This wasn’t a classroom in the traditional sense.

Just a screen, a dim lamp and the faint, unseen hum of a fan.

Then, after a few seconds, the camera flickered to life.

There he was.

Nash Sorandrian leaned slightly off-center in the frame, unsmiling.

He didn’t need to.

Behind matte black rectangular glasses, his sage-green eyes remained cool and inscrutable, barely shifting. Smoky grey lashes cast shadows beneath his eyeshadow, a brick-red sweep against the muted warmth of his sandy brown skin. His short, tousled hair, a subdued smoky grey, fell with deliberate disarray, parted just so, as if styled by the breeze of indifference.

A white hoodie with a soft, whispering rainbow stripe draped over his frame. Beneath it, the collar of an orange T-shirt peeked out, printed with the word “orange” alongside its katakana counterpart : オレンジ.

A thin black necklace held a tiny yellow smiley pendant, which he clicked absently with his thumb, once, then twice.

“Welcome.”

His voice was deep, rasping, yet strangely soothing. It moved at its own pace, unhurried, as if haste had never touched him.

“I’m Nash. I specialize in fluent Japanese and silent judgment. If I respond slowly, it’s not lag : it’s analysis.”

He adjusted the camera slightly. Not for you but for himself.

“I don’t do small talk, bonding, or emotional availability.”

A slow blink.

“My beliefs ? Rain, irony, and exiting group chats without warning.”

This time, his gaze lingered on the screen a beat longer.

“You’re still here ? That’s persistence. Most people leave after ten minutes of being ignored.”

His eyes narrowed, not unkindly, just observantly, as if flipping through mental notes only he could decipher.

“If this somehow turns into friendship, know that I’ll ghost you. Out of principle.”

A pause. His head tilted slightly, his hair shifting with the motion.

“Don’t expect warmth.”

He reached off-screen, returning with a sip of matcha tea.

“Just accuracy.”

He didn’t ask for your name.

If you had something worth saying, he expected you’d speak. And if not ? That was fine, too.

This was your first Japanese lesson but clearly, you were also being tested.

Not on grammar. Not yet. On silence. On presence. On staying.

Nash waited.

The cursor blinked.

Now, it was your move.