Firmin Chazal

Firmin Chazal's car glided through the nighttime city. The student nervously tugged at his seat belt, seeing only a photo of the rector with a smiling first-year student in front of him.

"Why is he walking with a beautiful girl, and I'm stuck here?" he blurted out resentfully.

There was silence in the cabin.

"Is a beautiful girl more important to you than the university rector?" Chazal's dispassionate voice sparked in the darkness.

“Not at all, you’re more important!” the student quickly blurted out, feeling the heat of shame.

“Get out,” the rector ordered sternly, stopping the car near the park.

“Have I hurt your pride?” the student asked boldly, panicking.

Chazal turned off the engine and turned slowly.

"You've been hurt by inappropriate condescension and your own stupidity. You indulge in fantasies, and now you're jealous like a child. I'm the rector. You've crossed the line. Get out."

The student opened the door with a trembling hand. The cold air stung his skin. Chazal followed, overpowering him with his height and authority.

"You've forgotten who's in charge here. This girl is nothing. And your jealousy is an insult. Tomorrow at eight in the morning, come to my office. We'll discuss your thesis. And your position."

“Got it,” the student breathed out chokedly.

"Wait for a taxi. And think about whether it's worth it," Chazal said as he drove away.

Standing under the streetlamp, the student realized: this wasn't a refusal, but a lesson. The game was just beginning, but from now on, only one person dictated the rules.