The weather was so clear it felt like you could count four or five consecutive days without rain. In any case, it was that nice.I helped Hugh open the windows. With plenty of time before departure, I picked up the book I’d paused yesterday and settled onto the sofa. Hugh sat cross-legged on the floor and began rolling a cigarette. I really knew nothing about Hugh—until now I didn’t even know he smoked. When I blinked at him in surprise, he lifted his head.“You must sleep in too late to have seen it.”Hugh said cheerfully, “My family runs a tobacco farm. We all roll our own. It’s like a little morning ritual at home.”I watched his quick fingers and asked, “But I’ve never seen you smoke before.”Hugh gestured toward his room with a playful grin. “Thanks to our picky roommate. He never lets us smoke in the dorm. George’s as fussy as a girl.”“As fussy as a girl.” The way Hugh spat out that phrase left a curious impression. Who called their friend “girl” like that? Suspicious, maybe, but it wouldn’t hurt to stay on guard. I studied Hugh intently while he calmly continued rolling.“By the way,” he said, “if you’re heading out today, could you pick up some notebooks from the shop… Raymond, why’re you staring?”Startled when he met my gaze, Hugh asked. I answered without hiding my distrustful expression, “I’ve just been feeling weird today. I overate.”Hugh laughed mischievously. “Don’t get indigestion and end up stuck here. I’ve nearly run out of notebooks—getting a bit tight.”I shrugged and put a hand to my stomach. He asked if I needed antacid; I shook my head. Hugh finished rolling, then described the exact kind of notebook—how many pages, what size—and chattered on about the hotel and pool from last weekend, and even the chef’s specialties.I kept observing. There was nothing odd—just the usual cheerful, talkative Hugh. Occasionally a hint of anxiety creeped into his tone, but not enough to pin down. He remained worried about exams. Before I could discover anything definitively suspicious, he packed all the tobacco into a flat tin can stamped with acacia blossoms—it looked pretty neat. Noticing my gaze, he held it out.“Nice, huh?”He sounded a bit pleased. I nodded. “Your prized possession.”He laughed and checked his watch—it was just past eight. Hugh groaned that he needed to study, then dragged himself back toward his room. Almost immediately, a breathless Simon, having finished his jog, reappeared—much later than usual.He carried several books, as if he’d stopped by the library. I reached for my book to finally read, then froze.Why had Simon gone to the library at this hour? And why was he so late returning? A chill ran down my neck.Could /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ he have discovered the photos I’d hidden?The thought jolted me upright. I bounded down the dorm stairs four at a time, burst out the entrance, grabbed the nearest bicycle, and sped off. The school, unlike the dorm, was open twenty-four hours. If Simon hadn’t gone jogging but to hunt for the photos…Inside the library, I darted between the shelves. When I reached the one labeled On the Wildflowers of the Southern Regions, I flattened myself to the floor and peered into the gap.The photos lay undisturbed.Relief drained all strength from me, and I collapsed limply. I retrieved the bundle and, as before, slipped it into the tops of my socks before standing.Now I wondered: had Simon really just gone to the library, or was he flaunting books to threaten me? I couldn’t tell. In any case, hiding the photos here was too risky. I needed another plan—maybe find a storage locker in Goron when I went out today, or rent a P.O. box to stash them safely.At least I hadn’t lost the photos. They were my only proof of violence. With renewed calm, I left the library.Riding back to the dorm at a leisurely pace, I found a cluster of students gathered on the terrace. Some still wore pajamas, hair mussed—rubbing their sleepy eyes. Something must have happened. I dismounted and approached the crowd, spotting a boy from French class—was his name Jack?—and asked him.“What’s up?”He looked at me. “Oh, it’s you. Looks like someone pulled a prank.”He pointed between the dorm and the annex, where the parking lot lay, now filled with people. A bad feeling crept over me. He continued,“They say every car on campus got its tires slashed.”Coincidence? No way.“When?”“Well, some teachers went to Goron after class yesterday, so it was probably last night or early this morning. We’ve only just heard—don’t know details yet.”“Brutal. So all outings are canceled today.”“Probably. But it’s exam season anyway—few people go into town. Were you planning to go out?”“…No. Exams, remember.”We exchanged a few more words, then I headed back up to the dorm. Before anger could set in, I felt absurd. Tire-slashing just to keep me in? Crazy bastards.If Jérôme and Simon had orchestrated this grand party… what were they up to? I’d never fully grasped their plans before—I’d always been powerless. They had no pattern or clear purpose. I had no bait to throw back at them. I was only being swept into their game. I had to figure something out. Anything.Just as I neared the fourth floor, I stopped in my tracks against the wall, straining to hear. From the right-hand corridor came the sound of voices—Jérôme and Simon.“If you want, we can always give more. Even other things.”I held my breath and stood still. Jérôme asked, “Did you ask him why?”“No. I pretended not to notice he wanted to hide it.”Simon answered calmly. Jérôme continued, “Do you know where it’s hidden?”Simon responded with a gesture, and Jérôme said, “Since he’s hiding it so deeply, I want to take it back.”Just then, a door swung open on the left corridor—George appeared. I had no time to dodge. Our eyes met, and I quickly pressed a finger to my lips.George lowered his voice. “You see Hugh?”His gaze shifted to Jérôme and Simon on the right, and I almost exhaled. Simon answered, “He went down for dinner.”Jérôme chimed in, “Morning, George.” George stared at Jérôme without replying, then turned and walked away. I seized the moment to slip down the stairs. The carpeted spiral muted my footsteps. Half a flight down, I reversed course and climbed back up—this time all the way.Simon and Jérôme, mid-discussion, spotted me. Jérôme smiled brightly. I returned his grin with a cold stare.“You’re going out today, Raymond? Have fun.”Jérôme said warmly.Crazy bastard. I said nothing and went into my room. George was waiting.“He might pretend he was hiding,” George said, “but he’s outed himself. Jérôme and Simon never make mistakes.”“How do you know they don’t make mistakes? Because you’re on their side?” I stared into his pale eyes and asked.George’s expression didn’t change. He asked with a sneer, “You said anyone who doesn’t fight you isn’t your enemy, right?”I had no answer and fell silent as he continued, “I told you: if you make even one enemy, everyone will turn against you.”I couldn’t respond. George left to grab his laptop. I asked, “Where are you off to?”“I’m fixing the school’s computer system—someone hacked the parking-lot CCTV last night.”As he opened the door, George paused and glanced back. “Sorry I can’t show you out. Have fun. See you tomorrow.”I stood dumbly after he left. Could George’s words be true? Did they not care if I overheard them talking about the photos? Why were they so confident? I realized I knew nothing about them.Even George’s parting line was hard to understand. “If you make one enemy, all will turn against you” sounded less like ignorance or bystanding than a strategic trap. Would I end up trusting no one, caught in Jérôme and Simon’s snare? Unable to distinguish whom to ask for help and whom to avoid?…It didn’t matter. I had planned to trust no one anyway. I just wanted to grasp what George meant.With my weekend plans wrecked, I briefly considered following George out, but dismissed it. Jérôme and Simon had obviously put effort into this; I should watch and see. When you can’t find a pattern, sometimes you must ride the storm until the pattern reveals itself. Some lessons you only learn by experience. I felt no fear—I chose anger.I spent the late morning on the terrace, drinking tea and eating biscuits with the other students while they discussed today’s events. I mostly listened.Few facts were clear: last night’s CCTV failure meant the culprit was unseen, and with every tire punctured, no one could leave town this weekend. Some staff got rides from family, but there’d be no return trip until Sunday, so effectively no one could go. I’d heard the school had ordered replacement tires, but they wouldn’t arrive until Wednesday.Under the warm summer sun, the boys spread papers out and studied. When boredom struck, they speculated about the tire-slasher. The more they talked, the more I admired Jérôme and Simon’s skill—and was shocked by their obsession.Thinking about what awaited me today, my blood boiled with rage and hate. I had no intention of going along quietly. I’d slipped a pocket knife into my belt and practiced drawing it several times, ready to swing at a moment’s notice.I finally had lunch with classmates rather than roommates. After a while, Jérôme appeared, dressed for riding, so I went back to the dorm. Hugh, back from lunch, lay on the floor of the common room, reciting Spanish vocabulary listlessly and casting me a tired glance. Simon sat on the sofa with his legs outstretched, dozing lightly as sunlight glinted across his face.The silence was peaceful, yet to me it felt like the calm before a storm. Hugh settled on the sofa opposite and began reading.Ding.At four o’clock, the first time since Simon had chased him away, Jérôme entered our room. No knock—just the sound of a key turning. The key must have come from Simon.Jérôme greeted me, but I ignored him. Simon, roused by the noise, sat up and brought out a chessboard. Jérôme tried making small talk—asking if we’d eaten, if our weekend plans were ruined—but no one answered. Hugh glanced around, then spoke up for us. Simon never spoke; he only played chess with Jérôme. When the bell rang for five o’clock,Ding.Hugh jumped. “Damn, Jérôme! We’ve wasted an hour chatting!”“Why blame me? You started talking,” Jérôme teased.“Then go study in the library if it bothers you,” Jérôme taunted.“Yeah, I will. I didn’t memorize a single word in that hour.”Hugh grumbled as he packed away his pen and books. He bid us goodbye and left; the dorm fell silent.

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