"Hey, what's your laptop's specs?"

My colleague, Dexter Grant, pushes my laptop back to me with a deep frown on his face.

I'm busy editing my blueprints, so I respond to him without lifting my head.

"It's the latest model. The motherboard is i7 12-Gen, and I have a 64-GB ram installed in it. What's wrong?"

"That's impossible!" Dexter shakes his head. "All I did was open Photoshop earlier, and yet the laptop was stuck for three whole minutes! Not even my own laptop, which has lasted me for three years, is as slow as yours!

"Also, there are scratch marks left behind by a screwdriver on your laptop's casing. It's clear that someone has cracked your case in the past before installing it back on."

My heart sinks at Dexter's observations. I quickly flip over my laptop and take a look at it.

It's true that there are two fresh scratches near the laptop's vent. The edge of the casing was slightly jutted upward as well.

The sight leaves me shell-shocked.

The thing is, my laptop was still fine when my cousin, Joe Clinton, borrowed it from me three months ago…

"Did you buy a refurbished unit?" Dexter Grant asked.

"I bought it from the official site," I said in a hoarse voice. "It arrived three months ago."

Three months ago, right after I got the laptop, my cousin, Joe Clinton, asked to borrow it.

Back then, he grabbed my arm and said, "Mike, I'm handling editing for a new short video project at work."

His eyes lit up with excitement as he added, "My crappy laptop can't even handle 1080p without lagging. Yours is top-tier. Let me use it for a month. I promise I'll take good care of it."

My mom, Nancy Bennett, chimed in from the side. "Just let Joe use it. He just started working. It hasn't been easy for him."

I hesitated. The laptop cost 7,800 dollars, split into 12 payments of about 650 dollars a month. For someone in design, it wasn't just a tool. It was my livelihood.

However, Joe held up three fingers and swore, "Just one month. I'll return it right after the project. I'll keep it clean. I won't mess with it."

I believed him.

That one month turned into three.

The first month, he said the project was delayed.

The second month, he said he had taken on another project.

By the third month, he told me to stop rushing him.

When he finally returned it, he didn't even show up. He left the laptop at the security booth and walked away.

Although it had been returned, I couldn't help wondering if everything inside was still mine.

"Can you check the internals for me?" I asked Dexter, my voice trembling slightly.

Dexter brought out his tools and unscrewed the back panel. It opened with a click, and his expression immediately froze.

My stomach dropped. "What is it?"

"This is the top-spec model, right?"

"Yeah. The CPU should have a specific laser-etched mark from the manufacturer."

Dexter pointed beneath the heatsink. "Look at this. The engraving is shallow, and the edges are rough. This has been re-etched. And this RAM—the original uses low-profile custom sticks. These are standard ones, and they're already worn."

He flipped one over. In the corner, there was a faint pencil mark.

"Secondhand dealers use markings like this all the time," Dexter said grimly.

He powered it on and ran a benchmark. The results began to pop up one after the other.

The CPU performance sat at the lowest tier.

The memory frequency did not match the specs.

The SSD read and write speeds were only a third of what they should have been.

Even the VRAM had been cut down to 4 GB.

My legs gave out, and I had to grip the edge of the table to stay upright.

"Do you want to call the police?" Dexter asked.

I shook my head and reached for my laptop bag.

"Not yet. I'll go to the official service center first. I need a written report."

I took a few hours off work and took the laptop to an authorized service center. The air conditioning was freezing, but I was still drenched in cold sweat.

A technician wearing white gloves placed the inspection report on the table and slid it toward me.

"Mr. Smith, the results are conclusive. Most of your laptop's internal hardware has been replaced with unauthorized, non-original parts."

He began pointing them out one by one. The CPU had been polished and rebranded to mimic an i7. The memory modules were secondhand. The SSD was a low-quality, off-brand unit.

My voice trembled as I asked, "Can you determine when the replacements were made?"

He said calmly, "Based on the system logs, the original hardware was last detected three months ago. After that, it appears the data was wiped."

Joe had borrowed the laptop exactly three months ago.

"What are these parts worth now?" I asked.

"On the secondhand market, the CPU is valued at approximately 80 dollars. Both RAM sticks are worth about 60 dollars in total. The SSD is around 20 dollars. The GPU core and VRAM are approximately 100 dollars. Altogether, the total does not exceed 300 dollars," he replied.

I frowned. "And the original configuration?"

"The original CPU alone is worth 1,300 dollars. The RAM sticks are 2,300 dollars. The SSD is 900 dollars. The GPU core is 2,800 dollars. Together, these four parts come to 7,300 dollars."

The original components were worth 7,300 dollars in total, while the replacement parts were only worth 300 dollars on the secondhand market, leaving a difference of 7,000 dollars.

"What about the warranty in a case like this?" I asked.

"Unauthorized disassembly and component replacement are considered user-caused damage. This is not covered under warranty. Because the original parts have been removed, it is effectively property loss. You should seek compensation from the person who borrowed the laptop," the technician said.

I paid 50 dollars and received an official inspection report stamped with the company seal.

When I left the service center, I called Joe.

The phone rang six times before he picked up. There was loud background noise, like he was in a shopping mall.

"Hey, Mike?" he answered lazily.

"I need an explanation about the laptop," I demanded.

"What laptop? I already returned it to you," he said, acting as if he had no idea.

I paused, then added, "I went to the official service center today. The report shows that the CPU, RAM, SSD, and GPU core were all replaced with low-end secondhand parts."

There was a two-second pause on the other end.

"What?" he blurted out.

I continued, "The original hardware was worth over 7,300 dollars. It was replaced with parts worth about 300 dollars. That's a difference of 7,000 dollars."

"No, Mike, what do you mean?" he snapped. "Are you saying I swapped your laptop parts? Why would I do that? I don't even understand that stuff!"

"Two months ago, you said the laptop kept crashing and you took it in for a system reinstall, right?" I asked.

"Yeah! It was just a system reinstall! I didn't touch anything else!" he shot back.

"Which shop did you take it to?" I pressed.

"I… I forgot! It's just some crappy shop downstairs," he muttered.

"Since when do you need to open the back panel or replace hardware for a system reinstall?" I asked flatly.

"How would I know? I wasn't standing there watching!" he snapped. "Michael Smith, are you seriously accusing me of telling the shop to swap your laptop parts? Are you crazy? What would I even gain from that?"

"What would you gain?" I repeated coldly. "Maybe you thought I wouldn't notice, or maybe you just didn't care."

"You're slandering me!" he yelled.

"The report is in my hands," I said firmly. "It's officially stamped and documented. You owe me 7,000 dollars."

"7,000 dollars?" he screamed. "Michael, are you insane? I just borrowed your stupid laptop, and now you're saying I owe you 7,000 dollars? Why don't you just rob a bank?"

"It wasn't a stupid laptop," I corrected him. "It was a high-end model, and I'm not robbing anyone. You damaged my property worth 7,300 dollars."

"I didn't swap anything! I didn't!" he insisted.

"Meet me tomorrow afternoon at Starlux Cafe," I said. "We'll settle this in person."

"I have nothing to talk to you about!" he retorted. "If you want to talk, get your mom to talk to my mom!"

He hung up on me.

I stood by the street, my hand shaking so badly that I could hardly hold my phone.

For me, that 7,000 dollars wasn't just a number. It was over a year of rent, half a year of commuting costs, and the fees I had struggled so hard to save for skill courses.

For him, it might have been nothing more than a few gaming accessories.

Why?

When I got home, Mom was already waiting in the living room.

The moment I stepped inside, she confronted me.

"What is going on?" she demanded. "Joe just called me. He said you're falsely accusing him of swapping your laptop parts and demanding 7,000 dollars from him!"

I took the inspection report out of my bag and held it out to her. "Mom, just look at this. It's an official diagnostic report."

She didn't take it. Instead, she frowned. "What is this? I don't understand any of it."

I took a deep breath and explained, "The internal hardware was replaced. The original laptop, worth over 7,000 dollars, now contains cheap 300-dollar parts."

Mom frowned deeply. "What do you mean? Joe is your cousin. How could he possibly swap the parts?"

"It happened while the laptop was in his possession," I said.

"That still doesn't prove Joe did it," she said sharply. "What if it was the repair shop? He doesn't understand any of this."

"Mom, he may not understand it, but he gave it to someone who did," I said, forcing myself to stay calm. "And afterward, he chose not to tell me."

"Maybe he didn't even realize it himself…" Mom said.

"For three months? How could he not feel it if the performance was that bad? He was still using that laptop to edit videos and play games, wasn't he?" I shot back.

That shut her up. Her expression darkened immediately.

"Michael, do you really have to fall out with Joe over a small amount like this?" she asked coldly.

As I looked up at Mom's disapproving expression, a deep sense of sadness washed over me.

"Mom, are you seriously telling me 7,000 dollars is just a small amount to you?"

"You make over 2,000 dollars a month. Is it really worth all this trouble for just 7,000 dollars? Joe just started working, and he barely earns anything. If you make him pay that much, you're basically ruining his life," she said.

For a moment, it felt like I couldn't breathe.

"Mom, that laptop cost 7,800 dollars, split into 12 installments of about 650 dollars a month. I'm still paying the loan, and now the laptop is ruined. Why shouldn't he be held responsible?"

Mom took a deep breath and softened her tone. "I know it's not easy for you, but Joe is your cousin. I just worry you'll end up damaging the relationship. Alice dotes on him the most. If you do this, how are we supposed to face each other in the future? What will people think?"

"What will people think?" I repeated.

"Exactly. They'll say you're unreasonable and making a big deal about money with your own family," she said.

"He destroyed my property first," I said through clenched teeth. "If I let this go, what's next? My camera? My car? Or would he just borrow money and never pay it back like it's nothing?"

"Why are you being so stubborn?" she snapped.

I cut her off. "Enough. You don't need to be involved in this anymore."

I said nothing more, turned away, and headed to my room.

At 2:00 pm the next afternoon, we met at Starlux Cafe. Mom insisted on coming along, saying she was afraid Joe and I would fight.

Joe showed up 30 minutes late, and he wasn't alone.

Mom's sister, Alice Bennett, was with him.

When our eyes met, Joe's expression gave nothing away except impatience, edged with open provocation.

Aunt Alice frowned, as if I were the one being unreasonable.

As soon as Joe sat down, he snapped, "Mike, did you bring me here just to put me on trial in person?"

"I just want to get things straight," I replied.

Joe looked agitated. "What's there to straighten out? I already told you I didn't swap anything!"

I raised a brow. "Then how did every single internal component get replaced?"

Joe's expression darkened. "What are you implying? That I did it on purpose? Do you think I have nothing better to do?"

"Then tell me, how did it end up like this?" I asked.

"How should I know?" he shouted. "I used it normally. It crashed once, I took it to a shop downstairs for a system reinstall, and that was the end of it!"

"Which shop? What's the name?" I pressed.

"I told you, I don't remember! It's just some tiny crappy shop. Who remembers names like that?" he shot back.

I slid the inspection report across the table.

He glanced at it and didn't even reach for it.

"I'm not looking at that. I don't understand it," Joe said flatly.

"It's an official diagnostic report with the company seal," I said evenly. "The CPU, RAM, SSD, and GPU core have all been replaced with low-end secondhand parts."

"Yeah, right," he said, scoffing lightly. "Do you really believe everything a repair shop says? They're just trying to scam you."

"This is from an authorized service center, not some random shop," I said firmly.

"Sure, whatever you say," he replied, crossing his arms. "You've already decided I'm guilty. What's the point of me saying anything?"

At that moment, Aunt Alice spoke up.

"Mike, Joe would never do something like that. He's not in tech, and he doesn't understand hardware at all. It must've been the repair shop that messed with it."

I turned to her and said calmly, "Aunt Alice, he chose the shop. He says he doesn't remember which one. The laptop was in his hands for three months, and when it came back, everything inside was replaced. Shouldn't he be responsible for that?"

"Responsible for what?" Joe snapped, leaning forward. "Do you have proof? Did you see me do it?"

"The proof is simple," I said calmly. "The laptop was fine when I lent it to you, and it came back damaged. Time, possession, cause and effect—it's all crystal clear."

"Clear my ass!" he shouted, suddenly standing up. "I'm telling you now, I'm not paying a single cent! Go ahead, take me to court! I want to see what they can do to me."