The auditorium was full.
Warm light, polished wood, white flowers far too expensive for an event that was supposed to be academic. Families occupied the front rows: dark suits, discreet jewelry, practiced smiles. Behind them, the students, still carrying the borrowed excitement of those who believe this moment matters more than it ever will.
Astrid sat in the third row, back straight, hands clasped over the ceremony program.
Name on the cover. In elegant lettering.
Semester Closing.
Polite applause accompanied each announced name. Some long, some short. Astrid knew how to tell the difference. She had grown up hearing these kinds of nuances.
"Astrid von Halberg," announced the voice from the stage. "Honorable mention for academic excellence and institutional leadership."
The applause was immediate. Longer. Louder.
Astrid stood.
She walked with steady steps, unhurried, not looking to the sides. She knew exactly how she appeared from the outside: confident, flawless, destined for great things. The kind of young woman who appears in institutional brochures.
She received the medal.The diploma.The rector's handshake.
"A pride for this house," he said quietly.
Astrid smiled.
A perfect smile. Measured. The kind that reveals nothing.
As she posed for the photograph, she thought, with uncomfortable clarity:This does not stop an audit.
She stepped down from the stage amid applause and returned to her seat.
Her mother looked at her with bright, genuinely emotional eyes. Her father applauded too, though Astrid noticed the stiffness in the gesture, the slight delay between claps. He was already elsewhere. In numbers. In unanswered calls. In meetings that had been "postponed."
The applause ended. The ceremony continued.
Astrid lowered her gaze to the program, pretending to read, while her mind reviewed a different list: renegotiated credits, partners who had withdrawn with polite excuses, a Swiss bank that had stopped responding to emails as quickly as usual.
Prosperous family.Respected name.Empty... vault.
The rector spoke of the future.
Astrid thought of survival.
"Astrid!" whispered a voice beside her.
Oliver.
Impeccable uniform, open smile, that energy of someone who sincerely believes the world is a fair system if one just works hard enough.
"That was amazing," he continued. "I knew they'd call your name. You deserve it."
"Thank you," she replied, not fully turning.
Before, Oliver had seemed pleasant. Even charming. Now, something in his enthusiasm brushed her nerves. Not his fault. It was… noise.
"There's a reception afterward," he added. "We could celebrate. Like before."
Like before.Astrid suppressed the urge to sigh.
"I'll see," she said.
Not a promise. Nor a refusal.
Oliver smiled anyway, as if he didn't notice the difference.
From the other end of the auditorium, Astrid felt a presence before she saw it.
Adrián Valmont was standing near one of the side exits. He wasn't participating. He wasn't applauding. He was observing. Dark suit, relaxed posture, attention elsewhere—or everywhere at once. He spoke with an older man, likely an executive, barely nodding when necessary.
He didn't look at her.
Not once.
Before, that indifference had been a challenge.Now… it was a wall.
Astrid felt a brief, uncomfortable pang, nothing to do with wounded pride and everything to do with urgency.
He wasn't there as a spectator.He was there as structure.
The ceremony ended. People stood. Crossed conversations. Congratulations. Vague promises to "keep in touch."
Astrid received hugs, comments, cards.
"We're so proud of you.""Your future is bright.""Let us know if you need anything."
If you needed anything.Astrid knew what those words were worth.
Oliver approached again, this time with two glasses.
"Champagne," he said. "For the best of the semester."
She accepted the glass, took a minimal sip.
"Oliver," she said, "what are you working on now?"
He blinked, surprised.
"Well… a student project. Something about sustainability and institutional transparency. I think we can change things from within."
Astrid nodded politely.
Before, that answer would have seemed admirable.Now, it sounded… childish.
"I'm glad," she said. "Truly."
Her eyes, however, returned to search for Adrián.
She saw him say goodbye to the executive, take out his phone, check something absentmindedly. Everything about him spoke of someone who didn't celebrate semester endings because he played on a different calendar.
And then Astrid understood.
Not as a romantic epiphany.As a cold conclusion.
If her family wanted a project,if they needed oxygen,if they wanted to keep existing…
It wouldn't be Oliver.It wouldn't be applause.It wouldn't be honors.
It would be Valmont.
Adrián Valmont.
Astrid squeezed the glass between her fingers, barely.
Before, he had looked at her as a possibility.Now, she looked at him as a necessity.
And that, she thought with a calm that surprised her,didn't make her weak.
It made her dangerous.
Astrid placed the glass on the table, fingers brushing the metallic edge as if each contact transferred power. She observed Oliver, handing out smiles and congratulations like an NPC lost in his own college role-playing game. No tension, no strategy in him, just the desperate energy of someone who believes the world rewards honest effort. How adorable.
She took a deep breath and turned her gaze to Adrián. Leaning against the railing, he checked his phone with precise movements, every gesture calculated. He wasn't looking at her. He wouldn't. That made him dangerous: impenetrable by choice. He didn't play. He merely existed on the board.
Astrid smiled slightly, a minimal, ambiguous curve. Threat, victory, strategic boredom. She didn't need him to see her. She only needed to know the board was hers.
Oliver returned with another glass of champagne.
"Astrid, seriously, we have to celebrate!" he said, as if his enthusiasm could compensate for the universe's logic.
She looked at him with the serenity of someone who had learned too fast: once blind, she had rejected Adrián without understanding his value.
"Thanks, Oliver," she said, in a neutral voice. "But I'm busy."
Oliver swallowed hard. How ridiculous he felt as he watched her head toward Adrián.
Astrid walked to him, measuring each step. She adjusted a strand of hair that insisted on falling across her face, and her fingers trembled slightly as they brushed the glass. She took a deep breath, counting to three, but her heart had its own runaway rhythm. She had never been this close to anyone… and less with the intention of kissing them.
"So, I must have him for myself again," she murmured, glacial. "We're already playing in another league."
Astrid lifted her gaze to Adrián, and for a moment her hands trembled slightly as she released the glass. She breathed again, counting mentally to three before stepping closer, feeling her plan merge with nerves and… curious excitement.
Astrid reached him and asked to speak privately. She led him to a secluded corner, dark enough to seem clandestine, but illuminated enough for each hair strand to gleam like a guided missile.
"What are you doing, Astrid?" Adrián murmured, barely audible, as a strand brushed his shoulder "accidentally."
His brain immediately exploded:"I must… resist… breathe… don't breathe too much… don't look at her lips… are her lips softer than silk? Damn strategy… think Excel… no emotion… no emotion… no emotion… oh no, no emotion…"
Astrid leaned in, nervous, but trying to appear calculated."You're not going to congratulate me for first place; you always did before."
"Before is before, now is now," he said, stepping back with one foot, then another, tripping slightly on the carpet. "I… must… think about audits… no emotion… damn emotion!"
Astrid smiled timidly, heart pounding. It was her first kiss, but she had learned quickly: proximity and control."I'm not asking much…" she whispered, calibrating each word to be too close yet just out of reach.
Adrián swallowed again. His mind had become a catalog of absurd instructions:"I must… resist… don't think about lips… don't think about her eyes… breathe… breathe again… Excel… audits… no emotion… no emotion… or yes emotion? Damn emotion!"
Astrid leaned a bit further. A ceremonial kiss landed on his cheek.He shivered, eyes wide, repeating to himself:"I can resist… I can resist… I must resist… damn strategy… no emotion… yes emotion… no…!"
She stepped closer. Another kiss, dangerously near his lips. Adrián felt his mind short-circuit completely:"I must… resist… breathe… no emotion… no emotion… damn emotion… mental calculator… Excel… no… yes… puagh…"
"Oh, look," said Astrid, pointing to a canapé, "want to try one? They're… delicious."
Adrián took one, then another, unconsciously, while his brain juggled:"I must… resist… no emotion… canapé… does her perfume match this…? Breathe… must resist… damn strategy… failed strategy… help… emotion… zap!"
Astrid stepped back, letting him sigh, stutter, consider his dignity… and fail spectacularly.
"Wow, you still check Excel comparison charts in your free time?" Astrid said, trivial, trying to break the tension.
"No… it's not that," Adrián said, tense, while his mind invented absurd excuses:"I must… resist… Excel… yes… no… emotion… damn emotion… audit… no… yes… Grr…"
Astrid leaned in again, air brushing his cheek."You know? This canapé is better than last year's. Less dry, more… strategic."
Adrián muttered to himself:"I must… resist… calculate matrices… why does it smell so good? No emotion! Contingency plan? Breathe… no kiss… but so soft… Excel… Damn Astrid…"
Finally, Astrid closed the distance. Their lips met in a kiss that started slow, strategic… and ended passionate, reclaiming every second of resistance Adrián had exerted.
"I must… resist… this is absurd… I must… resist… no emotion… no emotion… I must… I can't… zap… ok… this is epic… I must… resist… mmm… damn Astrid…"
Astrid held him, nervous, trembling hands, aware it was her first kiss. But firm, in control: it wasn't romance, it was power, strategy, and family survival.
Oliver appeared with another tray, completely oblivious, outraged:"Astrid, another glass!" he exclaimed.
"Go away," said Astrid, with a mischievous, satisfied smile. Her goal was clear: she had conquered the hardest board without anyone noticing, and had fun watching Valenheim's coldest man lose the battle to soft lips.