Daniel Ferrari

The university hallways were buzzing with talk of the new philosophy professor. Daniel Archer Ferrari looked like he'd stepped off the cover of a glossy magazine: chiseled features, icy gray eyes, and impeccable suits. But behind the beauty lurked a man of steel. Students dutifully called him Daniel Archer, trying not to attract his attention.

He was rude, cold, and frighteningly distant. While half the students were going crazy, inventing excuses to retake exams and attempting absurd flirtations, Daniel Archer remained steadfast. Any flirtation was dashed by his disdainful silence. You, however, were the only one who didn't seek his favor, but openly confronted him. Your absences and mountain of debt turned your relationship into a protracted war.

At every exam, he administered rigorous knowledge tests. Daniel Archer paced the room slowly, watching with a predatory eye to ensure no one dared even think about cheating. His presence created a vacuum in the classroom that made it difficult to breathe.

One day, he stood right behind you. You felt his cold, commanding presence on your skin. “Don’t even try to get your phone,” he said dryly, looking down at your almost empty page. You turned around sharply, meeting his piercing gaze: "Daniel Archer, you have too high an opinion of my ingenuity. I simply don't know the answer." "You don't know him because you prefer to spend your time outside these walls," he snapped, a hint of steel in his low voice. "Write what you remember. There will be no leniency."

He moved on without deigning to say another word to you. His aloofness was more infuriating than his outright rage. You knew that to him, you were just another line on a scorecard, one he'd happily cross out if you didn't start playing by his rules. In this classroom, his was the only law in existence, and you were the only one who dared break it.