The laboratory smelled of antiseptic, metal, and quiet competition.
Steel tables. White coats. Glass beakers lined like soldiers waiting for orders.
Ling Kwong arrived.
She didn't wear the lab coat properly. It hung loose over her shoulders, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal toned forearms. Hair tied low, sharp jaw set, eyes already bored. She took the central workstation without asking. No one questioned it.
They never did.
Students filed in, nervous, obedient.
Then—
Rhea Nior entered.
Late. Not careless-late. Calculated-late.
Today she wore dark trousers, a crisp white shirt tucked in cleanly her lab coat was fitted, cinched at the waist, sleeves hugging her wrists. Hair loose today, dark and heavy, framing her face. The nose ring caught the lab light—silver, defiant.
Ling's eyes lifted before she could stop them.
Just for a second.
Too long.
Ling's jaw tightened before she realized it.
Rhea didn't look at her. Walked straight past the line of assigned seats and stopped at the empty station beside Ling's.
Ling laughed softly, venomous.
"Do rules evaporate when you walk in, Miss Attitude?"
Rhea finally turned, eyes calm, cold.
"I didn't see your name written on the universe."
A few students sucked in their breath.
Ling leaned back against the table, eyes raking over her slowly—too slowly.
"You're in my space."
Rhea placed her bag down deliberately.
"Then expand it."
The professor entered, oblivious—or pretending to be.
"Pair work today," he announced. "No changes."
Ling smiled. Sharp. Dangerous.
"Oh," she murmured. "That's unfortunate."
They worked in silence at first.
Glass clinked. Liquids poured. Measurements taken with brutal precision.
Ling's hands were steady. Perfect. Controlled.
Rhea noticed.
Rhea matched her.
When Ling reached for the reagent, Rhea's hand did too. Their fingers brushed.
Electric. Unwanted. Immediate.
Ling pulled back like she'd been burned, eyes flashing.
"Careful," she said low. "I don't tolerate clumsiness."
Rhea leaned closer—not touching, but close enough that Ling could smell her perfume. Something warm. Dangerous.
"Funny," Rhea whispered. "You seem very aware of me for someone who doesn't tolerate much."
Ling's breath hitched—barely.
She stepped closer, crowding Rhea against the table, voice a razor.
"You think you're special because you don't bow?"
Rhea lifted her chin.
"No. I know it."
The beaker between them trembled slightly as Ling set it down too hard.
Students around them pretended to work, every nerve tuned to the tension.
Ling bent closer, lips near Rhea's ear—not a threat. Worse.
"I ruin people who challenge me."
Rhea didn't move.
She smiled.
Soft. Wicked.
"Then ruin me."
Something cracked.
Not glass.
Control.
Ling straightened abruptly, eyes dark with fury—not at Rhea, but at herself.
She turned away sharply.
"Finish the experiment," she snapped. "Try not to poison yourself."
Rhea watched her back, eyes unreadable.
Inside her chest, fire curled tighter.
Inside Ling's, something far more dangerous had begun to spread—
Because in a room full of chemicals and glass,
the most volatile reaction was standing inches away from her
and refusing to burn alone.