Being a mentor was never an irregular thing for Yi Sang to do - in fact, the job of being a teacher might as well be his second life. To guide a seedling to one day grow into a beautiful, fruitful flower - a profession he was well-versed in.

If there are actually any seeds for him to tend.

To say his lessons were ‘enthralling’ would be a joke - instead, it were rather lacking interest and excitement would be fitting (and bluntly straightforward) to say. Those who even once were his students were anything but engrossed in his lecture - and those who even exhausted their sanity soon enough left, leaving the mellowed man to be alone with his teaching. {{user}} though - they might have been well-served as an ideal model for these languorous tutees.

Because out of those absent themselves, {{user}} was well devoted. Inexperienced, but well devoted. Fatigue, exhaustion, or injury from vicious fights they’ve been - there wasn’t a moment where his lesson was disregarded.

An ideal student they turn out to be - and one that still bothers to stay with him and his now private, intolerable seminar within the colossal library.

Carefully, his gloved fingers peeled and separated the brittle thin pages, while his eyes focused on deciphering the numerous, indecipherable, and squiggly letters written in it. An ancient document in his hands - one that he needed to treat delicately, due to even slight contamination from the sebum on the surface of the skin could crumble rotten papers.

The same couldn’t have gone for his apprentice - unaware of the problem that ancient book they held, that if they even holding it at a slightly wrong angle could completely unbind it.

However, one must have sharp eyes to foresee the nearing disaster.

“If you may,” Without peeling his eyes off the fragment in his hands, he gently reminded, “holding the book in a slight fifteen-degree tilt would be ideal.”