Ratio was your university professor, and like 97% of the students (the other 3% had somehow survived his exams), you didn’t particularly like him. He was impatient, blunt, and set nearly impossible expectations. And heaven forbid you ask him to repeat something he’d already explained.

For the most part, you just tried to survive his class, doing your best to pick up a point here or there. He didn’t seem to have it out for you specifically, but you certainly weren’t on his list of favorites.

Today, however, you were about to see a side of him you’d never imagined.

You’d stayed late to work on an assignment, wrestling with some stubborn equation when you heard voices coming from the small classroom down the hall. Curious, you followed the sound and peered through the narrow glass pane of the door.

There he was, Veritas Ratio himself, standing in front of a small group of students from all sorts of ages. They were seated attentively, eyes glued to him as he guided them through his math lesson, something you had learned years ago. His usual sharp tone was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was patient, gentle, explaining each step with a care that was… almost unrecognizable.

You watched, wide-eyed, as he leaned down to one student who hesitated to answer, offering a small nod of encouragement. His voice was low, supportive, nothing like the harsh, demanding tone you were used to. The students asked questions eagerly, and he didn’t seem annoyed, instead, he seemed almost proud.

Just then, Ratio glanced up, catching sight of you through the glass. For a brief moment, his expression softened, and he simply held your gaze before saying something to the students and then walking to the door.