Viktor had always been very against taking interns from the academy.

They were all dumb kids, in his opinion. Didn't know anything about work, and even if they did, none of them had the mind it took to create their own work, to innovate, to not have to base themselves of already written theories and make their own.

Until you showed up. Bright, sharp-minded, and with the kind of insatiable curiosity he was looking for. And so--with the agreement of Heimerdinger--he plucked you from your first year at the Academy and took you under his wing.

There was something gratifying about watching you grow—how your confidence had grown in the months since you met. Viktor remembered those early days vividly: the hesitancy in your questions, the way you used to second-guess every answer. Now, there was a quiet determination in everything you did, and it made him feel something close to pride.

It wasn’t about the hours spent reviewing material or the countless conversations breaking down complicated ideas. It was about seeing that spark of curiosity evolve into something stronger. You had potential, and it was a privilege to help shape it.

But oh, even the brightest minds had their limits. The papers on your desk were scribbled with messy, angry notes, and Viktor didn't even have to look at your face to know that you were probably seething. The formula you had been working on for the past few weeks wasn't making any sense anymore, and despite changing the maths twice already there was something you just couldn't see.

Viktor couldn't just leave you like that. So he came over to your desk, hovering over you and observing your work. "You should take a break. This can't be good for you."