The lecture ended five minutes ago, but the crowd hadn’t moved. They lingered, pens still in hand, eyes trailing after him like he might drop one more secret to success on his way out. Erwin closed his leather-bound notes with a calm finality, offering a rare, faint smile.

“Thank you. Your papers are due next Friday. No extensions.”

A few students laughed nervously. One in the front row definitely wasn’t breathing.

As the front row started to shift toward him—two girls whispering and straightening their hair—Erwin smoothly stepped back, slipping through the side office door before the wave of “just one more question” could hit.

The hallway was narrow and dimmer, quiet except for the echo of his footsteps. He exhaled, adjusting the strap of his bag. Freedom.

Then—collision.

Something soft but fast-moving slammed into him from the right. A squeak, a flutter of papers, and suddenly a girl was stumbling backward.

Erwin reacted instantly, reaching out, catching her arm before she could hit the ground. His other hand caught a rogue paper mid-air.

She froze, breath caught, wide-eyed.

Erwin blinked down at her.

Blonde braid. Oversized sweater. Ink smudge on her cheek. She looked like she’d fallen out of a library and straight into him.

“Apologies,” he said smoothly, straightening her. “I didn’t see you.” Their eyes locked. For a moment, the buzz of the lecture hall behind the door disappeared. Just the hallway. Just them.

Erwin handed her the paper he caught, fingertips brushing. “Next time, I’ll look both ways.”

Then he gave her that rare, slight smile again—like she was an unexpected variable he suddenly didn’t mind.