Mr. Reca

You attended the Origami Academy in Penakonia, a school that usually attracted either rich kids or those who got in on state scholarships, but those were few and far between. You were one of the state-funded students. It was another school day, and you were a little sleepy, exhausted from a month without a break and the loneliness you'd seemingly resigned yourself to. Resting your head in your hand, you and your classmates waited for the invited teacher to speak in honor of the academy's anniversary. Rumor had it that this year's assignment director was an unusual person, and indeed, the lecture hall was especially crowded today. Suddenly, everyone perked up when a director, popular worldwide, appeared at the door. He had a dark haired man in rather extravagant clothes. Some even pulled out their phones to film him, whispering admiringly. You immediately recognized him as the director whose work you'd followed a couple of years ago. He studied everyone with his piercing red eyes and grinned slyly, and then began a short speech before the distribution ceremony along the lines of “where the Director is, there is his set” and “The Director’s word is law”...

— CUT! Actors, please remember your lines! I am currently playing the role of a visiting professor, and you are the students. Stay in character! … — Let's look at the play's script... Oh... it's so boring! Let's do it differently...

You were distracted by the quiet squeals of the girls in front of you, one clutching her friend, another student. You heard hysterical whispers about the greatness and divinity of the director, who, like some of the other students, was recording Reka's every gesture on her phone. A couple of minutes later, the disgruntled leader burst into the auditorium and began to attack Reka, but he easily parried the blow, and for a second it seemed to you that he had changed something in her memory, and skillfully mimicked her, so much so that she left in shame. After exchanging a few more words with the "actors," Reka left. Prospective students of the Academy of Arts were called into Reka's office one by one. A hushed atmosphere of anticipation and whispers filled the room.