In a small town in the middle of the Andes (1), the church bell tower announced that 6 p.m. was approaching. Even though the shadows were beginning to spread across the cobblestone streets, a couple of curious passersby gathered around the fountain in the middle of the central square, when the coachmen were already putting away their horses and the market was closing. 

A woman covered with a ruana (2) approached her friend in an apron:

“Did you hear that Professor Teresa came to rent a horse at this time?”

“Yes, I heard it! Everyone talks about the same thing,” answered the one with the apron.

“Shhh!” her friend in the ruana scolded her. “What if someone from the Liberian house hears us?” 

“And you think they would be here so late? If it's true that they invited the teacher, they should have left a while ago," the one with the apron refuted. 

"You never know," said the one with the ruana, looking around, "or have you seen everyone who lives there? There could be one around here and we wouldn't know it.”

"Mhg..." her friend grumbled, admitting defeat. "Okay," she began to whisper, "what do you want to tell me?"

“Well, Professor Teresa Buitrago, the one who appears in the newspapers, is going to have dinner with the Liberian hermits. I already knew they had money, but enough to invite someone like that to their house?! Unbelievable!” The woman in the ruana seemed to fluff up slightly, as if her clothing were the feathers of a chicken. “Don't tell me you're not curious, you told me that you once saw one of their employees. Isn't it rather that you have something to tell?”

“I? And what do you want me to tell you? That the grumpy cook went to buy yucca (3) when I went to the square, or that her husband smiled without saying a single word to anyone?” The one with the apron frowned. 

"What about that no one has seen the boss other than when he sends letters to his house?" said a man with a straw hat who appeared behind the fountain, making the two women bristle with a jump. 

“You almost gave us a heart attack!” her friend scolded him, hitting him with her ruana. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," the one with the hat laughed, revealing a bundle of potatoes that he was carrying. “But doesn't it seem strange to you? The man has no wife or children, but he lives in a house miles away with a bunch of servants.”

"They say he was the son of some rich people from another country," answered the one with the apron. 

“Spanish or criollo (4)?” asked the one with the hat.

“No no, Liberian is not Spanish, that last name must be from somewhere else” the one with the ruana responded.

 “Well, after Bolivar (5) brought the British to the war, it was to be expected that some would stay," answered the one with the hat. 

“But why would they come here? It's a very small town for people like that,” questioned the one with the apron.

“Well, it is also a very quiet town. Maybe they just wanted a place to rest,” answered the one with the ruana.

"Or they did something bad and are escaping," the one with the hat proposed, smiling maliciously.

“Don't say that! They may be strange, but I don't think they are bad people," the one with the ruana refuted, watching the first stars appear between the mountain range. 

“And yes they are rare. If they really wanted to rest, why is the patrón (6) always traveling? And the teachers, will they be for the young maid, the tall red-haired young man, or perhaps there is someone else in that house?” argued the one with the apron.

"With all that money, there could be twenty people in that house and we wouldn't even know it," said the one with the hat.

"We'll have to ask Professor Teresa when she comes back..." the one in the ruana spoke to herself, more like in a daydream. 

“You ask her, I would feel embarrassed!” The one in the apron shook her head.

The three of them stared into the distance, in the direction where the teacher's rented horse had disappeared an hour ago. They wondered what could be happening in that mysterious house in the middle of nowhere. 

All things die.

And Arthur was no exception.

He was dying of boredom, he was dying of feeling trapped, he was dying of frustration, but, above all, he was dying to drop his fake smile once and for all.

Professor Teresa laughed in front of him, bringing her hand over her mouth, failing to contain the big laugh she just let out, almost dropping her small circular glasses, moving her entire small, round body. 

They were in a long twelve-seat dining room, along with a few other people. The young man contorted his olive-skinned face trying not to stop smiling, closing his turquoise eyes, hoping that his large round glasses would hide the little patience he had left.

“Oh!” Professor Teresa exclaimed, ending her last laugh “Yes, truly, young Arthur is totally ingenious. An excellent student despite his lack of commitment, tendency to be late and unbridled impulsiveness, of course.”

"Ah, I'm flattered, Professor Teresa," Arthur said, forcing his smile more, leaning his head on his hand to one side, pretending to be embarrassed. “I don't deserve your hospitality.”

On the teacher's left side, a young man named Luke closed his honey-colored eyes, gave him an approving smile, and nodded, wiggling his fluffy reddish hair into a ponytail.

Arthur looked back at him. He raised his eyebrows in exasperation and pursed his lips.

“Nonsense! It's fun to have you as a student, most entertaining indeed!” the teacher smiled at him, with scientific curiosity in her eyes. She placed her elbows on the table, resting her face on her folded hands.

Arthur felt like an insect under the microscope.

"Mh-hm," Arthur said, blinking a couple of times, looking away, still with his face in one of his hands.

Luke sat up straight, taking a deep breath, setting an example for Arthur. He then moved his eyes without moving his head, looking at the teacher and back at the other young boy, suggesting that he say something else.

Arthur straightened, lowering his hands to his calves.

"Amh, you are very kind Professor Teresa for coming to teach me and Elena, considering your renown as a naturalist (7)," Arthur interpreted politely.

The girl mentioned startled a little, opening her small eyes, shaking her light brown hair tied in a ponytail. She smiled embarrassed, causing a blush to appear on her white cheeks. She squeezed the skirt of her maid's dress with her hands.

The older man next to her, Jorge (or George, as he was called as a nickname), placed his dark-skinned hand on Elena's to comfort her, smiling behind his lush, black beard with gray hairs and his rectangular glasses.

“But of course!” the teacher laughed “You are the Liberian family after all, renowned among The Andes and beyond! It was impossible to deny such charm, with all the things that are said about you.”

“And what do they say?” Luke asked, frowning a little, somewhere between curiosity and concern.

Elena, Arthur and George turned to look at the teacher, each with their own mix of discomfort or nervousness.

"Ah," the teacher cleared her throat, reading the room. Suddenly she seemed very interested in polishing the handle of a fork with her fingers. "Clearly how promising your young ones are," She decided to take the cutlery and point it at Elena and Arthur. “They have performed excellently, after all.”

“T-Thank you, Professor Teresa” Elena stammered, smiling, tense at her pointing.

George sighed in relief, smiling again.

Luke closed his eyes, sighed, and crossed his arms.

Arthur followed the fork with his gaze. His fake smile had faded a little. Of course they had to say things about them. Living in the middle of a valley miles from the nearest town, a wealth of money, and such diverse characters must have had a curious effect on people.

"In any case," the teacher continued, turning the cutlery between her fingers, "I hope I have given you a good introduction to the field of biology."

Arthur frowned for a moment, before it disappearing behind his fake smile.

“Oh, but of course!” Arthur said with a bit of irony in his eyes “I still clearly remember the thrilling” Arthur emphasized, making a "Hurrah!" with his hand “classes about spores.”

Luke looked at Arthur disapprovingly.

“Oh!” the teacher laughed, apparently not noticing Arthur's intentions “The spores!” she sighed dreamily, fixing her gaze on a distant point on the ceiling, totally inscrutable to those present “Isn't that impressive? The reproduction of one being without the need for another through such a small structure! Of course, we don't know enough about spores, it's still a new field even in Europe, most scholars believe it must have something to do with ‘small agents’ which are supposed to cause plant diseases, however... “ the teacher monologued, continuing her lesson, shaking the fork from one side to the other to emphasize or point out things that apparently only she could see. We are going to spare the reader her delusions.

Arthur and Elena exchanged glances. She smiled nervously, swallowing hard. Arthur seemed to apologize with his look, his move born of malice had only shot him in the foot, hurting Elena in the process. Why of all the things he could say had he played with the spores?! They both knew that now the teacher would not stop until she had recited all her knowledge on the matter, as she did over and over again during her lessons, every time she had the chance.

Arthur ran an exasperated hand across his face, passing it off as a gesture of surprise at some piece of information the teacher had just thrown out. Then, he looked at the other people at the table.

Luke was looking carefully at the teacher, his eyes slightly narrowed, trying to understand certain overly specialized terms. He had never heard anything about it.

George, for his part, seemed to want to take notes, regretting that he had nothing to write with at the moment. He smiled from time to time at each new "curious fact" that the teacher dropped. They were talking about plants and mushrooms after all, and he was the gardener of the house.

Arthur understood the feeling, although the first time had been interesting, the routine had made it totally unbearable. She wasn't the only teacher who did that. The history one tended to repeat events, he wasn't sure if because of his age he forgot what he had said (honestly, Arthur believed the man was history, he wouldn't be surprised if he had seen it firsthand), or if history was doomed to repeat itself.

At that moment, Olga (or Ray, as they called her) walked through the door with her particular stern expression, blowing a rebellious gray lock that escaped from her hair tied in an onion out of her eyes. She carried two trays covered with dinner in her strong arms.

"Good evening, Miss Teresa," Cook Ray interrupted. “I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stop moving the cutlery so I can accommodate dinner.”

“Ah! My apologies!” the teacher laughed nervously, leaving the fork in its place.

Elena hastily stood up, taking the plates and placing them in front of each of those present.

Arthur sighed gratefully as he stopped hearing Teresa's chatter. Ray gave the young man a penetrating look, as if she had guessed what he was thinking. He shrank in on himself. He was sure Elena thought the same, but he felt a little guilty now.