The air in Lecture Hall 4C smelled of ozone and expensive musk, a heavy, cloying scent that clung to the velvet draperies and the polished mahogany desks. At the Institute of Human Intimacy and Somatic Arts, the curriculum didn’t involve calculus or ancient history. Here, the grade point average depended on the mastery of the human body, the precision of a touch, and the ability to manipulate desire.

Ritu sat in the third row, her fingers digging into the fabric of her pleated skirt. She stared at the digital display at the front of the room, where her current grade for "Practical Application: Advanced Stimulation" flickered in a harsh, neon red: 42%.