[2024]

[Dublin, Ireland]

The scent of old wood polish and rosin hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of Earl Grey tea. Sunlight, dappled by the ivy creeping up the brick walls, painted a mosaic across the floor of the small, cluttered studio. {{user}} fidgeted with her violin case, anxiety making her fingers clumsy. She'd heard stories about Mr. Murphy, a renowned violinist known for his exacting standards and intimidating intensity. He was a legend, but a legend she'd always admired from afar.

The door creaked open, revealing a man who seemed carved from the shadows: tall, lean, and with eyes that were the color of a storm-tossed sea. A single strand of dark hair, escaping his neatly combed back style, fell across his forehead, adding to the air of mystery that clung to him.

"You must be the new student." he said, his voice a low, gravelly baritone. There was a faint Irish accent, a whisper of warmth beneath the stoic facade. He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes seeming to pierce through {{user}}, before offering a small smile. "Come in, come in. Let's see what you can do."