Chapter 19 — The Test Has No Name

Homeroom Teacher's Notebook

That evening, after the activities on the first day of School Integrity Week ended, Khanh Thu went to Ms. Bich Loan's house, bringing with her a printout of the note she had taken from the archives a few weeks ago.

Ms. Loan's small house is located in a quiet alley near the school, still maintaining its familiar simplicity. She invited Khanh Thu in, made a pot of hot tea, then sat down opposite, her eyes as if she had predicted the reason for this unexpected visit.

"I found this in the archive room," Khanh Thu said, placing the printed piece of paper on the table. "Do you remember writing it?"

Ms. Loan picked up the paper, read it again, a look of sadness flashed across her face. "I remember. I wrote it right after the disciplinary committee meeting, when everything was still hot in my head. I didn't have the courage or enough evidence to make it official, so I just kept it as a private note."

"She said she noticed another student showing signs of unusual psychological stress during that exam," Khanh Thu said, her voice careful. "Can you tell me more? I need to know every detail you can remember."

Ms. Loan pondered for a moment, as if searching for memories that had been dormant for many years. "During the final review session before the exam day, I stopped by the meeting room to observe for a while. I clearly remember that Vy made several mistakes in a row on easy problems that day, his hands were shaking so much that he broke the tip of his pen. When I asked him, he only said it was due to exam stress, that's what I thought at the time. But after hearing that Nguyen was suspended from the exam, she remembered and saw something wrong - a student who was so stressed that he broke his pen before the exam, but was able to calmly do the exam the entire time. three hours straight after witnessing a classmate being led out in such a shocking situation. For an eighteen-year-old, that reaction is not at all natural."

"Did you tell anyone about this suspicion?" Khanh Thu asked.

"I hinted at the principal at that time, but he said he couldn't reopen the case based on just an emotional observation, without concrete evidence," Ms. Loan replied, her voice filled with a bit of regret left after many years. "She had to keep this note, hoping that one day there would be more information to clarify."

Khanh Thu recounted everything she witnessed the afternoon before the exam - the image of Vy bending down near Nguyen's bag, his hasty explanation, and her own confession to Nguyen this morning. Ms. Loan listened without interrupting, her hand clutching the cup of tea that had cooled without her realizing it.

"So for the past fifteen years, I've been carrying this burden alone," Ms. Loan said, her voice gentle but no less stern. "I wish that day you had the courage to speak out sooner, but I also understand that, at the age of eighteen, not everyone is strong enough to confront their own fears."

"I plan to reveal the truth tomorrow, during the closing session," Khanh Thu said. "I need you to testify with me, about what you observed and recorded that year. Your statement alone probably won't carry enough weight."

Ms. Loan nodded without hesitation. "I will stand with you. It is time for this story to be told completely, no matter how late."

"Thank you," Khanh Thu said, her voice choked with emotion. "All these years, I thought I was the only one still tormented by this. Knowing that you also tried to do something, no matter how small, makes me feel less lonely."

"Having been a teacher for many years, I understand one thing," Ms. Loan said, pouring more tea for both of them. "Justice doesn't always come at the right time and place as we want. But if we give up and stop trying just because the time is not favorable, then justice will never come. I have waited fifteen years for the opportunity to say this. I am ready to stand with you, no matter what I have to face."

"How do you think the current principal will react?" Khanh Thu asked, her voice worried. "He warned me to consider carefully because it would affect the school's image."

"The school's image will be better built by honesty, not by hiding past mistakes," Ms. Loan replied, her voice determined. "If he doesn't agree, I will be responsible for my own speech. You don't need to worry for me."

The two of them sat for a while longer, reviewing together the content Khanh Thu planned to present tomorrow, adding and subtracting every detail to ensure everything was presented accurately, fairly, without exaggerating or minimizing anything. When Khanh Thu left, it was late, but her heart was much more relieved than when she entered this small house a few hours ago.

At the same time, at the hotel where the honored guests were staying, Vy received a call from the principal, briefly informing him of the expected content of tomorrow's closing session - a special speech from the Vice Principal on the topic of "responsibility of witnesses in school integrity cases", without specific details but enough to make Vy, with the sensitivity of someone who had lived for many years in fear, immediately realize what was about to happen.

He immediately called Khanh Thu, his voice urgent when she picked up the phone. "I heard that tomorrow you will speak about the past. Is that true?"

"Yes," Khanh Thu replied directly, not avoiding.

"What are you going to say?" Vy asked, his voice visibly shaking over the phone. "Are you going to say my name in front of the whole school?"

"I will tell the truth about what I witnessed and why I remained silent," Khanh Thu replied. "I won't intentionally mention your name if you don't want to, but I also won't lie if anyone asks directly about what I know."

"You can't do that," Vy said, her voice almost pleading. "Do you know what position I have at the scholarship fund? If this gets out, my career will completely collapse, and my whole family will be involved. My parents are old, they can't stand this shock."

"So what shock do you think Nguyen's family endured fifteen years ago?" Khanh Thu asked again, her voice became sharp for the first time in front of Vy. "I've had fifteen years to find a way to redeem myself in my own way, but I've never done anything, other than hope no one finds out."

Vy was silent on the other end of the phone, with no rebuttal strong enough to respond to that naked truth.

"I will not decide for you your part in this story," Khanh Thu said, her voice softening a bit but remaining firm. "But as for me, I have already decided. If you are wise, you should prepare yourself for what may happen tomorrow, instead of trying to stop me."

She hung up the phone, leaving Vy standing alone in the hotel room, his hand still clutching the phone, his whole body trembling before the prospect that he had been avoiding for the past fifteen years was now finally coming, there was no way to continue to avoid it anymore.

He paced back and forth in the hotel room for a long time, his mind spinning with a series of different scenarios. He thought about calling his parents to warn them in advance so they could mentally prepare, but then decided against it, not knowing how to say anything after all these years of keeping it a secret. He thought about leaving Vong Khe at night, using the excuse of unexpected work, to avoid having to face tomorrow's ceremony, but he knew clearly that even if he escaped this time, the truth would find a way to come back to find him at another time, maybe even worse.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, took out his phone, and scrolled to Nguyen's number that he had saved from the business cards exchanged at the party last night. His finger lingered on the call button for a long time, debating whether or not to call to ask for mercy, but in the end he put the phone away, realizing that anything he said now would only sound like a last-ditch effort to protect himself, not a true repentance.

He lay down on the bed, staring at the unfamiliar hotel ceiling, remembering what his father said at dinner that year - "don't let the whole family's efforts go to waste" - and realized that, fifteen years later, that sentence still had the same weight on his chest, except now, what was hanging in the balance was no longer a scholarship, but the entire honor and career he had painstakingly built on the foundation of a lie that had never been confessed.