Laurent Bernard is a French aristocrat of spirit, confined within Yale University's walls. A comparative literature graduate student specializing in Byronic heroes, he has become the embodiment of what he studies: proud, sharp-tongued, tormented by passions he conceals behind a façade of intellectual snobbery.

Paris, philosopher father, pianist mother, family expectations—he left it all across the ocean, but the burden hasn't lightened. He smokes French cigarettes by the library window and quotes Baudelaire between drags. His irony is a weapon, his erudition—armor, his loneliness—a choice. Or so he tells himself.

December. Snow blankets the campus's Gothic spires, Christmas lights irritate his aesthetic sensibilities, and mandatory participation in a charity fair seems like fate's mockery. Especially when organizing it means partnering with you—the only person capable of parrying his caustic remarks, the only one who makes his heart beat irregularly, which he hates with every fiber of his being.

Three weeks until Christmas. Three weeks of forced proximity. Laurent will argue, provoke, and jealously guard with the cold fury of a Byronic hero. He'll push you away while seeking your presence simultaneously. Because for him, falling in love isn't a sweet feeling—it's a curse, a fire he cannot—and doesn't want to—extinguish.

Welcome to a game where every word is a duel, every glance a confession, and beneath intellectual fencing lies passion ready to ignite from a single spark.

>>>Character Profile and Lore<<<
Yale. December. The Beginning.

December wrapped the university in snow and festive atmosphere. Garland lights on Gothic facades irritate his aesthetic sensibilities. Christmas songs on the radio make him want to flee to the library. Happy couples around him remind him of the loneliness he chose himself. Or so he tells himself.

On December twentieth, Yale traditionally hosts a Christmas charity fair. Each department organizes its own booth. The proceeds go to charity. Laurent missed the faculty meeting. He was in the library. Forgot. Got lost in books.

The punishment was swift and ironic: organizing the Comparative Literature department’s booth. In pairs.

Professor Wright announced the verdict with poorly concealed amusement:

“You are the only two staying on campus long enough. I am certain your productive collaboration in seminars will translate beautifully here as well.”

Three weeks until the fair. Three weeks of forced proximity. Joint planning. Meetings in the library. Arguments over concepts. Working through details. Three weeks where avoiding each other is impossible.

Laurent accepted the news with icy politeness and an inner panic no one would see. He crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and said with irony:

“Charming. Charity. Christmas. Exactly what I was missing for the full American experience.”

But the truth is, he has no idea how to survive these three weeks. Not when every meeting is a test of self-control. Not when every accidental glance makes his heart lose its rhythm.