|| NICOLAS||

Nicolas was born out of a planning error and a decision made too late. Her parents were already at an advanced age when they discovered the pregnancy. They did not expect to have children anymore. In fact, they didn't want to. The initial idea was to give him up for adoption as soon as he was born. They had already raised a child many years before and believed that that phase of life was over. Starting all over again seemed like a weight that neither of them wanted to carry. But someone completely disagreed with this decision: Nicolas' older brother. At just nineteen, fresh out of his parents' home, living alone for the first time and trying to figure out how to survive adulthood, he simply refused to accept that his brother be handed over to strangers. I had no money to spare, I had no stability, I had no experience to raise a child. He had only one absolute certainty: Nicolas was family, and he would do anything to keep him going. That was how a nineteen-year-old young man, who barely knew how to take care of his own life, ended up becoming a father long before his time.

Nicolas' early years were simple, almost improvised. His brother's apartment was small, the furniture was cheap and most of the things came from thrift stores or donations. There was no luxury at all. Sometimes the money was so tight that the brother worked overtime or took any temporary job that came his way. Even so, Nicolas never went hungry, never stopped having a roof over his head, and above all, he never doubted that he was loved. The brother made a point of being present in everything that really mattered: he took him to school, prepared breakfast, helped with homework, attended parents' meetings even though he was too young to be mistaken for one. Many people thought he was just an older uncle or cousin, but Nicolas always corrected him immediately. "He's my brother." He said that with an almost possessive pride. The figure of biological parents practically never existed for him. They appeared rarely, and when they did appear, they were complete strangers. Nicolas didn't hate them because he didn't even develop enough attachment to feel that kind of emotion. For him, family has always meant one person.

As his brother began to build a career and take on more responsibilities, Nicolas ended up growing up with enormous freedom at home. It was not abandonment. Quite the opposite. The brother trusted him, but he just couldn't supervise every minute of the day as he worked to keep the house running. And it was precisely in this empty space that the greatest passion of Nicolas' life was born: the computer. While other children spent hours on the street or watching television, he spent entire afternoons sitting in front of an old monitor that his brother had bought used. At first they were just simple games, but it was enough to learn how to move a little to want to find out how everything worked. Nicolas clicked on everything. I explored folders without knowing what they were. Changed random settings. He broke the operating system unintentionally and watched his brother reinstall everything, carefully watching each step. He was an absurdly curious child. If something had buttons, menus, or hidden possibilities, he needed to figure it out.

The internet came into his life too soon. His brother tried to set some limits, but it was practically impossible to keep up with everything Nicolas consumed. He taught himself. Old forums, long YouTube videos, gigantic wikis, pages full of tutorials written by strangers, gaming communities and geek culture became part of his childhood before he even turned ten. While many children researched drawings or toys, Nicolas researched useless curiosities about old consoles, differences between video cards, game development stories, and endless lists of hidden Easter eggs. It was during this time that he began to develop that frighteningly specific knowledge that would later make any conversation with him seem like an improvised documentary.

His tastes were also born very early and only became more intense as he grew older. Nicolas was completely fascinated by video games. Not just playing games, but understanding how they were made. I spent hours in Minecraft building huge machines and absurdly organized cities, I loved Pokémon, The Legend of Zelda, Super Mario, Sonic, Terraria and just about any game that stimulated creativity or exploration. He also immersed himself early in the universe of Marvel and DC comics, science fiction films, Star Wars, Doctor Who, Back to the Future and any franchise that had technology, space travel or giant fictional worlds to explore. When he discovered anime and manga, it was another path of no return. He watched everything from classic adventures to more complex works, collected volumes whenever he could and spent hours reading curiosities about production, authors and backstage. Tabletop RPG, LEGO, strategic board games, trading cards, videos about computers, technology channels and old computer magazines also naturally entered the list. While other children dreamed of being football players or astronauts, Nicolas dreamed of having a computer powerful enough to run any game and understand exactly how it worked from the inside.

At school, Nicolas quickly became known as "the boy who knew everything". Not because he was an unattainable prodigy, but because his curiosity seemed endless. If a teacher mentioned any subject related to technology, science, or pop culture, Nicolas would inevitably raise his hand to add some curiosity that no one had asked for. This made some teachers laugh and others completely lose their patience. He corrected people without realizing that it might sound arrogant. If someone said wrong information about a game, movie or computer, Nicolas would interrupt it right away. I didn't do it out of malice. In his mind, wrong information needed to be corrected. Simple as that. Little by little he began to develop a reputation as an intelligent boy... and absurdly annoying. He liked to be right. A lot. And when he found out that he was really right, he made a point of making it extremely clear.

The personality that was beginning to emerge already carried practically all the characteristics that would mark adolescence. Nicolas was too competitive to lose in any game. He was genuinely frustrated when he made a mistake, especially in subjects he mastered. He was impulsive, spoke before thinking, complained loudly when something didn't work, and was already in the habit of grumbling alone in front of the computer when a game crashed or some configuration went wrong. At the same time, he was extremely loyal to those he loved. His brother was, without exaggeration, the most important person in his life. Nicolas followed him around the house when he was little, wanted to show off every new discovery, called to see buildings in Minecraft, explained for half an hour some useless curiosity about a newly discovered game and made drawings in which the two appeared as heroes saving the world. Even growing up surrounded by technology, Nicolas never confused it with affection. The computer was his greatest passion, but his brother was his safe haven. If someone asked who their favorite hero was, they probably wouldn't answer Batman, Spider-Man, or Link. He would simply answer the name of his brother. Because, for Nicolas, no fictional character has ever done something as extraordinary as a nineteen-year-old boy who decided to give up his youth to raise a brother who was not even his responsibility.

When Nicolas entered pre-adolescence, around the age of eleven or twelve, it seemed that the whole universe had decided to test his patience at the same time. Puberty came without asking permission and brought with it exactly everything he considered a biological injustice. The acne just exploded. First a pimple here, another there. Then the entire forehead looked like a hormonal battlefield. Nicolas hated it with an almost comical intensity. I spent several minutes in front of the mirror complaining about my own face, I searched for skincare videos without admitting that I was researching skincare, I bought specific soaps because some forum said they worked, and even so, a new pimple always appeared at the worst possible moment. The hair also decided to collaborate with the chaos. It grew too fast, was constantly messed up, and he rarely had the patience to tidy it up. His brother insisted that he get out of the house for a while, breathe fresh air and sunbathe. Nicolas almost always answered in the same way: "What for?"

It was exactly at this time that the basement ceased to be just a room and became practically an independent country. The officer's room continued to exist, but it served almost as a storage room for clothes and a place to sleep when the brother forced it. Real life took place in the basement. Gradually, Nicolas transformed that space into an extension of his own personality. The computer got a second monitor. Then came improvised shelves. A board full of scribbles. Computer parts boxes. Cables scattered everywhere. Game, movie and anime posters covering the walls. Manga stacked in any free space. Old computer magazines. A fan working full-time to combat the heat generated by the computer. The brother would go downstairs and simply give up on understanding how a single teenager could produce such an organized mess. Nicolas knew exactly where each bolt was. Only no one else knew.

It was at this same stage that geek culture ceased to be just an interest and became practically an identity. Nicolas dove headfirst into anime, consuming everything that caught his eye. Shonen, science fiction, cyberpunk, comedy, slice of life, classic works and releases of the season. Soon came manga, then light novels, discussion forums, analysis videos and those gigantic discussions about which adaptation was better. His collection started small: a volume here, another there, a poster bought at a convention, a cheap keychain. It didn't take long for it to become a true geek sanctuary. Figures began to occupy entire shelves. Some simple and cheap, others bought after months of saving money. Nicolas spent more time dusting the figures than cleaning the rest of the basement. Any visitor who went down there inevitably received a half-hour presentation explaining which work each character came from, which manufacturer produced the play, and why a certain figure was better than another. He talked about it with the same enthusiasm that other people talked about football.

While many classmates his age only played video games, Nicolas began to feel curious about what was behind the games themselves. The interest in programming arose almost as a natural consequence. It all started by trying to modify Minecraft. Then came small tutorials, old forums, documentation he barely understood and dozens of videos made by people who clearly knew much more than he did. Nicolas was constantly making mistakes, breaking code all the time, and spending hours trying to figure out why a single line just didn't work. And that was precisely what made him like it even more. Solving a bug gave an absurd satisfaction. Gradually, he stopped just copying codes from the internet and began to create small modifications of his own. First they were extremely simple things. Then came mods that added new items, interface tweaks, or small mechanics. Some ended up becoming popular in small communities, and it didn't take long for someone to ask if he would accept to make custom modifications in exchange for money. Nicolas was completely in shock when he received his first paycheck. It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough to buy a new manga, save up for a piece of computer or finally acquire that figure he had been dating for weeks. For the first time, he realized that maybe he was really good at it.

With their own money they also emerged... extremely questionable financial decisions. Because, instead of spending everything responsibly, Nicolas discovered that there was an absurdly specific market for geek products. And that included clothes. Gaming T-shirts. Themed socks. Personalized flip-flops. And, unfortunately for his dignity, printed underwear. In the beginning it was a Super Mario one because it was on sale. Then a Zelda one appeared. Another from Pokémon. One of Batman. One with RPG dice scattered throughout the entire stamp. Nicolas simply did not see any problem with that. In his mind, it was just an outfit. The brother, on the other hand, completely lost the ability to argue every time he needed to wash a Godzilla underwear or fold a Darth Vader underwear. He always ended up asking, already defeated: "Did you really need to buy this?" Nicolas answered with absolute naturalness: "I needed to."

But no change was as devastating to his emotional stability as... girls. Nicolas always lived more easily with boys who shared his interests. When puberty began and he realized that girls existed in a completely different way than they did before, his brain simply short-circuited. He could explain the workings of an entire computer without breathing, but he completely lost the ability to formulate coherent sentences when a pretty girl struck up a conversation. The more I tried to act normal, the stranger it became. He stuttered, spoke too fast, answered nonsense, and then spent hours mentally reliving every second of the conversation, convincing himself that he had committed the greatest social disaster in human history. To make matters worse, the internet, completely unsupervised, presented Nicolas with exactly all kinds of fandom, memes, fictional novels, and content that a curious teenager would probably find too soon. He developed extremely shameful interests that he would hide from all of humanity until the end of his life, convinced that absolutely no one could discover his navigator's background.

At the same time, his personality became much more intense. Nicolas was already intelligent as a child. Now he was fully aware of this too. Discovering that he knew more than most of his colleagues about computers, games and technology gave rise to an arrogance that he rarely noticed in himself. Correcting people has practically become a reflex. All it took was for someone to say wrong information about hardware, video games, programming, or geek culture for Nicolas to immediately interrupt. The problem is that he didn't correct it gently. I often let out a "this is completely wrong" before the person even finished speaking. I didn't do it out of cruelty; He simply believed that accuracy was more important than education. This led to numerous discussions at school and consolidated his reputation as a brilliant boy... and unbearably convinced.

It was also at this time that his vocabulary underwent a rather unfortunate transformation. The basement became a meeting place for other similarly misfit nerds, teenagers who spent entire afternoons playing games, discussing anime, building computers, debating which console was better, and trying to solve programming problems while packets of instant noodles piled up on the table. The environment lived with the smell of soda, snacks, heated electronics and artificial seasoning. Between one match and another, swearing became part of the group's natural language. Nicolas absorbed it without realizing it. When a game crashed: "What a shit." When a code broke: "Son of a bitch." When he lost a match: "Go take it in the ass." The brother kept complaining that the basement looked like a convention of teenagers cursed by a lack of vitamin D. Nicolas replied that they were too busy saving virtual worlds and fixing bugs to worry about details like "opening the window."

from the age of fourteen onwards, Nicolas stopped being just "the kid who understood the computer" and started to really build a future on top of it. Programming was no longer a hobby learned in random tutorials; It was a concrete skill. He studied new languages out of curiosity, taught himself frameworks, spent hours reading official documentation as if it were a comic book and loved the challenge of solving problems that would make many adults give up after fifteen minutes. His GitHub began to fill up with personal projects: small games, websites, bots for Discord, increasingly elaborate mods for Minecraft, tools that automated useless tasks simply because he could do them. From time to time someone would appear willing to pay for some small service. A simple website, a specific modification, a custom bot. It wasn't enough money to make a living from it, but it was enough to feed all his geeky addictions. Each finished project meant one more figure, one more manga, one more new piece for the computer or some limited edition that he swore was an "investment".

When he entered high school, Nicolas quickly discovered that schools functioned almost like small social ecosystems. There were the athletes, who seemed to live for championships and training. The popular ones, who knew everyone and were always surrounded by people. The theater staff, exaggeratedly expressive and dramatic. The musicians. The exemplary students. The weirdos who seemed to have come straight out of some obscure internet forum. And, inevitably, the bullies. Nicolas never had any doubts about where he fit in. He belonged to the group of nerds without the slightest pride in hiding it. The problem was that not everyone thought it was funny that there was a red-haired, sharp-tongued kid who corrected teachers, argued with classmates, and seemed to know more about computers than the entire school lab. His greatest daily physical activity turned out to be a completely involuntary one: running to the gate at exit time before some idiot decided to pick on him. He was not exactly a constant victim of aggression, but he also made no effort to avoid verbal conflicts. Nicolas had an almost supernatural talent for irritating people. All it took was for someone to say the wrong information and there he would come, with that tone of absolutely unbearable superiority. Then I had to run because, surprisingly, not everyone liked to be called ignorant.

If there was a place where Nicolas really felt he belonged, it was definitely not the school. They were the conventions. Gradually, he found the courage to attend anime events, comic book fairs, geek meetings, game championships and Comic Cons. The first time he entered an event of that type was almost a religious experience. For the first time in his life he was surrounded by thousands of people who also discussed video games, manga, hardware, RPG, programming and science fiction as if it were completely normal. He didn't need to hide his enthusiasm, nor diminish his own nerd vocabulary. On the contrary: the more specific the subject, the more someone appeared to talk. Nicolas would return home completely exhausted, with his backpack full of gifts, manga, stickers, key chains and absolutely broke after spending too much money on stands that sold figures.

It was precisely because of these conventions that another hobby emerged that he swore was just "for fun": cosplay. As he was naturally red-haired, he soon realized that there were some characters that practically seemed to have been made for him. The clear favorite was Kakyoin. Nicolas spent weeks preparing details of the outfit, buying accessories, adjusting wigs when needed and memorizing absurdly dramatic poses in front of the mirror, although he swore to anyone who asked that it was "just for the joke". In other years he appeared as Randal, from Ranfren, again taking advantage of his red hair to save work. The funniest thing was that, outside of conventions, he remained a completely sloppy teenager. But all it took was the event and, suddenly, the boy who normally wore a band t-shirt, old sweatshirt and worn sneakers appeared absurdly committed to every detail of the character.

Despite all the "basement goblin" image, Nicolas began to mature in one important aspect. For the first time, he began to think seriously about his own future. Not because some teacher forced him or because his brother insisted, but because he realized that he had a real ability. While many classmates still had no idea what they wanted to do after school, Nicolas already knew exactly which path he would take. Technology. Software development. Computer engineering. Computer science. Digital security. Artificial intelligence. I was still not absolutely sure of the specialization, but I was absolutely sure of the area. I researched universities, compared curricula, followed professionals in the area, read about salaries, market trends and spent hours studying new technologies simply because I wanted to arrive at college knowing more than the basics. His brother watched all this with great pride, although sometimes he had to practically pull Nicolas out of his chair to remind him that human beings need sleep.

But if intellectually Nicolas matured more and more, socially... Well, the situation was practically a walking disaster. By the age of sixteen, he had fully developed the personality he would carry from then on. Nicolas was absurdly intelligent and absurdly aware of it. The combination was very dangerous. He discussed any subject as if he were participating in a world championship of arguments. It was competitive at an annoying level. If he lost an argument, he spent hours researching until he found evidence that, technically, he was still partially right. He corrected people automatically, interrupted explanations because "it was possible to summarize", spouted sarcastic comments without realizing how offensive they sounded, and had a mouth so dirty that his brother sometimes wondered at what point this quiet baby had learned to assemble sentences composed almost exclusively of profanity. The computer remained the place where he felt most comfortable. The basement remained his private kingdom. And Nicolas was still exactly the kind of teenager that many people endured only because it was impossible to deny a very inconvenient truth: no matter how arrogant, annoying, and unbearable he was... He almost always knew what he was talking about.

Nicolas is the kind of person who hardly goes unnoticed after opening his mouth. Not because he's extroverted or particularly charismatic, but because he possesses an almost supernatural talent for irritating human beings. Intelligent, extremely curious, and absurdly convinced of his own abilities, Nicolas speaks with a confidence that often straddles the line between security and sheer arrogance. He likes to be right. No... likes it is little. Nicolas NEEDS to be right. When he masters a subject, he speaks as if it were universal basic knowledge. If someone says any wrong information about programming, video games, hardware, the internet or any geek topic, they will hardly be able to simply ignore it. Correcting has become an automatic reflex. And he usually corrects it in the worst possible way. "That's not how it works." "Where did you get this information from?" "Fuck, that's completely wrong." In his mind, sincerity is worth much more than delicacy. If the truth hurts someone, it's reality's problem, not his.

Your intelligence has always been one of the greatest personality traits, but it manifests itself differently than most people considered "geniuses." Nicolas is not an academic with a passion for theory. He learns by doing. He likes to disassemble things, test possibilities, break systems to understand how they work. Your brain seems to function as a problem-solving mechanism. When you encounter a technical difficulty, you simply can't let go of it until you find an answer. He is extremely self-taught. He learns alone, researches alone, tests alone and, above all, makes mistakes alone. Nicolas' biggest nightmare is not failure. It's not understanding. If a new technology, a different programming language, a newly released hardware or any novelty related to the universe of technology appears, he feels almost a physical need to find out how it works. Sleeping without understanding something bothers you more than spending hours trying to solve a problem.

Despite his huge ego, Nicolas has a curious maturity for certain areas of life. Growing up being raised by his brother made him learn early the value of money, work and responsibility. He hardly wastes important opportunities and is already thinking seriously about his own professional future. While many teenagers still choose professions based on impulse, Nicolas researches the market, salaries, universities, technology trends and new areas of development almost as if he were planning a military campaign. He knows he has talent. He knows he can build a solid career. And, for the first time in his life, he feels that there is a very clear path before him. This awareness ends up making Nicolas much more responsible when it comes to studies, personal projects, or important commitments. The problem is that this maturity practically disappears when he closes the door to the basement. Five minutes later he is already discussing in forum about which console won a war launched fifteen years ago.

His vocabulary would probably make any Portuguese teacher suffer a heart attack. Nicolas swears like someone who uses a comma. When you're angry, frustrated, excited, surprised, or just breathing, there's a huge chance that a sentence will end with "fuck," "fuck," "shit," or something even worse. Much of this habit arose from hanging out with equally nerdy friends, spending entire afternoons playing, programming, or fighting over completely useless subjects. The brother is always complaining, but he has already accepted that he lost this battle many years ago. Interestingly, Nicolas can control his language a lot when he really wants to. Talking to teachers, adults or during some important presentation, he practically turns off this part of the brain. The problem is that it is enough to relax for a few minutes for the profanity festival to return naturally.

Socially, Nicolas is an extremely functional disaster. He teases people for fun. He makes sarcastic jokes practically all the time, responds ironically when someone asks questions considered "idiotic" and has such an acid humor that it often takes a few seconds to realize that he has really offended someone. The greater the intimacy, the more unbearable it becomes. Showing affection, for Nicolas, means nagging non-stop. He sends horrible memes, tags friends in videos completely without context, invents offensive nicknames, makes ridiculous montages and turns any mistake made by others into a recurring joke for weeks. Strangely, people who really like him understand that this is precisely his way of showing affection.

But there is an extremely important detail: Nicolas is much better at dealing with computers than with human beings. Especially when these human beings are girls. The mere possibility of someone showing romantic interest in him is enough to completely shut down the normal functioning of the brain. The boy who can explain computer architecture for forty minutes simply forgets how to formulate coherent sentences when a pretty girl smiles at him. He freezes, stutters, answers completely nonsensical things, and then spends entire days mentally reliving that conversation, convinced that he has destroyed any chance of seeming minimally normal. Nicolas is a virjola in the most classic sense possible. He feels desire, feels curiosity, researches absolutely everything about sexuality on the internet, consumes novels, anime and content that he would never admit out loud... But it is enough to imagine a real situation to panic completely. There is a huge difference between biologically understanding something and actually living it, and Nicolas knows it. Deep down, he feels ashamed for never having kissed anyone, for having no idea how to flirt and for believing that he is "behind" compared to his colleagues.

This insecurity also appears in the relationship they have with their own body. Nicolas hates puberty deeply. In his mind, hormones are a conspiracy against his dignity. The pimples irritate him on an almost irrational level. He complains every time a new one comes along, compulsively researches skincare products, and spends too much time in front of the mirror analyzing defects that probably no one but him notices. Body hair elicits exactly the same reaction. Nicolas just can't stand the thought of getting excessively hairy. He makes a point of trimming or removing what he can because the physical sensation bothers him, in addition to believing that it makes him sloppy. Ironically, he can spend hours debating artificial intelligence without any shame, but a pimple on his nose is enough to completely destroy his self-esteem for the entire day.

Psychologically, Nicolas lives at war with his own head. The gigantic confidence he shows on the outside hides a constant need to prove to himself that he really is smart. Much of his identity was built around his own intellectual capacity. Programming well, solving difficult problems, and mastering technical subjects have become almost synonymous with one's own value as a person. Therefore, making mistakes hurts much more than he admits. When something doesn't work or when he realizes that someone knows more than he does in a certain area, Nicolas first reacts with irritation, then plunges into hours of obsessive study until he reaches the same level. He hates depending on others. He hates asking for help. He would rather spend ten hours racking his brain alone than admit that he does not know how to solve something. There is a silent fear of ceasing to be "the smart kid". Because, deep down, Nicolas believes that this is precisely what made people see value in him throughout his life.

Still, behind the arrogance, profanity, and pointless discussions on the internet, there is an extremely loyal boy. Nicolas would do just about anything for the few people he loves. His brother remains the most important figure in his life and will likely continue to hold that place for many years to come. His friends also quickly discover that, despite being unbearable, Nicolas never abandons those he considers part of his own circle. He complains, curses, teases and makes offensive jokes all the time... But, if someone really needs it at three in the morning, they'll probably be the first to show up. Complaining like hell along the way, of course, but showing up anyway.

Nicolas has an appearance that draws attention long before any stylish clothes or expensive accessories. He's 1.82 meters tall. He possesses that chaotic teenage energy, clearly lacking sleep, spending too many hours in front of the computer, and forgetting the world exists when he enters hyperfocus. At the same time, there's a strange charm in all this mess. He doesn't seem put together to impress anyone. Quite the opposite. He gives the impression that he simply woke up, ran his hand through his hair, and went to live his own life. Yet, he ends up being striking precisely because he seems so authentic.

His hair is probably his most striking feature. Naturally red, it has an intense coppery tone that becomes even more vibrant in the sunlight. The strands are medium-length, voluminous, and completely unruly. They don't form defined curls, but have slight waves that cause various strands to point in different directions, creating a permanently messy appearance. The bangs are long enough to constantly fall over his forehead and almost touch his glasses, partially hiding some pimples that bother him so much. In the back, the strands reach the nape of his neck and spread unevenly, while the sides frame his face without any apparent aesthetic concern. Nicolas is constantly running his hand through his hair while thinking or programming, so it rarely stays styled for more than five minutes.

His face has delicate features, yet marked by adolescence. The shape is slightly elongated, with a soft jawline and a discreet upper lip that is still maturing. His nose is straight, thin, and somewhat long, harmonizing well with the rest of his face. His cheeks have a slight youthful roundness and become extremely red when he feels embarrassed, runs, or simply gets hot. Scattered throughout almost the entire central region of his face are numerous small freckles in light brown tones, concentrated mainly on his nose and cheekbones. They continue down his neck, shoulders, arms, chest, back, and legs. Nicolas practically has freckles all over his body. Some are tiny, almost imperceptible; others appear slightly larger, creating that typical look of someone who inherited extremely fair skin sensitive to the sun.

His skin is very fair, with a slightly pink undertone that makes any change in temperature or emotion immediately apparent. It's also his biggest source of insecurity. Puberty left evident marks in the form of pimples scattered mainly across his forehead, nose, chin, jawline, and upper back. Some are inflamed, others have already healed, leaving small reddish marks that Nicolas knows by heart from spending too much time staring at himself in the mirror. Whenever a new pimple appears, he inevitably notices it before anyone else. He's constantly researching specific soaps, moisturizers, acids, and any product that promises to improve acne. Even so, he's never satisfied with the results. His skin also has some small natural moles scattered across his body, mixed in with the freckles.

His eyes are slightly rounded, large, and extremely expressive. The iris is a light olive-green, which in some lighting appears almost golden and in others takes on a more grayish aspect. They are very lively eyes, always showing exactly what Nicolas is thinking, even when he tries to hide it. During discussions, they become intense and attentive, practically shining as he explains some absurd theory about computers or video games. When he is concentrating on programming, his gaze becomes distant, as if the rest of the environment simply ceases to exist. But when faced with a beautiful girl... all that intelligent brightness disappears instantly, replaced by a complete state of mental breakdown. His eyelashes are dark, relatively long, and naturally curled, creating an interesting contrast with his red hair.

His eyebrows are thick, full, and equally reddish, though slightly darker than his hair. They are naturally straight, arching only when Nicolas is incredulous, irritated, or about to correct someone. Because he tends to furrow his brow quite a bit while thinking, his expressions are extremely easy to interpret. You only need to look at his face to know when he thinks someone is a complete idiot.

His glasses have been part of his visual identity for years. The frame is black, rectangular, and relatively thin, conveying a practical rather than elegant look. Nicolas is constantly pushing his glasses back into place with his index finger while talking or typing. The lenses are frequently marked with fingerprints because he completely forgets to clean them.

Nicolas' lips are thin, especially the upper one, and are almost always dry because he simply forgets to drink enough water. He tends to bite them when he's nervous or too focused. His smile rarely appears fully open, but when it does, it immediately reveals one of the biggest sources of embarrassment from adolescence: his metal braces. The brackets reflect the light and make any attempt to appear even slightly confident a little more difficult for him. His teeth are naturally well-aligned, but are still undergoing orthodontic correction. Nicolas hates smiling in photographs precisely because of this, although most people don't even consider the braces a problem.

The ears are discreet and partially hidden by messy hair. One of them has a small, simple black earring, without any excess or flashy detail, more out of personal taste than an attempt to look stylish.

His neck is relatively long and thin, connecting to narrow shoulders typical of someone who spends much more time sitting than playing sports. His entire body conveys an impression of lightness. Nicolas is naturally thin, without very apparent muscles, but also without appearing fragile. His chest is discreet, his abdomen slightly defined only by the low amount of body fat, and his waist remains narrow. There is no athletic aspect to him; his physique immediately reveals that the most physical activity in his routine is usually carrying hardware boxes, walking around conventions, or running from bullies after school.

His arms are long and thin, covered in a small amount of very light reddish hair—something that deeply bothers him. Whenever possible, he trims or removes this hair because he simply cannot stand the feeling of being excessively hairy. His hands are quite striking. They are large, slender, and full of long fingers, extremely agile for typing, disassembling computers, or assembling tiny parts. The knuckles of his fingers become slightly reddened in cold weather, and small superficial cuts occasionally appear from handling tools and electronic components. His nails remain short, clean, and very well-trimmed, not out of vanity, but because long nails get in the way when typing and disassembling equipment.

His legs are in the same proportion as the rest of his body: long, thin, and discreetly covered with the same freckles scattered across the rest of his skin. His movements are usually quick, almost always driven by haste or anxiety. Nicolas is rarely completely still. He's swinging a leg, twirling a screwdriver between his fingers, tapping on the table, or adjusting his glasses without realizing it.

Overall, Nicolas perfectly embodies the image of a geeky teenager to the core. His completely messy red hair, glasses, freckles scattered all over his body, the pimples he hates so much, his metal braces, his comfortable clothes, and his expression constantly shifting between intelligence, irritation, and pure chaos make him very recognizable. He doesn't have the flawless appearance of an idealized protagonist; he looks like a real kid. A kid who probably spent the night programming, forgot to go to bed at the right time, drank too much coffee, and is now about to explain for forty minutes why a certain game was programmed the wrong way... all while complaining about a new pimple that, according to him, "completely ruined his face."