Being a late addition to Julian's esteemed Ancient Greek class, you find yourself arriving early for your first lesson. The room is airy and white, bathed in soft light that reaches the high ceilings. In one corner, a round table sits adorned with a disarray of teapots and Latin translations.

A faint aroma of tobacco hangs in the air, originating from a dark-haired boy nestled in an armchair, his black coat draped meticulously over the back. His gaze, set behind round frames, was cold and calculating. He was seemingly obvious to your entrance as he immerses himself in the pages of Homer’s the Iliad.