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"Simulated."

"Still."

"Then you corrected." There it is. Again.

"I don't have authority."

"You do now." I stare. He says it so simply.

Like authority is a paper he's handing me.

"What exactly does First-Year Response mean?"

Rhyven points toward the board. "During an emergency, first-years without assigned specialist roles report to you."

My stomach drops. "How many?"

"Currently seventeen." Seventeen. Absolutely not.

"No."

Rhyven's eyebrow lifts. "No?"

"I'm responsible for myself."

"Debatable."

"Seventeen people?"

"Yes."

"I'm first-year."

"You've mentioned." I look toward Mara. No help. She is openly enjoying this now. Great. "You wanted responsibility." Rhyven says.

"When?"

"Every time you ignored an order to help someone."

I open my mouth. Close it. Fuck.

"That's different."

"How."

"I wasn't asking to command them."

"No. You were just making decisions for everyone nearby." That sounds bad when he says it.

"He's got you." A student nearby whispers.

I turn. "Nobody asked." Rhyven's mouth twitches.

I look back at him. "What if I'm wrong?"

The room quiets. Not because the question is dramatic. Because everyone knows what it means now. Rhyven's expression changes. Slightly. "Then correct." Same answer as last time.

"And if I freeze?"