Thursday’s economics schedule was lighter than the previous days. Mike had one seminar in the morning, which covered quantitative methods in a way that was technically thorough and practically understandable, and then the afternoon was free.

Haruka had warned him over breakfast that her Thursday was dense because of two seminars, a library session, and a group meeting that ran until evening. She spoke in a tone that indicated she was managing his expectations regarding transit arrangements.

"I’ll be back late," she’d said. "Don’t wait."

"I wasn’t going to wait anyway," Mike said to make sure he changed her expression.

"I know," she said. "I’m just saying."

’She thought, hahaha...’

’But today... I’m going to go find Ellie and try to speak with her... who knows, it could lead me to another sex because, goddamn... my libido is still reacting hard right now.’

...

After his seminar, he walked.

He had been doing this activity since the first week: the daily habit of moving through a new environment without agenda, letting the geography of a place reveal itself by walking rather than mapping. Valcrest’s campus was large enough to take several different routes between any two points, and he had been trying them systematically.

The eastern quarter of the campus was older than the western buildings, and the old construction had the particular quality of places that had accumulated many generations of use. The specific patterns of institutional foot traffic had worn the paths here smooth, curving where shortcut behavior had won against the original paving plan.

He was walking past the side entrance of one of the older faculty buildings when he heard it.

Not a confrontation exactly. The specific ambient quality of a situation where one group of people was systematically unpleasant to another had been established long enough that no one involved was surprised by it anymore.

He stopped at the corner.

Three men stood in the courtyard below the building steps. They were built like individuals who had decided early on that size would be their primary social asset and had invested in that appearance accordingly.

Between them stood a fourth man, smaller in stature, wearing glasses and intently focused on his phone. He maintained a carefully controlled expression, as if striving to appear unbothered by the situation. In his hands, he clutched a stack of books that seemed far more relevant to his afternoon than the unfolding scene around him.

Mike watched for a moment.

’Habit,’ he thought. ’They’re doing it this way because it’s always worked and nobody’s ever made it cost anything.’

He had observed variations of this scene in four different countries. The dynamics were always the same, regardless of the language spoken. The largest person typically took on the role of the speaker.

The other two roles in the dynamic were that of the audience and the reinforcement. The target displayed a particular posture—somewhat resigned, neither defeated nor fully defiant—reflecting the mindset of someone who had determined both options were unviable and had resigned themselves to enduring the situation.

The man with the glasses said something Mike couldn’t hear from the corner. Whatever it was, it was quiet and measured and probably reasonable, which told him everything he needed to know about the dynamic.

The largest of the three took the books.

’This kind of situation actually could benefit me... I was once a bully in every school where the victims always give good shit to me, but today... I think I’m choosing two sides.’

’I can be the bully or the one that protects the victim to see if both can give some good shit, like their girlfriend or maybe mother, as a return of gratitude.’ Mike grinned. ’Yeah... this could actually work.’

’That nerd right there is going to be a victim, and from the way he dressed... he looks fucking rich, so I’m going to use him.’

’And that bully... who knows he has a smoking-hot girlfriend I could also steal.’

’Aight, let’s fucking do it.’

Mike walked down the steps.

He made no announcement of his presence and remained silent until he reached the edge of the courtyard. It was only then, close enough for his arrival to be noticed, that he finally spoke.

"Are those his?" he asked.

The three of them turned. The one holding the books assessed Mike with a calculating gaze, as if determining whether this new variable warranted adjustment. Mike recognized this look—an evaluation of size versus size, grounded in the confidence of numbers.

’They’re going to decide I’m manageable,’ Mike thought. ’That’s fine. It’ll be quicker that way.’

"Mind your own business, punk," the man said.

"I’m minding it," Mike said. "So I say it again..."

"Are those his books? Because if they are, then you’re being a coward by picking someone that isn’t your size at all."

"Go away," the man said.

He spoke with the tone of someone who was accustomed to being self-sufficient. He glanced at his two companions with the small, dismissive look of someone sharing a joke.

Mike didn’t look at the two companions. He kept his eyes on the one with the books.

"Give them back," Mike said.

The man’s expression changed slightly. He wasn’t accustomed to being challenged more than once; usually, people left after his initial "go away."

"Are you FUCKING deaf?" he said.

"Nope," Mike said. "You just haven’t done anything interesting yet."

The man blinked. "What?"

"I’ve been standing here for twenty seconds," Mike said. "You’ve said ’go away,’ and you’ve said ’mind your business.’"

"That’s the full vocabulary so far." He tilted his head slightly. "Give the books back and I’ll go."

"Keep holding them, and the situation gets more complicated for you than it looks."

"More complicated," the man repeated, with the disbelief of someone who had successfully run this particular routine many times and was encountering unexpected resistance.

He looked at his companions again, this time for longer.

The individual on the left, who was broader across the shoulders and shorter in stature, took a small step forward.

"There are three of us," he said, as if the details were new information Mike might not have processed.

"I can count," Mike said. "But... Can you?"

"Because right now the count is three of you and one situation you can’t take back if it goes the wrong way." He let that sit for exactly one second. "You’re in the business program."

"I checked the faces when I walked in... Campus disciplinary boards care a lot about business students because of industry reputation."

"One documented incident and your placement record gets a note."

He hadn’t bothered to look at the faces when he entered. Instead, he had sized up the situation and drawn a reasonable conclusion. However, the specific mention of their program hit home that he could tell by the way the man on the left abruptly froze.

"How do you—" the left one started.

"I pay attention," Mike said. "That’s all."

He looked back at the one with the books. "Last time... give him back those books."

The man holding the books made a decision that turned out to be the wrong one, just as Mike had anticipated.

"Make me, bitch!"

He moved quickly and directly, a tactic typical of someone who had always succeeded by taking a straightforward approach, as that had always sufficed.

"Now this IS something interesting," Mike laughed.

Mike sidestepped the attack with the efficient motion that resulted from his experience in high-stakes situations, caught the reaching arm at the wrist and elbow, and redirected the momentum downward.

BAM!

The man’s own momentum did most of the work, and he found himself seated on the courtyard ground, wearing the expression of someone who had begun a sentence only to realize it wasn’t going where he had anticipated.

Mike straightened up.

The books had fallen when the man descended the stairs. He picked them up without hurry, stacked them neatly, and set them on the nearest step.

Then he looked at the other two.

"That’s the complicated version," Mike said. "So... are you guys still interested?"

Neither of them moved.

The person on the ground was rising slowly, moving with the deliberate caution of someone reevaluating the situation from a different perspective—specifically, a lower one.

"W-who are you?" he said.

"Someone who was walking past by," Mike said. "And that’s all you need to know."

"You’re going to regret—"

"Nahhh," Mike said, lacking any particular emphasis. It was just the word—flat and certain. "I’m not."

"Consider if you want to be the person who caused a scene in the east courtyard over a stack of books and ended up on the ground."

"Reflect on whether that’s a story that benefits you."

He let the silence sit.