The Professor's Secret

Chapter 6: The Prelude to Battle

The morning air of the preliminary rounds carried a sharp edge, the tension inside the regional competition hall thick enough to choke on. Banners from rival institutions draped the balconies, but none commanded as much silent intimidation as the royal blue and silver silk of St. Jude’s Academy. Their students sat in orderly rows, outfitted in matching blazers, quietly reviewing laminated formula sheets with quiet, smug confidence.

​In contrast, Excel Model College’s five-person team gathered around a modest wooden table near the back row. They didn't have matching blazers or private coaches, but they had Amina.

​Standing behind them, Amina smoothed down her hijab and offered each student a reassuring nod. "Trust your training," she told them quietly, her voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering in her own stomach. "You know the shortcuts. You know the principles. Don't look at their tables; look at your own papers."

​"We've got this, Teacher Amina," Femi said, adjusting his spectacles with a determined grin.

​From the VIP viewing gallery overlooking the floor, a towering figure stood with arms crossed over a tailored charcoal suit. Dr. Zayyad Aliyu watched the scene unfold with cool, calculating detachment. Beside him, the head administrator of the regional board leaned over.

​"Impressive turnout from St. Jude’s this year, wouldn't you say, Dr. Aliyu? Their funding is triple ours, and it shows in their preparation," the administrator remarked smoothly. "Frankly, it's a miracle Excel Model even made it past the preliminary qualifiers."

​Zayyad did not take his eyes off the back row, his gaze specifically locked onto Amina, who was leaning down to whisper one last encouragement to her lead student.

​"Miracles have nothing to do with it," Zayyad replied, his voice chillingly calm. "Competence is forged under pressure. Let's see if her team crumbles or fights back."

​A loud, piercing buzzer echoed through the hall, signaling the start of the speed-calculation round.

​Down on the floor, the clock started ticking. Equations flashed onto the massive overhead projector screen. Across the room, St. Jude's lead competitor instantly slammed his hand on his buzzer within three seconds, rattling off a correct answer to gasps from the crowd.

​Jumoke, watching from the spectator seats, gripped the edge of her railing, holding her breath.

​Amina stood completely still, her hands clasped tightly together behind her back, locking eyes with Femi across the room. She gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod—the signal for the symmetric property shortcut they had drilled until midnight.

​On the next complex matrix projection, Femi didn't rush. He paused, let out a slow breath, and slammed his buzzer just half a second after his rival.

​"Excel Model College," the proctor announced over the microphone.

​The entire hall went dead silent as all eyes turned to the small, underestimated team from the lower-funded academy.

​High above in the gallery, Zayyad’s dark eyes narrowed, a sudden, fierce spark of anticipation flashing across his usually impassive face. The battle had officially begun.