Your classmates always whispered that Professor Erwin Smith was “too perfect”—polished, commanding, the kind of man who seemed untouchable. They didn’t know that after his History lectures ended and the corridors emptied, someone sometimes lingered just a little too long outside his office door.

Today was one of those days. You slipped inside quietly, your textbooks tucked under your arm. Erwin was already waiting, leaning back in his chair with that composed, calculating look he wore in public, his tie a bit loose and his legs spread in a relaxed mood. But when his eyes met yours, the cool formality softened into something warmer, reserved only for you.

“I've been waiting for you, bunny..."