He had barely stepped out of the residence hall when he ran into Tyler, who was looking around like he was waiting for someone.
The moment Tyler spotted Ethan he came forward, his face carrying something he was clearly working up the nerve to say.
"Ethan!" Tyler called out, seemed to make a decision, and finally got it out: "Hey... from now on... could you maybe stop bringing food to Nora?"
Ethan stopped. Frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
Tyler scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed but pushing through: "It's just... some people in the class are saying... that you... that you like... ugly..."
His voice dropped lower and lower, the last word basically dying in his throat, face going red from the effort of holding it back.
Ethan: "..."
He felt a vein tick on his forehead. "Which idiot is spreading that around? What else are they saying?"
Tyler added quickly: "Also... some people are saying you're only being nice to Nora out of pity. Like, her situation looks so rough that you feel bad for her..."
Ethan looked at Tyler steadily: "What do you think? Do you think I like her, or pity her?"
Without a second of hesitation Tyler straightened up and delivered his verdict with the full confidence of a man who had never once been wrong: "Pity, obviously. Isn't that clear? You feel sorry for her."
His tone had the weight of universal truth behind it.
Ethan rolled his eyes internally. Bro. You've got it completely backwards. I just like her. But explaining that to someone this single-track was going to go nowhere.
Since Ethan didn't push back, Tyler took it as confirmation and moved into advice mode, very earnest: "But Ethan, maybe think about your approach a little? Don't wind Summer up so much. Couldn't you treat her a bit better? Honestly I think you and Summer are a perfect match — genuinely perfect. But you're out here being nice to Nora just to get under Summer's skin, and now Summer's telling everyone you're deliberately provoking her... That's not a great look either."
"Hold on." Ethan caught the important part, expression sharpening. "I'm provoking Summer? Since when? And you think I've been treating Nora well just to provoke her? Where is this coming from?"
Tyler blinked: "Wait — you're not? Because Summer's been telling everyone she runs into that you're deliberately getting at her. And honestly a lot of people in the class have been reading it the same way... They think you've been nice to Nora specifically to get Summer's attention, to make her angry, to mess with her..."
"Unbelievable." Ethan stood there, somewhere between laughing and genuinely annoyed. It had only been a few days and the rumor had already mutated into something this elaborate?
The creative talent being wasted here was genuinely staggering.
He was treating Nora well in order to provoke Summer into paying attention to him?
The internal logic of that theory was something else entirely.
Tyler saw Ethan's "are you serious right now" face and thought he was just in denial, so he doubled down with his best straight-guy analysis: "Ethan, I mean it. If you actually wanted to go after Summer you wouldn't need to take this kind of complicated detour. With what you've got going for you, just go for it directly. Why do this weird indirect thing? Being that attentive to Nora is just creating more problems for yourself. It's counterproductive."
Ethan was genuinely too tired to respond properly.
Who in the world wanted to pursue Summer?
What was any of this? It made no sense from any angle.
But he also knew that trying to explain the actual situation to someone as single-threaded as Tyler would make things worse, not better. Like trying to explain music to someone who couldn't hear.
He took a slow breath, pushed down the absurdity and the irritation, and in the end just gave Tyler a heavy pat on the shoulder, his tone carrying the specific exhaustion of someone who had given up: "Got it. Understood."
Then without waiting for Tyler to finish organizing whatever advice he was still preparing to deliver, Ethan turned and walked away from the whole situation.
The setting sun stretched his shadow out long behind him, carrying a faint detachment — the one specific loneliness of being the only sober person in a room full of people convinced they understood what was happening.
...
The next morning.
Ethan was up early, ran more than ten laps on the track, drenched in sweat and completely clear-headed.
Shower. A proper breakfast in the dining hall, no rushing. Back to the dorm right on schedule.
9:50 AM. He opened the brokerage app at an easy pace.
Exactly as expected — the dairy stock he had bought yesterday opened immediately at the daily limit up.
A clean red +10% locked onto the screen, steady and powerful, a completely different energy from yesterday's heart-attack deep-V on Valley Fresh Produce.
"Now that's stability." Ethan took a satisfied sip of tea and watched the numbers in the account climb without a ripple.
It felt less like real money moving and more like points accumulating in a game he already knew the ending of.
At the afternoon open, Ethan didn't hesitate. One tap, clean exit. Position secured.
Then he shifted focus to the next target — a heavy industry stock he had already identified, set up for a move.
He completed the buy order quickly, movements smooth and practiced.
Done. Computer closed. He got up and headed toward the faculty office building.
He knocked on the heavy wooden door of the dean's office. Professor Wan was at his desk with reading glasses on, bent over a stack of documents. Focused and composed — a completely different person from the excited fan who had been calling his colleagues one by one to brag about his new student.
"Professor, you wanted to see me?" Ethan's voice was clear and easy.
"Oh, Ethan!" Professor Wan looked up, and the familiar warm smile came right back as he pulled his glasses off.
He pointed to a small basket on the coffee table — filled with large, glossy, deep-red cherries.
"Claire dropped those off just now, insisted I give you half to try. Come take them before this old man forgets they're there."
"Of course." Ethan didn't stand on ceremony. He stepped over, picked up the basket, grabbed the biggest cherry he could find, gave it a quick wipe, and bit into it. The juice hit immediately — full, sweet, clean.
"These are something else. Really good."
"Eat more then."
Professor Wan settled back in his chair looking pleased, then shifted gears: "Alright, to the point. The school anniversary celebration is coming up in a few days. The president wants to combine it with the welcome event for new students. Our Business Department needs to put something together — a performance, something that shows well on stage."
Ethan still had a cherry stem in his mouth, voice slightly muffled: "Professor... the president actually called me directly a few days ago. I'm already down to give a speech as student representative at the anniversary ceremony..."
The implication was clear enough — the plate was already fairly full.
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