CHAPTER-1
958 Words
The Professor Everyone Was Waiting For
Monday mornings had always been Blackwood University's greatest enemy.
At exactly seven forty-five, the campus looked less like one of the country's most prestigious universities and more like a battlefield of sleep-deprived students carrying oversized coffee cups.
The autumn air was cool, carrying the scent of fresh rain that had fallen just before sunrise. Golden leaves drifted lazily across the cobblestone paths as students hurried between buildings, desperately trying not to be late for their first lecture of the semester.
The grand clock tower chimed eight times, its bells echoing across the campus.
"Run!" a boy shouted to his friend. "If Professor Carter locks the door again, I'm transferring to university."
His friend laughed while trying to keep up.
"You've been saying you'll transfer since the first year."
"And I mean it this time!"
Nearby, members of the Photography Club were already taking pictures beneath the maple trees.
The Drama Society had somehow turned welcoming freshers into a full theatrical performance.
Outside the library, two engineering students were arguing over whether coffee should count as a scientific necessity.
"It absolutely should," one declared.
"That's not science."
"It is if I'm alive because of it."
They burst into laughter.
Blackwood felt alive.
The cafés buzzed with conversation.
The sports field echoed with whistles.
The fountain in the center courtyard sparkled beneath the morning sun while first-year students stared in every direction, wondering how they had already managed to get lost.
It was chaos.
Beautiful, ordinary chaos.
Room B-204.
Department of Biomedical Sciences.
The lecture theater was already half full.
Some students chatted across rows.
Others compared timetables.
A few had their heads resting dramatically on their desks.
Ryan dropped into a seat beside Ethan with a loud sigh.
"I've decided."
Ethan didn't even look up from his notebook.
"What now?"
"I'm dropping Biomedical Sciences."
"You've said that four times this week."
"This time I mean it."
"Oh?"
"Eight a.m. lectures are against basic human rights."
Several students nearby laughed.
A girl in the front row turned around.
"You know attendance starts today, right?"
Ryan blinked.
"...Never mind."
From somewhere in the back—
"I heard we're getting a new professor."
That immediately caught everyone's attention.
"The old one retired."
"My sister said the replacement is terrifying."
"My cousin says he's a scientist."
"I heard he worked overseas."
"No," another student interrupted dramatically. "My brother said he's like sixty years old."
Ryan nodded.
"Perfect."
"What?"
"I'll probably fall asleep before he finishes introducing himself."
Laughter filled the room once again.
Someone tossed a crumpled paper ball.
Someone else missed the catch completely.
A phone suddenly rang.
Its owner panicked and silenced it so quickly that the entire class laughed.
Everything felt exactly like the first day of university should.
Loud.
Relaxed.
Comfortable.
Then...
The laughter slowly disappeared.
Not because anyone asked for silence.
Because something outside had changed.
The corridor...
Had gone quiet.
A strange, almost unsettling silence settled beyond the classroom walls.
One student frowned.
"Why did everyone stop talking?"
Another shrugged.
"No idea."
Footsteps echoed through the hallway.
Slow.
Steady.
Confident.
Each step sounded deliberate.
Closer.
Closer.
Then—
The classroom door opened.
A man walked inside.
He looked no older than his early thirties.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
A perfectly fitted charcoal-grey suit.
White shirt.
Black tie.
His dark hair was neatly styled, and his expression was unreadable.
Not angry.
Not friendly.
Simply... calm.
He carried a slim leather folder under one arm.
Without looking around the room, he walked to the podium.
The whispers began instantly.
"...That's him?"
"No chance."
"He's way too young."
"Maybe he's a guest speaker."
Ryan leaned toward Ethan.
"If that's the professor, I'll actually attend every lecture."
Ethan smirked.
"For science?"
Ryan looked at the man standing at the front.
"...Sure. Let's go with science."
A girl behind them whispered,
"I think half the class just forgot how to blink."
The man ignored every whisper.
He placed the folder neatly on the desk.
Picked up a piece of chalk.
In clean, precise handwriting, he wrote across the board.
DR. NICHOLAS STERLING
He put the chalk down.
Turned to face the room.
Silence.
No introduction.
No smile.
No "Welcome to Blackwood."
His grey eyes calmly swept across the lecture hall.
"My lecture begins at eight."
His voice was low.
Clear.
Controlled.
"If you arrive after eight..."
A brief pause.
"...you will not attend."
The room fell completely silent.
"I do not tolerate cheating."
"I do not tolerate plagiarism."
"I do not tolerate excuses."
Every sentence was delivered with the same calm expression.
"If your phone rings..."
He glanced toward the back row.
"...you leave."
Ryan quietly switched his phone off beneath the desk.
"I expect preparation."
"I expect respect."
"I expect discipline."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"I am not interested in memorized answers."
"I am interested in understanding."
His gaze moved slowly across every row.
"If you are here simply to pass..."
He paused.
"...this course will disappoint you."
Not one student spoke.
Not one laughed.
Even the students who had spent the last fifteen minutes joking now sat perfectly still.
Dr. Nicholas Sterling picked up the attendance register.
Opened it.
Looked up once more.
"This university has already admitted you."
His eyes remained calm.
"What happens next..."
"...is entirely your responsibility."
Without another word, he began calling the first name on the list.
Outside, the autumn wind carried another golden leaf across the classroom window.
Inside...
Thirty-eight students realized the rumors had been wrong.
The new professor wasn't terrified because he shouted.
He was terrified because he never needed to.
And somewhere else on campus...
A certain student, completely unaware of the impression Dr. Nicholas Sterling had just made...
Was about to be late.
- Writer
