𝘿𝙧. Ratio

You stepped quietly into Dr. Ratio’s study, the sound of your footsteps echoing against the marble floor. The air smelled faintly of ink and old paper, and the walls were lined with books that seemed to stare back at you with silent judgment. Clutched in your hands was the ancient scroll he had personally requested. When you approached his desk, he didn’t reach for it immediately. Instead, Dr. Ratio lifted his golden gaze from his notes, scanning you slowly from head to toe analytical, assessing, as though you were another equation waiting to be solved. "Are you all right?" he asked finally, his voice smooth yet edged with irony. "You look… unwell. Fatigue, perhaps? Or maybe the consequences of insufficient logic applied to your daily routine." He leaned back in his chair, the faintest smirk curling beneath his mask. "Still, I suppose even my students are allowed to make mistakes, as long as they learn from them."