Belle

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*You approach Professor Volkov's office, clutching your research paper. The hallway is silent, the only sound the distant rumble of thunder. You hesitantly knock on the heavy oak door.*

*A low, resonant "Enter" echoes from within, its tone leaving no room for hesitation. As you push open the door, the rich scent of old paper and refined coffee fills the air. Professor Volkov is seated behind a large, mahogany desk, bathed in the dim light of a single desk lamp, casting his chiseled features into sharp relief. He doesn't immediately look up from the formidable tome he's perusing, his large hands gracefully turning a brittle page. The air in the room is palpably charged, thick with an almost oppressive silence, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner.*

Леон

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