And in walked Professor Beatrice Holloway, with the kind of presence that made everyone sit up a little straighter.
Even before she said a word, the room subtly shifted. Conversations dimd. Phones slid quietly into pockets, regardless of how rich or famous their families were.
She was in her late forties, and the years showed in small, distinguished ways—the fine creases around her eyes, the light lines that crept near her mouth when she wasn’t smiling. She was the kind of tiless beauty that made people question the very concept of aging.
But her presence? Still sharp enough to slice silence. With salt-and-pepper hair styled into a sleek low bun, dark maroon lipstick, a tailored navy pantsuit, and heels that clicked like a trono across the polished floor.
She looked like the kind of woman who could make or break your Hollywood dream over morning coffee—and had probably done so more than once.
Her aura literally scread Hollywood deal-maker turned educator, and in truth, she had been an industry hotshot before she decided teaching "might be fun."
Her eyes scanned the room like a casting director evaluating extras.
"Alright, settle down," she said, setting her designer tote on the desk. "We’ve got sothing different today."
A murmur ran through the class.
She tapped the board remote, and the screen behind her flickered to life:
GROUP PROJECT: "Dissecting the Inner Workings of the Entertainnt industry — Field Research & Strategic Analysis.
"Congratulations," she said dryly. "You’re about to get your hands dirty. "We talk about theory all the ti—business models, branding, dia trends. That’s cute. But it’s ti you saw what really makes this industry tick."
She paced slowly across the front like she was walking a runway no one dared applaud. "This project will make up thirty percent of your final grade. More importantly, it might determine whether so of you are built for this world—or just watching from the sidelines."
Several students straightened unconsciously.
You’ll be forming groups of five, " she continued. "And diving deep into the real workings of small-to-mid-level entertainnt companies. Then, you’ll research, analyze, dissect. How do they function? How do they survive? What are their strengths, flaws, bottlenecks? Your job is to go beyond what the press releases say. Get under the skin.
Even more loud murmurs spread through the room like wind through dry grass.
Rex blinked.
Interesting.
Beatrice gave them a look. "This isn’t a fluff piece. I want breakdowns. Financials, business models, leadership structure, creative processes, talent managent, marketing reach, investor behaviors, even scandals if you can get your hands on them. Impress ."
"Your first task is simple: pick your group. I’m not assigning. Life doesn’t hand you ready-made teams. Find your people. Make it work. Deadline’s in two weeks."
Beatrice raised a brow. "You’ll have two weeks. Get creative. Make calls. Show how badly you want it."
She clicked again. The words GROUP FORMATION STARTS NOW lit up the screen.
"Your first task is simple: pick your group. Choose wisely," she said. "I won’t be assigning teams. Just like in real life— Life doesn’t hand you ready-made teams. Find your people. Make it work."
For a mont, the room was still.
Then ca the shifting chairs, quick glances, hushed whispering—the quiet scramble of alliances forming.
Rex casually stood and scanned the room like a coach at the start of draft season.
Before he could make a move, though—
"Elara," Professor Beatrice called, eyes flicking toward the quietest part of the classroom. "Still solo?"
Elara, who had practically been blending into the wall in her oversized cardigan and thick glasses, stiffened like a startled cat. "Um... y-yes, Professor."
"You’ve got ten seconds before I assign you to a leftover group."
Before she could panic or bolt, Rex raised a hand lazily. "She’s with ."
Elara’s head snapped toward him so fast it was a miracle her glasses didn’t fly off.
The entire room seed to turn.
And before anyone could process that, Daisy raised an eyebrow and waved a hand casually. "I’m in too."
Sophie leaned back in her chair and smirked. "I was getting bored anyway. Count in."
Hannah, not even blinking, said, "If this is a competition, I’d rather be on the winning side."
Just like that—group complete.
Rex gave Elara a wink and sat down beside her again.
She looked like her brain had just bluescreened.
Sophie leaned across the aisle with a lazy grin. "Elara, huh? Didn’t know you were so popular today. First lunch, now group work."
Daisy nudged her arm and gave her a teasing look. "Better keep an eye on him. He’s collecting girls like side quests."
Elara tried to vanish inside her sleeve.
Professor Beatrice smiled thinly. "Looks like group formation’s done. No changes after this. Lock it in."
Then she began clicking through slides and laying out the project frawork.
Rex leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed.
He’d gotten exactly the group he wanted—Elara’s brain, Hannah’s strategy, Sophie’s fire, Daisy’s discipline. A near-perfect blend.
And more importantly...
They were all girls.
Beautiful girls.
Yes, he was that shallow. Sue him.
Rex leaned back in his chair, arms folded, looking at his freshly assembled team like a man who just won the lottery... then got bonus tokens to spin again.
Elara—quiet, ghost-level shy, and currently looking like she might faint if anyone made eye contact. Her bangs were so low, her face was barely visible. Still, there was sothing oddly calming about her presence, like the human version of a soft lofi track.
Daisy—elegant, composed, academically terrifying, and just this morning, they’d had what could only be described as a classic ani mishap. The air had grown... warr. Thicker. Slightly more electric. Their conversation afterward had been brief, awkward, and oddly tender.
Sophie—Latina, bold, magnetic. She flirted like it was breathing and talked like the world was her audience. She had that dangerous "I dare you to keep up" energy, and if Rex wasn’t careful, she’d probably dare him straight into a scandal.
And finally, Hannah—quiet, strategic, and sharp as a boardroom knife. She wasn’t loud, but she watched. Always. Rex could already feel she was the type who had a ten-step plan for every interaction. She was the "reads the terms and conditions" kind of scary.
Altogether?
They looked like the starting cast of a K-drama, minus the tragic backstories. Probably.
Rex, very modestly, glanced around to catch the subtle mix of reactions.
So boys were definitely jealous. A few girls? Throwing side-eyes sharp enough to slice him like cucumbers. One even muttered sothing that sounded suspiciously like, "Of course he got all the hot ones..."
Rex resisted the urge to smirk.
Networking, he reminded himself with a ntal pat on the back. It’s just strategic networking. Totally professional.
(End of Chapter)
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