10. Rude Woman

Professor Adrian Whitmore was lost in thought as he walked slowly down the street, the wind blowing gently. Xavier Candlelight.

This boy was more interesting than he had expected. Whitmore had met many gifted students; some were ambitious, some were geniuses but arrogant, some were just bright minds lost in the system. But Xavier was different.

The boy's posture, the way he spoke, the calculating look in his eyes... He was aware of his talent, but made no effort to show it. He preferred to keep a low profile and embrace mediocrity. Many might have mistaken this for timidity, but Whitmore understood that he was doing it on purpose.

Why would such a brilliant mind choose to hide?

What Whitmore knew about Xavier was not the sort of thing that would be found in the ordinary research files of an academic. In fact, he knew far more about Xavier than he should have. It wasn't hard to find out about the boy's academic achievements, how he came to Cambridge, the scholarship process. But some of the details... no one knew how he had learned them.

It was interesting. Very interesting.

Whitmore remembered Xavier's questioning but distant attitude. He wondered why someone like him would try to keep a low profile. He was too careful for a student. Despite his young age, he had built a wall against the world.

But what Whitmore felt was more than a professor recognizing a gifted student.

"It's as if this child...is the beginning of something important."

"And if he's not, I'm going to make sure he is."

One of Whitmore's greatest ambitions was a successor who would ensure that his own research continued before he died.

_______________

Xavier walked on, lifting the collar of his jacket into the cool morning air. He was still unfamiliar with Cambridge, but a few days in this city had taught him a few things. The people were active, but also distant. Everyone seemed to be getting somewhere, but no one was mingling.

The gravel road before him was covered with a layer of damp fog from earlier in the day. His eyes scanned the historic buildings that lined the street. Elliot flashed before her eyes - but He stopped herself immediately. Thinking about him all the time might cause her to ignore the problems He had to solve here.

He sighed to herself and collected her thoughts. He had to get used to Cambridge. This was not a temporary refuge, but the place where he would build his future.

He didn't want to go back to her dorm room. It made more sense to explore the area. He walked through the narrow streets and stopped when he reached a bridge. Water flowed slowly under the stone bridge. He put his hand in his pocket and looked at his phone - no message. Good. No one was expecting him.

A few students passed by. Laughter, conversations, the life they shared. Xavier was alone and he didn't mind. He was one of those people who didn't feel obliged to fit in with everyone, to belong to every group.

During his weeks in Cambridge, Xavier had completely settled into his routine. He was lost between his lectures, library hours, and solitary walks. Even though he was studying English Literature and Creative Writing, he let his mind wander into different areas. Sometimes he would go to a physics class and think about complex equations, sometimes he would go to a math class and get lost in abstract concepts, which gave him a strange satisfaction.

In literature classes, he would analyze intensively, reflecting on classical and modern texts. He studied the techniques of writers and tried to develop his own style. But like other students, he avoided social debates. Even in group work, he usually stood aside, preferring to work alone. It made more sense to him to spend time with books and theories than with people.

He enjoyed the historic atmosphere of Cambridge, but the academic environment was not what he expected. Most of the students were trying to look intellectual to each other, trying to prove themselves with complex sentences. Xavier didn't need to do that. He believed that knowledge should be a process of discovery, not a means of vanity.

Not once did he try to make a friend. Lectures, readings, writings, and occasional classes in physics and mathematics were enough for him. In this way he was at peace. But from the outside, others must have seen him as either distant or too secretive.

With these thoughts in mind, he left the library and breathed in the cold air. After sitting inside for hours, a walk in the open air would do him good. He still loved to get lost in the streets of Cambridge. Walking in and out of unfamiliar streets, observing the surroundings, was one of the best ways to calm his mind.

Xavier was walking in the cool evening air, books in hand, when he suddenly felt a hard bump. He lost his balance and the books slipped out of his hands and fell to the ground. He rolled his eyes and looked up at the person who had bumped into him.

A tall woman stood in front of him, looking very confident. The collar of her black cloak was turned up and her dark black hair fell in a perfect wave over her shoulders. Her posture was defiant - she held her head up slightly, looking down at him. The posture of a ruler.

But what really caught Xavier's attention was the expression on her face. She didn't seem to be expecting an apology. She didn't seem to think about helping. She just stood there and looked at him.

Xavier frowned. Really? He bent down and started to pick up his books. The woman did not move. She didn't even show the slightest sign of bowing. How nice.

As he picked up his books, he did a quick mental analysis. This woman thinks she is too high.

Just as he was about to get up, she spoke for the first time: "Aren't you going to apologize?"

Xavier paused. Then he tilted his head slightly to the side and looked at her. Her eyes narrowed with a mocking expression. "Apologize? Why?"

The woman's expression did not change. "You bumped into me."

Xavier laughed briefly and straightened. "Are you sure you actually said that?" He gestured at his books on the floor. "Which one of us do you think suffered the most damage?"

The woman narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly to the side, as if not paying any attention to Xavier's words. She was clearly not the type to admit her own error.

"You think you're smart?" she asked, her voice measured.

Xavier shrugged. "The verb 'think' is superfluous."

The woman's eyes flashed dangerously for a moment. But she suppressed her anger. She took a small step forward, her face close to Xavier's. "If I had the time, I'd put your jaw out of commission for a month."

Xavier raised his eyebrows. Then he tilted his head to the side and spoke in a whisper with a wry smile: "How impressive. Too bad you don't have time to beat me up."

For a moment, her face hardened even more. But then she smiled slightly - a cold, calculating smile. She was trying to assert some authority over him, but Xavier was not one to give in to her.

"Don't underestimate me."

Xavier rolled his eyes slightly. "I can tell you not to underestimate me, but I don't want to lie."

She frowned but said nothing. The tension between them visibly grew.

Finally, her expression softened slightly, but without losing her sense of superiority. "See you later, Cambridge genius."

Then, fluttering the hem of her black cloak, she turned and began to walk away.

Xavier watched her silhouette in the distance. That arrogant attitude... He had figured it out. The ease with which she walked, her superiority...

Rich.

And obviously powerful.

But it didn't matter. Xavier was not someone in this world who could be influenced by money or power.

He tucked his books under his arm and continued on his way.