The campus buzzed with the fallout of Derek's failed forum. By Thursday morning, whispers clung to every hallway and cafeteria corner.
"Did you hear what Ethan Cooper said?"
"Man, that was brutal. He called leadership exploitation. And then he made Derek look like a clown."
"I don't know, though… he sounded kind of scary. Like he believed it."
Some students were impressed. Others were unsettled. But one thing was certain: Ethan Cooper's name was on everyone's lips.
And Ethan hated it.
He sat in the back of his Political Science lecture, expression unreadable, while his professor droned on about Machiavelli. The irony wasn't lost on him.
The Prince, he thought, tapping his pen against his notebook. They called it ruthless. I call it realistic.
But the murmurs of the students around him grated on his nerves. Visibility was a weakness, and Derek had forced it onto him. That couldn't be allowed to spiral.
When class ended, Clara intercepted him outside. She was quick, blocking his path with crossed arms.
"You should've said no," she snapped.
Ethan arched an eyebrow. "To what?"
"To Derek dragging you on stage. To that… performance. Do you realize what you did? Half the campus thinks you're a sociopath."
His lips curved faintly. "Half the campus isn't wrong."
"Don't joke." Her eyes flashed. "I saw you up there, Ethan. That wasn't just cynicism. You meant every word."
He stopped walking, regarding her coolly. Students brushed past them on the path, but Clara held her ground.
"And what if I did?" Ethan asked quietly.
"Then you're…" She hesitated, her voice softening. "…you're exactly what you said leaders are. Exploiting everyone, even your friends."
Ethan's gaze was unreadable. Finally, he said, "That assumes I have friends."
The words landed like ice. Clara flinched, but Ethan was already walking away.
That evening, Clara sat in her dorm room, staring at her phone.
Ryan had texted her:
Ethan's a genius. Derek doesn't stand a chance now.
But Clara didn't feel triumphant. She replayed Ethan's words in her mind: Leadership is exploitation.
Was that really how he saw the world? Or was it just a mask he wore to keep everyone at arm's length?
She wanted to ask him again, but part of her was afraid of the answer.
Meanwhile, across campus, Derek Stone sat with his inner circle in the frat house lounge. Empty beer bottles cluttered the table. His jaw was tight, knuckles white as he gripped his glass.
"He embarrassed you, man," one of the guys said. "Made you look like an idiot."
"Shut up," Derek snapped. His smile was gone, replaced by something colder.
He leaned forward, voice low. "Ethan Cooper isn't some random nobody. He's dangerous. He hides in the background, then pulls strings. Ryan doesn't move without him. Clara doesn't think without him. And the way he talks? It's like he's dissecting you."
One of the guys shrugged. "So what? Just shut him out."
Derek shook his head. "You don't understand. He doesn't want attention, but now he has it. People are listening to him. If I let this spread, it's over. My influence, my credibility — gone."
He smirked darkly. "So if I can't beat him in public… I'll bury him in private."
The next day, Ethan sat alone in the library, flipping through a book on behavioral psychology. His notes were sparse, but his mind wasn't on the text.
Derek's pride won't let this go. He'll pivot. Public humiliation didn't work, so he'll move covert. The question is how.
He glanced up as Clara slid into the seat across from him. She didn't ask permission. She never did.
"You're avoiding me," she said.
"I'm avoiding everyone," Ethan replied.
She studied him, her brow furrowed. "Why? Why hide what you can do? You're smarter than Derek, smarter than Ryan, smarter than all of them. But you act like you want to disappear."
Ethan's pen stilled over the page. Slowly, he set it down.
"Because disappearing is survival," he said quietly. "People don't fear ghosts until they see them. And when they see them, they try to kill them."
Clara's chest tightened. "You really think that?"
He looked at her then — not with warmth, but with razor-sharp clarity.
"I know that. Talent without power is exploitation waiting to happen. A poor man with genius is just a tool waiting to be used. I don't intend to be anyone's tool."
Clara swallowed, her throat dry. "So what do you intend to be?"
Ethan leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the library window where sunlight spilled through.
"A variable no one can predict. And a piece no one can control."
The conversation ended there. Ethan picked up his pen again, and Clara sat in silence, wondering if she'd just seen his true face — or another mask he wanted her to see.
That night, Derek put his plan into motion.
He had a friend on the student council who owed him a favor. By morning, rumors started trickling through the campus network.
"Did you hear? Ethan Cooper plagiarized his econ paper."
"I heard he's been writing assignments for Ryan, maybe even cheating for him."
"Yeah, someone's gonna report him. Academic dishonesty, serious stuff."
The whispers spread fast. By lunchtime, Ethan could feel the stares.
Clara slammed her tray onto the cafeteria table across from him. "They're saying you cheated. That you're covering for Ryan."
Ethan didn't look up from his sandwich. "Of course they are."
"You don't even care?"
"I care about outcomes. Not noise."
"But Derek's framing you. If the professors hear—"
"They won't." Ethan's voice was calm, absolute.
Clara lowered her voice. "How can you be so sure?"
He finally met her gaze. "Because Derek's playing checkers. And I'm playing chess."
She frowned. "What does that mean?"
Ethan leaned closer, his tone quiet but cutting.
"It means while he spreads rumors, I'm already three moves ahead. He's underestimating the difference between visibility… and control."
Clara shivered at the certainty in his voice. For the first time, she wondered if Derek had stepped into a game he couldn't win.
And if Ethan was the kind of player who never let opponents walk away unbroken.