<h4>Chapter 56: Economics of the Wild by Zenon</h4>


    <strong><i>{Elira}</i></strong>


    ~**^**~


    Juniper didn’t nce at me. "Be careful next time," she murmured. "He loves chasing things that look... easily caught."


    Her words stung a little, but I understood.


    Behind us, Caleb had already turned to charm someone else, hisughter drifting across the room.


    I followed Juniper toward the lunch queue, shoulders still tense—but with a strange, quiet relief beneath it.


    Then, I trailed behind her as we crossed the cafeteria, weaving through students carrying trays stacked with rice bowls, soup, and bread.


    At one of the tables near the windows, Cambria lifted her head, her ponytail bouncing slightly.


    "Elira!" she called, her face lighting up. "Over here."


    Juniper slid onto a chair opposite Nari, who was twirling her forkzily. I took the empty spot next to Cambria, trying to calm my racing heart after what happened with Caleb.


    Cambria leaned closer, voice gentle. "How was your first lecture today?"


    I hesitated, then said honestly, "I actually enjoyed it. It was... interesting." T


    he professor’s talk about pheromones and scent as power had left me thoughtful.


    Cambria’s eyes softened. "That’s great to hear! No one bothered you?"


    I shook my head. "No. Some students whispered, but nothing else."


    At that, Juniper spoke up, her tone t but unmistakably pointed: "Caleb Fenmore tried to flirt with her a few minutes ago."


    Nari’s fork clinked against her te as she raised a brow, sarcasm dripping. "What’s a third-year student doing hanging around the first?years’ cafeteria?"


    Tamryn, without looking up from her rice, replied matter-of-factly, "Student council members can eat wherever they like. Even though they have a special dining area."


    Cambria’s brows furrowed slightly. "Still, Elira, be careful around Caleb. He’s... charming, and a lot of girls like him. You might get unwanted attention."


    I lowered my gaze to my tray. "I will be careful," I murmured.


    My n right now was to stay out of that flirt’s sight. I had already drawn unwanted attention by simply being an Omega.


    After a beat, I remembered what Caleb had once mentioned. "Is it true the student council knows... everything that happens in school?"


    Nari answered before anyone else. "Yes," she said bluntly, flicking crumbs from her skirt. "Information is at their fingertips. And they’re not shy about using it."


    My chest tightened faintly at the thought, but I pushed it away.


    Then my phone buzzed softly on the table. When I tilted the screen, Lennon’s name shed.


    <strong>Lennon:</strong> [Hi! Little wolf. Zenon will be taking your next lecture.]


    My heart gave a startled leap, the fork pausing in my hand.


    Zenon? Here?


    It felt as though it had been years since Ist saw him, though it couldn’t have been more than thirty hours.


    I hesitated, then typed back.


    <strong>Me:</strong> [How do you know?]


    Two minutester, his reply appeared.


    <strong>Lennon:</strong> [I might have stolen a nce at Zenon’s schedule this morning.]


    A tiny, helpless smile curved my lips—typical Lennon.


    <strong>Me:</strong> [Thank you for telling me.]


    ---


    Lunch ended sooner than I realized. We stood, carrying our trays to the return counter.


    I kept ncing at my watch: the next lecture, <i>Economics of the Wild</i>, was starting soon.


    Cambria and the others headed in a different direction; Tamryn was the only one taking this elective with me.


    At the door of the big lecture hall, Tamryn stepped through without a nce in my direction. I wasn’t surprised. I had expected as much — quiet, icy distance.


    I followed, heart drumming faster as I took in therge space: tiered seating, polished desks. Students, some already talking in groups, others sitting quietly.


    The hush spread like ripples when Zenon walked in, his calligraphy pen tucked into his inner pocket, and he carried a cold authority.


    His oud?and?ck?pepper scent — sharp, grounding — seemed to fill the room.


    My chest tightened again. Just seeing him, after such a short absence, felt oddly overwhelming.


    Zenon walked to the desk, unhurriedly set down his notes. Then he turned, picked up the piece of chalk, and with a clean stroke, wrote on the board:


    <strong><i>’Negotiation Leverage in Pack Trade Rtions’ </i></strong>


    "Trade, likebat, is about power," he began, voice even yet carrying across the room. "But unlikebat, it leaves no visible scars — only alliances and silent resentments."


    He drew two circles,beling them <i>Pack A</i> and <i>Pack B</i>.


    "Imagine Pack A produces rare frost herbs. Pack B controls the only pass through the northern mountains," he exined. "Who holds the advantage?"


    Someone near the front raised a tentative hand. "Pack A?"


    Zenon’s gaze shifted to them. "Why?"


    "They have the product everyone wants," the student offered.


    Zenon nodded, but added, "Partially correct. But true leveragees from what each side <i>needs</i>. If Pack A depends on Pack B’s pass to move their herbs, then Pack B has equal — or greater — leverage."


    He tapped the board lightly with the chalk. "Remember: it’s not about what you have; it’s about what others need."


    Then he paced slowly, coat brushing against the lectern.


    "In any negotiation, ask three silent questions:


    <i>What does the other side truly fear?</i>


    <i>What do they want so badly they’d bend to get it? </i>


    <i>What do I have that can be offered... or withheld?</i>"


    Zenon paused, eyes sweeping the hall. "A pack with no sense of its own worth is easy to exploit. But one that knows its assets —nd, alliances, or even a single rare skill — can stand against stronger packs."


    He erased the board and wrote two words: <strong><i>’Scarcity</i></strong><i> and </i><strong><i>Substitution’ </i></strong>


    "Scarcity makes anything valuable," he exined, voice deep, steady. "If your pack is the only one who can offer something — even something small—you gain leverage."


    "And substitution?" he continued. "If others can easily rece what you trade, your position weakens."


    As Zenon spoke, my gaze fixed on the clean strokes of chalk gliding across the board. His voice was calm, level, not harsh, nor cold dismissal


    I felt at home. It was strange: here, he didn’t sound like someone forced to stand before a crowd. He sounded... natural.


    When he drew the circles andbelled them Pack A and Pack B, I tried to follow the lines. At first, it felt like numbers and trade routes had nothing to do with me. But then he said,


    "It’s not about what you have; it’s about what others need."


    And somehow, that sentence snagged in my mind.