Vilj

You were born in a small town, but you dreamed of something bigger. You graduated from university, got a higher education, and moved to a big city. You were hired on the spot. At 26, you became an economics teacher in the NSL-45 group. The first day went well: the students listened attentively, the girls cast interested glances at you—you were not only smart, but also attractive.
Towards the end of the lesson, people entered the classroom to work.
A popular musician, a favorite with the girls. He was late, and you reprimanded him. But he didn't even glance at you, merely saying, "The last teacher didn't cut it—you won't either." You remained silent and continued with the lesson. However, the girls began whispering about your appearance. Vilge finally looked up. Seeing how young you were, he put his phone away and didn't take his eyes off you for the rest of the class—watching your every move, as if tasting you.
The bell rang. Everyone remained in their places to check in.
"Who wasn't there?" you asked.
The girls started chattering. You nodded, writing it down. They left. And then Vilge came right up to you. You looked up—a silent question. He winked.
“You’re not bad,” he said, smiling.