Chapter 7 — The Thirteenth Desk Drawer

Mr. Phuc was not the first person they suspected, but he was the first person with enough power to make all documents disappear. Khoi wanted to ask directly, but An Khe stopped him. They need evidence that the teacher taught the boy to carry the desk to the gate, not just based on a piece of paper.

The clue came from the old classroom behind C's house. Hao knew that place used to be the technology room, where students had to learn how to enter data into the fund system. He took everyone out after school, but the locks had been changed. Khoi looked at the lock and guessed that the person who replaced it was not a school worker: the screws were still bright, the cuts on the hinges were very neat.

“You know so much by looking at the lock?” Thu asked.

“It's okay to look at people, but people usually don't lie still for me to measure.”

Hao laughed, but An Khe saw that Khoi was not joking. He removed the cover of the electrical box next to the door and found a spare key. The key does not open the door, but opens the filing cabinet inside the security room. In the cabinet is an equipment loan book, with a line stating: "Table 13 - temporary transport - recipient: Phuc."

Mr. Phuc used to be an equipment management teacher, not a student. He signed for the table two days before the fundraiser. Next to the signature is a repository code. An Khe looked up the code in the book and discovered it matched a room in the basement.

The basement is sealed because of mold. Master Quang allowed them to go down with the maintenance staff. Khoi went first, wearing a mask; An Khe holds the lamp. Iron shelves are filled with cardboard boxes, old computers and student nametags. At the end of the hallway there is a door without a number. On the door, there is a sticker saying "No unauthorized entry", but the tape is new.

Inside is a small room with a paper shredder, an iron cabinet and a removable wooden table. A piece of metal number 13 lies on the floor. Khoi bent down and picked it up, his hands shaking.

“The table has been removed here,” he said.

In the safe, they found scholarship fund records, but most of the corners had been cut off. Thu saw her sister's name on the list, next to the word "received". She shook her head. “I never received it.”

An Khe took photos of each page according to the teacher's instructions. Khoi found a data entry guide written by Mr. Phuc. At the end of the document there is a handwritten sentence: **Create sub-account, change status to received, wait for later check.**

Hao frowned. "So the money doesn't need to be taken out of the box. Just change the status on the register."

“Who uses a secondary account?” Thu asked.

An old computer is still lit. The screen shows the username “V.Phu”. Data saved on September 18, twelve years ago. In the junk folder there is an audio file that has not been deleted. Mr. Phuc's voice rang out, younger but clear: "You just need to follow. Don't ask where the money goes. It will be resolved tomorrow."

The male student's voice replied: "But she will be kicked out."

“If you want to keep your scholarship, you must know not to look back.”

The audio clip is cut. An Khe stood still. The male student was not the one who took the money, but the one who was afraid of losing his own scholarship. Teacher Phuc turned a student into a desk carrier, then used his silence to push Mai out of school.

Teacher Quang listened to the recording and his face turned pale. He told them to stop, because this was evidence that could affect many people. An Khe asked if they stopped, who would protect Thu's sister. Teacher Quang did not answer immediately. He took his phone and called the school's legal department.

“From now on all documents must be sealed,” he said. “No one can take the original.”

At that moment, the basement light went off. The outer door was locked from the outside. The sound of footsteps running up the stairs. Hao knocked on the door, but no one listened. Khoi took a screwdriver to open the electrical panel, and An Khe called teacher Quang. The phone has no signal.

Thu panicked and said she didn't want to cause trouble. An Khe held your hand. "We didn't cause it. We're just no longer above it."

Khoi removed the ventilation cover and found a pipe leading to the technical room. He said only one person could get through. Hao gave it to Thu, but Thu shook her head, saying she was the lightest. She crawled through and opened the door from the outside. When everyone got out, the safe was opened. Part of the profile disappeared.

On the background is a piece of cream-colored paper.

**The person in the middle does not take the money himself. They just teach others to hold it for them.**

Mr. Quang asked everyone not to leave school alone. An Khe called her mother and told almost everything. Mom was silent for a long time and then asked her if she knew the person who was in charge of the scholarship fund that year. An Khe said it was the parent representative board. Mom said the account holder's name was Hoang Lam Learning Materials Company, a company where she used to work as an accountant when she was young.

“Where have you seen that guy?”

"In an old work file. Someone asked my mother to edit an expense list, but she refused."

An Khe was stunned. Her mother was involved with the school before she was born. Mom didn't say more, just told her to go home immediately. An Khe looked at Khoi, knowing the story had touched her family.

When they passed through the gate, Tuong Vy stood next to the car. She looked at Mr. Quang, then at An Khe. “Are you guys going to the basement?”

An Khe did not answer. Tuong Vy smiled: "You should be careful. People who reopen old stories often have to pay the price for the present."

Khoi stepped in front of An Khe. "You should also be careful. The person standing next to the window lied yesterday. Today, someone else may have heard it."

Tuong Vy's face darkened. She started the engine and left.

That night, An Khe reopened Mai's photo. In the corner of the photo, behind the row of students, there is a male student with half his face covered. On his left hand is a red ink stain. He wore a pen-shaped badge that her mother used to keep in an old storage box.

The new piece of paper appeared at 10:13 p.m.

**Tomorrow, ask An Khe's mother why she knows the name Hoang Lam.**

An Khe did not sleep immediately after the conversation. She opened her mother's photo box and flipped through photos from her time as an accountant. In one photo, the mother stands next to the balance sheet, her face younger and her eyes not avoiding it. An Khe wondered what moment made that woman learn to be silent. That question made her love her mother, but it also made her understand that love cannot replace the truth.

An Khe's mother came home late, bringing two cups of soy milk. She did not ask what her daughter did at school. She put down her cup and took an old business card from her pocket. Hoang Lam's name is printed on it, below is the title at a construction company.

“I used to work as an accountant for a school renovation project,” she said. "Hoang Lam was the sponsor's representative at that time. He was not the only one who decided, but he was the one with the loudest voice."

An Khe asked her mother if she knew Mai. Mom shook her head. She only knew there was a missing file, a long meeting and a teacher who asked to be transferred. People in the room said not to ask because Hoang Lam's family helped the school get new computers.

“Mom, are you quiet too?” An Khe asked.

Mom looked down at the glass of milk. "I asked. Then I was transferred to another department. At that time I was still young, my grandparents were sick, and I needed a job. I told myself that I couldn't save anyone."

“But I can tell you.”

She did not object. She said many years later, when An Khe started going to school, she still avoided mentioning the name of her old school. Not because I forgot, but because I was afraid that something that had been silent for too long would turn my current life upside down. An Khe understands that fear, but understanding does not mean accepting it.

Mom gave her an old USB. In it were copies of project spreadsheets, several email exchanges and a photo of meeting minutes. An email sent to my mother read: “Please adjust the recipient name to match the sponsorship report.” The sender is Hoang Lam's account.

An Khe did not want to continue reading on her own. She called Khoi and Ms. Hanh over. Mom set the condition that she would only provide copies and not reveal the identities of other employees without being asked. Ms. Hanh agreed, saying the file would be processed properly.

Khoi asked An Khe's mother why she still kept the USB. She replied that she had intended to send it to the inspector, but then the project ended and the company closed. She thought everything was lost. Ms. Hanh said those documents can help determine the timeline, but are not enough to conclude who committed the crime.

An Khe sat and looked at the money chart running through the columns. Numbers are emotionless, but each number could be a family waiting for tuition, a person who believes in a promise, a name crossed out in red ink. She asked her mother if she regretted it.

“Yes,” Mom said. "But regret is not an action. You have to do something besides tell."

The next morning, Mom sent a signed report. She agreed to be a witness if needed by the council. An Khe saw for the first time that her mother did not avoid the conversation. She was still afraid, but chose to step away from safety.

In class, Tuong Vy looked at An Khe and asked what was wrong. An Khe only said the group was checking old records. Tuong Vy said that if she needed someone to organize documents, she could help. Khoi said they will need a lot of people, but privacy must be respected.

At the end of the day, An Khe opened the desk drawer. The new piece of paper asked nothing. It reads: "Adults can also return. But don't make them return for the one who was left behind."