Chapter 5

By the time I finished giving my statement, it was already dark.

I dragged my exhausted body back to the lab.

Professor Thompson, my advisor, was still waiting for me. Seeing my haggard face and the uncleaned coffee stains, he frowned.

"Chloe, what happened?"

I recounted everything that had happened at the library, from start to finish.

Professor Thompson's face darkened as he listened. He paced silently in his office.

The lab was eerily quiet, save for the low hum of the instruments.

After a long while, he stopped and looked at me.

"The samples are ruined?"

I nodded, my voice hoarse. "They were soaked. Probably gone."

Those were experimental samples I'd been preparing for three weeks, for a critical national research project.

Now, everything would have to start from scratch.

Professor Thompson sighed heavily and patted my shoulder.

"At least you're okay. Samples can be remade, we'll make up the time. But this, this cannot stand."

I looked at my advisor's determined gaze, my nose stung, and I almost cried again.

"Professor, campus security said that spot was a blind spot for the cameras."

"Blind spot?" Professor Thompson scoffed. "That grad study area has the best spots in the entire library, top-notch views and light. The university wouldn't install cameras there? They're trying to fool us."

My heart skipped a beat. "Professor, are you saying...?"

"Don't worry about it, I'll handle this." Professor Thompson picked up his phone. "You go home, get some rest, and clear your head. Remember, we researchers don't look for trouble, but we never back down from it."

The next day, I received a call from Mr. Harrison, my academic counselor, asking me to come to the department office.

In the office, besides Mr. Harrison and me, were Brittany and her counselor, Ms. Hayes.

Brittany had a huge bandage on her forehead, and her face was pale. When she saw me, she immediately cowered behind Ms. Hayes, like a frightened deer.

Ms. Hayes, a shrewd-looking young woman, instantly shielded her, glaring at me.

"Chloe, is it? Is this how you act as an older student? Causing a student in my department to suffer a mild concussion over a study spot? Do you have any sense of responsibility?"

I looked at her calmly and asked, "Excuse me, has the concussion diagnosis report been issued yet?"

The woman choked for a moment, then retorted forcefully, "The doctor said she needs to stay for observation! This is the consequence of your violent behavior!"

My counselor, Mr. Harrison, a mild-mannered middle-aged man, quickly tried to smooth things over.

"Ms. Hayes, please don't get agitated. Chloe didn't do it on purpose, there must be a misunderstanding here."

"Misunderstanding? Is the injury on my student's head a misunderstanding?"

Ms. Hayes pressed on, "Our student, Brittany, is an excellent student, a top candidate for grad school this year."

"Now, after this incident, she's suffered immense emotional trauma, and her study progress will be affected. Who will bear this responsibility?"

She turned to me, delivering an ultimatum. "This matter is non-negotiable!"

"Either you publicly apologize to Brittany and compensate her for all medical expenses, nutritional costs, and emotional distress, totaling twenty thousand dollars."

"Or, we will report this to the university and you'll receive a major disciplinary action! You choose!"

I almost laughed from sheer indignation. What a masterful act of twisting facts!

Before I could speak, Mr. Harrison frowned. "Ms. Hayes, twenty thousand dollars? Isn't that a bit..."

"Too much? I don't think so at all!"

Ms. Hayes cut him off.

"So what if she's a PhD student? Does that give PhD students the right to bully our undergraduates?"

"I'm telling you, if this isn't resolved today, we're not dropping it!"

Brittany, hiding behind her counselor, started to sob on cue, her shoulders shaking, looking utterly pitiful.

Watching this teacher and student duo perform their coordinated act, the anger inside me flared up again.

Just then, the office door was pushed open.

My advisor, Professor Thompson, walked in. Behind him were Officer Miller from campus security and a middle-aged man I didn't recognize.

Professor Thompson's face was grim. He didn't even glance at the other two, walking straight to me.

"Chloe, come on. We have something to see."

He took my arm and started to lead me out. As we passed Ms. Hayes, he coldly dropped a line.

"Ms. Hayes, isn't it? I hope you'll still be able to sound so self-righteous in a moment."

We all went to the campus security's monitoring room.

The middle-aged man, who turned out to be Mr. Jones, the Director of Information Center, skillfully operated the computer, bringing up a screen.

It was footage of that exact corner of the library from yesterday.

The video showed me leaving my spot. A few minutes later, Brittany walked over, unhesitatingly sweeping my books and materials onto the floor, then casually taking my seat.

Then, I returned, and we began to argue.

The footage clearly recorded how she provoked me with her arrogant tone, how she picked up the coffee and splashed it onto my face, how she ripped my textbook page by page...

Every detail was crystal clear, undeniable.

Officer Miller stood to the side, cold sweat beading on his forehead, his face paler than paper.

"P-Professor Thompson, this... how did this..."

Professor Thompson snorted. "How did we get this angle of the camera, is that it?"

The truth was, the camera in that area did exist, but Officer Miller had deliberately claimed it was a "blind spot" and deleted the recording to avoid trouble. Professor Thompson had recovered the video through Mr. Jones, the Director of Information Center, from a server backup or with higher access privileges.

Officer Miller's legs buckled, and he nearly fell.

Ms. Hayes and Brittany were also called into the monitoring room.

When the full video played on the large screen, Brittany's face drained of all color, turning ashen.