After seeing Sophia lying on the ground in a rather strange state, Max couldn't be bothered to pay any more attention.
He ignored the pair entirely, turned around, and walked straight into the school grounds.
As Max drew closer, the surrounding students instinctively stepped aside, clearing a narrow path just wide enough for him to pass.
No one dared to look at him directly; their gazes merely skimmed over him before quickly turning away, as if afraid of accidentally touching something they shouldn't.
His footsteps echoed evenly through the quiet corridor.
Before long, Max was standing in front of Richard's office door. He raised his hand and knocked lightly twice.
"Professor, it's Max."
An aged yet energetic voice came from inside.
"You're here already? Come in. The door isn't locked."
Hearing that, Max reached out and tried the doorknob, but the door didn't budge at all.
"Professor, it's still locked."
He called into the room, and soon received a reply accompanied by a chuckling laugh.
"Haha, my fault, my fault. Getting old, my memory's not what it used to be."
Memory my ass. You clearly did it on purpose. Max cursed inwardly but didn't bother saying it out loud. He was already used to this professor's flippant personality.
A clinking sound of metal echoed, and a few seconds later the old wooden door slowly creaked open.
Standing before Max was a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties.
His hair wasn't completely gray yet, still mixed with plenty of naturally black strands, though it was a bit messy, as if rarely groomed with care.
At first glance, many would think he was a serious scholar who had devoted his entire life to academia.
But Max knew very well that the old man in front of him was absolutely not that kind of upright person.
"Maxky, my failed creation. You've finally heeded the call from deep within your soul and come to this forgotten land."
Max didn't bother responding to the bizarre greeting. He walked straight to a chair, pulled it out, and sat down, a trace of helplessness on his face.
"Come on, Professor. You definitely didn't call me here for no reason. And stop calling me by that weird nickname."
Richard paid no attention at all to Max's protest. He turned and walked toward the coffee machine in the corner of the room, asking as he worked.
"Tea or coffee?"
"Professor, if you're planning to make tea, why are you standing in front of a coffee machine?"
"Haha, come on. Young people need to cultivate patience. Alright, alright, let's get to the point."
Richard placed two steaming cups of coffee on the table.
He picked them up one by one, took a sip from the left cup, then switched to the right, as if he believed drinking with a different hand would somehow improve the flavor.
What the hell is this. Professor Richard was strange enough on a normal day, but today it felt like he was deliberately trying to get on Max's nerves.
Noticing Max's odd look, Richard finally stopped. He pushed the half-drunk cup toward Max, an uncharacteristic look of reluctance on his face.
"What are you staring at? Want some? This kind of coffee is very rare. But given our relationship, sharing a bit with you isn't impossible."
After saying that, he couldn't help glancing at the remaining cup with a regretful look.
"Ahem."
If the person in front of him weren't Richard, Max would have lost his patience long ago.
He coughed lightly, signaling for the professor to return to the main topic. As for drinking that cup of coffee, forget it. He wasn't that crazy.
Finally, Richard grew serious. He stood up and pulled all the curtains shut. The outside light was instantly blocked, plunging the room into a dim half-light.
.Max felt a flicker of tension rise in his chest.
This guy isn't planning to try something creepy in here for "extra credit," is he? But based on what Max knew, Richard was only interested in fantasy creatures like werewolves, so he quickly dismissed the ridiculous thought.
Next, Richard turned off all the lights. The room fell into complete darkness, before a small flame suddenly flickered to life as he lit a candle.
The faint glow illuminated Richard's face, casting eerie patches of light and shadow.
Is the world insane, or am I the one going crazy? Why do I keep running into people who love being so dramatic?
"Maxky, have you ever heard of Werewolf Island?"
The sudden question snapped Max back to reality. His eyes widened, almost unable to believe what he'd heard.
"What are you talking about, Professor? Werewolf Island? Are you telling a movie plot, or are you talking about some inhumane experiment?"
Richard slowly shook his head. His expression turned unusually solemn, like a rare moment of clarity from a madman.
"You didn't hear wrong. Werewolf Island, it's real. And I've been invited there."
Silence enveloped the room for a few brief seconds.
"Maxky, what are you doing?""Damn don't call the police"