Chapter 7 — From Collapse to Brilliance: I Don't Need You

The immunology laboratory, two weeks after Diệu Kỳ officially moved to the Dawn Institute building, had a completely different atmosphere. There was no more laughter and chatter every morning when Thảo My brought dumplings to share with the whole group, no more lively discussions about research progress that Diệu Kỳ used to be the main leader.

Trịnh Ý Nhi, now, has become the most familiar person in the lab, even though she has only joined for less than two months. She skillfully filled the void left by Diệu Kỳ — not by demonstrating outstanding professional ability, but by becoming the emotional connection center of the group, the person with whom everyone felt they could confide and share small frustrations in work and life.

One afternoon, when Thảo My was sitting alone at her desk, staring at the computer screen without really concentrating, Ý Nhi walked over and gently placed a cup of warm tea next to her.

"You don't seem happy," Ý Nhi said, her voice gentle, sitting in the chair next to her. "What's going on?"

Thảo My sighed, unable to hide her disappointment. "I miss Diệu Kỳ. Since the day he moved away, everything seems to be missing something. Besides, the work he left behind is now assigned to me and Đình Vũ to share, and the volume is much larger."

"I understand that feeling," Ý Nhi said, her eyes showing deep sympathy. "But I also have some questions, I don't know if I should say it..."

"Just keep talking," Thảo My urged, the curiosity in her voice overwhelming the fatigue.

"I heard," Ý Nhi lowered her voice, as if she were sharing an important secret, "Miss Diệu Kỳ didn't change majors just because she wanted to try a new field. I overheard another student say that she had learned about the Dawn Institute a long time ago, like she had a plan in advance. Could it be that... she knew in advance that this clinical trial project would have some problems, so she withdrew at the right time like that?"

Thảo My was stunned and frowned. "What do you mean? Did Diệu Kỳ know there was a problem but didn't tell anyone?"

"I don't dare to confirm anything," Ý Nhi said quickly, expressing regret for having said something wrong. "Maybe I just heard wrong. Don't take it too seriously, I don't want to cause misunderstandings."

But the seeds of doubt were sown. Thảo My, although she did not say it out loud, a question began to arise in her heart that she had never thought of before: did Diệu Kỳ really leave for the simple reason she said, or was there another deeper motive?

This is Ý Nhi's familiar trick — never asserting anything directly, just staking out a vague possibility, then letting the listener's imagination and insecurities do the rest. A half-hearted statement, followed by a hasty, remorseful retreat, is always much more effective than a direct accusation — because it leaves no trace that can be attributed later.

A few days later, it was Đình Vũ's turn. He was struggling with a complex data table that Diệu Kỳ left behind, trying to find logic in the way she had previously organized the data. Ý Nhi, as usual, appeared at the right time.

"Do you need any help?" she asked, standing nearby looking at the screen.

"I don't understand why Ms. Diệu Kỳ arranges the data like this," Đình Vũ muttered, his voice mixed with frustration. "Not according to any standards I've ever studied."

"I also find it a bit strange," Ý Nhi said, her tone careful. "But, Mr. Vu, I think maybe I shouldn't blame Ms. Diệu Kỳ too much. Anyway, she's already left, leaving the work for everyone to manage. She probably has her own reasons for doing so."

That sentence that seemed to defend Diệu Kỳ actually deepened the feeling of being abandoned and suffering the consequences unfairly in Đình Vũ's heart. He already had some dissatisfaction with the increased workload, and Ý Nhi's words, while seemingly neutral, cleverly reinforced the feeling that Diệu Kỳ had selfishly abandoned his responsibilities.

"You're right," Đình Vũ said, his voice becoming colder. "But anyway, this also puts the group behind schedule quite a bit." Only Phùng Nhật Lam is the only person who still maintains relative sanity. She observed the changes in the lab's atmosphere with silent vigilance, though she couldn't pinpoint the exact source of that uneasiness. Some evenings, when staying late with Ý Nhi to complete work, Nhật Lam realized that she had a suspicious acumen in grasping other people's psychology - always knowing exactly what to say, when, to evoke the right emotions she wanted.

But every time Nhật Lam tried to share her vague doubts with Thảo My or Đình Vũ, she received indifferent, even somewhat unpleasant, responses. "You think too much," Thảo My once said. "Ý Nhi is kind, don't doubt people for no reason." Nhật Lam gradually became silent, no longer sharing her doubts, but she still silently observed and remembered the small details in her heart, waiting for the day there would be enough clear evidence to speak up.

Meanwhile, Ý Nhi continued to strengthen her position in the lab with another strategy — showing excessive diligence and dedication in front of Professor Đoàn Khắc Tuấn. She is always the first to arrive, the last to leave, always proactively accepting extra work, creating the impression of a progressive, trustworthy student. Professor Tuan, who values hard work and responsibility, gradually had a special sympathy for her, often praising her in front of the whole group.

That unintentional bias, even though it was not intentional, gave Thảo My and Đình Vũ even more reason to feel dissatisfied, not with Ý Nhi, but with the implicit comparison between the "hard-working newcomer" and "the old one who left her responsibilities midway" — a comparison that Ý Nhi herself had skillfully planted in previous private conversations.

In less than two months, the atmosphere in the lab has completely transformed. The name Tôn Diệu Kỳ, once mentioned with respect and nostalgia, is now gradually associated with petty complaints, malicious implicit comparisons that no one in the group realizes their true origin.

And in a hidden corner of the Dawn Institute building, not far away, Diệu Kỳ, although no longer directly present in the old lab, is still watching those developments day by day through short, casual conversations with a few mutual acquaintances, through the delicate observation she has honed during the painful days of her previous life.

She knew that the old scenario was gradually repeating itself, exactly as she had predicted. But this time, she is no longer a passive victim waiting for fate to strike — she is a remote observer, silently gathering every piece of evidence, preparing for a confrontation that she knows is coming, without knowing exactly what form it will take.

One evening, by chance she met Nhật Lam in the school cafeteria. Diệu Kỳ invited her to sit with her, keeping the conversation as natural as two old friends asking about each other. "How's the lab these days?" she asked, her tone light, not revealing too much concern.

Nhật Lam stirred the glass of orange juice in front of her and sighed. "It's normal. It's just... I feel like Thảo My and Đình Vũ have been saying things that make me uncomfortable lately. Like, sometimes mentioning you in an unfriendly tone, even though no one has clearly said why."

"What do you mean people are saying bad things about me?" Diệu Kỳ asked, trying to keep her usual curious tone instead of worried.

"It's not really a bad thing," Nhật Lam frowned, trying to find the right words. "Just random sentences, like 'Diệu Kỳ probably knew something was going to happen so he withdrew', or 'those people are really good, they know how to retreat at the right time'. I don't understand where those sentences come from, because no one has said that before."

Diệu Kỳ was silent for a moment, pretending to be thinking about her own question. "Do you know who was the first person to say those words?"

"I don't remember clearly," Nhật Lam replied, her eyes slightly apologetic. "It seems like I've heard it over and over again, and I don't know where it came from. Maybe I'm thinking too much." Diệu Kỳ nodded, not asking further questions, but in her heart she already had the answer. The way rumors spread without anyone remembering the origin is the most characteristic sign of Ý Nhi's trick - spreading small statements at many different times, to many different people, so that when the rumor spreads, no one can trace back to the original starting point.

That night, returning to her room, Diệu Kỳ recorded the entire conversation with Nhật Lam in a secret notebook, marking the moment when the first rumors about her "knowing something was going on" began to appear. She compared it to the time of her career change interview, realizing that the gap was only a few days - enough to confirm that those rumors did not appear by chance, but were intentionally spread right after she left the lab.

She closed the notebook, her eyes steadily looking out the dark window. Every scrap of evidence she collects, while not enough to directly confront her, gradually weaves a clearer picture of how Ý Nhi operates her game of manipulation — and that's the foundation she needs to one day, when the time is right, to irrefutably expose it all.