Chapter 5 — Never Blame a Janitor

The heart rate monitor beeped steadily next to the hospital bed, and to Dac Long standing silently outside the glass door, each beep sounded like a countdown. At the Emergency Department of Tam Duc International General Hospital, Anh Thu was taken to a special monitoring room as soon as the ambulance arrived. The doctors on duty quickly determined that her condition was moderate sedative poisoning combined with a short state of asphyxiation. Luckily, no brain damage was caused because the lack of oxygen did not last too long thanks to timely first aid at the scene. She was given fluids and had her heart rate and respiratory function continuously monitored. She was expected to need to be hospitalized for at least three to five days of observation.

Dac Long stood in the hallway, looking through the glass window into the monitoring room where his daughter was lying motionless with an IV drip in her hand, his whole body trembling with an anger that he had never allowed himself to fully feel for the past eight years. He was used to suppressing, used to swallowing all his emotions to keep a safe cover, but this time, when his daughter's life was only a moment away from death, the most primitive protective instinct in him completely overwhelmed all prudent reason.

The doctor on emergency duty, a middle-aged man named Dr. Cuong, came out to announce Anh Thu's stable condition, reassuring Dac Long that she was out of danger and was being closely monitored. Hearing that news, Dac Long nodded, clasped his hands in thanks, but as soon as it was confirmed that his daughter was temporarily safe under the care of the medical team, another cold decision immediately formed in his mind: he had to return to the scene immediately, before any evidence - no matter how small - could be erased or explained away as an "unfortunate accident" like what happened eight years ago to his wife.

He asked a trusted nurse to keep an eye on his daughter, and texted Ho Trong Nhan - the person he called right in the ambulance with a short, decisive call that had never happened in eight years - to send a car to pick him up and return to Lam Vien ecological area. On the nearly two-hour drive back to the scene, Dac Long sat in absolute silence in the car, his eyes looking straight ahead, his fingers clenched until they turned white. The driver, a former employee of Ho Trong Nhan, glanced in the rearview mirror and did not dare to say another word, feeling an invisible pressure radiating from the man sitting behind him, a pressure that he had only felt once, many years ago, when he was still serving in the army before being discharged.

When Dac Long returned to Lam Vien ecological area, it was already dark. The lake area was temporarily covered with warning ropes, and a few rescue workers and resort security guards were still huddled together discussing the shocking incident that had just occurred. Principal Dao Thi Minh Chau, after receiving an urgent report from the homeroom teacher, personally drove to the scene to directly understand the situation, and at the same time reassured some parents who drove in panic to pick up their children early as soon as the news spread in the class's parent chat group.

Dac Long entered the scene with a completely different look than the quiet, bowed guard that everyone was familiar with for the past eight years. His footsteps were decisive, his cold eyes swept over each person present as if he were appraising, evaluating, classifying - exactly the way a leader who had managed thousands of employees often did in major crises. He went straight to the staff in charge of the dining area, where a table of refreshments was set up before the boating activity.

Dac Long walked straight to the coffee table, his voice lowered into an invisible pressure that applied to the whole area. "Where is my daughter's water bottle?" The young employee took a half step back, his hands tightening on his shirt, not daring to look him straight in the eye.

"Yes... I... I don't know, we've already cleaned it all up," he stammered.

"Move to where?" Dac Long took another step forward, his voice still maintaining the same volume but each word seemed to have the weight of a knife. "You just said a student almost died from poisoning, and you cleaned up the evidence before the police or anyone else could check?"

The young employee turned pale, not knowing how to answer. At that moment, principal Minh Chau, hearing an unusually loud voice, quickly stepped forward to intervene.

"Mr. Phuc, calm down, the school is handling everything," Minh Chau quickly interjected, holding out his hands as if to reassure. Her voice was still shaking, still shocked by what she had just heard about the extraordinary life-saving actions of her school guardian.

Dac Long turned to look at her, and in that moment, Minh Chau suddenly took a half step back before his eyes - a look that did not contain any of the resignation and closeness familiar during the eight years she had known this guard. Those were the eyes of a person used to giving orders, used to being obeyed, used to standing at the top of every negotiation.

Dac Long lowered his voice, and it was that cold calm that made each word even scarier than any shout. "Principal. My daughter almost drowned because she put a sedative in her drinking water. This is not an accident. This is an intentional act that endangers the lives of minors. I need to know who was near the drinking water table in the thirty minutes before the children went into the lake, I need the security cameras of this resort, and I need to know exactly what drug was used so that the doctor can treat it properly. If the school doesn't take serious action right now, I will find out myself. truth, by any means necessary."

That statement, with the precise, coherent, and authoritative wording of a person who once directed large-scale corporate internal investigations, is completely inconsistent with the image of an uneducated school security guard who is only used to simple manual jobs. A few parents standing nearby, including the mother of one of the three students in Khai Phong's group, heard these words and began to exchange glances and whisper.

"He talks like a lawyer," one parent said quietly to the person next to him.

"I heard he jumped over a meter-high fence and swam to save her as fast as a commando," the other person replied, his voice full of surprise and curiosity.

Minh Chau, standing in front of Dac Long, clearly sensed something was wrong — not in the sense of danger, but in the sense of mystery. In her eight years as principal, she had never seen a security guard with this demeanor, and had never heard a manual worker be able to speak so accurately to every legal detail while in extreme panic. But in the immediate future, her top priority was still to stabilize the situation, reassure parents, and ensure that Anh Thu was fully taken care of.

"Mr. Phuc, I promise you, the school will clarify this matter to the end," she said, looking straight at him, not avoiding it. "I have asked the resort security to seal all security cameras, and I will contact the local police tonight to make an official record."

Dac Long nodded, his anger somewhat calmed down at that commitment, but his eyes still did not leave the crowd of students gathered nearby, where Tang Khai Phong stood mixed in with the group of friends, his face pale, his eyes unusually evasive compared to his usual arrogant look. The instinct of someone who has read hundreds of partners in tense negotiations immediately told Dac Long that the teenager was hiding something.

He did not approach, did not question directly - he understood clearly that, in this situation, any rash action could backfire, could cause him to be accused of assaulting a student, and worse, could give those behind the incident - if his hunch was true - the opportunity to erase all traces before he could collect enough evidence. He chose to step back, observe, and remember every smallest detail with the sharp eyes of a strategist who has been silent for too long.

On the way back to the hospital, sitting in the car, Dac Long called Ho Trong Nhan. His voice had returned to its usual calmness but contained a fierceness unprecedented in the past eight years.

"Mr. Nhan," he said, "I need you to check on all the kids in the group who are constantly causing trouble for Thu at school, especially the boy named Tang Khai Phong. I need to know exactly who put the drugs in my child's water, and I need to know within the next forty-eight hours."

The other end of the line was silent for a moment, then Ho Trong Nhan's voice rang out, sounding both worried and as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"Mr. Long, are you sure you want to start again from here? Once you touch it, there will be no turning back."

Dac Long looked out the car window, where the city lights gradually appeared ahead, and in his heart, all hesitation finally completely disappeared.

"I've been waiting eight years," he said, his voice cold and firm like a declaration of war. "They dared to touch my daughter. This is no longer a matter of choice."