. She stepped forward—just close enough to mark authority, not enough to intrude. “Not deaf to nuance. You are, if you wish. And I hope”—she paused, just the hint of a smile—“I hope you won’t mind if I call you Eve, in time.”

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  Eve’s eyes narrowed fractionally. Not refusal, but not assent either.

  “Hope springs eternal,” she said, dry. “Shall we go?”

  “First, I regret our delay. Mia didn’t plan the route with enough leeway. She owes you a formal apology.”

  “A formal...?” Eve glanced at Mia, suddenly tense. “That’s... it’s fine.”

  Eve thought she saw Ms Harper’s sharp features soften slightly when she looked at Mia... or maybe that was in Eve’s head.

  “Is it?” Ms Harper asked. “You seemed... distressed when you came out.”

  “Well. I can’t deny it was... upsetting to think—”

  “To think we weren’t picking you up?”

  “Am I ridiculously insecure?”

  “Not more than...” Ms Harper’s voice dropped slightly, as though weighing her words. “Not more than a lot of our scholarship students. And quite a few paying ones.”

  She turned. “You are part of Phoenix now, Miss Carter. Mia?”

  “Here?” Mia asked.

  “No, in Timbuktu,” Ms Harper said, dry.

  “But... we’re not at Phoenix—”

  “Oh, silly me, I hadn’t noticed. Is there any other obvious thing you’d like to remind me of?”

  Mia gulped. The street was gritty, mostly empty. A couple of teenagers loitered in the far corner. The air smelled of exhaust fumes and river damp. The buildings around them were a mix of crumbling warehouses and low-rise flats painted in weary greys, neon signs flickering from late-night shops.

  Mia knelt at Eve’s feet under Ms Harper’s watchful gaze. Her polished shoes gleamed against the grime.

  “Miss Carter,” Mia said, voice trembling. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her on the pavement.

  Eve noticed a shiver go down her arms.

  “I most humbly apologise for our unacceptable delay,” Mia said, bowing her head. “I lacked experience driving through this kind of neighbourhood and—”

  “An apology, not an excuse, if you please,” Ms Harper said.

  Mia’s eyes flicked to Eve’s, then quickly away. “I’m sorry, Miss Carter,” she whispered. “It shouldn’t have happened. I regret causing you upset.”

  Eve stared. Too shocked to speak.

  “Well?” Ms Harper asked. “Do you accept her apology? She will be disciplined. Chaos is not a first impression Phoenix can afford.”

  “What... Why wouldn’t I? Of course.”

  Mia let out a quiet breath. Her shoulders sagged, the tension in her frame melting, and Eve couldn’t help but notice how young she looked, standing up, eyes still lowered. She whispered, “Thank you.”

  Ms Harper opened the car door. “Shall we?”

  The car was sleek and modern, a gleaming crimson vehicle with a subtle phoenix-wing spoiler—clearly a showpiece. The interior smelled of leather and polished wood.

  Eve crossed her legs, her patched jeans and scuffed jacket jarring against the pristine upholstery. She felt like she was contaminating it. She tried to suppress the thought, filling the space, holding herself like she belonged.

  “Wasn’t that a bit much?” she asked. “Fifteen minutes late isn’t the end of the world. We're lucky if the bus is only half an hour off.”

  “Your application says you’re a courier,” Ms Harper said, faintly amused. “You know the value of time. What’s fifteen minutes late to you?”

  “Alright,” Eve said with a shrug. “Point made.” Twenty percent discount, at least. “Still...”

  “You think I’m being unfair to Mia. Miss Carter, your sense of justice is admirable. But I’d advise against making snap judgements. Mia, am I unfair?”

  “No, Ms Harper.”

  “Of course, what’s she going to say when you—”

  “No, she really isn’t, Miss,” Mia said softly, as if afraid to speak. “Ms Harper’s strict, but always fair. I really... I really screwed up. I’ve never driven anywhere like this. I didn’t realise what a mess the place was.”

  “Now that’s rude.” Ms Harper sniffed.

  “I’m sorry, Ms Harper. Miss.”

  “No. It’s true,” Eve muttered, as the car pulled smoothly into motion. She resisted the urge to look back. “I can’t wait to leave. Do we go straight to the island?”

  “One doesn’t simply go to Phoenix Island,” Ms Harper said with a faint smile and a quoting tone. “You’ve read your prospectus? Are you compliant with luggage rules? No electronics, no undeclared substances?”

  “I think so. I don’t have a scale at home, but my backpack can’t be more than ten kilos.”

  Ms Harper nodded. “Quite so. Now, about that... do you have appropriate clothing? For the weather, the events, the expectations?”

  Eve shrugged, wary. “Sort of.”

  “‘Sort of,’” Ms Harper repeated, smoothing the accent from Eve’s voice into neutrality. “Presentation matters. You’ll be judged by how you look. You know the scholarship includes a clothing allowance?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it.” She crossed her arms. “This is who I am. Regretting your purchase?”

  Ms Harper laughed. “Not at all. We trust our selection procedures. You deserve to be here. I’m only trying to smooth your path. That’s what an advisor does.”

  “So what if I say I don’t have... what did you call it... appropriate clothing?”

  “Then we go and buy it. Mia?”

  “Yes, Ms Harper. Approved shopping centre fifteen kilometres away. Shall I head there?”

  “Please do.”