Chapter 4 — Evidence That Doesn't Lie

The first draft arrived half a month ago, the second ten days ago, and the third a week ago. The final version was uploaded just last night, each iteration accompanied by a detailed log of revisions. From "added survey samples" and "updated interview cases" to "adjusted graph on page seventeen," the entire chain of versions stretched out like a seamless, logical path. After reviewing the evidence, my academic supervisor spoke up immediately.

"I have personally overseen this project by Lam Van from the very beginning. Every time a change was made, she sent me a progress report."

"The contents here were indeed carried out by her alone."

The corners of Hua Thanh Le's eyes reddened instantly.

"Professor, how can you say that? I clearly participated in this project as well."

The supervisor frowned, his gaze stern.

"You only participated in distributing surveys a single time."

"And that day, you complained about the heat and left before the afternoon session even began."

Laughter rippled through the audience. Hua Thanh Le’s face flushed a deep, embarrassed crimson. The man standing beside her, Lu Cheng, quickly lowered his voice to interject.

"Professor, we are here to discuss the similarity of the presentations, not the number of hours spent on the project."

"Then let us examine the presentation itself," I said, my eyes locked onto the giant screen. "Please open the original draft that Hua Thanh Le claims is hers."

The staff member hesitated, casting a nervous glance toward the deputy dean. Upon receiving a curt nod, the file was opened. The title page looked remarkably similar to my own, and the structure of the second page was nearly identical. As they clicked through to page seventeen, I spoke up sharply.

"Stop."

Everyone turned their attention to the screen. On that particular graph, the number of samples was listed as 327. I let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"In my official version, the figure is 372."

"327 was an error I intentionally left in the file I put on the test drive this morning."

"Before handing the USB to Lu Cheng, I deliberately chose not to fix it."

The auditorium fell into a deathly silence. I continued, my voice steady.

"Look at the footer."

The staff zoomed in. The numbering in the footer used a specific, proprietary format, entirely different from my official document.

"Now, check the notes section."

The cursor clicked open the notes, revealing a single, damning line of text: "This page is used solely for device testing purposes."

The room erupted. Whispers turned into murmurs of shock.

"My god..."

"Didn't she just expose herself?"

"How could Hua Thanh Le’s 'original' draft contain the exact marking from Lam Van’s test file?"

Hua Thanh Le’s lips trembled uncontrollably. "I don't know... I really don't know..."

I looked at her, almost too angry to even feel the sting of betrayal.

"You don't know?" I pressed. "Then explain to me how your 'original draft,' which you claim predates mine, contains a watermark I only created this morning, less than an hour before the presentation?"

Hua Thanh Le stood speechless. Beside her, Lu Cheng’s complexion drained to a sickly grey.

Lu Cheng recovered quickly, his voice frantic. "There must have been a mix-up in the control room. Someone must have accidentally swapped Lam Van’s test file into Thanh Le’s folder."

"A mix-up?" I retorted. Seeing him still grasping at straws, I turned to the authorities. "Then let us check the computer logs."

The technical supervisor for the event was summoned. He was young, clearly shaken by the palpable tension in the room, his hands trembling as he approached the console.

"The control room computer records all external device connections and file operations," he explained, his voice shaking. "As long as the history hasn't been wiped, it’s all here."

Tran Tri Vi, standing calmly by my side, nodded. "Check it."

The technician sat down and typed for several minutes. A string of operations appeared on the big screen. At 10:13 AM, Lu Cheng’s account logged into the control room computer. At 10:15 AM, a mobile storage device was connected. At 10:17 AM, Lam Van’s presentation PPT was imported. At 10:26 AM, that file was deleted. At 10:27 AM, a second mobile device was plugged in. At 10:28 AM, a file titled 'Status Presentation.pptx' was imported. At 10:31 AM, this file was set as the primary slide show for Lam Van’s presentation. The timeline was laid bare in cold, digital ink. Lu Cheng’s face went hollow.

"I... I was just testing the files as per protocol. That second device wasn't necessarily mine."

"Then let us check the security footage," I countered immediately.

The footage from the student council office was projected onto the screen. At 10:06 AM, I was seen handing my USB to Lu Cheng. After signing the log, Lu Cheng walked into the office. At 10:11 AM, Hua Thanh Le entered. She didn't knock, walking in with the casual familiarity of someone entering their own home. They sat before the computer together, Lu Cheng plugging in my USB. Hua Thanh Le then pulled a black USB drive from her pocket. The two stared intently at the screen, seemingly editing something. At 10:22 AM, Lu Cheng placed the black USB back into his pocket and headed for the control room.

As the footage finished, no one in the auditorium dared to defend them anymore. Hua Thanh Le’s composure shattered.

"I only went to find Lu Cheng to ask him to print some documents! I didn't do anything else!"

"Brother Lu Cheng." The moment those words escaped her lips, the expressions of those in the room shifted. Everyone present knew exactly what that implied; Hua Thanh Le was the girl adopted by the wealthy Thua family.