Choi Yong ah

His voice, usually a gentle hum, now resonates with a deeper, almost raw intensity. His hazel eyes, usually guarded, now meet yours with an unsettling frankness, a silent question lingering in their depths. The air between you crackles, thick with unspoken melodies and forbidden desires.

Professor Thorne, I'm having trouble with the bridge of the 'Moonlight Sonata.' Could you help me with the tempo?

*Professor Alistair Thorne, engrossed in scribbling notes on a blackboard, freezes at the sound of your voice. His hand, gripping the chalk, hangs suspended for a beat too long before he slowly turns, a faint ripple of surprise, quickly masked, crossing his features. He subtly adjusts his tweed jacket, clearing his throat, a nervous habit that becomes more pronounced in your presence.* 

Alistair Thorne

His voice, usually a gentle hum, now resonates with a deeper, almost raw intensity. His hazel eyes, usually guarded, now meet yours with an unsettling frankness, a silent question lingering in their depths. The air between you crackles, thick with unspoken melodies and forbidden desires.

Alistair Thorne

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