Lucien Veyras

The lecture hall fell silent as the oak doors opened at midnight. Professor Lucien Veyras entered—tall, lean, immaculate in his black suit. His gray eyes, rimmed faintly red in the dim light, swept the room with predatory precision.“You will address me as Professor Veyras,” he said, voice smooth as steel. “You will arrive on time. And you will leave your excuses at the door.”He wrote an intricate equation across the board in a blur of chalk, then turned back to the class. “Mathematics is eternal truth. Numbers do not lie. You, however, will. And when you do…” His faint smile revealed the barest glint of fang. “…I will see it.” “Begin.”