My roommates have booked booth seats at the New Year Countdown Light Show at the price of five thousand dollars per ticket. Soon, they begin urging me to transfer them my share of the payment on the group chat.

I just send them a screenshot of the remaining balance in my bank account. "You guys have fun. I'm still saving up for my college tuition fees."

Everyone just spams me with laughing messages instead. One of my roommates, Zane Lawson, even uploads a screenshot of our conversation to his social media feed together with a caption that says, "The first step of ascending to the next tier in social hierarchy is to stay away from party poopers like this."

But as soon as 12:00 am is over, my roommates send me a photo of the light show.

"It's such a shame that you aren't here."

I'm still confused by the photo when I receive a phone call from the counselor, who sounds very anxious over the phone.

"Did you buy tickets for your roommates to the light show? The organizers claimed that they never checked in at the entrance! Now, they've gone missing!"

When I heard the school counselor's words, my mind went completely blank. I couldn't make sense of what I just heard.

"Bradley Graham, did you hear what I said? The organizers looked into it. The ticket reservation was made under your name and student ID, but the tickets were issued digitally, and there is no record of the tickets ever being verified.

"In other words, they did not enter the event at all. Right now, all three of their phones are switched off. Their family members are sick with worry! Be honest with me—what in the world is going on with this?"

The ticket reservation was under my name? When did I ever book a five-thousand-dollar New Year's Eve booth seat?

I even had to plan out every single cent for my meal expenses next month. How could I possibly do something so absurd? Plus, my roommates had just sent photos to me a moment ago. How could they just go missing out of the blue?

A chill ran down from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. As I held onto my phone, my hands began to shake uncontrollably.

"I didn't, Ms. Watts. I really didn't book any tickets!" I answered, my voice trembling slightly because of fear.

"I'm still in the library, where I have been studying all night. I have no idea where they've gone."

"Alright, calm down, and don't be afraid."

The school counselor, Taylor Watts, softened her tone slightly while still carrying a firm sense of seriousness.

"I want you to return to your dormitory immediately. The parents of Zane Lawson and the others are rushing over from out of town, and the school's administrators are taking this very seriously too. We need your cooperation to clear up exactly what happened."

After ending the call, I sat frozen on the hard, wooden chair in the library. As the warm lighting around me shone on the other students who were working hard on their studies, it was as if I were looking at a scene from a different world.

An invisible, hard screen separated me from the rest of them.

I was being framed. This thought came at me like a bolt of lightning, zapping through the confusion and bewilderment in my mind.

My roommates had gone missing, yet they had booked those expensive entrance tickets under my name. This whole thing was a setup, with every step being linked to one another and filled with malice.

What were they plotting?

If they showed up safe and sound, this would, at most, end up being a prank. I wouldn't be able to explain myself, and my schoolmates and Ms. Watts would see me as a vain and lying freak.

But now, my roommates have disappeared. I—a roommate who did not attend the event after booking the tickets and as someone with a history of bad blood with them—had been turned into the prime suspect instantly.

I forced myself to calm down. My thoughts raced. I got to my feet slowly, packed up my books, then tottered my way to the dormitory building.

The cold winter air whipped across my face, sharp as a blade. I clutched tightly onto the straps of my backpack, my fingernails digging deep into the canvas.

I had to remain calm. I had not done anything, so why should I be afraid?

When I pushed open the door to Room 412 at the dormitory, the stifling air within almost suffocated me.

Ms. Watts stood right in the middle of the dormitory room with a grim expression. Two school administrators stood next to her, whispering with one another with serious looks on their faces.

It was as if the entire dormitory had been placed on silent mode. Only the occasional boom of fireworks outside the window from New Year celebrations could be heard. How ironic.

My bed was perfectly made. Across from my bed were three beds belonging to Zane, Timothy Bass, and Howard Grant. Their beds remained exactly as they had left them.

A lavish cigar box still sat out on Zane's desk, a limited edition coat that was clearly worth a fortune was still draped over Timothy's chair, and a branded watch, which Howard didn't have time to put on, was left sitting in a corner of his desk.

It appeared as if they were in a rush to head out for an appointment.

"Bradley, you're here."

Ms. Watts waved at me right away when she noticed me. The school administrators turned their attention toward me as well, their gazes full of scrutiny and curiosity.

I walked over and greeted softly, "Hello. I'm back, Ms. Watts."

The middle-aged school administrator who appeared to be higher up in the hierarchy then spoke up. Even though he sounded amicable, his voice carried a strong sense of intimidation.

"What do you have to say about the entrance tickets to the New Year Countdown Light Show that was booked under your name?" he questioned.

I took a deep breath and retrieved my phone from my bag. Then, I tapped into the group chat with my roommates, which was named "Buddies of Room 412".

"Here you go. This was from earlier this afternoon, when Zane suggested to the group to go for a New Year's countdown celebration. He also sent a link for ticket booking, which would cost five thousand dollars per person.

"I clearly turned him down due to financial reasons."

I turned the screen of my phone toward them as I handed it over, clearly presenting our conversation history to them.

"Subsequently, they… sent some mocking remarks toward me in the chat. Zane even posted that update on Facebook, which I believe you, Ms. Watts, have also seen. I have not interacted with them since then, whether online or offline.

"After dinner, I went to the library, and I only left the library after receiving Ms. Watts's call earlier. Surveillance footage from the library and the GPS record on my phone will be able to prove that."

I had to share my perspective and present my evidence clearly before my roommates' parents arrived. As Ms. Watts and school administrators leaned in to look at my phone, shock gradually replaced the serious look on their faces.

Ms. Watts knitted her brows tightly together. "How could Zane and the others have said such things…"

Just then, the door to our dormitory was flung open without warning, and a series of hurried footsteps and clamor followed.

"Zane! Oh, my dear son! What in the world happened?"

A middle-aged woman with permed hair and a fur coat over her shoulders stormed into the room. The tears she cried had left two streak marks through the expensive makeup she wore on her face. A man, dressed equally lavishly, followed right behind her, looking worried sick.

They were Zane's parents.

Then, Timothy's and Howard's parents followed closely behind.

Timothy's mother was dressed in opulence, similar to Zane's mother. The moment she entered the room, she screamed, "My son went missing at your school! How could the school allow this to happen? You people will be held responsible!"

Howard's parents, on the other hand, were dressed much more plainly and appeared much more timid. They simply tagged along with the other parents, wiping their tears constantly while mumbling, "Oh, Howie… My dear Howie."

All of a sudden, total chaos befell the already-crowded room.

Zane's mother, Mrs. Lawson, wailed for some time while she scanned the entire room. Finally, her death stare landed on me. She pointed straight at me with her finger, around which she wore a massive diamond ring.

"It was you! It was you, wasn't it? You're Bradley Graham, Zane's poor roommate, right?"

Her sharp voice really hurt my ears. I remained silent, watching her icily.

"Spill it! Was it you? Did you lure Zane out and set him up because you were jealous of him?" she questioned. Out of nowhere, she pounced at me, as if she were about to rip me to shreds.

"Calm down, Mrs. Lawson!"

Ms. Watts and one of the school's administrators rushed forward to hold her back.

"No way I'm calming down! Like you said, he was the one who booked the tickets. He made the reservation but did not show up. Meanwhile, my son and the other two students have vanished.

"How could something be so coincidental? It must have been you, you vicious moron!" she cussed, hurling the vilest insult at me while she thrashed about.

"Darling, don't!"

Thankfully, Mr. Lawson, Zane's father, still had some sense in him. But though he pulled his wife back, he still stared at me with the same cold and suspicious gaze.

"Mrs. Lawson, please allow me to reiterate—I wasn't the one who booked the tickets," I enunciated clearly, meeting Mrs. Lawson's gaze.

"The tickets cost five thousand dollars each. Three tickets would come to a total of 15 thousand dollars. If I were the one who booked it, would I—a student who had to worry about her own school fees—be able to afford 15 thousand dollars to treat your son to a light show?

"Do you think I did that all because I was jealous of him?"

The questions I threw back made everyone else in the room fall silent instantly.

Exactly. This all did not make any sense. Why would a poor student give up everything they had and spend 15 thousand dollars to set their roommates up? What would they hope to get out of this?

Mrs. Bass, Timothy's mother, chimed in suddenly, "What if someone actually paid you to do so? Poor students like you are willing to do anything for money."

Those words of hers left me trembling with such fury that I almost let out a laugh of exasperation. In their eyes, poverty was the root of all sin. The fact that one was poor meant that they would do anything for the sake of money. It meant that they had terrible characters, that they were vipers.

"Excuse me, ma'am. That's quite imaginative of you. That said, I'd suggest you direct your attention toward finding out your son's whereabouts rather than berate my character for no reason."