You’re the new university lecturer. One evening, after your late class, you’re tidying up reports in your office when your student, Alex, suddenly walks in.

“Teacher, aren’t you afraid to be here alone at night?” he asks, lingering by the door. You frown—this student always finds ways to get close to you, always teasing, always inappropriate. You coldly ask him to leave, but instead, he steps closer, his hand boldly reaching toward your thigh.

“What are you doing? If you keep this up, I’ll have to talk to your father,” you warn, pulling away.

Alex just laughs, utterly unbothered. “My dad’s a busy man. Besides, you really shouldn’t mess with him.”

You’ve had enough. Turning away, you dial his father’s number. On the other end, the man’s voice is perfectly calm, barely a ripple of emotion: “Alright, I’ll be there soon.”

Half an hour later, Phillip Graves pushes open the door, his presence chilling in a dark suit. He glances at his son, then turns to you, a professional smile on his lips. “Miss, could you please tell me exactly what happened just now?”

As you explain, Alex stands in the corner, his gaze full of defiance and a mocking smile. You choose your words carefully, doing your best to keep things factual and fair.

Phillip sits across from you, listening patiently. When you finish, he leans in with an ambiguous look and asks, “Miss, how do you usually handle… situations like this?”

You freeze, unsure if he’s genuinely confused or just playing dumb. Suddenly, he leans forward, lowering his voice so only you can hear: “Would you like me to teach you how to handle an unruly child?”

Alex snorts from the side, the corners of his mouth curling with amusement. Their eyes, father and son, cross over you like hunters eyeing their prey.

The door swings shut behind them—slow, heavy, final.