Professor Jaime Frias taught the major courses in Statistics.
Tall, lean, long-faced. Gray hair combed neatly back. His spectacles caught the thin light slipping through the curtains. He already looked older than when she last saw him—a few months ago. The furrows on his brow were heavier, though his hands looked pale and veined.
"I'm sorry for the short notice, Miss Jiran," his voice was hoarse. "No sponsor for your paper? That's… bad for you."
Iyana gave a thin smile. She hadn't expected him to notice the funding list at all.
"I'll figure it out soon, Professor."
"You're brilliant. But here's my advice—" He paused, folding his hands on the desk. His eyes fixed on her. Shadows cut across his face as the light shifted.
"You need to be flexible," he said slowly. "Learn to work with others. Understand the climate of the leading industries. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Anyway—this might help you."
He reached for a clipped set of papers and handed them across the desk.
She flipped through them. A Statistics exam. Simple topics. Random Variables. Almost every answer was wrong. The last page showed a score of 18/50.
"The student is in Business Administration," Frias explained. "Her family… donated our college park. They own a BPO in the Central Region."
Another rich kid.
Before Iyana could speak, a knock came at the door.
Professor Frias stood at once, chair scraping.
A woman entered. Small, older, graceful. She wore a plain beige overall, a silk scarf at her throat, and a leather bag on her arm.
Iyana glanced at her professor. He was already smiling, hand outstretched.
"Madam Cynthia Ang," he said warmly. "So glad you could come."
The woman's eyes turned toward Iyana.
"So this is your top student? Miss Jiran?"
"Yes," Frias said, pride clear in his voice. "Best in my class, and in her department. Only twenty are accepted into her major each year. And she's ranked first."
Madam Ang's lips curved faintly as she shook Iyana's hand.
"Pretty, too. That helps."
Then her smile cooled. "Let's get to the point. My daughter needs to pass one subject to qualify for her major. But her brain isn't built for numbers."
Her gaze moved from Frias to Iyana.
"The remedial exam is at the end of this month, yes?"
"Yes," Frias confirmed.
"My favor is simple," Madam Ang said. "Miss Jiran will help my daughter."
Iyana frowned. "But that's the schedule for the Student Research Council."
"Miss Jiran." Madam Ang's smile did not waver. "You're ambitious. You should be. If I had a daughter like you…" She gave a soft laugh, then let her voice sharpen. "But ambition must be well-placed. This country doesn't deserve people like you. Research and development here is—" she waved her hand. "Never mind."
Her words left the room quieter.
"If you can make my daughter pass, the professor and I will secure funding for your paper," Madam added.
Iyana smiled faintly.
"Madam, I need funding. But I can't accept unless your daughter actually passes. I've yet to prove I'm a teacher, and your daughter has yet to prove she's a student."
For the first time, Madam Ang blinked. Then her lips curved again, slower this time.
"Integrity, hm? Do you have a suggestion?"
"If your daughter wants to be taught, then I'll teach her," Iyana said calmly. "Only then can I consider any offers."
Madam pouted, eyes gleaming.
"Then I won't forget this favor."
She stood. "You know what to tell her, Professor."
"Oh, yes, yes," Frias said with a chuckle.
Iyana frowned. Tell me what?
When Madam Ang left, Frias sighed. His shoulders sagged.
"Miss Jiran, you should've taken the offer."
"I'll think about it," she murmured.
He gave a bitter laugh. "I know you want to pour everything into research. But so did the rest of us. Have you seen the National Research Institute? Even their air conditioners are moldy."
Her lips curved in a humorless smile. "I'll think about it."
But why had she refused Madam Ang? Logic said she should've accepted. Yet something in her resisted.
"Yes, think about it." His voice dropped.
"So… what exactly was Madam Ang referring to?" she asked carefully.
Frias couldn't meet her eyes. His gaze stayed fixed on the scattered papers on his desk.
"I—I'll talk about the exam and the lessons later. There's something you need to know first. But for now, you may leave."
Her throat felt heavy. She bowed politely and left.
The hallway was quiet, darkening as the sun slipped away.
And Iyana walked with one thought in her chest.
She didn't feel good about this remedial exam.
*