Chapter 10 - An Evaluation Underground

At five minutes past two, Michi was already standing in front of the steel door of Basement Studio Number Three, chin held high. She'd deliberately arrived late—giving herself a five-minute buffer past the time Rimba had asked for yesterday evening—just to make a point that she wasn't beholden to anyone's expectations, least of all his. It was a small, petty rebellion, the kind she rarely allowed herself, and she'd spent the walk down the emergency stairwell half-convincing herself it counted for something.

The moment the soundproof door swung open, what greeted her wasn't Rimba's usual mischievous smirk, but a different voice entirely—one far more authoritative, and one she never in a hundred years expected to hear in that room.

"Ah, so the collaboration team is finally complete."

Michi froze in the doorway. Professor Hendra Wicaksana stood in the middle of the studio, arms folded across his chest, wearing the cream blazer he usually wore while proctoring final exams. Rimba stood off to one side of the room, his face tenser than Michi had ever seen it—jaw locked, hands shoved rigidly into his pockets.

"Good afternoon, Professor." Michi hurried to straighten her spine, locking her expression into the professional smile she'd spent years perfecting. "Is there something we can help you with?"

"I'm only stopping by briefly." Professor Hendra walked over to the mixing desk, studying the stacks of scattered score paper with an unreadable expression. "The dean's office has started fielding questions from several of my colleagues in the classical composition department. They're curious—and a little concerned—about the direction the two of you are taking this collaboration."

"Concerned about what, sir?" Michi asked, working hard to keep her voice level even as her heart had already started thudding uncomfortably.

"Because from what I've been told," Professor Hendra flipped over a sheet of score paper, squinting to read the notation printed across it, "this project is being talked up as a major showcase, representing the conservatory's name in front of the public. If the final result strays too far from the classical principles that have always been Swasemesta's identity, it isn't just the two of your grades on the line. It's this institution's reputation."

Rimba finally spoke up, his voice sharper than usual, a muscle working faintly along his jaw. "With all due respect, Professor, wasn't it the dean's office itself that asked for a modern element in this year's concert repertoire? If it all has to end up sanitized and safe anyway, what was the point of running a cross-genre collaboration project in the first place?"

"I never said it had to be sanitized, Rimba." Professor Hendra looked at him directly, not the least bit shaken by the challenge in his tone. "I'm only reminding you that experimentation and recklessness are two different things. So far, I haven't seen a final draft convincing enough to prove to me that the two of you actually understand where that line sits."

The room went quiet for a moment. Michi could feel the professor's gaze shift toward her, probing, as if waiting for a rebuttal or a defense.

"We'll have a complete draft ready before the end of this week, sir," Michi finally said, her voice steady even as worry had already begun creeping through her chest. "I promise the result will still honor classical principles, while offering something genuinely fresh."

Professor Hendra studied her for a long moment before finally giving a slow nod. "Very well. I'll hold you to that, Michiko. Remember—the Suryokusumo family's reputation in this city's music world isn't an automatic pass through my evaluation."

The line landed like a direct hit. Professor Hendra walked out of the studio without another word, leaving a heavy silence hanging between Michi and Rimba.

Michi let out a long breath the moment the door shut tight again, sinking down into the keyboard chair, her strength feeling entirely drained after only a few minutes.

"You okay?" Rimba asked, his tone this time stripped of every teasing element that usually decorated his sentences.

"Tired," Michi murmured, honestly—far more honestly than she usually allowed herself to be in front of him. "I'm tired of constantly being someone who has to prove herself to everyone. To Professor Hendra. To the dean's office. To my own parents." She let her head fall back against the chair, closing her eyes for a moment. The fluorescent hum of the studio suddenly felt very loud in the silence that followed. "Sometimes I forget what it even feels like to just be myself, without someone evaluating every single move I make. I don't even remember when I started keeping score on myself the way they do."

For once, Rimba didn't fire back with a jab or a joke. He pulled up an empty chair and sat down beside Michi, keeping a reasonable distance, without the slightest intention of stirring up the usual friction between them.

"Then let's prove that man wrong," Rimba said quietly, staring at the score sheets scattered across the desk. "Not by playing it safe, but by building something even he can't find a single flaw in."

Michi opened her eyes and looked at Rimba, who, for the first time, appeared genuinely serious, stripped of every layer of arrogance he usually put on display. Something about today felt different—not just two people trading jabs in a cramped room anymore, but two people standing, however briefly, on the same side, facing down the same threat together. It was a strange, almost dizzying feeling, being on a team with the person who'd spent weeks trying to needle her into losing her composure.

"Okay," Michi finally said, straightening her back again, reigniting a spark of determination that had briefly gone out. "But this time, we work on this for real. Not just so you can look like some indie celebrity who failed to impress a cranky old professor."

Rimba let out a small laugh, reaching for his guitar again with an energy that felt noticeably different from usual. "Deal, Classical Maestro. Let's make Professor Hendra eat his own words."