The morning sunlight spilled through the gap in the curtains, casting a gentle warmth over the sterile hospital air.
Parin leaned weakly against the bedframe, her face still pale, but her eyes brighter than they had been in days.
On the doctor's report, the words "Condition temporarily stable" became the most precious comfort in Manida's heart.
"It seems the medicine is finally working," Manida said softly, pouring her a cup of warm water. Her gaze, behind the golden frame of her glasses, was gentle but cautious.
Parin took the cup, forcing a faint smile. "Do I look… like a normal person again?"
"You always have been," Manida replied, sitting beside her and gently holding her hand.
Just then, a knock came at the door. A police officer entered, his expression grave.
"Professor Manida, Professor Parin — we've found new evidence."
He placed a file and several photos on the table. In them, the vice dean was seen near the scene of the accident. The images were blurry, but clear enough — he could never have "just happened to be passing by."
Parin stared at the photo, something inside her chest twisting sharply. Her fingers trembled, yet she still reached out and pressed the photo into her palm.
"So it really was him…" she murmured, her voice low but cutting. "All these years, he pretended to be our mentor, while secretly setting the trap."
Manida's heart tightened. She reached out to steady her shoulder.
"Lin, calm down."
"I am calm," Parin said quietly, taking a deep breath, her eyes never leaving the photo. "At least now… we finally know the truth."
That evening, the police brought the vice dean to the hospital for a face-to-face confrontation.
Parin insisted on going — even if it meant being wheeled there in her hospital bed.
In that moment, Manida saw a fire in her eyes again — not the weakness of a patient, but the pride of a scholar, the courage of a warrior.
During questioning, the vice dean tried to deny everything. But when the evidence chain was laid out before him, his silence became the clearest confession.
Parin stared straight at him, her voice weak yet steady:
"You thought you could destroy me. But you forgot… truth never stays buried forever."
The vice dean's face turned ashen. As he was taken away, his cold, sharp gaze fell on them one last time.
The wind outside grew quiet.
Manida turned toward Parin, relief flickering faintly in her eyes.
"It's over, Lin. We finally did it."
Parin's lips curved into a faint smile — but her eyes grew hazy. Just as Manida thought she was fine, Parin's body suddenly went limp in her arms, blood spilling from her lips.
"Lin!" Manida's scream tore through the air. Her trembling hands clutched Parin tightly.
Parin's eyes fluttered open, as if she wanted to speak — but her voice drowned in the taste of blood.
With the last of her strength, she reached up and brushed Manida's cheek.
Then her hand fell.
Outside, the sky burned crimson — as if the heavens themselves wept for them.
And in that moment, the fragile hope they had just reclaimed was once again shattered by cruel reality.