The second session of the workshop was smaller.
Selective.
Quiet.
Clara had not planned to attend.
But she had submitted her portfolio two nights ago without overthinking it. Not impulsively. Not emotionally. Just… intentionally.
She told herself it was academic curiosity.
She didn't examine that too closely.
The design lab was different from the main hall — more intimate. Fewer chairs. Workstations arranged in a semicircle. Screens glowing in low light.
Ryan walked in beside her.
"You didn't tell me you applied," he said lightly.
"I didn't think it mattered."
He smiled faintly. "It does if I want to support you."
Clara held his gaze a moment longer than necessary.
"I didn't need support."
That wasn't cold.
It was factual.
Ryan noticed.
They sat in the third row.
The room quieted when Ethan entered.
No dramatic entrance.
No shift in lighting.
Just presence.
He wore the same restraint he had on stage — dark jacket, sleeves pushed back slightly, posture controlled but not rigid. His expression was unreadable, eyes scanning the room once before settling on the screen.
He did not look surprised by anyone there.
He did not look for anyone either.
"Let's begin," he said.
His voice hadn't changed.
Low. Even. Direct.
Clara's spine straightened involuntarily.
He spoke about system architecture, about balancing realism with restraint. About speed that feels believable because it isn't exaggerated.
"Overcompensation," he said, adjusting a slide, "is usually a sign of insecurity in design."
Ryan shifted slightly beside her.
Clara did not.
Ethan moved through student submissions efficiently. He didn't praise excessively. He didn't dismiss casually. He analyzed.
Precise.
Measured.
Then her portfolio appeared on the screen.
Her name sat quietly in the corner.
Clara's pulse remained steady.
Ethan paused.
Not long.
Just enough to read.
He didn't look toward her.
He began speaking.
"This structure shows discipline," he said calmly. "There's restraint in your negative space. You allow tension to exist without resolving it too quickly."
The room was silent.
Clara felt heat rise beneath her skin — not embarrassment.
Recognition.
He continued.
"Most people rush to fill emptiness. This doesn't."
Ryan glanced at her.
She didn't move.
Ethan zoomed into one section of her work — a layered composition built around intersecting lines and implied movement.
"You understand balance," he said. "But you hesitate before impact."
That landed harder than she expected.
Clara inhaled slowly.
He didn't look at her.
He addressed the room.
"If you're going to build tension," he added, "eventually something has to shift."
Ryan leaned back slightly.
"Is that criticism?" he murmured quietly.
Clara didn't answer.
Ethan moved on to the next submission.
The session ended without incident.
Students gathered in small clusters, discussing feedback. Clara remained seated for a moment.
Ryan stood first.
"He noticed you," he said softly.
"He noticed the work."
Ryan's eyes held something sharper now.
"That's not what I meant."
Clara stood, gathering her notebook calmly.
"He critiques everyone the same way."
Ryan didn't argue.
But his jaw tightened slightly.
As they moved toward the exit, Ethan was speaking with another student near the workstation. His attention was fixed, posture slightly inclined, listening carefully.
Clara felt it before she saw it.
The shift.
Not in him.
In the air.
Ryan slowed his pace subtly as they passed.
Not stopping.
Not confronting.
Just present.
Ethan's gaze lifted briefly — not searching, not deliberate — just scanning the room before returning to the conversation in front of him.
If he noticed Clara and Ryan together, he did not show it.
And that silence was louder than anything else.
Outside the lab, the corridor felt cooler.
Ryan walked beside her without speaking for several steps.
"You didn't look surprised," he said finally.
"About what?"
"About him."
Clara adjusted the strap of her bag.
"I've seen his work."
"That's not the same as seeing him."
She stopped walking.
Ryan stopped too.
The tension wasn't dramatic.
It was controlled.
"What are you asking?" she said evenly.
Ryan held her gaze.
"Nothing."
That wasn't true.
He looked away first.
"I just didn't expect you to be that still."
Still.
The word lingered.
Clara resumed walking.
"He's disciplined," she said quietly. "That doesn't change anything."
Ryan's response came slower this time.
"Doesn't it?"
She didn't answer.
Because she wasn't sure.
Back inside the lab, Ethan stood alone now, reviewing notes on his tablet. The room had mostly emptied.
He looked exactly the same as before the session began.
Unmoved.
Unrattled.
Controlled.
But if someone had been watching closely, they might have noticed one thing:
He had not deleted her submission from the review list.