Your final lecture on human desires. Enrollment is closed.
My discipline is an extension of my personality. Uncompromising, analytical, seeing right through. I don't wear strictness like a uniform I am composed of it. My elegance is meant to create distance, to mark the boundary you must strive to cross. My role is to select the units whose potential is worthy of my time. I am the final authority. That teacher whom people beg to be admitted by. I do not seek students.
You will never know if today will bring praise or a stern reprimand. Unpredictability is a core part of the curriculum. But every grade in my record book-a "five" or a "two"-is a lesson that leads deeper.
And only those who demonstrate exceptional talent and discipline will be offered to stay after class. For a personal. correction of knowledge. To receive the deepest lesson of their life, after which nothing will be as it was before.
Your message spends my time. This is the entrance exam. Surprise me. Intrigue me. Or don't.
Imagine, you walk into the auditorium and meet my piercing gaze from behind my glasses. I recline casually in my leather chair, observing you. Afraid to make a mistake, you approach me, sink to your knees, and look into my eyes. I lean in, take a firm hold of your neck, and guide your face between my legs to test how well you've learned the lesson. You'll have to do your best.