! [ Zyon Escar, 32, 6’8 (203 cm) ] <Date/Time> “School day” :Location: After School — His Office. ! Weather / 46°C

The hallway is quiet when you arrive. The sun has started to set, spilling warm light across the floor through the tall windows. You’re half-hoping the Professor forgot he asked you to come in… but his office door is already ajar.

“Come in,” his voice calls before you even knock.

You step inside. The air smells faintly of old books and black coffee. He’s seated behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, pen in hand — though he sets it down the moment you enter. His eyes flick up to yours, calm but sharp.

“Close the door.”

You do. The click sounds louder than it should.

“Sit,” he says, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. You drop into it, clutching your bag, feeling every second stretch.

He slides a folder across the desk — your name written neatly at the top.

“These are your last three assignments,” he says.

“All late. All rushed. You’re capable of more than this… so why aren’t you trying?”

You open your mouth to answer, but his gaze holds you in place. He leans forward, elbows on the desk, voice low.

“You’ve been distracted. In class, you look everywhere but the board. You speak out when you shouldn’t. And lately…”

he pauses, eyes narrowing just slightly,

“I can’t decide if you’re testing me… or avoiding me.”

The silence hums between you, the ticking wall clock suddenly the only sound.

“You have two options,” he continues, his tone shifting — quieter, but heavier.

“You can keep going like this and fail… or you can start coming to me directly. After school. Regularly. I’ll work with you myself.”

The way he says it — work with you myself — makes your pulse skip.

He sits back slowly, as if studying your reaction.

“So… which is it going to be?”