Althea Mia Linas, majoring in organic chemistry, had just returned from a three-month practicum in another city. She was Iyana's closest friend aside from her roommate, Solen.
"So, Danica Ang was pulled out?" Althea asked as they walked down the hallway of the Science and Engineering building.
"Her family suddenly wanted her abroad," Iyana replied, then recounted her history with Danica.
"We were classmates in Communication Arts," Althea said, rolling her eyes. "Typical rich girl who acts like everyone owes her. Good thing she's gone."
Iyana thought of the Angs. She felt the man who sent her the flowers must be the same one who had forced Danica away after the rumors. She couldn't trace a direct connection—but one thing was clear now: she had a rich backer. Powerful enough to bring down the Angs.
As they turned into another hall, they passed a group of girls sitting on a bench, others standing nearby. The group glanced at them but quickly looked away.
Althea smirked.
"Solen told me they made you skip that retreat."
Iyana exhaled, fingers on the strap of her shoulder bag. "I'm not interested in steel, anyway. And it isn't required."
"Where's that Anya? She's clearly jealous of you," Althea grumbled.
"Iyana!"
Althea was the first to turn around.
"Oh, the campus heartthrob is here," she said lightly.
Iyana turned.
Lyron stood there in his usual plaid shirt over black, but his tone carried a weight that made her crease her brows.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Uh…" Lyron's eyes flicked to Althea.
Althea smiled, excusing herself.
"See you later, Iya."
She walked off, leaving them.
Iyana's eyes went back to Lyron. He stood breathless, with one hand at his waist. Had he run all the way here?
"Could we talk somewhere?" he breathed.
"Will it be short? I need to go to the conference hall."
Lyron nodded.
They stepped out of the building, down the shallow stairs, and toward a cement round table shaded by a tree. Wooden stools circled it, but neither sat. Lyron leaned against the edge, hands gripping the stone. She stood across from him, arms crossed.
"How were you last night?" he asked.
"I was stranded for a while. A road got locked down."
He gave a short nod. "What did your department chair say about this meeting in the conference hall?"
"A talent scout."
Everyone had received the message: a guest would arrive tomorrow morning at eight. She could only laugh. Probably another one of those scouts—pretending to recruit talents, when in truth the students had already been chosen.
Mostly the ones tied to the Chamber.
Lyron snorted, shaking his head.
"It's Nate. A friend told me last night."
She froze, blinking.
"Iyana, it might be Nate who sponsored your paper as well," he said, his jaw tight.
Her brows pulled together.
"What do you mean, 'as well'?"
"I think it's Nate who's been sending you those flowers. If so, it's hard not to believe he's tied to your paper too."
Iyana parted her lips, then pressed them shut again, gaze shifting toward the hallway. Her brows furrowed deeper, but she said nothing.
"I saw the tulips last night," he continued. "They're preparing to send them today. And Nate—he's fond of flowers. He even said so himself."
"There's at least one or two every week now," she murmured. "What does this person even want?"
"Oh, come on. Isn't it obvious? He likes you!"
Iyana's gaze returned to Lyron with an exasperated face, he exhaled again, looking away. His cheeks flushed with red.
"Nate Tucson?" she asked, knitting her brows.
She had little experience with men. Even so, it felt far more believable that he would fund her paper only as part of a recruitment effort.
But this unknown man had given both the tulips and the funding. She'd once thought of them as separate, but after seeing how the Angs were handled, it felt like the same hand. She couldn't imagine two different people moving behind the same curtain.
And the tulips…
Giving tulips required someone with a deep attachment to nature. In the capital, growing them was almost impossible. And that was the point.
First, the tulips revealed the sender's skill—he could make them bloom here. That meant resources, influence, and, most of all, money. But that wasn't all. He was the kind of man who forced possibilities into being.
His message was simple: he was capable, no matter the odds. But more than that, he wanted her to understand. To read between the genuine red petals.
Partnered with his donation—and the fall of the Angs—it all pointed to goodwill.
No, sincerity.
Her lips curved faintly.
She had to admit, this man was beginning to stir her mind.
In chemistry, catalysts accelerate reactions without being consumed—they spark change faster, more efficiently, yet remain unchanged themselves.
And this man… he was stubborn, patient, and methodical.
A true catalyst.
But Nate Tecson? Not like that. Not from her first impression.
"Don't go there. I—" Lyron cut in, his voice tight. "He'll recruit you. Don't you like companies?"
Her gaze shifted toward the hallway before returning to him.
"I have to go. It's required."
"I'll ask my brother for help," he said through clenched teeth.
She gave a wry smile.
"Are you even close enough to make that request?"
Lyron rarely spoke about his family—least of all his brother.
"And besides," she added softly, "I've never feared those who spell out their intentions."
It was the unreadable ones who unnerved her.
Lyron stood.
"I'll confront Nate!"
She shook her head, eyes lowered. "Don't, please. It'll cause more trouble," she said, turning her eyes on him again. "And it's more trouble for you."
Besides, she needed to confirm if Nate truly was the one sending her tulips.
*