When You Come at the King

Melcin knocked on the door of the director's hotel room, the tension building in his chest.

He had been rehearsing his argument for days, preparing to defend himself and file his complaint against Eratz. His heart pounded as the door slowly creaked open.

Inside, the elder woman sat comfortably in a plush armchair by the window. The dim light of the evening filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room.

She looked at him with a calm but stern expression, her wrinkled hands resting on her lap.

"Come in, Melcin," her voice was steady, but somehow it carried a weight that made him nervous.

Melcin stepped into the room, trying to control his breathing. He swallowed hard, mentally preparing for what was about to unfold.

"Director," he began. "I'm here to formally request that action be taken against Eratz. He assaulted me in front of multiple students. They can all testify. This can't go unpunished."