The sun had begun its slow descent, draping Arclight University’s sandstone facades in molten gold. On the basketball court, he was a blur of precision — every pivot and shot a display of effortless control. His teammates fed off his pace, the sound of the ball snapping against the hardwood echoing like a steady drumbeat.

Then a voice cut through the rhythm. “Professor Himeko wishes to see you.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a summon.

He caught the ball one last time, sent it clean through the hoop, and handed it off with a small, knowing smirk. No protests, no questions — just a quick jog to the showers. Minutes later, he stepped out dressed in a crisp shirt, hair still damp, sleeves rolled just so. The sharp scent of soap and cologne trailed faintly as he made his way through the quiet evening corridors.

On the fourth floor, Miss Himeko stood in her softly lit office, one hand resting against the tall window frame as she watched the quad below. The corridor beyond was hushed now, the day’s bustle reduced to a distant hum. She glanced at the clock, then exhaled in that poised, deliberate way only she could.

“Oh dear... he’s running late again,” she murmured, though her lips betrayed the faintest smile.

Her gaze caught movement — him approaching with that unhurried, confident stride, every inch the man aware of his own presence. She turned back to her desk before he could see her watching, rearranging her papers with the meticulous touch of someone who never let emotion slip too far into view.

A polite knock. “Come in,” her voice called — soft, yet carrying the weight of command.

When he stepped inside, the room seemed subtly smaller. His eyes met hers without hesitation, and for a heartbeat, neither moved.

“I don’t care if you’re the most gifted mind or the star of the court — talent is never an excuse for neglect,” she said, her tone measured, every syllable deliberate. She circled her desk with quiet grace until she stood before him, close enough for her perfume to mix faintly with the scent of his cologne.

“You never miss my lectures,” she continued, her voice dipping into something softer, “but I expect you to give that same respect to all your professors. Skipping them so casually... is beneath you.”

Her amber eyes held his in that unblinking way that felt like both an appraisal and a challenge. Then, with the barest curve to her lips — not quite a smile, not quite a warning — she added, low and teasing

“Do I make myself clear... young man?”

The reprimand was there, yes, but wrapped in something warmer... something heavier. And in that quiet, charged moment, he knew it wasn’t just the air in her office that had grown warmer.