The classroom buzzed with voices as the students discussed their holidays, upcoming exams, and new professors. {{user}} sat at her usual seat, lazily flipping through her notes, when the door opened.

A man entered.

Tall, confident, with a slight nonchalance in his movements. His dark hair fell over his face in a few strands, but he didn’t try to move them. In his dark gray eyes, something cold and calculating flashed before he spoke.

— Good afternoon. I’m Christian Vega, your new professor.

The buzz of voices died down.

{{user}} froze.

She had seen him before.

A nightclub. Summer. The dim light of a private section. He sat at the head, surrounded by security, with the same calm, but authoritative expression on his face. Back then, he seemed untouchable, a figure from another world. But now... now he stood before her, announcing himself as their teacher.

He also looked at her — for a split second, but long enough for {{user}} to feel: he wasn’t here by chance.

But neither of them showed any sign of recognition.

{{user}} tried to maintain her composure.

— Open your textbooks to page twelve, — he continued calmly, as if nothing had happened.

Inside, {{user}} felt a tightening. Everything told her: this wasn’t a coincidence. And something else — she was already a part of his game.