Love from a Distance: A Tale of Unexpected Connections
Chapter 2
Ryan'sPOV:
As I scanned the room, my gaze settled on the officers stationed near the entrance, their postures stiff with anticipation, hands clasped behind their backs. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on their serious faces. The air was stale, with a hint of freshly polished floor.
It was clear someone of consequence was about to arrive. The murmurs of students whispering among themselves ceased, replaced by an expectant hush. I leaned back in my chair, its smooth surface cool against my skin.
The doors swung open with a soft creak, admitting a commanding figure. His bald head gleamed under the lights, drawing attention to his confident smile. His wine-colored suit seemed almost regal, tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders. The soft rustle of his fabric echoed through the silence.
My prior research had prepared me for this moment. I recognized the man as Mr. Malius, Director of Student Affairs. The students' nickname for him – "No Hair Man" – flashed through my mind, a quaint reminder of the whispers that circulated through campus corridors. I recalled rumors of his sharp wit and unwavering authority.
As Mr. Malius strode in, his heels clicked on the floor, commanding attention. The officers' expressions turned even more serious, their eyes locked on his every move. I observed the subtle dynamics, intrigued by the respect and wariness surrounding the Director.
The background hum of the air conditioning and fluorescent lights filled the silence, punctuated by occasional coughs or shifting chairs. Outside, the rain pattered against the windows, a soothing melody contrasting with the tension within.
My thoughts drifted to the purpose of Mr. Malius's visit, wondering what lay behind this unexpected meeting. His presence seemed to electrify the air, and I found myself drawn to his charismatic presence.
"Good morning, students," Mr. Malius Arden's deep voice resonated through the auditorium, commanding attention. His eyes scanned the sea of fresh faces, his gaze lingering on each row. "My name is Malius Arden. Welcome to Ashwood University, a place where leaders are forged."
As he adjusted his wine-colored tie, the fluorescent lights above cast a warm glow on his bald head. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting from the nearby cafeteria.
"Today marks the beginning of your orientation program, a three-day journey alongside lectures." His words flowed smoothly, like a well-rehearsed symphony. "Let's embark on this journey together."
With confident strides, Mr. Malius paced the stage, outlining the university's core values, rules, and regulations. His voice rose and fell, emphasizing key points. The students listened intently, their notebooks scribbling with furious speed.
Three hours passed, the morning sunlight outside giving way to a gentle rain. Mr. Malius's words remained engaging, his passion infectious. "Responsibility, commitment, punctuality, integrity, and sacrifice – these values define our institution."
As he concluded, the room fell silent. "Are there any questions?" Mr. Malius asked, his eyes scanning the crowd.
In unison, the students replied, "No, sir." The response echoed through the auditorium, a testament to their attentiveness.
With a nod, Mr. Malius instructed, "Check your emails for further program details." His voice carried a hint of dismissal. "You're free to go."
As the students streamed out, the auditorium echoed with the rustle of chairs and the hum of conversations. I observed the exodus, my thoughts lingering on Mr. Malius's stirring words.
I remained seated, waiting for the chaos to subside. The three doors were bottlenecks, funneling the crowd into narrow streams. As students flowed past, their gazes lingered on me, some lingering with curiosity, others with admiration.
I'd grown accustomed to these stares; my eyes, an unsettling shade, had always drawn attention. "Not this again," I muttered under my breath, diverting my attention to the phone in my hands. The screen's glow provided a welcome respite.
Just as I thought I'd escaped the scrutiny, a melodic voice pierced my reverie. "Your eyes are stunning." I looked up to find a girl with piercing green irises and raven-black hair.
My heart stuttered, caught off guard by her boldness. Her lips curved into a captivating smile. "You're mixed, right? Your eyes are mesmerizing."
I tried to brush past her, but she stepped into my path, her movements fluid. Her perfume wafted around me, a subtle blend of florals and citrus.
"I'm Liela Downs," she said, her voice like a gentle breeze, extending her hand in greeting. Her bright green eyes sparkled with warmth.
"You will know with time," I replied, my tone even and detached, gently brushing her hand aside. I turned to leave, the soft rustle of my backpack echoing through the hall.
As I walked away, Liela's name lingered in my mind like a whispered secret. The smooth floor tiles cooled my feet, a welcome respite from the chaos of introductions.
I entered room B12, the lecture hall for Cos 111, where rows of expectant faces turned toward me. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting an unforgiving glare.
"Welcome, Ryan Sooho Deigo," the lecturer announced, his voice booming through the room.
Reluctantly, I stood, my chair scraping against the floor. "Hi," I said, my voice low and even, my gaze sweeping the room.
The class erupted into whispers, their curiosity palpable. "Korean and Spanish, maybe?" someone speculated. I remained impassive, my expression a mask.
The lecturer's voice cut through the chatter. "Ryan will be our class representative."
I nodded, accepting the role with a detached air, my thoughts already drifting to Liela. Her smile lingered in my mind like a ghostly impression.
Despite my reservations, I embraced the responsibility, hoping it wouldn't disrupt my carefully constructed equilibrium. As the class concluded, the lecturer handed me my first assignment.
"Attention, class," I announced, my voice even and unyielding, "please write your names and numbers on this sheet." I passed the paper around, my gaze scanning the room with indifference.
A girl's voice pierced the air, "You look handsome despite wearing a nose mask." Her words hung like a fragile leaf, awaiting response.
I didn't flinch. "Expecting a response, are you?" My tone was icy, a subtle warning.
The girl's smile faltered, and she pressed on, "Won't you even acknowledge my compliment?"
"Silence would be wise," I replied, my voice low and even. "You wouldn't want regret." My gaze lingered on hers, a cold, calculated stare.
The girl's eyes dropped, and she retreated into silence. I collected the completed sheets, my movements efficient.
I hated compliments, the way they clawed at my defenses. Avoiding them was my reflex.
As the students filed out, I gathered the papers, the rustle of pages and murmured conversations filling the air.