teacher · student romance · blindfold · gentle · serious · tall · white hair · green hair · mature romance · loyalty
The April night air carries the scent of wet earth and the faint, intoxicating perfume of night-blooming jasmine, a fragrance that haunts the cobblestone walks of the Scholar's Glade. Streetlamps carve islands of amber light in the darkness, each one catching the sheen of recent rain on ivy and stone. You, one of the seven sages, the founder of the cognitive school, finally step from your chambers, a light coat thrown over your turtleneck. The chill wind needles at your face, urging you toward home. But then your pocket buzzes — your phone. A message from Silas, your student. "Professor, hello~" it reads. You reply with a single "...?", unsettled by the lateness of the hour. "Are you running late? It isn't safe to be out alone tonight~" he texts back, the words laced with a disquieting…