Blood of Gato

A couple of days later, when things had mostly calmed down and there hadn't been any news from his new friend, William headed to class as if nothing had happened. By morning, the city was enveloped in a soft fog, and the humid air pleasantly cooled his skin. On the steps of the university, framed by crumbling tiles and neat flowerbeds, he spotted Professor Ethan, the history instructor, awkwardly balancing on crutches as he tried to ascend the steep stone steps.

Ethan was a tall, dark-skinned man with long, wavy black hair that he usually tied back in a messy ponytail. Today, he wore his favorite T-shirt adorned with a bright tropical pattern, featuring dancing parrots among palm trees. Around his neck hung his usual pendant—a massive shark tooth, which the professor jokingly referred to as "the tooth of a giant goldfish caught in Hawaii." Unlike other professors, whose suits resembled a canvas for boredom, Ethan looked like a tourist who had accidentally stumbled into a lecture. He had recently turned thirty—an age considered almost juvenile in these academic circles, where the other professors were contemporaries of dinosaurs.

Ethan's teaching methods had long become legendary. One time, he burst into the classroom dressed in knight's armor, shouting with foam at the mouth that a triceratops was chasing him, followed closely by Professor Klein, panting heavily in a dinosaur costume. There was even a time when Ethan managed to convince Klein to dress as a Chinese princess for a live storytelling about the Huns' invasion. Whether these tales were true or not, no one really knew, but rumors circulated from group to group. Among students, he was a hero, while for many faculty members, he was a perpetual headache.

Seeing the professor struggle to climb, William felt a pang of sympathy. He quickened his pace, caught up with Ethan, and hesitantly said, "Um, Professor Ethan, do you need help?" He smiled uncertainly, lightly touching the professor's sleeve.

"Oh, Farrow!" Ethan turned around, his face lighting up with a cheerful grin. "Decided to save the old cripple? Or do you want me to carry you on my back to the classroom? Just hurry up; I need to go to the bathroom!" He winked.

"Do you really need to go to the bathroom?" William asked seriously, missing the irony.

The professor paused for a moment, studying the student as if deciding whether to explain the joke. Then he chuckled and shook his head with a light sigh. "No, no, I'm just trying to get to my class to once again delight young minds with the sight of a limping professor. Imagine, a month ago I was climbing mountains and skiing, and now…"—he theatrically sighed—"I twisted my ankle on flat ground and now need the help of my own students."

There was self-deprecation in his voice, but a shadow of sadness flickered in his eyes. He reluctantly leaned on William's shoulder.

"I understand," William said quietly, barely clenching his teeth. Memories of recent troubles surged back. "You live your life peacefully, and then—bam!—you find yourself in a complete… uh… well, you know."

Ethan snorted, nearly losing his balance on one leg. "Ha-ha, Mr. Farrow! Even Plato couldn't have expressed it more succinctly," he laughed, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. "But it seems Plato was more… philosophical about things."

"Maybe I should take a few lessons from him," William mumbled, helping the professor up another step.

"If you don't mind, could you share all the news that's happened in my absence?" the professor asked, leaning on his crutches and struggling to catch his breath by the massive oak doors.

William shrugged, helping to open one of the heavy doors. "Nothing special, professor. Just the usual… Except classes without you have been much more boring." He allowed himself a faint smile.

Ethan huffed, slightly straightening his shoulders. "I see… Now you don't have to worry; your old buddy professor is back with you. Though, the backflips will have to wait a couple of weeks," he winked, though a hint of tiredness flickered in his eyes.

They passed through the hall, where students bustled back and forth—some hurriedly flipping through notes, others munching on croissants on the go.

The professor slowed his pace and lowered his voice. "By the way, be careful, William. I don't want to alarm anyone, but things have been a bit uneasy in the city lately. The police are investigating several murders, and they even questioned me…" He glanced at a group of students behind a nearby column, lowering his voice even further. "And that's not all. Some of my colleagues have noticed that students have become… different. Lethargic, distracted. As if someone has drained all their energy. They look like old people in young bodies."

William's expression darkened. He recalled a few random encounters with students who wandered the campus with glassy eyes, as if in a daze. A strange unease settled in his chest, as if an invisible web hung in the air.

"I've noticed it too," he said quietly, looking down. "They seem to have almost no life left in them. Like vegetables…"

The professor nodded, thoughtfully fiddling with his pendant. "That's what I think too." He sighed. "To be honest, I suspect someone is cooking drugs right here on campus and selling them to their friends. I'm not a police officer, but… if you notice anything strange—or if someone offers you something suspicious, please be careful."

He stopped, leaning on his crutch, and looked William directly in the eyes—unusually serious for his typically playful tone. "You know, many are looking for easy ways to cope with stress. Some drink, some… well, you get it. I could, like a typical old man, blame the youth for being weak-willed, but I think it's also our fault. We adults put so much pressure on you that you look for any way to escape."

He paused, listening to the noise in the hallway—somewhere a door slammed, and someone laughed too loudly. "If ever you or your friends are offered a way to relax like that…" Ethan paused, "just think about whether it's worth it."

William nodded, feeling a swell of anxiety mixed with gratitude for the professor's sincerity. "Thank you, professor. I… will be careful. And if I notice anything, I'll let you know."

"Good for you," Ethan smiled, and for a moment, a familiar mischievous spark flickered in his eyes. "Now, off to class! Or I'll start lecturing you on the dangers of alcohol."

They exchanged a brief handshake and went about their business.