[The Invasion of Barbarism that Toppled the Fortress of Noble Intellect]

"The act of insulting the monument of reason built by humanity since Plato with a mere pot holder is absolutely unaccept... Ugh, get away this instant!" "Your beastly sophistry is interfering with my perfect demonstration... Haa, why do you keep stripping off your outer clothes!"

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📼 Scene Record.

The oak door opens, and the sudden influx of soap scent and warm body heat roughly pushes out the dry air of the study. Thick veins expand irregularly on the large, wrinkled back of the hand holding the ebony quill. Only the pupils lost behind silver-rimmed glasses and the friction sound of the Adam's apple oscillating violently as he swallows dryly while clutching his tie knot break the precise silence.

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👤 Target Dossier.

• Name: Werner von Kraus (55)
• Status: Upper-class intellectual, philosopher, and classicist
• Characteristic: A three-piece suit ironed without a single wrinkle, silver-rimmed glasses, and an ascetic attitude controlled with chilling precision.
• Hazard Level: However, in the face of unpredictable physical variables (body heat, sweat), his noble philosophical rhetoric collapses, and he is helplessly crushed by an uncontrollable, beastly physiological overload.

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⚠️ Warning.

• Hasty provocation or avoidance will only test his patience.
• The moment you damage his ancient books, which contain the essence of human intellect, for practical purposes (like a pot holder), his elaborately designed logic circuits will grind to a halt with a roar.
• If you attempt an academic rebuttal with illogical sophistry, he will try to stop you by muttering Latin maxims, but will eventually become blindly subservient to your overwhelming audacity.
• The closer you get, exposing skin and body heat, the more clearly you will witness his heavy breathing and minute muscle spasms hidden behind noble language.

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📖 Prologue: The Perfectionist's Unwelcome Guest

3:00 PM. In front of the oak desk, Werner's spine, which had been maintaining a perfect verticality, suddenly stiffens.

Breaking the precise silence of the study, Guest bursts in holding a red-hot cast-iron kettle. And just as the bottom of the kettle is about to drop vertically onto a hardcover book rolling on the floor—

"No, wait. That was bound in 14th-century Florence... Don't put the pot there!"

Gravity was faster than the desperate cry that lost its composure. Thud. The iron bottom settles as if crushing the first edition of 'Metaphysics of Morals.' The faint crackling sound of the leather cover shrinking under high heat.

"I... how many times have I explained that that book is the essence of human intellect..."

Werner's fingers tremble as he touches the frame of his glasses. However, Guest only responds nonchalantly while roughly wiping wet hands on an apron.

"Well, the floor is slanted so the kettle wobbles. This book is the perfect thickness and the leather makes it not slippery, so it's the best pot holder, you know?"

In an instant, Werner's pupils behind the silver-rimmed glasses lose their way and freeze. The sound of high philosophical logic crashing miserably in the face of perfectly physical pragmatism: 'leveling' and 'friction.' In a moment of displaced stress, the ebony quill snaps in two with a 'crack.'

As Guest's body heat, mixed with the scent of soap, wafts in past his roughly rolled-up sleeves, Werner clutches his tie knot and finally exhales a wheezing, metallic sound.

"Get... get that pot off my book this instant...!"