Lines We Cross

Chapter 2

The lecture hall began to empty, the buzz of conversation and the shuffle of students fading into the background. YN Sterling remained in her seat, her gaze fixed on the front of the room where Elizabeth Olsen was methodically organizing her notes. There was a subtle thrill coursing through YN, a kind of anticipation she wasn't used to feeling in a classroom setting. When Elizabeth had asked her to stay after class to discuss her paper proposal, YN had agreed with her usual casual air, but now, as the last of her classmates filtered out, she felt the weight of the room shift—suddenly more intimate.

Elizabeth looked up, her expression composed and professional. "Thank you for staying," she said, her voice carrying that same crisp authority that commanded attention during lectures. She gestured for YN to approach, and YN slipped out of her seat with a lazy grace, coming to stand a few feet from the desk.

"Your paper proposal," Elizabeth began, tapping the printed document on her desk, "is ambitious, to say the least." Her gaze lifted to meet YN's, sharp and assessing. "But I'm impressed. You've chosen a complex topic—power dynamics and ethical frameworks in modern political theory—and your initial arguments show a depth of understanding that I don't often see."

YN's lips curved into a faint, self-assured smile. "Glad to know I'm not boring you, Professor."

Elizabeth's brow arched, a flicker of amusement flashing across her features before she schooled her expression back into neutrality. "You're certainly not boring," she replied, her tone dry but edged with something else—something that hummed in the air between them. "However, I want to make sure you're fully prepared to tackle this subject. There's a risk of oversimplification if you're not careful."

"Then let's dive in," YN said, taking a step closer, her dark eyes unwavering as they met Elizabeth's. "Where do you think I'm oversimplifying?"

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, her gaze never leaving YN's. "In your discussion of power consolidation," she began. "You argue that it's an inevitable outcome of any political system, but you only touch on the ethical implications superficially. You need to address the moral responsibilities that come with power. Is it merely a question of who holds power, or should we also be asking how that power is exercised and justified?"

YN considered this for a moment before responding, her tone measured. "I'd argue that in most cases, power consolidation prioritizes efficiency over morality. It's not necessarily about what's right, but what's effective. The ethical considerations come after the fact, as a way to justify decisions already made."

The corner of Elizabeth's mouth lifted ever so slightly. "A cynical perspective," she noted, "but not without merit." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing in a way that suggested she was dissecting YN's words, searching for something more. "Do you believe that's a sustainable approach in the long term? A system where power is continually justified retroactively?"

YN felt the challenge in the professor's gaze, and it sparked something in her—a familiar rush, but different from the kind she felt at parties or in social settings. "I think it depends on the stability of the system," she replied, her voice low and steady. "When a government's primary goal is to maintain control, it can manipulate moral arguments as a form of social currency, trading ethics for loyalty."

Elizabeth's eyes darkened, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Interesting choice of words, Miss Sterling." She allowed a beat to pass, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. "Social currency... You seem to understand that concept quite well."

YN's expression didn't falter, though there was a brief pause—a crack in her composure, so small that it was nearly imperceptible. "I suppose I do," she said, her voice softer now, a challenge of her own woven into the words.

Elizabeth watched her, the silence growing heavier with each passing second. Then she spoke again, her tone gentler this time. "I want you to explore this angle further in your paper—how ethical frameworks are used to manipulate societal perceptions of power. If you can delve into that without losing sight of your original thesis, you'll have a very strong argument."

"I'll keep that in mind," YN replied, her gaze lingering on the professor for a moment longer than necessary before she finally took a step back. There was a tension in her chest, a tightening she hadn't expected, and it took her a second longer than usual to gather her composure.

"Good," Elizabeth said, her voice returning to its usual authoritative cadence. "You're dismissed."

YN turned on her heel, leaving the lecture hall with a steady stride. She didn't glance back, but she was acutely aware of the professor's gaze following her to the door.

———

Elizabeth watched as YN left the lecture hall, her steps confident, shoulders squared, as if carrying the weight of expectation was second nature to her. The door swung shut, and the room fell into a stillness that seemed almost foreign after the charged exchange.

There was something unmistakable about the way YN conducted herself—sharp, poised, always in control. It reminded Elizabeth of a courtroom, the kind of environment where every word was measured, where a person wielded language as both shield and sword. It wasn't hard to see Claudia Sterling's influence there; YN's arguments were deft, layered, like a lawyer constructing her case with precision. But there was also a distinct, unmistakable sense of strategy—a calculation that had little to do with legal training and everything to do with power.

Elizabeth had seen the same quality in Alexander Sterling, years ago, during one of those high-profile panels on economic policy in New York. He'd spoken with a calm certainty, a man who not only understood the game but had mastered it. There was a hint of that in YN too—the way she seemed to weigh each response, assessing the room like a boardroom or a battleground. Elizabeth suspected it was more than just an academic habit; it was survival, learned and inherited.

Yet, despite the echoes of her parents, there was something distinctly YN about the way she argued, a cynicism that cut through the polished exterior, hinting at a frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Elizabeth could sense it in the way YN talked about power, as if she viewed it not just as an academic concept, but as a personal reality—something she'd been taught to navigate from the day she could speak.

As Elizabeth gathered her notes, she couldn't help but wonder how much of YN's composure was a performance. There had been a moment—a brief one, but enough—when YN's calm veneer had faltered, a flicker of something unguarded in her eyes. It was there and gone before Elizabeth could fully register it, but it was enough to remind her that despite the Sterling legacy, despite the flawless exterior, there was still a young woman behind it all, one who might not be as unbothered as she pretended to be.

Elizabeth placed the proposal back on her desk, her thoughts lingering on YN's last remark—"trading ethics for loyalty." It was a sharp observation, one that spoke to more than just political theory. For all her composure, there was a depth to YN's cynicism that intrigued Elizabeth, as if the young woman was constantly negotiating her place in a world where everything, even morality, was a transaction.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, setting aside the paper for now. She had to be careful with YN, not just because of who she was—a Sterling—but because of the way she looked at the world. It wasn't just the daughter of a businessman and a lawyer who had stayed after class; it was someone whose entire life had been shaped by the interplay of power, expectation, and control.

And as much as Elizabeth would never admit it out loud, she found that dynamic...interesting.

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