Middle-aged man spread his hands and said, “Those can’t be considered evidence at all. She had depression, her mind was unclear for a while before her death—can you trust what she wrote? Besides, it was all just hearsay, with no basis.”

“She said there were photos! The photos you secretly took! She saw them all! Principal XX, Academic Director XX, Nexent Corp’s General Manager…” The girl rattled off a string of names and titles, her tone short and sharp. “You secretly photographed and coerced them, and even made comments about them, taking pleasure in their struggles. None of you are human!”

The middle-aged man asked, “So where are the photos?”

“You want to deny it?” The girl suddenly stood up. “If you dare, take out your phone! Let the police check it, see what you’ve stored before! The internet leaves traces—do you think deleting things can change the facts? What you did is a criminal offense!”

“Enough!” the man barked, motioning for her to sit down. “That was consensual, not a crime. Do you understand?”

The girl screamed, “You’re lying! Shut up!”

The man: “That’s enough!”

The girl slammed the table in anger. “Don’t push me! At worst, I’ll jump off that dorm building too! Two people have already died at this school—if there’s a third, none of you will get away with it!”

The man started laughing. “Then go ahead and jump. Go on. People will only laugh at you, think you killed yourself out of guilt! The police and the school have always worked together, you know? The education bureau is a government department too. Just see who they’ll believe in the end. Young people shouldn’t overestimate themselves.”

The girl was breathing heavily, clearly furious.

The man took a cigarette from the pack at his side, lit it with a lighter, and leaned back in his chair. After a while, he spoke in a patronizing tone: “Why make things so ugly for everyone? Do you think you can threaten me with your life? Are you kidding? I want to have a proper conversation with you. But with your emotions like this, how can we talk?”

“My advice: stop getting involved in this. Why not make some useful requests instead?” The man seemed to be sincerely advising her. “Think about yourself—you’re in your last year of high school, right? The college entrance exam is less than a month away. What will you get out of making a scene?”

The Vault: “Justice.”

The man: “How much is justice worth?”

He exhaled a puff of white smoke in front of him, enjoying it.

The girl was silent for a long time before speaking again, her voice trembling: “Yvonne Thornton died for nothing? She was driven to death by you. You were the first to harass her, but you didn’t even give her the most basic compensation.”

“That’s why it’s easier to talk about money, isn’t it?” The man tapped the table. “Two hundred thousand.”

“Not enough.” The girl gradually calmed down. “And Nathan Sanders, her mother only had one daughter.”

The man: “Then how much compensation do you think is appropriate?”

The girl: “A human life—how much do you think it’s worth?”

The man: “One million. Is that acceptable to you?”

The girl fell silent again. Even through the screen, her inner struggle was palpable.

Finally, she replied weakly, then added in a feeble voice, “You can’t go to my mom again. I can pretend none of this ever happened. She’s just an ordinary person.”

The man waved his hand, signaling that she could leave.

The girl asked, “I have one more question.”

The man looked in a good mood. “Go ahead.”

“Do you have any conscience at all?” The girl suppressed her anger and questioned him. “You use the poverty student program set up by Principal to gain both fame and fortune, but behind the scenes you do things worse than animals. You’ve wronged so many people—you’ve even wronged Principal. You’ve trampled on his kindness and ruined the whole school. Sooner or later, you’ll pay for it.”

“Principal?” The man sneered, clearly dismissing her, waving his cigarette. “You can go ask Principal why he let me do this. Young people, you’re so ridiculous.”

The screen suddenly went dark, cutting back to The Vault.

The Vault was holding her head, her focus not on the camera. She spoke softly: “Everything I said is true. I don’t know why no one believes me, and even hurts my family. Do I have to die to prove it? Is this your idea of justice? I can guarantee the truth with my life—can you take responsibility for your own words?”

The Vault choked up twice, then continued: “I’ve said it all. If you believe me, don’t hurt the victims, don’t speculate about who was coerced. What really needs to be discussed are those who lie and deceive… Farewell, everyone.”

·

When this video came out, the school leaders were being interviewed by the media. They lowered their eyes, pretending to express disappointment and regret over Wendy Ward, while perfunctorily engaging in self-reflection, saying the school failed to pay enough attention to students’ mental health and should bear some responsibility.

The media’s instincts were sharper than theirs. Halfway through his speech, several reporters’ phones buzzed with new notifications. They stepped back to quietly check the messages.

The school leader being interviewed sensed something was wrong. He cleared his throat, preparing to speak again.

After reading the messages, the reporters looked shocked, exchanging incredulous glances. Their attitude changed instantly—they rushed forward, thrusting microphones at the leader and asked sharply, “How does your school respond to the latest video released by Wendy Ward?”

The man being interviewed was stunned for a moment, then slowly said, “What video? Wendy Ward often lies. If it’s something she said, I think it should be verified before being believed.”

“She released the full video of her negotiation with you in the office!” the reporter said excitedly. “The people in the video—their lip movements and voices all match! Do you dare to release the original audio?”

A cold sweat broke out on the leader’s back, but he still forced himself to say, “What we released is the original audio. We need to see the video you mentioned before giving an accurate answer.”

The reporters gave him no chance to escape, bombarding him with questions:

“Did you know Wendy Ward committed suicide by jumping into the water this morning?”

“Did you know Wendy Ward used her own death to accuse you of your abuse of power?”

“Were the online trolls attacking Wendy Ward hired by your school?”

“Was Nathan Sanders’s suicide manipulated by you to look like campus bullying? Please answer directly!”

The middle-aged man couldn’t take it anymore and tried to escape the crowd, pushing with his hands: “Wait a minute… wait a minute…”

“Stop right there!”

“Do you know that inciting others to commit suicide, though not explicitly defined in law, is recognized by the judiciary as intentional homicide? Did No. 1 High School coerce students into suicide? Did it?”

“Get your leaders out here! We want the truth! Three lives demand the truth!”

“How do you explain what Wendy Ward said?”

The school’s administration building was immediately surrounded, and reporters rushed to the Principal’s office and the homes of the other people named by The Vault in the video, seeking justice.

Those people were found in a daze, not even understanding what was happening, suddenly facing dark camera lenses and a barrage of angry questions, left speechless. Then, in their confusion, they were taken away by the police to the station for investigation.

Along the way, their various embarrassing states were all captured on camera. When they arrived at the police station, they were surrounded by crowds, enduring the citizens’ outrage like rats crossing the street.

Angry parents threw garbage at their faces, and the police showed no sympathy, only mechanically asking the crowd to make way.

Everything happened so fast, as if after the sun rose over the horizon, daylight arrived in an instant.

·

The news of Wendy Ward’s suicide spread even faster than her video. The police account directly posted about Wendy Ward falling into the water, saying they were searching for her but had not yet found her.

Netizens’ emotions were complicated when they first heard the news.

“She really killed herself?”

“So fragile?”

“Weren’t you the ones who pushed her to death step by step?”

“She deserved it. Didn’t her classmates say so too?”

Respect for the dead prevailed—though some people still spoke harshly, at least their voices were quieter.

Then, the video exploded, and the silent majority was shaken awake.

They flocked to Wendy Ward’s Weibo, saw the comments in the section, and were chilled to the bone by all the malice, which then erupted into a powerful sadness.

“Blah blah blah! I’m telling you, you’re all blah blah blah! Damn, you’re all executioners! You eat people and spit out the bones! Are you satisfied now? Are you?!”

“I’m really so sad, I started crying as I watched. It feels like she died right in front of me. A girl with such a sense of justice, yet she died with the stigma of a criminal. What’s wrong with this society?”

“My scalp is tingling—this is real, bloody murder!”