Rhea stepped forward first.
"I won't share a tent with her," she said clearly, voice carrying. "Change my partner."
Ling scoffed instantly. "Don't worry. I'm not interested either."
The tension snapped like a wire.
The dean raised a brow, amused rather than surprised. "Any specific objections?"
"Personal," Rhea replied coldly.
"Mutual," Ling added.
A few students exchanged looks. Rina grinned like she was watching a drama unfold. Mira stayed very still.
The dean sighed theatrically. "Fine. Miss Nior, you'll be reassigned."
Rhea exhaled once — sharp, victorious.
"Zifa," the dean called, checking his list. "You'll share with Rhea."
Zifa nodded, half-confused, half-relieved.
Ling folded her arms. "Reassign me too."
The dean glanced up. "With Mira?"
"No," Ling said instantly.
Mira's face flickered — just for a second.
Rina leaned forward. "Oh come on, Dean. I'll take her."
Ling shot her a warning glare.
Rina smiled wider. "What? Family discount."
The dean chuckled. "Very well. Miss Kwong with Miss Rina."
Mira's fingers tightened around her slip.
Assignments finalized.
"Settle in," the dean announced. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow morning, you'll receive your tasks and begin the adventure component."
Students dispersed toward the tents, complaints mixing with laughter.
Rhea walked toward her new tent without looking back.
Ling watched her go — just long enough to notice the way the wind caught her hair, the way her jewellery gleamed even here, untamed.
Then she turned away sharply.
Denial reestablished.
Temporary.
Because the night had already settled — thick, quiet, full of things that didn't stay buried long.
The forest had settled into an uneasy quiet when the sound cut through it.
Low.
Heavy.
Mechanical.
Engines.
Students poured out of their tents instinctively, confusion rippling fast as headlights pierced the dark. One by one, heavy bikes rolled into the clearing — massive, black, intimidating machines that didn't belong to comfort or safety.
They belonged to control.
Ling stepped out last, hands in her pockets, eyes already assessing torque, balance, terrain. Her expression didn't change.
Rhea emerged from her tent beside Zifa, brows knitting slightly. She didn't like surprises. She hated not knowing the rules.
The bikes came to a halt in a neat line.
Silence followed.
The dean stepped forward, clearly enjoying this.
"Tomorrow," he announced, "you'll be paired on these. Two students per bike."
Murmurs erupted instantly.
"Sir—"
"Those are huge—"
"You expect us to—"
"Ride," the dean finished calmly.
A pause.
"Anyone here who already knows how to ride heavy bikes?"
All the boys stepped forward without hesitation.
Confidence. Ego. Noise.
The dean scanned them, unimpressed.
"Any girls?"
Silence.
Rhea didn't move.
Zifa glanced at her nervously. "Do you…?"
Rhea shook her head once. "No."
Then — boots hit the dirt.
Ling stepped forward.
Alone.
The clearing shifted.
Rina burst out laughing softly. "Of course."
Mira's breath caught.
The dean's brows rose. "You ride?"
Ling stopped in front of the bikes, gaze flicking over the machines like old acquaintances.
"Flawlessly," she replied.
She swung a leg over the nearest bike with practiced ease, hands finding the grips like muscle memory. One sharp kick — the engine roared alive under her control, deep and commanding.
The sound swallowed every doubt whole.
Students went quiet.
Rhea stared.
She hadn't meant to — but her eyes tracked every movement: the way Ling's shoulders settled, the way her thighs anchored the bike, the calm dominance in her posture.
Power. Pure and undeniable.
Ling cut the engine and dismounted smoothly.
The dean smiled. "Well. That solves one problem."
Ling stepped back into the shadows like it meant nothing.
Rhea crossed her arms tightly, jaw set — irritation flaring for reasons she refused to name.
Because this wasn't supposed to happen.
Ling wasn't supposed to keep proving herself everywhere.
And yet, here she was — again — the exception, the constant, the force that refused to be ignored.
"Get some rest," the dean added. "Tomorrow starts early."
Just as students began drifting back toward their tents, the dean's voice cut through the clearing again.
"One more thing."
Everyone stopped.
He stood beside the line of bikes, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable.
"Tomorrow's schedule is strict," he said. "Wake-up at five sharp. Briefing at five-thirty. The ride begins at six."
Groans rippled through the group.
"And," the dean continued calmly, "your riding and adventure partners will not be assigned by us."
A pause.
"You will choose them yourselves."
That changed everything.
Students exchanged looks instantly — alliances forming, calculations happening out loud now.
"Two per bike," the dean reminded them. "One rider, one partner."
Ling's expression didn't change.
Rhea's spine went rigid.
Choice meant intention.
Choice meant responsibility.
The dean nodded once. "Decide tonight. Inform us in the morning. If you haven't chosen, you don't ride."
That last line landed heavy.
He dismissed them with a wave. "Rest well. Tomorrow won't be easy."
The crowd slowly dispersed.
Rina caught up to Ling immediately, grinning. "Well, GOAT LK, looks like you'll be popular."
Ling shot her a flat look. "I ride alone."
"You literally can't," Rina teased. "Rules."
Ling didn't respond — her gaze had already drifted, uninvited, across the clearing.
Rhea stood near her tent, arms crossed, talking quietly to Zifa — but her attention flicked back once, brief and sharp.
Their eyes met.
Just for a second.
No words.
No expression.
But the question hung between them anyway:
Who would choose whom — when choosing meant admitting something neither of them wanted to face?
Rhea turned away first.
Ling watched her go, jaw tightening.
Choice was dangerous.
Because whatever happened in the morning wouldn't be an accident.
And denial didn't get to pretend this was fate anymore.