Mira stepped into the study room, her movements sharp, purposeful. Adrian was already there, leaning back in his chair, a book open in front of him. He didn’t look up right away.

She sat down opposite from him, arms crossed. Silence stretched between them.

He finally looked up.

"You seemed pretty worked up earlier." His tone was neutral, but something about the way he said it made her bristle.

"I just didn’t like being underestimated." Mira didn’t bother softening the edge in her voice; she let the frustration show, speaking as if she were preparing for a battle.

“I never said you were incompetent.”

"You didn’t have to."

Adrian watched her, waiting.

Mira took a steady breath and met his gaze. "There are four things we needed to be clear on before we teamed up."

She raised a finger. "First, before deciding anything, we asked for each other’s opinion and came to an agreement first."

Another finger. "Second, when you wanted something, you expressed your thoughts with clear reasoning before expecting me to respond."

Third. "We didn’t argue just to win—we analyzed both the strengths and weaknesses of each option."

And finally, her fourth finger. "If you thought my expectations would slow you down, then we had no deal. No group between us."

Adrian didn’t answer right away. For a moment, Mira wondered if she’d gone too far. He just looked at her—calm, still, his eyes fixed on hers as if trying to figure her out.

Still, she didn’t back down. Whatever this was, she wanted to see it through.

“Do you agree or disagree?” she asked, keeping her voice even though her heart was beating fast.

"Okay. Let’s see if you’re worth the deal." A slow, almost imperceptible smirk threatened the corner of his lips, but he kept it in check.

Mira folded her hands on the table, exhaling slowly.

“Your draft is structured, logical, and straight to the point—ethical governance, technological advancement, strategic policies. It presents a seamless framework.” Her fingers traced the edge of the paper. “But.”

“You assume people understand technology and ethics at the same level as you.” She leaned back slightly. “They don’t. When you wrote this, who were you speaking for?"

She continued. "Government? Researchers? Corporations? Or the public? Because each of them has different priorities and the way your policies are structured, it assumes a single, unified direction. But in reality, their needs often conflict. Governments aim for stability and control. Researchers push for innovation, often without immediate concern for societal impact. Corporations prioritize efficiency and profit. And the public? They’re the ones trying to navigate it all, often left out of the decision-making process."

She glanced at him, watching for a reaction, but he remained unreadable.

"Then, there’s the idea of technological dominance," she went on. "How are we defining it? Is it just about widespread adoption, or does it mean technology dictates human life to the point where traditional structures are obsolete? If that’s the case, then to what extent do we allow it? Where do we draw the line before it reshapes human identity itself?"

A pause. Then, her voice softened slightly—but the challenge in it remained.

"You’ve structured everything with clear logic, but policies don’t exist in isolation. They affect people—people who may not fully understand the systems governing them but will still have to live by them. If we don’t account for that, what happens then?"

She leaned back, waiting for his response.

His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, more like a flicker of amusement. "A person who governs would not let emotion interfere with their decisions." His tone was measured, almost indifferent, but his eyes held something else—something keen, watching for her reaction.

Mira didn’t hesitate. "We need balance," she countered, arms folded. "Win-win, not win-lose. If you were the one governing with this policy, people like me would protest non-stop. And I don’t think your country would last very long." A pause, then she continued, "The fact that we see things differently mirrors how society operates—some will agree with you, others with me. That’s why we should begin by presenting both perspectives, breaking down where they succeed and where they fall short. Then, we each draft our full policies—not just an outline. After that, we analyze each other’s work, identifying points of compromise, non-negotiables, and areas that demand further discussion. From there, we refine it into a final, cohesive policy. That covers the report. As for the presentation, we can frame it as a debate—but if crowds make you uncomfortable, I can handle a standard presentation instead."

“So, you’re saying our disagreement is not a flaw, but a necessary foundation?” Adrian exhaled through his nose—part scoff, part laugh.

He looked at her for a moment, studying her as if trying to see how far she would go. Mira felt the air tighten between them but held her ground. He was testing her again—she could tell—but this time, she wasn’t the one who would bend. She had her stance, her logic, her method.

And judging by the shift in his expression, he knew she was right.

“Fine.” He finally said. “We’ll do it your way. You read mine, I read yours. No drafts—only the real work.” His voice dipped slightly, almost like a warning.

“I don’t entertain half-baked arguments.”

Mira smirked. “Neither do I.”

“For the presentation… a debate.” Adrian tapped a finger against the table, eyes gleaming.

"Are you sure? That means no control over the audience’s reactions.”

“That’s the interesting part.” His lips barely curved. “Let’s see if you can handle it.”

Mira didn’t take the bait—at least not visibly. But there was a spark in her eyes, the unmistakable fire of someone who thrived on the challenge.

“Let’s see if you can.”

A debate. In front of an audience. She had assumed—like everyone else—that Adrian avoided crowds because he disliked them, maybe even feared them. It was easy to believe. He never lingered after discussions, never engaged with people unless he had to. Some thought he was shy. Others believed he considered social interaction beneath him.

But now, watching the way his eyes glinted with something almost predatory, Mira realized the truth was far more dangerous. She gathered her things slowly, mind still turning over the shift in his tone—that glint in his eyes she hadn’t expected.

She had thought she understood Adrian Vale. Cold, distant, untouchable. But now she saw it—he wasn’t hiding from the spotlight.

He was choosing when to step into it.

Mira slung her bag over one shoulder, casting a glance back at the table where he’d sat, calm as ever.

This wasn’t just a project anymore.

It was a game.

And she had just agreed to play.