Just as they had agreed the previous day, Liam and Sheila t up. However, after failing to find any secluded place suitable for a proper conversation, Sheila ended up inviting him to her dorm later, once classes were over.
"You can sit there. I'll be back in a second," Sheila said as she stepped into her dorm room, Liam following just behind her.
Liam gave a small nod and moved toward the chair she had indicated near her study desk, taking a seat without hesitation.
He allowed himself to relax slightly, though his posture remained naturally composed. His eyes didn't wander much. There was no need. He had been in this room more than once—both with Sheila's knowledge and without—so there was nothing new here to take in.
"Want anything?" Sheila asked as she erged from the washroom, her hair now tied neatly into a ponytail.
"No, I'm good," Liam replied calmly.
"Very well then," Sheila said, walking over to her desk and taking her seat across from him, leaving just enough space between them to keep things formal but not distant. She folded one leg slightly over the other and rested her arms lightly against the desk. "I guess you can start explaining exactly what your plan is… and what you need from ."
Liam didn't respond imdiately.
Instead, he simply looked at her.
Not intensely. Not aggressively. Just… quietly.
Sheila held his gaze at first, but as the silence stretched, her brows furrowed slightly in confusion.
After a few seconds, Liam finally spoke.
"To be honest with you," he began, his tone as calm as ever, "I don't have a specific plan in mind. And I don't expect anything specific from you either."
Sheila blinked.
Once.
Then again.
For a mont, she just stared at him, trying to process what she had just heard—and failing.
"…What?" she muttered, her voice low but clearly confused. "What are you even saying right now?"
Liam exhaled softly, his expression unchanged.
"I don't expect anything from you, Sheila," he repeated. "I don't have any instructions or directives to give you."
Sheila stared at him for another second, searching his face for any hint that he might be joking.
There was none.
"What does that even an?" she asked, her tone sharpening slightly.
"Exactly what it sounds like," Liam replied simply.
Sheila let out a small breath, her expression tightening as she leaned back slightly in her chair.
"Well, it doesn't sound like anything to begin with," she said. "You asked to act as a bridge between you and my kingdom. That's not a small role. And now you're telling you don't expect anything from ?"
"I'm telling you I'm not going to dictate how you do it," Liam said.
"That's not the sa thing," Sheila shot back almost imdiately. "There's a difference between giving soone freedom and just… leaving everything entirely up to them."
Liam didn't react to the edge in her voice.
"I know."
Sheila paused, clearly not satisfied with that answer.
"If you know that," she said, leaning forward slightly now, "then explain yourself properly."
There was a brief silence.
Then Liam spoke again.
"If I try to tell you exactly what to do," he said, "then whatever happens after that becos predictable."
Sheila frowned slightly.
"…Predictable?"
"Yes."
"How is that a problem?"
"Because as much as your kingdom appears predictable," Liam replied calmly, "it isn't."
Sheila paused, her confusion deepening as she studied him.
"…What do you an by that?"
"People don't react the sa way every ti," Liam continued. "Situations don't unfold the way you expect them to. And if I give you a fixed way to respond to every possible situation that might co up…"
He paused for a mont, letting the thought settle.
"…then the mont sothing shifts," he finished, "whatever plan we have becos useless."
Sheila didn't respond right away.
She remained seated there across from him, her eyes fixed on his face as though she were trying to pull so deeper, hidden explanation out of him through sheer force of concentration alone. Her earlier confusion had not disappeared, but it had shifted now. It was no longer the confusion of soone who thought she was being toyed with.
It was the confusion of soone beginning—very reluctantly—to see the outline of another person's reasoning, while still not fully agreeing with it.
Her fingers tapped once, lightly, against the surface of the desk.
Then she leaned back a little in her chair and looked away from him, letting her gaze drift toward the window beside her bed. The light outside had already softened considerably. Evening was beginning to settle over the academy grounds, washing the world beyond the glass in muted gold and pale orange.
For a few quiet seconds, she said nothing.
And Liam did not interrupt. He simply waited.
Eventually, Sheila let out a slow breath through her nose.
"…I think I get what you an," she said at last.
Her tone was careful now, like soone testing unfamiliar ground with each word before trusting her weight to it.
Liam said nothing, but his attention sharpened slightly.
Sheila turned her gaze back toward him.
"Not fully," she added almost imdiately, as if refusing to let him think he had sohow explained everything perfectly. "So don't look at like that."
"I'm not looking at you any differently."
"Yes, you are."
"I'm not."
She held his gaze for a second, then narrowed her eyes faintly.
"…You're annoying."
"I've heard that before."
That almost made her scoff.
Almost.
Instead, she shook her head slightly and folded her arms loosely over herself, drawing one leg in a little closer under the chair.
"I said I think I get it," she repeated. "Not that I suddenly think this is a good explanation."
Liam gave a small nod.
"That's fine."
She studied him for another mont, then continued.
"You're saying that if you hand so neat, prepared set of instructions now, then I'll go into whatever happens later already committed to a way of responding." She paused briefly. "And because of that, I'll stop actually paying attention to what's in front of and just… try to fit the mont into a plan that might not match it."
"Yes."
The answer ca smoothly, without hesitation.
Sheila let out another quiet breath.
"Which ans," she said slowly, more to organize the thought for herself than because she needed him to confirm it, "you'd rather have think than obey."
Liam's expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
"Yes," he said. "That's closer."
Sheila noticed the phrasing imdiately.
"Closer?"
"It's not about obedience at all," Liam replied. "That was never the point."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Then what is the point?"
Liam remained silent for a mont before answering.
"The point," he said calmly, "is that when sothing does happen—and it will—you'll have to judge it as it is."
His voice remained level, almost quiet.
"Not as I imagined it. Not as you feared it. Not as your kingdom expects it to be."
He paused, his red eyes steady on her.
"But as it actually is."
The room went quiet for a mont once again as Sheila lowered her eyes to the desk for a second, thinking.
The word remained in her head.
Think.
That was what made his perspective work—at least in part.
Not because it made everything cleaner.
If anything, it made it ssier.
Harder.
He wasn't placing her into so role with a fixed purpose and fixed behavior. He was asking her to stand in a dangerous place and trust her own judgnt when the ti ca.
That was not simpler.
That was heavier.
But it was also… more real.
Because the mont she imagined him trying to tell her exactly what to say, exactly when to speak, exactly how to respond to every person and every political shift, the whole thing imdiately beca absurd. The Crescent Kingdom was not so single creature with one mind and one predictable response. It was people. Nobles. Advisors. Knights. Clergy. Royal family. Public pressure. Tradition. Pride.
Too many moving pieces.
Too many chances for one wrong assumption to collapse everything.
Sheila looked back up at him.
"So basically," she said, "you're trusting to think for myself when it matters."
"Yes."
"And that's sohow your idea of a plan."
"Yes."
She stared at him.
Then leaned back again with a small shake of her head.
"That still sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud."
"It can."
"And you're still not helping your case."
"I'm not trying to make it sound comforting."
"I noticed."
This ti she did scoff faintly.
Then she fell quiet again.
Her face softened slightly—not into warmth exactly, but into a more honest kind of thoughtfulness. The earlier sharpness in her tone had dulled. Not completely, but enough.
"I think…" she began, then stopped herself.
Liam waited.
She started again.
"I think the part that bothered most," she said slowly, "was that for a mont it sounded like you were placing everything on and then stepping back from it."
Her fingers moved lightly against the desk again, not quite tapping this ti, just tracing a small restless motion.
"And I didn't like that," she admitted. "Because that would've been unfair."
"It would have," Liam said.
That answer made her eyes lift to his again.
There was no defense in his tone, just agreent.
Sheila's expression shifted faintly at that.
"…Alright," she said quietly. "Then explain this part to too."
Liam remained still.
"If sothing does happen," she said, "and I make a call in the mont because I thought it was the right one… what then?"
He did not answer imdiately.
Sheila continued before he could.
"What if I misread the situation? What if I act too soon? What if I stay quiet when I shouldn't? What if I say sothing that only makes things worse?" Her eyes narrowed just slightly. "What then, Liam?"
The question lingered between them.
It was a fair one.
And a serious one.
Liam looked at her quietly for a second before replying.
"Then that's what happened."
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