When I returned to the counselor's office, I opened by playing pitiful.

"Mr. Wilson, this really feels unfair," I said. "Why am I the only one being punished? What about the person who actually stole the food?"

Edwin sighed and spread his hands, helpless on the surface.

"Someone higher up will want to talk to you eventually. At least between us, there's still some teacher-student goodwill." The threat underneath was obvious.

He leaned back in his chair. "I advise you to accept the penalty now. If this goes up to school leadership, they will not be nearly as easy to deal with."

It was a good thing I had a habit of collecting gossip. It looked like time to increase the dosage.

"If you don't want to help me, then the thing between you and Maisie… We might accidentally let that slip," I said quietly. "And her comprehensive evaluation score clearly failed. You still gave her an A."

Edwin's eyelid twitched.

Maisie Quinn was the business school's campus belle. Last semester, her evaluation score ranked three points below mine, yet she still walked away with the national scholarship.

I had found that strange at the time. Last week, I learned why. I had wandered into an office by accident and caught Edwin with his hand on her thigh. They had been kissing.

Edwin had a family. I had heard his wife was vicious. He also had two sons built like calves.

"Enough!" He slammed his palm on the desk and shot to his feet, his face flushing red. "Don't mess around! Finn, listen to me. Things aren't what you think…"

He drew in a breath, forced himself to calm down, then softened his tone. "What do you want? I already spoke up for you with the dean. A major demerit was reduced to a warning. Expulsion became scholarship cancellation."

I met his gaze. "Who stole my food? And why is the school only punishing me?"

Silence stretched for several seconds.

Finally, Edwin spoke. "The Griffith family made a call. Canceling your scholarship was a condition set by Luther Griffith's father."

He added bitterly, "The school still needs approval from the Griffith side for the new campus land. What choice does the dean have? He can only accept it. The school will consider compensating your losses later."

When I left the office, my heart pounded like a drum.

So it was him. Luther was the only son of the Griffith family, the wealthiest household in Jouleston. He was a third-year business major and a notorious campus trust-fund brat.

The irony was that Luther's petty habits were no secret to me, of all people.

During freshman year, someone had posted on the forum that they had seen him swipe a public power bank from the library.

Others claimed his dorm locker was packed with "found" items: a roommate's lighter, game cartridges from the neighboring room, and even a janitor's mop abandoned in the hallway.

Every post vanished without a trace. That made sense. No one would believe it anyway. The Griffith family was obscenely rich. Why would their son steal?

I never understood it myself. But my recorder had captured every word of the conversation between Edwin and me.

I pulled up the legal provisions saved on my phone, and the corner of my mouth lifted despite myself. "Luther, buying my dream home again might just depend on you."

Later, I went to the cafeteria, tray in hand, and stood at the back of the line.

"Well, if it isn't the poisoner."

Before I could turn around, a hand shot out. Five fingers hooked the edge of my tray. With a loud clang, the tray hit the floor. Gravy splashed everywhere.

I looked up. Luther stood over me with three well-dressed guys behind him.

"Eating the cheapest set every day," he sneered. "And you still try to order delivery like everyone else?"

He went on, "If you're going to order, fine. But poisoning it? Now the whole school knows you."

Students gathered around us, whispering.

Luther's smile widened. "Finnick Lynch, do yourself a favor and drop out. Getting expelled later will look worse."

I crouched, picked up the tray, and laughed at him. "No matter how bad it gets, it will never look worse than someone who eats shit."

His smile froze.

I kept going, my voice light. "That bowl of soup? I had mixed the broth with water squeezed out of an old bathroom mop."

Luther's face drained of color.

"Soaked overnight," I added. "Still foamy when I wrung it out. I even added a little, fresh contribution from the last person who used the toilet. The smell? Completely covered by the vegetables. Did you taste it?"

"Shut up!" Luther roared, clapping a hand over his mouth.

He doubled over. "Ugh…"

The guys beside him gagged and threw up as well. It seemed they had eaten my delivery too.

The crowd erupted.

"No way! Was it really him who stole it?"

"What the hell, that twist was fast…"

Luther wiped his mouth, his eyes bloodshot.

"Finnick, you bastard!" He lunged for my collar. "You think Hazel would ever like trash like you? Keep dreaming!"

I froze. Information raced through my mind. Hazel was the top protégé of a senior academician in the chemistry department and a rumored future Nobel contender. The school treated her like fragile glass. Even the chancellor showed her open courtesy.

More absurdly, she came from serious money. She was beautiful to an unfair degree, the campus' famous ice queen, and had never dated anyone.

Luther liking her made perfect sense.

But what did he mean just now? Hazel liking me?

Luther finished retching and stepped closer. His lips twisted with malice. "At the mediation meeting, I won't let you off. I'll make sure you're thrown out of this school."

The school stepped in to mediate. Each side was allowed to bring only one companion into the room.

Luther sat beside his mother, Ivy Reed. Her hair was curled into careful waves, and her eyes swept over me from head to toe with sharp scrutiny.

I scanned the conference room and spotted a familiar figure by the window.

It was Jackson Shaw. With him there, I did not feel completely alone.

A man in a suit stood. "I am Mrs. Griffith's legal counsel. Based on the evidence we have, you placed unidentified substances into a food delivery. As a result, my client's son suffered acute gastroenteritis and required hospitalization. This satisfies the elements of the crime of placing dangerous substances."

He paused and looked at me as though granting a concession. "Given that you are still a student, Mrs. Griffith is only requesting the following."

He raised three fingers. "First, compensation for emotional distress in the amount of 100,000 dollars. Second, a public apology. A recorded video, pinned to the campus forum for one week. Third, voluntary withdrawal from the school."

The director of academic affairs cleared his throat. "Given that Finnick's usual academic performance is acceptable, the withdrawal clause can be set aside for now."

Luther suddenly covered his face. His shoulders shook violently.

"I didn't steal it!" he cried. "That day, I saw a delivery on the table. I thought my roommate brought it for me… How was I supposed to know it was yours? I didn't do it on purpose!"

Ivy wrapped an arm around him and glared at me as if she wanted to carve me open. "Exactly. Who hasn't eaten the wrong thing before?"

Luther pointed at me, his finger trembling. "If something serious had happened to me, this would have been attempted murder!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Article 232 of the Criminal Law," I said calmly. "The crime of intentional homicide requires subjective intent to deprive another person of life."

I met his gaze. "Now tell me, how was I supposed to predict that you would steal my food?"

His sobbing cut off mid-breath. He clearly had not expected me to know the statute so well.

The lawyer raised a hand. "Even if this does not rise to the level of homicide, it still constitutes intentional poisoning. According to the hospital test results—"

"E. coli levels exceeded the standard?" I cut in. "Since when is that classified as poison? And may I ask, what category does mop water fall under?"

Luther clamped a hand over his mouth and started gagging again. His face drained of color. This time, the nausea looked real.

Ivy's expression darkened.

I reached into my backpack and took out my recorder. "I'd like everyone to listen to a short recording."

As soon as the device appeared, the male assistant behind the lawyer stood and moved toward me.

"Hold on," he said with forced cheer. "We've been talking for quite a while. That must be tiring. Have some water."

He handed me a cup, then tipped it. The water spilled out in a rush, soaking straight into the seams of the recorder.

I snatched it back and pressed the power button. The screen lit up. It still worked. I had just started to relax when someone slammed into my arm.

It was Jackson.

The recorder flew from my hand, sailed through the open window, and shattered on the ground below.

"My bad, my bad!" Jackson said in a panic. "I saw the assistant trying to grab your things. I was trying to block him… I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Something clicked in my mind, then snapped.

When the assistant spilled the water, Jackson had been sitting to my right. If he truly meant to help, he could have spoken up then. Why wait?

Panic, guilt, and avoidance flickered in his eyes.

Across the table, Luther and his mother wore satisfied smiles.

The lawyer gathered his documents with calm precision. "Three days. If the 100,000 dollars and the apology video are not delivered, we will proceed through formal legal channels."

He added, "At that point, you should prepare to leave the school."

A strange excitement spread through me. I was known for arguing people into corners, and I never backed down when it mattered.

An apology was never an option.

The moment I recorded that video, I would be branded a poisoner for life. My record would carry a stain I could never erase. Even if I ended up delivering food for a living someday, platforms would worry that I might tamper with the meals.

That left only one path: fight it to the end.

The Griffith family moved faster than I expected. They no longer bothered with courtesy.

The next morning, I woke up as a nationally reviled figure. The instant I unlocked my phone, headlines flooded the screen.

[Male College Student Poisons Roommate out of Jealousy.]

[Top Law Student Breaks the Law, Methods Cruel and Calculated.]

Someone even dug up the fact that I once failed to turn in a homework assignment in high school and paraded it as "proof of moral corruption."

Paid commenters swarmed every platform and forced the narrative in one direction.

They claimed Luther had only grabbed the wrong delivery by accident. They painted me as vicious by nature, the sort of person who would not even spare stray cats or dogs.

A soft knock came from my dorm door.

Jackson stood outside. His eyes were swollen and red, like walnuts. He held out a limited-edition mechanical keyboard I had wanted for years, worth several hundred.

He apologized with visible sincerity. "My parents have worked for the Griffith family for ten years. Luther threatened them. If I didn't help him, my parents would lose their jobs."

In the adult world, everyone had something they could not afford to lose. I thought about our three years as best friends. I chose to believe him once and give him a single chance.

I turned back, opened my drawer, and took out a USB drive. "What's on this, needs to be posted on the campus forum and Instagram when the trial starts in three days. It's anonymous. As long as it's legal, your parents will never know it was you."

Jackson's eyes lit up. He nodded hard.

"Oh, one more thing." He lowered his voice, and his expression shifted. "I was in the hallway the day Luther took the delivery. He said, 'A poor bastard ordering takeout. How embarrassing. Can't he just eat in the cafeteria? Showing off right in front of me.'"

I froze. That was it?

Jackson continued quietly, "He also said, 'Why do poor students get so much aid? I pay so much tuition and still have to watch them eat good food in front of me.'"

His voice faded before he finished, but I understood the rest.

I had assumed Luther targeted me because my grades were better. In truth, he could not stand seeing me live with any comfort at all. Even a 4-dollar meal was too much.

…

Three days passed in a blink. Luther sued me.

On the day of the hearing, reporters packed the courthouse entrance. The case had turned explosive. The chancellor and the mayor both appeared, and several major media outlets livestreamed the trial nationwide.

Everyone wanted to see how this "Poison Man" would be punished.

The hearing began. The opposing lawyer spoke with practiced ease and came fully prepared. He submitted a thick stack of test reports and a surveillance video.

In the footage, a stray dog took a sip from the bowl of soup. Less than ten minutes later, it began to foam at the mouth, convulsed, and collapsed.

The courtroom erupted, and the livestream chat exploded.

[That's insane! Imagine if a person ate it.]

[Someone like this deserves the death penalty!]

[Good thing that Griffith kid survived, or he would've been killed!]

The judge struck his gavel to restore order.

"Defendant, do you have any response to the plaintiff's accusations and evidence?" he asked.

Ivy wore the cold smile of someone already certain of victory.

"Your Honor," I said, calm and steady, as I rose to my feet. "I have a question."

I spoke without haste and let my gaze sweep the room.

"The opposing counsel keeps emphasizing that I poisoned a food delivery." I paused. "But that day, I did not order takeout at all."