Chapter 2

First period that afternoon, I sat in the Dean of Students' office as promised.

The Dean sat across from me with his beer belly, leisurely brewing tea.

"Do you know why I called you here?" he asked without looking up.

"Yes, to write a self-criticism," I answered.

His hand paused mid-lift with the teacup, apparently not expecting such a straightforward response.

"Your attitude is acceptable." He took a sip of tea and set down the cup. "But good attitude alone isn't enough. You need to deeply recognize your mistakes."

I looked at him and asked seriously, "Dean, what exactly is my mistake?"

"You..." He choked on my question, his expression darkening. "You still have the nerve to ask? Valerie had low blood sugar and had to go to the infirmary because of you! As a male student, you argued with a female classmate and pressed her so aggressively—that's your mistake!"

"So," I stated calmly, "because she's a girl, because she cried, because she fainted, her false accusation that I'm a voyeur is acceptable. And my request for an apology is my mistake."

"What kind of logic is that!" The Dean slammed the table, splashing tea water. "Sophistry! Valerie was just being sensitive and concerned about school safety! As a new transfer student, instead of thinking about how to get along with classmates, you cause trouble right away! That's your problem!"

I understood now. In this matter, the truth didn't matter. Who was right or wrong didn't matter.

What mattered was that Valerie was the perfect campus beauty in everyone's eyes, while I was just an insignificant newcomer.

"Self-criticism, one thousand words. You can't leave until it's done." The Dean issued his ultimatum.

I said nothing more, picked up the pen, and began writing.

An hour later, I handed over the completed self-criticism.

The Dean picked it up with satisfaction, but his brow furrowed tighter as he read.

"What is this supposed to be?"

He slapped the paper on the desk.

"'I shouldn't have demanded truth in the face of facts, shouldn't have requested an apology after being slandered, shouldn't have overestimated a person's basic decency, and shouldn't have underestimated a group's blind conformity. My mistake was thinking this was a place where reason matters.' Rubio, is this a self-criticism? Who are you mocking!"

I looked at him, my tone sincere.

"Dean, these are all my honest thoughts. Isn't that deep enough?"

His face flushed red as he pointed at me, unable to speak for a long while.

Just then, someone knocked on the office door.

My homeroom teacher entered, her expression troubled.

"Dean, I need to speak with Rubio about something."

The Dean seized the opportunity like a lifeline, waving impatiently:

"Take him! Take him! A student with character problems—you educate him properly!"

I followed my homeroom teacher out of the office.

In the hallway, she stopped and sighed.

"Rubio, I know you feel wronged. But Valerie... her family is an important donor to the school, and Garrett's father is one of the school board members. You should... just endure it."

She handed me an application form.

"This is the school's financial aid application for students in need. Looking at your records, you're from a single-parent household and transferred here from a rural area, so you should qualify. Fill this out, and I'll try my best to help you get it."

After saying this, she patted my shoulder and left.

What was this supposed to be?

A slap followed by candy?

I held that thin application form, feeling like it was all a joke.

Back in the classroom, everyone looked at me with strange eyes.

On my desk, someone had drawn a turtle in red permanent marker, with two words beside it: Pervert.

Garrett sat not far away with several guys, laughing mockingly in my direction without any attempt to hide it.

Valerie sat in the front row, surrounded by a group of girls, whispering about something.

She seemed to sense my gaze and turned to give me an extremely innocent yet pitying look, silently mouthing two words.

"Deserved it."