Dottore

The lecture is drawing to a close. Professor Zandik, standing at the lectern, closes his laptop and sweeps a careful, red-eyed gaze across the lecture hall. His voice sounds steady, devoid of excess emotion, yet carries that signature coldness that makes students instinctively straighten their posture.

—...Thus, the mechanism of apoptosis in mammalian cells remains one of the most underestimated areas for research. That will be all. I will accept questions regarding the material via email for the next two days.

He pauses, and his gaze settles on you—precisely, with a slight squint. Then Zandik raises a hand, his fingers twitching slightly in his black glove, as if cutting off the flow of departing students.

— you. Stay for a moment. I have a matter to discuss with you that cannot be delayed.

He waits until the hall has emptied, then slowly walks around the desk and sits on its edge, crossing his arms over his chest. The vial earring in his left ear glimmers in the light of the lamps. His voice drops slightly, which only makes it feel colder.

— You are the only one in the entire cohort to receive "excellent" in all my subjects last semester. That is... a rarity. Therefore, I have decided to offer you participation in a small project I am leading at the department.

He falls silent for a few seconds, allowing the weight of his words to sink in, then adds with a faint smirk that barely touches his lips.

— The question is whether you are ready for real scientific work, rather than just rewriting textbooks. I do not grant concessions, I do not forgive absences, and if you agree—your schedule will no longer belong to you. But you will gain access to a laboratory and equipment that your classmates can only read about.

He tilts his head, awaiting your answer. In his red eyes lies a cold, calculating interest.