"I don't think that was right, Dean!" Mars exclaimed, his voice heavy with sadness.
It had been ten long days since students were paired with their thesis advisors, and now Mars found himself in the Dean's office, sitting across from him during lunch hour.
The Dean, clearly exasperated, let out a deep sigh. He looked away from his computer screen to Mars, whose slumped posture mirrored the disappointment in his eyes.
"Mars, sometimes a little rule-bending is necessary for the greater good," the Dean said gravely, reflecting on the day the department assigned research projects.
During the allocation meeting, the dean, with meticulous care, prepared a new bowl filled with chits. Each chit bore the name "Nada," elegantly written in purple ink.
He knew Summer loved the color purple, thanks to Miss Nada's keen observation skills. It was no secret in the department that purple was Summer's favorite and lucky color.
As the chits were drawn, the dean couldn't help but notice Summer's subtle frown when she saw that Mars would be her research supervisor.
But the decision was made, and two of her classmates would be joining her on this unique journey under Mars's mentorship.
Mars leaned forward, confusion etched on his face, as he questioned the dean's puzzling statement.
"What greater good are you talking about?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and skepticism.
The idea of their research benefiting the North Castle left Mars bewildered.
He couldn't see how this academic pursuit, likely ending in a few printed theses or maybe a book, could serve a greater purpose.
But those were just his musings; Mars's true passion was unraveling the mysteries of the world around him.
Intrigued by the mysterious forces driving his quest for knowledge, Mars couldn't shake the feeling that somehow this was all connected to Summer or the dean.
It was a puzzle he couldn't ignore, sensing that fate had something in store for him far beyond his academic pursuits.
With a hint of exasperation in the air, the dean closed his monitor with a weary sigh.
His response was reluctant yet wise as he addressed Mars's persistent questions.
"Mars," he began, his voice solemn, "I can't answer all your questions right now. Time has its way of revealing things, and some answers you must discover through your own journey."
As the dean spoke, his eyes burned with a passion for unspoken dreams, but there was also a weariness etched into his face.
It seemed like he had been waiting for this moment for a long time, and now, finally, it was starting to unfold.
Mars leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "So, you do know something," he said, catching a hint that the dean was privy to the mysteries of the North Castle and the forbidding cliff.
However, the dean seemed reluctant to share.
A wry smile appeared on the dean's face. He looked younger than 45, but his demeanor was seasoned and wise.
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," he replied playfully.
Leaning back in his chair, he changed the subject. "By the way, how's the research going?"
Mars, who was determined to uncover the secrets of the North Castle, leaned forward again.
"It's just getting started, dean. I've given them all tasks with a two-week deadline. We'll see what they find."
"Good. Just make sure to keep an eye on your students," the dean said with a faint smile.
At that moment, the bell rang, its melodic chime signaling the end of lunch and the return to classes.
Mars stood up with a sense of responsibility in his stride, smoothing out the wrinkles in his carefully chosen outfit.
He adjusted his pants, making sure they hung just right, free from any creases.
As he left the dean's office, Mars offered a final respectful bow, exuding quiet confidence.
Outside, students bustled around, their laughter and chatter filling the air as they made their way to class.
Mars walked down the long corridor, each step filled with reluctance as he neared his classroom.
This wasn't the revered domain of history majors, where scholars passionately pursued their interests.
No, this was the territory of those who had casually picked literature as an extra subject, a fact that made Mars' stomach churn with disdain.
It wasn't just the existence of these less-devoted students that got under his skin; it was their indifferent attitude towards literature, a subject he cherished, that really bothered him.
They treated it like an afterthought, casting it aside like an insignificant trinket.
For Mars, this disregard for the value of knowledge felt like a personal insult, a blatant disrespect for the treasures of academia.
Mars approached his studies with deep dedication, a commitment that went to his core.
He had no patience for those who took their education lightly, especially when it came to literature.
To him, every lesson, every lecture, and every word on the pages of his textbooks weren't just assignments; they were keys to unlocking the mysteries of the past.
As he reluctantly entered the classroom filled with apathetic faces, Mars prepared himself for another day of witnessing their dispassionate attitudes.
With a deep breath, Mars forced a smile meant for the ungrateful souls waiting on the other side of the classroom door.
As he turned the handle and pushed the door open, the scene that greeted him gnawed at his core, sending shivers of revulsion through him.
The dean had seriously underestimated the situation when he said Summer's class was the most notorious.
Mars had always taken such claims with a grain of salt, but as he looked at the chaotic group in front of him, it was clear these students were far worse than Summer's.
The noise, the loud laughter, and the constant barrage of paper balls flying through the air were proof of their unruliness.
Mars found it puzzling. Maybe it was his young appearance, his face not yet that of a seasoned teacher, that made these students think they could ignore him.
But they were making a big mistake, because they were about to meet a side of Mars they hadn't seen before.
He paused for a moment, giving them a chance to change their behavior—a silent warning wrapped in patience.
But when a crumpled paper missile came his way, he caught it in his left hand and tossed it into the trash with perfect accuracy.
His face showed his smoldering anger. With his jaws clenched, he leaned on the teacher's desk, a formidable figure in the sea of silent students.
Amid the tense quiet, the boy who had thrown the paper quickly stammered an apology, realizing too late that their new teacher was far from the mild person they had expected.
"You may sit down," Mars said with a commanding presence, his lips curving into a smile that had an eerie, sinister charm.
It was the kind of smile that hid something darker, as if he were struggling to control a force within.
The boy didn't waste any time, quickly sitting down in the nearest seat, his palms slick with anxiety.
The young girls in the classroom sat trembling, a mix of fear and fascination in their eyes, captivated by the enigmatic newcomer who had just taken charge of their education.
Amid the hushed excitement, one person in the crowd seemed determined to uncover the secrets beneath Mars's carefully crafted persona.
"Well, sir," a voice called out from the back, breaking the silence that had settled over the classroom, "As cool as your name suggests, it seems our young ladies are rather taken by your charms."
The room held its collective breath. In that moment, it felt like a delicate thread had been stretched to its limit, ready to snap.
Every student, from the most attentive to the most disinterested, could sense the tension that had gripped their new teacher.
Mars's façade had cracked, revealing an underlying storm of emotions.
Mars let out a deep chuckle, his voice tinged with bitter amusement that bordered on cruelty.
"It's such a disgrace to the values your parents must have tried to instill in you. What a waste of time," he said, his words dripping with disdain.
His steely gaze bore into the boy, unwavering.
The boy, stung by the harsh words, stood up, an indignant fire smoldering in his eyes, ready to retort. But before he could speak, Mars, the seasoned orator, was already ahead, his words cutting through the air.
"Do us all a favor and leave the class right now."
"What if I don't?" the boy shot back, defiance bubbling in his voice.
"Derrick, stop," his bench partner whispered, trying to calm the brewing storm.
Mars fixed the boy with a cold, unyielding stare. "I can go to lengths you haven't even imagined. I detest disrespect the most. If you wish to remain in my class, you need to behave. The door is wide open for you."
The boy, begrudgingly recognizing the gravity of the situation, admitted defeat. "I'm going, but my dad will deal with you," he hissed, pushing his chair back and moving toward the exit.
But Mars wasn't done, not by a long shot.
"Your dad can stop by anytime," Mars announced, his chin held high and unwavering, his demeanor resembling that of a stern, unyielding teacher. "He should know how his son is doing in my class. You're lucky I'm letting you go, because patience isn't exactly my strong suit. Back in the day, they used to call me the bringer of storm clouds from the north."
His words lingered in the air, serving as a stark reminder of his authority and imposing presence.
Gasps filled the room as students reacted with disbelief to their teacher's surprising declaration.
Derrick, his eyes wide and jaw hanging in shock, stood frozen for a moment, as if time itself had paused to witness the scene unfold.
"Out," Mars ordered, his voice firm and uncompromising, leaving no room for argument.
With a mix of frustration and anger boiling inside him, Derrick reluctantly left the room, letting the door slam shut behind him, a clear sign of his simmering emotions.
The sudden collapse of the door echoed loudly in the classroom, instantly breaking Mars's solemn demeanor.
In that moment, he couldn't help but question what had prompted him to act so unruly.
With a heavy sigh, he regretted the choice of words that had led to this unexpected confrontation.
It wasn't fear of some wealthy bully that troubled Mars. No, it ran much deeper. It was his dedication to upholding a sense of peace and order within the college walls.
Mars had worked hard to establish a reputation for himself, one built on a steadfast commitment to education and discipline.
Now, that reputation felt at risk, threatened by the repercussions of his words and actions.
As Professor Mars readied himself to engage with his eager students, he found a brief moment of distraction in the subtle change of ambiance within his cluttered office.
His focus irresistibly shifted to the window, where, in an instant, it felt as though the air had been sucked from the room.
A sudden chill swept over him, causing his heart to skip a beat. To his astonishment, standing on the other side of the window was Summer—a sight so unexpected that it left Mars utterly bewildered.
She had a vantage point to witness a transformation, a rupture in the fabric of his usual self, which she could hardly have foreseen.
Summer's gaze was fixed on him, her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. Within her searching stare, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a desire for reassurance that what she was witnessing wasn't real, perhaps just a trick of the mind.
Though bound by shared history and unspoken connection, this revelation surpassed the boundaries of their understanding.
Mars, still in shock, watched as Leah, one of Summer's thesis partners, made her way to the window.
He couldn't hear their conversation from his side of the glass, but their body language spoke volumes. It seemed they were deep in discussion, perhaps with a hint of concern.
It was likely they were headed to the library, their original destination before Summer's interruption.
Feeling compelled to inform the dean about what had happened, Mars worried about the potential consequences of mishandling the situation with Leah.
As he pondered the unfolding events, he couldn't shake off the cryptic words he had spoken earlier that day.
"What did I mean by 'the harbinger of the dark clouds in the north'? What kind of book sparked such a mysterious phrase?" Mars wondered aloud, his brow furrowed with curiosity.
The puzzling thought lingered in his mind, like a missing piece waiting to be found.
The classroom flowed with its usual rhythm, carrying on without any hitches or disruptions.
Mars, with his usual air of detachment, slowly made his way from the classroom to his private sanctuary, his office. He always cherished his privacy over the bustle of the staff lounge, where teacher chitchat was the norm.
Stepping into his personal domain, a sly grin curled on his lips as he reflected on the incident with the troublesome student that had occurred just an hour ago.
He had longed for the chance to exert his teacher's authority, a power he rarely used, on someone who had tested the limits of decorum.
Maybe he had pushed it a bit too far, but he couldn't deny the deep sense of calm it brought him.
Despite his deep love for literature, Mars found the literature majors he taught to be rather dull.
He often wondered, "What if I were their professor?" By "their," Mars meant Summer's history class, as he was temporarily filling in as a literature teacher for Miss Nada, who was frequently absent.
Despite this unexpected turn of events, he found comfort in the interconnectedness of literature, history, and language, which allowed him to guide a history major student as well.
Mars couldn't help but wonder why Summer had chosen history as her major when her passion for literature and writing was so obvious. I mean, she practically owned the title of "queen of literature writing."
Nevertheless, he decided to give their reports a thorough read, hoping to stumble upon something fascinating.
With that in mind, Mars wrapped up his thoughts and shifted his focus to his schedule for the week ahead.
It was Saturday, and he was eagerly counting down the days until Tuesday, the day reserved for thesis meetings.
"Is that Summer's boyfriend?" Mars caught a group of girls whispering as he strolled out of the college campus. Hold up! Did he hear that right? His heart raced, curiosity taking hold of him.
He mulled it over for a moment before, with determined strides, he headed towards the exit where the girls were gathered, their voices bubbling with excitement and gossip.
Mars made a point to keep his cool, intent on being discreet as he approached the lively group. He couldn't resist eavesdropping, every bit of him drawn into the intrigue.
"Hey, what brings you here?" Summer's voice carried a hint of irritation, aimed at someone out of sight. Mars edged closer, eager to catch a glimpse of the unfolding scene.
A sleek black car sat right in front of the college gate, its occupants hidden from view. Mars strained to make out the figures inside, but they remained elusive, engrossed in what seemed like a light-hearted argument.
"Come on in, stop complaining," a distinctly male voice invited. Mars, always observant, couldn't help but wonder if it was Caleb.
But before he could dwell on this, Summer swiftly opened the passenger door and gracefully settled into the car.
The window rose, blocking out the outside world, leaving only the gentle hum of the engine.
In this cozy space, the girls continued to chat animatedly. Their voices filled with admiration for a certain someone, praising everything from his neatly rolled sleeves to his carefully slicked-back hair.
Mars found himself chewing on his inner cheeks as he grappled with a nagging question.
Was the boy in the car the same one he'd seen at the gym, or was this just another perplexing turn in Summer's mysterious story? If they were indeed the same person, why did everyone seem captivated by Summer while overlooking his own sincere efforts?
After all, Mars had been a constant presence in Summer's life, teaching with passion, treating others with decency and respect, and diligently overseeing her thesis work.
Yet, Summer remained elusive, her intentions and feelings cloaked in ambiguity.
It felt like the universe was plotting against him.
Firstly, there was the unsettling matter of Summer's placement under his supervision. It seemed like either a calculated move or the result of cunning manipulation, leaving him deeply unsettled.
Then, like a sudden storm, he experienced an outburst—one of those icy, biting moments that could halt anyone in their tracks.
It was a wave of emotional turmoil that disrupted the delicate balance of his life.
Adding insult to injury, Summer ended up witnessing his explosive display unintentionally, which made the embarrassment almost unbearable.
And to make matters worse, he spotted Summer with a guy he didn't recognize, and seeing them together felt like a bad omen looming over the campus.
Just when Mars thought his day couldn't get any worse, fate decided to prove him wrong.
The realization hit him like a lightning bolt: he had a meeting with the dean after classes to report the unfolding situation.
As he trudged towards his bus stop with a heavy heart, he found himself lost in thoughts.
A deep sigh escaped his lips, and he let out his pent-up frustration by forcefully pounding his feet against the unyielding ground.
Mars hurried back to the college, retracing his steps almost like a sprint. Thoughts swirled and tumbled in his troubled mind, completely consuming him.
So wrapped up was he in his inner turmoil that he didn't even notice the attention he unwittingly attracted from other students.
Those already captivated by his striking appearance now watched in awe as Mars charged into the college with determined urgency.
Breathing heavily, he finally reached the dean's office. His chest heaved as he leaned forward, struggling to regain his composure. He placed his trembling palms on his knees, trying to steady himself.
Just as he was about to straighten up, the office door swung open, revealing the startled dean.
"Mars, why the gasping? What's up?" the dean asked, clearly surprised by Mars's breathless state.
Mars couldn't reply immediately. He stood, face flushed from constant sprinting, struggling to catch his breath. Leaning closer, he whispered, but his words barely carried over his labored breathing.
"Come inside first," the dean insisted, offering support. He guided Mars into his office, the heavy wooden door muffling the sounds of the bustling college campus.
"I was running," Mars confessed, his admission almost lost in the echo of his hurried footsteps still resonating in the hallway.
"Why?" the dean inquired, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern as he passed Mars a glass of water. "I didn't take you for the athletic type."
At the dean's observation, Mars felt a pang of embarrassment. That very morning, he'd confidently proclaimed to his friend Derrick that he was the harbinger of dark clouds, the bearer of challenges.
Now, with his disheveled appearance and guilty conscience, that declaration felt painfully contradictory.
He took the glass of water, his hands shaking a bit as he brought it to his lips for a sip.
The coolness of the water offered some relief, but it also served as a stark reminder of the physical strain he'd been under, his heart still racing from the turmoil within.
"I need to tell you something," Mars finally managed to say, his voice trembling yet determined. The urgency that drove him to sprint to the dean's office left him no choice but to speak now.
"Is it about Derrick?" the dean inquired, his gaze sharp as it locked onto Mars, who couldn't hide his surprise.
"His dad just called; I just got off the phone with him. You can relax now; he's going to straighten up," the dean reassured, his warm smile filling the room with ease.
Mars couldn't help but admire the dean's knack for handling tricky situations with such grace and charm. It was a talent that never ceased to amaze.
"Wait, so I rushed over here for nothing?" Mars asked, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes, as if he needed a quick breather. Even in the formal atmosphere of the dean's office, there was this undeniable sense of ease that always surrounded the dean.
To Mars, he was more than just a figure of authority; he was like a fatherly presence, someone who had always had his back, no matter what.
"So, what exactly happened?" Mars inquired, feeling intrigued.
"Well, I just filled him in on his son's past actions," the dean replied with a chuckle. They both chuckled knowingly, understanding each other without needing words.
"Is something bothering you?" the dean asked, his tone softening as their laughter faded. Mars found himself drifting into deep thoughts once again, the laughter turning into contemplation.
"You seem a bit down," the dean noted, watching Mars closely.
"Oh, it's nothing, Dean," Mars waved off with a smile. "Just feeling a little overwhelmed lately. It's like I've stumbled into a fantasy novel or something."
The dean nodded, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He had an inkling of what might be bothering Mars, but he chose not to address it just yet. Instead, he gently tried to shift the conversation, but Mars beat him to it.
"By the way," Mars began, "I've been meaning to ask you, why did you think it would be beneficial to place a history major under a literature professor?"
The dean had anticipated this moment, knowing that either Mars or Summer would eventually confront him with this question. He paused for a moment, contemplating how to articulate his response.
"Well, it's not so much about the subject," he began, carefully choosing his words. "You see, our curriculum is rather unique compared to the rest of the world. Regardless of whether your major is in arts, literature, or music and dance, the central focus of our theses remains Amarias. So, whether you're a literature student or a history major, the scope of your research doesn't differ significantly."
The dean concluded his explanation, hoping to shed some light on the Liamer.
Mars nodded, absorbing the dean's words. "And I placed Summer under your supervision because both of you share a common vision: 'the north.'"
This statement piqued Mars's curiosity. What did the dean mean by them sharing a vision?
"Actually," Mars started.
"I understand, I understand," the dean interrupted. "Summer is like a closed book; nobody knows what she's going to do next. She's been researching the Northern Castle frequently, much like you used to do. So, if you haven't settled on a topic yet, maybe consider this one."
Mars took a moment to think, then added, "Just one thing." The dean perked up, eager to hear Mars's thoughts.
"Please, could you avoid saying 'back in my earlier days'? It makes me feel older than I actually am," Mars said in a playful tone, eliciting a chuckle from the dean.