The lecture hall was wrong. Too open. Too exposed.

  Something about it made Eve’s skin itch.

  No places to hide. No back row, no corners, no safe distance from the people who already knew how to play the game.

  She had prepared for Phoenix like she had prepared for everything—by memorising. She had read the entrance syllabus, studied every recommended book, drilled facts into her mind with the determination of someone who had to claw for every scrap of knowledge.

  But now, as the professor tapped the screen at the front, none of that seemed to matter.

  The class name appeared in the six official UN languages.

  Out of those, Eve could read exactly one.

  Course name: Introduction to Negotiation

  Year: 1

  Term: 1

  Type: Compulsory

  Professor Ayodele introduced herself quickly, as if she begrudged even the few seconds of time waste in administration.

  “Negotiation is fundamental to success, at Phoenix and in life.” Her slender form couldn’t stay still, and she made eye contact with each of her students for a second that was much too intense. “This is why you must take–and pass–this course. I should say something about prerequisites for negotiation: communication theory, boundedly rational agents. None of you are stupid so I won’t belabour the obvious.”

  Eve had her stylus in hand, ready to take notes.

  “This is not a place for passive learning,” the professor said, voice smooth, unhurried. “This is not a place for recitation, for memorisation, for obedience.”

  Eve’s fingers curled against her thigh.

  “The world does not reward people who wait to be told what to think.” The professor leaned forward slightly, her gaze sweeping the room. “You are here to shape the future. To build, to argue, to challenge. To stand for something. You cannot do that alone. It requires coordination, and this is achieved through negotiation.”

  She gestured at the group. “Who disagrees?”

  A pause.

  Then—Sophie’s hand shot up, lazy, confident.

  Eve froze in disbelief.

  The professor arched a brow. “Yes?”

  Sophie stretched her legs out, unbothered. “That’s an awfully romantic view of how the world works, professor.”

  A few students gasped.

  Eve nearly had a heart attack. Did she just say that?

  The professor seemed pleased. “Go on.”

  Sophie smirked. “You say we’re here to build the future. But that takes power. Coordination doesn’t come from negotiation—it comes from command and obedience. You’re not negotiating with us right now.”

  A ripple of interest moved through the class.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Sophie’s words hung there for a moment. And then—

  A hand went up.

  Maya.

  Eve turned, surprised.

  Maya’s voice was calm. “You assume that power means imposition. That the only way to achieve your goals is by coercion.” She tilted her head slightly. “But best results are achieved through collaboration. Not everything is a zero-sum game.”

  The professor wrote on the board: conflict, game theory. She gestured to continue.

  Sophie’s lips curled, intrigued. “A nice sentiment. But competition forces refinement. That’s what Phoenix does.” She looked at the scholarship students in particular. Eve held her gaze. “We didn’t get here by collaborating with each other.”

  “And yet,” Maya countered smoothly, “we are here, discussing. Not fighting.”

  Eve could feel the shift in the room.

  This wasn’t school.

  Not the way she knew it.

  This was something else.

  A few students murmured in approval.

  The professor projected an ancient quotation onto the screen:

  “To win without fighting is the acme of skill.” – Sun Tzu

  “Who can explain this?” she asked, scanning the class. “Why is this relevant?”

  A girl from their bloc, Cecilia, Eve thought, leaned forward. “It means victory is best achieved by understanding your enemy’s weakness. By knowledge, not violence.”

  “Superficially correct,” Professor Ayodele said. “But incomplete. Anyone else?”

  “I disagree,” Maya said. “The key is understanding yourself first. To win without fighting means you control the narrative—frame the conflict so engagement itself is unnecessary. If you’re planning on combat, you’ve already lost.”

  Lila murmured beside Eve, “Sometimes giving in early means winning later, doesn’t it?”

  The professor caught that. Projected another quote.

  “There is no instance of a nation benefitting from prolonged warfare.”

  She continued: “Negotiation at Phoenix is critical because authority alone is brittle. Leaders must inspire genuine cooperation—lasting results require willing coordination, not reluctant obedience.”

  A girl across the aisle—sharp-eyed, confident—turned abruptly toward Eve. “Scholarship girl. You’ve said nothing. Which interpretation do you favour?”

  Eve tensed.

  The girl—poised—was looking directly at her.

  “You haven’t said anything,” she said. Not unkind, but expectant. “What do you think?”

  A few students turned toward Eve.

  Her stomach dropped.

  She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t meant to be part of the conversation. Class was supposed to be simple: the teacher talked, she listened.

  But they were looking at her now. Waiting.

  The air felt too thin.

  She scrambled for something, anything, that she had read. Some quote, some fact, something she could say that was correct.

  Her mind went blank.

  “I—” She was breathless. “I don’t know how to think like this yet.”

  The girl smirked. “Clearly.”

  Laughter. Not cruel, but amused.

  Eve’s spine went rigid.

  The girl leaned forward, resting her chin on one hand. “You’re scholarship. You must have done very well on the exams.” It didn’t sound like a compliment.

  Eve braced herself.

  “So, what did you actually study?” the girl asked, tilting her head. “Or did you just memorise the books they told you to?”

  That got a few approving noises from around the room.

  Sophie’s lips twitched.

  Maya frowned.

  Her stomach twisted. Not because the girl was wrong—but because she was right. She had memorised the syllabus. Every word. But thinking? Making it hers? That was something else.

  Nobody had taught her how.

  Nobody had even told her she should, she could.

  Before she could answer, the girl pressed again, voice silkier now.

  “If you don’t know how to think, Carter, how do you expect to keep up? We’re not in primary school.”

  A murmur of agreement. She wasn’t being cruel, just testing.

  The professor said nothing. Letting it play out.

  Letting the hierarchy sort itself.

  Eve’s jaw clenched.

  She took in air, forced her voice steady. “Maybe I don’t know how to think like this yet. But I catch up quick.”

  That got a reaction.

  A few murmurs of interest, some slight nods.

  The girl studied her for a long moment.

  Then—she smirked, satisfied, and turned away.

  She wasn’t dismissing her.

  She was acknowledging her.

  Professor Ayodele stepped in, decisive yet composed: “And that willingness to learn—to grow swiftly under pressure—is precisely what Phoenix expects.”

  The pressure in the room shifted.

  The moment passed. The discussion moved on.

  Lila breathed out, relief in her eyes.

  The professor started to actually teach. Summarised the course outline. Pointed out they’d gone ahead and aside, but negotiations aren’t linear, and neither is learning. Referred them to their Intro to Game Theory course for further information on conflict types.

  Eve sat there, heart still hammering.

  She’d survived. Barely. But something inside her wasn’t scared now.

  It was hungry.