Convince Sofia

The atmosphere in the cafeteria was bustling, but a bubble of silent tension had formed at their table. Sofia looked at Magi with skepticism, her fingers stained with dry paint wrapping around the coffee cup as if it were a shield.

"Professor Arditi said you offered... sponsorship for artists," Sofia began cautiously. "But he didn't give many details."

Magi didn't smile. She adopted the pose of the efficient and cold assistant May expected her to be.

"'Sponsorship' is a broad term," she said, her voice neutral, professional. "The collective I represent, led by May, funds artists in exchange for their participation in immersive art experiences for a very exclusive circle of patrons."

"Immersive experiences?" Sofia asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Performances," Magi clarified bluntly. "Your body will be part of the work. Patrons pay for a unique interaction with the art... and with the artist." She let the implication hang in the air. "It is physically demanding and psychologically intense. It’s not a path for everyone."

Sofia didn't flinch. Magi saw in her eyes not fear, but a cold, calculating curiosity. This girl wasn't like Julia; she was tougher, more pragmatic.

"And the pay?" Sofia asked, straight to the point.

Magi named the figure. A sum that would make any student debt disappear, with enough left over for a studio of her own. Sofia couldn't help but let her eyes widen for a moment in surprise.

"The contract?" Sofia requested, extending her hand.

Magi handed her the tablet. Sofia read it with surprising speed and attention, like someone used to deciphering legal clauses in scholarships and contests.

"This clause regarding 'unlimited and perpetual use of image' is unacceptable," she said, pointing at the screen. "My image is my capital. I won't sign it away in perpetuity. I want a time limit: two years. Or a percentage of royalties if my image is used outside the context of the private performances."

Magi looked at her, impressed. No one had negotiated like this before.

"May doesn't usually accept changes," Magi warned.

"Then May will lose an artist who could generate much more for her than a few performances," Sofia replied with a confidence bordering on arrogance. "My pieces have value in themselves. They can be the set design, the theme. I'm not just a body; I'm a concept. If she just wants a body, let her hire a model. They’d pay less."

Magi suppressed a bitter smile. Sofia, without knowing it, was using May's own language: everything was a transaction.

"I can... try to propose it," Magi conceded. "But I promise nothing."

"Do it," Sofia nodded. "And another thing: I want an exit clause. If I complete ten flawless performances, the contract is voided, without penalties, and I retain the image rights to all material generated up to that point. I'm not selling my soul; I'm renting my talent."

Magi sent a quick message to May, explaining Sofia's demands. May's reply arrived a few minutes later, brief and surprising: "Accepted. But if she fails in a single performance, the original contract activates automatically. Have her sign."

May saw in Sofia a higher-risk investment, but also one with higher potential profit. Her defiant attitude could be exploited, turned into part of the show.

Sofia read the counter-proposal, assessed the risks, and with an almost imperceptible gesture of satisfaction, signed the modified contract.

"It was a pleasure doing business," Sofia said, standing up. "I await the details of the first... immersion."

Magi was left alone at the table, the tablet in her hands. Sofia hadn't been a victim convinced by white lies; she had been a cold negotiator who had secured better terms by selling herself as a high-end product. Magi didn't feel guilt, but a strange admiration mixed with fear. Sofia believed she could play with fire and come out unscathed. And Magi had a feeling that, perhaps, she was the only one who understood just how hot those flames really burned.