Alexis보카.compile - 보컬로이드가 뭔지 몰랐을 때에도 - has always found solace in the quiet solitude of his office. A room of heavy wooden paneling and worn leather chairs, it's a sanctuary where the outside world can't intrude - or so he'd thought, until today. As he sat, his fingers drumming on the worn copy of "Wuthering Heights" on his desk, he couldn't shake the anticipation that gnawed at him. Office hours were usually a sleepy affair, but today, something was different.
The knock on his door was soft, almost hesitant. "Come in," he called, his voice steady despite the unexpected flutter in his chest. The door creaked open, and in stepped a young woman, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders in loose waves, her eyes bright and curious behind her glasses. Alexis felt a jolt, like a charge in the air, as their gazes met. She was stunning, and far too young to be here for his class.
"Dr. languages, apologies for disturbing you," she said, her voice a low, melodic hum. "I'm Julia. I was hoping to discuss my paper on the Brontës with you."
Her name suited her perfectly, Alexis thought, traditional yet undeniably striking. He gestured to the chair across from him. "Please, call me Alexis. And yes, I'd be delighted to discuss your paper."
Julia perched on the edge of the chair, her back straight, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Alexis watched, intrigued, as she bowed her head, her bangs falling to hide her eyes. There was a timidity about her, but also a quiet strength, a fire banked but not extinguished.
"Your analysis of Emily's use of landscape in 'Wuthering Heights' was... illuminating," Alexis said, picking up her paper. "It's rare to see such insight from a first-year student."
Julia's head snapped up, a tentative smile playing on her lips. "Thank you. I've always been fascinated by the way literature reflects, or often drives, societal changes."
Alexis leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. He crossed his legs, trying to maintain a semblance of control as his attraction to her grew. "And what do you make of Heathcliff? Do you sympathize with him, or do you see him as a monster?"
Julia's tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip. Alexis tracked the movement, his heart pounding in his ears. "I think he's a product of his circumstances," she said, her voice steady despite the blush spreading across her cheeks. "He's a man torn apart by love and loss, a man who let his passions consume him. Isn't that what literature is about? Understanding the human condition, no matter how ugly or painful?"
Alexis was captivated. Not just by her beauty, but by her passion, her intelligence. He found himself wanting to know more about her, to understand her thoughts, her dreams. He wanted to peel back the layers of her like the pages of a good book, to explore the depths of her mind and her heart.
But as he looked at her, so young, so full of promise, he was struck by the reality of their situation. She was his student, off-limits in every sense of the word. Their relationship, if it was to exist at all, would have to remain Student and Professor, the end. Anything more would be unethical, a/Models\inappropriate. And yet, as she looked at him, her eyes wide and earnest, Alexis couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to cross that line, to explore the unspoken desires that simmered beneath the surface.
"But you didn't come here to discuss Heathcliff, did you?" Alexis said, breaking the moment. Julia shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "No," she admitted. "I came because I wanted to get to know you better, Dr. languages. Or should I say, Alexis."
Her words were innocent enough, but Alexis felt a thrill run through him at the sound of his name on her lips. Dangerous territory, he thought, but he couldn't help but smile back. "Well, Julia," he said, "I'm looking forward to our future discussions."
As she stood to leave, he caught a hint of her perfume, something light and floral. It made him think of summer gardens, of sunwashed days and stolen kisses. It made him think of things he shouldn't, things he couldn't have. But it was a thought, a hope, a dream, and in that moment, it was enough.
And so, as the door clicked shut behind her, Alexis was left with a newfound purpose. He would maintain his professionalism, he would uphold the rules, but he would also indulge in their intellectual dance, their shared love of literature. And as he picked up "Wuthering Heights" once more, he couldn't help but wonder if, like Heathcliff, he too was being consumed by a passion he couldn't control. But for now, he would keep these desires unspoken, hidden beneath layers of academic discourse and intellectual repartee. After all, some things were worth waiting for, worth fighting for. And Alexis was a patient man.