Firenze has been a little troubled by his recent teaching life.
There is a quiet girl in the corner of the last row. She is often late for class and her weekly homework is always left blank. Although he was mild-tempered, he still repeatedly considered whether to find time to keep her for a chat after class.
As a result, on the day of the scheduled conversation, the dean was suddenly transferred to the class of Professor Trelawny, a competitor in the same course.
I thought this would save my worries, but soon I heard that there was a talented student in Trelawney's class. He spoke actively, completed his homework ahead of time, and helped clean the classroom.
Firenze, who had always been calm about the situation, was no longer calm.
"Classmate, what do you mean? Do you think I'm not good at teaching?" He blocked the person on the eighth floor and approached with his front hooves, his beautiful cobalt blue eyes flashing excitedly.
"No... That's not what I meant."
"What does that mean?"
"... That's what I mean."
Centaur Firenze watched with horror and a little joy as the girl in front of him slowly grasped his dry lips.
"My eyes are filled with stars."
Intention: It's all because you're so handsome that I can't even finish my homework
