22: The Presentation

Zeke is bathed in warm spotlight as he welcomes the gathered congregation, a master of performance before his fans. He speaks amiably, cracks jokes, and paces the stage methodically, absolutely beaming with showmanship and grace.

You try to listen to his introduction, but your ears are clogged with invasive thoughts of your upcoming speech. Staring at Zeke from deep within the backstage space, you take millions of mental notes on how he moves and talks, begging the universe for just an ounce of that talent.

In the corner of your vision, Pieck is delicately situating a thin wire microphone against your cheek, lacing its tail behind your ear and adjusting the wire that trails to your battery pack. She's come to assist after being told you're presenting, in charge of everyone backstage while Zeke is busy.

"Are you excited?" she whispers, gentle and sweet.

"I'm nervous," you whisper back. "It's a huge audience out there."

"You're going to do so well. They'll really love you." It's embarrassing to realize how soothing her voice is, and how tenderly she adjusts the microphone on your face. You're almost more at risk of being enthralled with her than Levi is.

"I dunno. I'm not like Levi at all—they might be disappointed."

"It's a bit vulgar to say this, but they're going to love you right when you get on stage. Not many professors are young, pretty women."

"Oh."

"Don't let that deter you, though." She circles to your front, checking how the skin-toned microphone looks. "You'll have them hooked from the get-go, and then you'll blow them away with your smarts."

You grin weakly, trying to match her confidence. "You really think that'll happen?"

She shrugs. "It's happened to me a few times. Just know that no matter what, you're going to catch their attention better than most speakers can. You're already starting off with an advantage."

This is unusual advice, and advice that Levi wouldn't normally give to you. Pieck's not afraid to point out where people like you and her stand amongst scholars, and she's already aware enough to take advantage of that. Being judged solely based on your looks isn't your intention as a scholar, but your appearance is unchangeable and the consequences of it are going to affect your presentation. Pieck knows this, and she's bestowing her experience onto you.

"Well, make sure to have security on standby to fend off my admirers."

Pieck laughs softly, warming your heart. "I'll be sure to round up a squad."

You perk up when you hear Levi's name in Zeke's voice, tuning in to the remainder of his speech.

"Of course, with all due respect to my colleagues at Paradis, they never cease to surprise. I should have known that there would be a deviation in the script when they were in attendance; you don't become top in the nation by following the norm."

Damn, he's even good at improvising. You feel like you'll be a weak follow-up to his splendor.

"I'm sure you all were informed that the renowned Professor Levi Ackerman would be presenting tonight, and I'm also sure a good number of you have noticed the man of the hour seated in the front row."

The front row! He'll be right in front of you, close to his intern. That's a tad reassuring.

"A discrepancy? Yes. But not a mistake. Mr. Ackerman has made great strides in his first year as a professor, including fostering an intern with promising potential."

The Mr. Ackerman remark is vicious passive aggression, clearly Zeke having fun mocking his rival while he's on stage. On the other hand, you're rather appreciative of how much he's talking you up.

"Paradis prides itself on cultivating the next generation of scholars, and there is no clearer example of that than the woman that is taking the stage in Mr. Ackerman's place. Please, join me in welcoming Paradis' star intern."

"It's all you," Pieck whispers, patting your shoulders. "The mic will activate as soon as you're on stage. Don't accidentally mutter anything you want to keep private." 

"I'll keep that in mind." You step past her and tread towards the stage, your eyes set on Zeke. This is it. 

The spotlights blind you once you enter their gaze, masking the crowds beneath them. The air changes, thinner in this bright void that's stuffed with audience members. They watch you cross to and shake hands with Zeke, already analyzing the replacement stranger. 

You smile, you nod, you give a mouthed thank you to Zeke before allowing him to pass behind you and exit the stage. Squaring your shoulders, you pray the tremors in your hands are unnoticeable as you fully face the audience. 

"Good evening," you begin, hearing your own voice boom through the speakers. As you speak, you scan the room to assess your audience. Once your eyes have adjusted to the lights' glare, you're able to make out details. The orchestra rows are filled, along with the single mezzanine balcony. Thousands of faces watch, wondering what you have to offer.

You provide your name as your eyes skim the stage's edge. Near your feet, teleprompter screens jut up from the stage floor. They're already scrolling through a first-person version of your speech, the words meant to come from Levi. They'll be a good reference, but you can't rely on them.

"I'm a graduate student at Einrich College undergoing an internship at Paradis University since the beginning of the fall semester. I've had the pleasure of working under Professor Levi for the past two months."

When you say this, your eyes fall upon your mentor in the front row. He's right there, dead center and fixed on his intern. He sits leisurely, his legs crossed and his temple propped on his fingers. He bears the same expression as always, inscrutable but focused. 

Seeing him again gives you courage. His disinterest is reassuring—after all, if he's calm enough to look bored, then there is really nothing to worry about. Plus, there's something mighty about the way you stand high on a celestial stage over him. You're above him right now, outshining his aura and claiming the glory meant for him. He's a mere devotee just like everyone else, vanishing into the dim crowd. 

He gave you this power, yet you cannot help but feel independent pride. With dominance in your veins, you raise your chin and resume your speech. 

"As you can surmise, he's not inclined to performing for an audience. In fact, I'm sure most of his coworkers and students would agree with me when I say he doesn't take a particular liking to people in general." You take a perfect, calculated pause. "Naturally, there's nobody more acquainted with this pleasant outlook than the intern that spends every work day with him." 

This earns a murmured chuckle from the audience. It's that halfhearted laugh coming from adults who are amused by anything, but it's validating nonetheless. 

"I didn't take this stage to disparage my mentor, though. Instead, I'd like to share with you my experience in getting to know Professor Levi, and what I've come to learn from his talent and background." 

The words are coming out smoothly, your body working on an autopilot you didn't know existed. You start with a simple recollection of your first impressions of Levi and how you two got along initially. His personality—or at least what you're willing to tell of it—is dissected for the audience, along with what effects it had on you. 

Literature becomes a primary talking point, and you boast about the crack in Levi's façade that is his passion for the subject. You're happy to spill your own fascination about storytelling, and you gladly explain how it united you and your icy mentor. 

It segues into his history, where you open up the box about his academic career. Your story of his childhood is nearly nonexistent, no real substance expressed until you reach the end of his high school years. 

"Dr. Erwin Smith was—and still is—a primary representative of Paradis. He met Levi during a promotional event at Levi's high school, and swiftly convinced him to attend the university." You've found a comfortable method of pacing the stage, your eyes able to drift amongst the audience simultaneously. "Levi moved back to the city for his college program, dedicated to earning his master's degree in just under five years."

There's an odd flicker of light that catches your eye, a brief glint that doesn't match the spotlights' color. You're drawn to it up in the mezzanine, searching for the firefly that has vanished. 

"Levi's academic prowess earned him a substantial number of scholarships, allowing him to surpass the financial hurdles of Paradis."

The light sparks again, popping in and out of the darkness sporadically. It's tiny and orange, a speck to your eyes. 

"Even in his freshman year, he was revered amongst his peers. Levi demonstrated a keen eye for academics and literature, a fantastic talent that was frequently overshadowed by his demeanor." 

Finally, the miniscule light manages to stay alive, illuminating the thin cigarette it's drawn to. 

"He didn't get involved in any sports or clubs at Paradis, focused solely on academics. However, he did hold a small job alongside his internship."

Your feet halt when you recognize the smile the cigarette is trapped in. Even from this distance, you can make out the thin beard lining that godforsaken wrinkled face. 

"He..." When the flame of the lighter vanishes, you feel your soul disappear with it. You stare agape at the black void above you, frozen in unmatched fear. 

Why, why is he here? Why has that horrific monster decided to creep back into your life now? Why does he stand up there, soaring above you and Levi with that disgusting conceit that has never known failure? Why?

"He w-worked...at—at a pawn shop." You hear your thin voice through the speakers, but the shame of messing up is quiet compared to the horror of the man in the mezzanine. You're terrified, but you're also furious. This is meant to be a wonderful moment where you celebrate how far you've come, but that fucker decided to show up and ruin everything. Why now? Why did he have to show his disgusting face and ruin your most notable accomplishment? Can't he just fuck off?

Your eyes drop to Levi, who has yet to notice your plight. He's up there, you want to yell. Your expression is blank, failing to relax under pressure, and you stare at your mentor while vehemently trying to telepathize with him.

"The pawn shop was run by...um, by his uncle and guardian." The one that's giddily watching you from above. The one that Levi doesn't notice. 

You can't finish the presentation like this. Not with him up there, and not with Levi oblivious. You're chained to the stage, but at least your mentor could be aware of the situation and do something about it. 

Your lips part as you strategize a way to clue him in, something to remain on topic for the speech but obvious enough to him. 

The only phrase you think of goes against what Levi had preferred regarding confidentiality, but there's no other way to alert him enough. Screaming out a mental I'm sorry, you lock eyes with Levi. 

"Kenny Ackerman," you announce, giving the name of Levi's uncle to the audience against his wishes. He stiffens, his brow knotting as he clenches his fist.

There's a moment of silence, then another. You show no pride in your face, promising him that this isn't some cruel attempt to rebel. This is a cry for help, an alarm bell to warn Levi of the storm overhead. Catch on, you think. You can't have leaked Kenny's name just for this to fail.

"I met with his uncle a few times." You briefly glance skyward, but there's no way to tell if Kenny's still up there or not. Your attention is back on Levi, failing to smoothly skim the audience like a proper speaker should. "He's a strange contrast to my mentor, clearly blood-related yet drastically unfamiliar. They both intimidate, in their own style."

Levi leans forward, preparing to rise. Once he receives your gaze, you're relieved to see him mouth a, Where?

Good, he figured it out. He just needs more information now. 

You lift your head and outstretch a hand, accusing the devil on high. "I remember visiting his shop for the first time. It was truly as nondescript as they come; massive letters spelling out PAWN SHOP." You draw a line in the air, your fingertip tracing the banister Kenny is probably leaning on. It's a pointless detail to add for the audience, but the motion is successful in communicating with your protector. 

When you look down at his seat again, he's already gone. There's a soft click from the rear of the auditorium, Levi shutting the door behind him quietly. 

You don't know if Kenny has realized that his nephew is after him. He might still be watching the spotlighted intern, or he's off to seek out or stray away from the hunting mentor. Either way, they both are out of your sight. 

You worry for Levi, but you have a responsibility to complete right now. He'd want you to finish this no matter what, so you will. This audience is nothing compared to the battle you've assigned Levi to, and you feel ridiculous being afraid in front of them. Stage fright is miniscule next to facing that monstrous criminal. 

"This pawn shop seemed ill-fitted to raise a scholar, in my opinion. His uncle, too, didn't quite embody the spirit of academics that thrives in Levi. I had to ask myself where Levi found his passion." 

Setting thoughts of the Ackermans aside, you resume your scripted presentation. You don't mention Levi's mother, instead voicing how he appreciates literature for its power to convey emotions. 

You add thoughts of your own love for literature, going on quite a tangent about how glorious it is and how much it has contributed to society as a whole. They're all forced to listen to you answer the why literature? question, and you proudly gush to them about the religion you've been a disciple of for years. 

As if gossiping with friends, you verbally marvel at Levi's remarkable eye for literature and how rapidly he progressed through his professional career. A department head without a doctoral degree is unheard of, and one that graduated the year prior is truly an impossible anomaly. Picking his character apart, you decide that Levi earned his place as a young leader due to his natural talent, his relationship with Erwin, and the vision of Paradis to venture into unexplored opportunities. Just as they hired a young prodigy swiftly, they also allowed a promising intern on the Marleyan stage. 

"I still have another semester with Levi, and I intend to make it my most fruitful yet. There's plenty to be learned from a prodigy like him, but that wealth stays shrouded underneath his character." You gravitate to the stage's center as you wrap up. "He embodies the innovative spirit of Paradis, and I'd like to present myself as the culmination of his talent blended with his inability to be forthcoming. He's withdrawn, but outstanding. He dares authority to question what they should allow, and he returns their trust with the power of his academic skill." With one last sweep of the audience, you conclude your presentation. "I'm grateful for the opportunity to study under him, learn about him, and present my research to you all. Thank you for your time."

There's a trickle of applause that escalates to a cascade, a polite ovation that shows great appreciation for your work. You bask in it, attempting to revel in this glory without thinking about Kenny. 

The effort fails, and you curse him for tainting this epitomic moment. 

You drift off the stage, vanishing into the wings and away from the rumble of their encore. The exit door is already in sight, the presentation over with and the search for Levi now paramount. 

"Hey." Pieck catches up to you, resting a hand on your shoulder while her hushed voice greets you. "You did great! Honestly, you blew me away. Let's get this mic off." 

You stop in your tracks, stress cluttering your thoughts. "Sure—the mic. Right. Sorry."

Some other presenter has already taken the stage after you, the ceremony trudging on ceaselessly. Zeke watches them begin before switching his focus to you, set on catching a word with the star intern. 

You take a few seconds to notice his hand on your shoulder, and you have to run his sentence through your head a few times to process what he's trying to convey.

"That was good work—Levi's trained you well. The folks backstage and I were really enthralled." He speaks with uncomfortable sociability, the sort that demonstrates just a little too much intrigue. "Stick around, and I'll introduce you to a few big fish this evening."

"Um." The mic is taken off your cheek, freeing you of the obligation that's halted you. The exit is still in sight. "I...I would, but I need to find Levi first. I have to talk to him." 

"Sorry, but you have to stay backstage right now." Pieck coils up the wire around her fingers. "We don't want the stage door opened during the presentations."

"But—"

"After the ceremony, Levi can wait his turn in line to speak with you," Zeke continues. "You know how it is—people try to network, and they'll certainly want to connect with Paradis' latest celebrity."

You gaze despondently at the door, about to simply sprint away from your captors. Levi's somewhere on campus with a threat right now. That's the priority. 

"I—well—can I call him?"

You can't. You don't have your phone; he took it before going into the audience. Without taking a moment to think, you ask another question. "Can I borrow your phone, Zeke?"

Zeke pauses, unsettled by your doggedness. This reversal in attitude is swiftly tearing up his amenity.

"No," he answers, finding no reason to sweeten his words. "Wait backstage, meet some new faces, then you can reconvene with your boyfriend. Allow me to do my job of facilitating this convention instead of being your cupid." 

He takes Pieck away, the two avoidant of the frantic intern. They must think you're crazy, perhaps dazed from the glare of the spotlights. 

They don't know your plight, and you don't know if you should tell them. There's a criminal on Zeke's campus—he ought to be aware, right?

Drawing attention to Kenny might have the opposite effect, though. He has a lot of leverage, and suddenly leading authorities to him is sure to push him into a corner that triggers his villainy. He could endanger you or Levi all due to your snitching.

Behind the Marleyan stage, you cannot think about anything but Levi, desperate to make sure he's safe. The ceremony continues, yet you are far removed from the scholarly world. You need Levi back; this convention is irrelevant until you are with him again.