The seminar room was smaller than Elian expected.
Chairs were arranged in a loose circle, the windows thrown open to let in air that smelled faintly of rain and cut grass. It felt informal—intentionally so. Elian chose a seat near the middle, notebook balanced on his knee, posture attentive but unassuming.
The discussion moved quickly.
Ethics. Systems. Responsibility framed as something abstract, distant—something to be debated rather than lived. Elian listened more than he spoke at first, letting others fill the space. When a pause opened, he offered a thought almost without meaning to.
"Frameworks only matter if people trust them," he said. "Otherwise they're just procedures pretending to be values."
The room shifted.
Not dramatically. Just enough.
The facilitator nodded, interested. A student across from him leaned forward, eyes sharpening. Someone else scribbled notes.
"That's well put," the facilitator said. "Would you expand on that?"
Elian did—carefully. He spoke about accountability as something designed into systems, not enforced through fear. About restraint as a form of leadership. He kept his tone measured, his language precise.
When he finished, the silence that followed wasn't empty.
It was appraising.
Afterward, as people gathered their things, a classmate approached him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You've thought about this before," she said. "It shows."
Elian inclined his head. "I've seen it work. And fail."
Another student joined them. "You sound like someone who's going to end up in charge of something."
The words landed heavier than intended.
"I haven't decided that," Elian replied.
They laughed lightly, as if he were being modest rather than truthful.
As he stepped into the corridor, the noise of campus resumed—voices, footsteps, the ordinary chaos of a place in motion. Elian checked his phone.
Juni: How was your day?
Elian leaned against the wall before answering.
Elian: Fine. Weird.
Juni: That's a category now?
Elian: Apparently.
A pause.
Juni: You okay?
Elian pictured the way the room had leaned toward him. The assumptions that had settled so quickly, like dust.
Elian: I think people are deciding things about me faster than I am.
Juni: You don't have to accept assignments you didn't apply for.
Elian smiled, the tension easing slightly.
Elian: I know. Just didn't realize they'd start so early.
Juni: Come by later?
Elian: Yeah. I want to hear about your studio.
As he pocketed his phone, Elian felt the weight of expectation press closer—not crushing, but persistent. Leadership, offered like a coat already measured to his shoulders.
He wondered, not for the first time, whether choosing meant resisting first.