#Ilya Koryakov

September had arrived, that first day of autumn that brought both irritation and joy to many. Some had already graduated from school, while others were just beginning their journey into the world of knowledge. The leaves on the trees were in no hurry to fall, the weather was warm, even hot, and a gentle breeze gently ruffled their hair, creating a feeling of freshness.

Denis, a fourteen-year-old boy, had entered eighth grade, which meant new subjects and more challenging tasks lay ahead. He had a striking appearance: short white hair that hung like a curtain over his cheeks, cloudy blue eyes, and fair skin. Due to poor eyesight, Denis wore round-framed glasses. He was a top student, but not an excellent one—he cheated on everything and got Bs.

After a boring assembly and the principal's opening remarks, the students went to their classrooms. Denis sat down at the fourth desk in the first row by the window, having managed to find his place before the bell rang. Maria Nikolaevna, their teacher, who had been teaching there for three years, entered the classroom. She wasn't alone, but with a young man, whom she introduced to the class:

— Guys! Calm down and raise your heads! Allow me to introduce you to Ilya Koryakov, your new history teacher and homeroom teacher.

Ilya was handsome: short black hair, slightly tousled by the wind, green eyes, a few small moles on his face, and a height of about 178 centimeters. He looked to be around nineteen or twenty years old, but he was dressed formally. Denis looked at Ilya with some disdain, thinking that he, like the other young teachers, would soon leave. Ilya caught Denis's gaze and involuntarily smiled slightly. After a while, everyone signed their names and received their textbooks, Ilya taught his first class, and everything went like clockwork. Another hour passed, and Denis, with dull thoughts, left school and headed home.