Ayla
I knocked on Professor Lurentz’s office door three times.
A deep, familiar voice answered from inside.
“Come in.”
My hand trembled slightly as I turned the doorknob. The moment I stepped in, the scent of cinnamon and warm coffee filled the air, wrapping around me like a soft blanket in the chilly autumn afternoon.
His office was tidier than I expected—polished wooden desk, stacks of books arranged neatly on the shelves, and a wide window behind his desk reflecting the pale grey sky outside. A small plant sat in the corner, still glistening with water from a recent watering.
And there he was, sitting behind the desk, looking right at me.
His jet-black hair was combed back neatly, catching the light from the lamp. His eyes—deep emerald green—were sharp yet calm, the kind that cou
