Р‘ Р·рёрі Р·р°рґр°с‡рё Рє Сѓсђрѕрєр°рј Рірµрѕрјрµс‚сђрёрё 7-11 Рєр»р°сѓсѓ Рірґр· -

Misha was currently in the "blankly staring" phase. He was stuck on a problem from the "Stereometry" section for 10th grade.

"In my day," the ghost sighed, looking at Misha’s phone with mild disappointment, "we didn't have a magical glowing rectangle to tell us the properties of a bisector." Misha froze. "Are you... Boris Ziv?" Misha was currently in the "blankly staring" phase

"The plane passes through the edge of the base of a regular triangular prism..." he whispered, his voice trailing off into a yawn. He reached for his phone, the familiar urge to look up the bubbling up. "Are you

For the next hour, Misha didn't look at his phone. With the ghost’s subtle hints—a gesture toward an angle here, a whisper about a theorem there—the cross-section of the prism began to take shape. The logic flowed. The "given" led to the "prove," and finally, Misha wrote the most satisfying letters in the Russian language: ( Which was to be demonstrated ). For the next hour, Misha didn't look at his phone

He didn't need the GDZ tonight. He had found the hidden lines himself.