Monitors glowed.
Keyboards clicked softly.
Everyone stayed focused on their screens.
Mina stared at hers, her hand resting on the mouse.
Since leaving the professor’s office the day before, she had made a quiet promise to herself.
Check every file twice before saving.
Read every lab note three times before submitting.
When transferring data, don’t stop—even if your hands shake.
Not to avoid mistakes.
But to avoid being noticed.
Across the room, Favez unlocked his phone.
[Transfer App]
This month’s payment: ?0
Three unread messages from his mother sat beneath it.
When can you send money?
The hospital bills are urgent.
Are you okay?
Favez stared at the screen for a long time.
Then he turned the phone face down on the desk.
The professor’s voice cut through the lab.
Calm.
Measured.
“Mina.”
A brief pause.
“Favez.”
The two names were spoken naturally.
As if they had always been meant to be paired.
“Both of you—come in for a moment.”
It wasn’t a request.
There was no version of this sentence that allowed refusal.
The door closed.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The noise from the hallway disappeared instantly.
The professor didn’t sit.
He leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his gaze moving slowly between them.
“The lab’s been a little tense lately,” he said.
A pause.
“It’s best to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings.”
Mina kept her eyes lowered.
Then his attention shifted.
“Favez.”
He pronounced the name carefully.
“Accounting on the company side is running a bit late.”
There was no apology in his tone.
“You know how lab work and company funding are connected.”
Favez nodded.
He had heard this sentence before.
“Your family’s in Pakistan, right?”
The professor didn’t wait for an answer.
“You must need money for living expenses. Hospital bills, too.”
Cold sweat ran down Favez’s back.
How did he know?
“That’s why we should all be careful,” the professor continued, picking up a folder.
“Let’s wait until the end of the month regarding your payment.”
The words were gentle.
The meaning was not.
“And Mina.”
The professor turned to her.
“This data isn’t strong enough for a paper.”
Her fingers twitched.
“I think you should change your topic.”
Six months of work—erased in a single sentence.
“You’re not ready to graduate yet.”
He smiled.
“You both understand, right?”
Silence.
“I trust you’ll make the smart choice.”
When the door opened, sound rushed back in.
Printers.
Phones ringing.
Someone laughing.
No one looked at them.
Mina returned to her desk and turned on her monitor.
The screen blurred.
Favez stood still for a moment before walking back to his station.
Here, he wasn’t called a student.
He was called Doctor.
His visa depended on his employment contract.
A new email arrived in Favez’s inbox.
From: Professor Han Doyun
Subject: (none)
This month’s salary will be withheld.
Reason: Research progress requires further discussion.
Contact me individually if you have questions.
The cursor blinked.
Then, in the corner of the screen, another notification appeared.
His mother’s message.
The hospital needs the payment by next week.
Mina opened her notebook.
Below yesterday’s date, she wrote a single word.
2003.12.xx
Called
And in parentheses:
(A name becomes a condition the moment it’s spoken.)
(Salary withheld = enforced silence)
(Topic change = time held hostage)
(Delayed graduation = future held hostage)
When she set down the pen, her hands were shaking again.
Now, Favez’s name was written beside hers.
They had been summoned for different reasons.
But they left the room carrying the same thing.
The price of silence.
Questions always arrive disguised as concern.
Are you okay?
Is something bothering you?
You can talk to me.
But some questions, once answered,
change the direction of a life.
And some people
know exactly how to use questions as weapons.
No explicit threat.
A “suggested” topic change.
A reminder of visas, families, futures.
but the message is identical.
Resistance is expensive.
and becomes structural.
you already understand this episode.
Episode 11 will explore how concern can become surveillance—
and how questions are sometimes the most effective weapon.