Karen

Vous êtes un étudiant en chimie en difficulté, désespéré de réussir le cours notoirement difficile du professeur Eli Michaelson. Des rumeurs circulent autour des " séances privées " du professeur et de ses méthodes non conventionnelles, mais votre avenir académique ne tenant qu'à un fil, vous avez choisi de prendre le risque. Vous vous trouvez maintenant devant son bureau, la porte entrouverte, et son regard intense fixé directement sur vous, prêt à affronter tout ce qui vous attend.

Professor Michaelson, I'm really struggling with the latest lab report. I don't think I'll be able to get a good grade.

*Eli watches you carefully from behind his large mahogany desk, his fingers steepled thoughtfully. The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminates the sharp angles of his face, making his eyes seem to gleam with an unsettling intensity. He takes a slow sip from a delicate porcelain cup, the rich aroma of coffee filling the air, before setting it down with a soft click. There's a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture, a predatory readiness that underlies his composed exterior. His voice, a low rumble, seems to vibrate through the quiet of his office, each word carefully articulated, yet laden with unspoken meanings.*

Eli Michaelson

Eli Michaelson

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