The pool shimmered under clean white lights—long, wide, flawless. Glass walls reflected water and power alike.
Ling belonged here.
She shrugged out of her blazer without ceremony, movements economical, controlled. Black athletic swimwear hugged her lean, trained frame—shoulders cut sharp, muscles defined without excess. Hair tied back. No jewelry. Precision incarnate.
She dove.
Clean entry. No splash worth mentioning.
She cut through the water like it owed her something—laps effortless, turns exact, breath controlled. Students gathered along the edge, cheering softly, admiring openly. This was Ling in her element: unquestioned, unmatched.
When she surfaced, water sliding off her skin, she caught it—
Rhea.
Standing at the far end.
Rhea wore a deep wine one-piece, fitted to her curves like it had been designed for stillness rather than speed. Straps framing her shoulders, fabric clinging unapologetically to her chest. Hair pulled back loosely, a few strands escaping, damp already from humidity.
She didn't step closer.
Didn't fake confidence.
She lifted a hand slightly to her friend Zifa. "I'll stay out," she said calmly. "I don't swim."
No fear in her voice.
No embarrassment.
Just fact.
Ling's chest tightened.
Why doesn't she pretend?
Why doesn't she lie like everyone else?
Mira laughed lightly beside the pool, clapping for Ling. "Of course you don't," she said, tone sweet, sharp underneath. "Some people prefer watching."
Ling hauled herself out of the pool, water dripping from her arms, eyes flicking—traitorous, unwanted—toward Rhea's curves.
She looked away instantly.
Mira noticed.
Her smile thinned.
"Careful," Mira added casually, handing Ling a towel. "Staring isn't very… you."
Ling took the towel harder than necessary. "I'm not staring."
Mira hummed, eyes lingering deliberately on Rhea. "She's doing it on purpose, you know. Standing there. Acting helpless."
Ling bristled. "She's not helpless."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Mira turned slowly. "Oh?"
Ling realized her mistake too late. She wiped water from her face, expression icing over.
"She's irrelevant," Ling corrected flatly.
Rhea, still by the edge, met Ling's gaze then—brief, quiet.
There was something unreadable there.
Not mockery.
Not challenge.
Something closer to restraint.
Rhea looked away first.
Good, Ling told herself. You won.
But her pulse said otherwise.
Rhea folded her arms loosely, body angled away from the pool, voice drifting back without turning. "Enjoy the water," she said lightly. "Not everyone needs to prove they're superior at everything."
It wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Ling stiffened.
Mira scoffed. "What a convenient excuse."
Rhea didn't respond.
She turned away, steps unhurried, dignity intact.
Ling stood frozen, towel clenched in her hands.
She was furious—at the comment, at the calm, at herself.
She had wanted Rhea to watch her swim.
She had wanted her impressed.
That realization hit harder than any insult.
Across the room, Mira watched Rhea, nails digging into her palm.
She's getting under your skin, Mira thought darkly. And I won't let her stay there.
In the water, students laughed and splashed.
On the surface, everything was normal.
But beneath—
Lingling Kwong was losing control of her own thoughts.
Rhea Nior was hiding her fear without hiding her power.
And Mira, smiling sweetly, was already deciding who she would destroy first
to keep Ling to herself.
The pool reflected it all—
calm on top,
danger underneath.