“Actually, I remember everything, but I can’t trust my own memory.” So I lied, saying I only remembered as far as going to the library. Cal hesitated, then began to explain.“We went to the records room in the library. You pulled out the dorm-entry logs, kept saying something was missing… then you started talking incoherently with this note.”Cal showed me the scrap of paper—his notes on all the predecessors. I took it wordlessly.“And then you suddenly went into a fit.”“How?”Cal paused. But when I fixed him with a look demanding an answer, he finally spoke.“You stared at me with an angry face, then suddenly charged at me, trying to strangle me. Oh, but don’t worry, Raymond—it wasn’t any real force. You barely hung onto me rather than choking. Then… you didn’t make a sound, just moved your lips a little before you lost consciousness and collapsed. At first I thought of taking you to the infirmary, but…”He scratched his head awkwardly.“I felt uneasy about taking you back to the dorm room… so I just brought you here, to the workshop.”I sensed that wasn’t the end of the story. Cal’s attitude hinted at something beyond a simple fit: he’d seen something else. That was why, even as I tried to strangle him, he showed no anger. But what had he seen? What had I shown him? Something definitely… Oh. He’d seen that.“You saw it.”I said quietly.Cal, who had been hesitating all this time, finally dropped his head. I spoke gently:“It’s okay. Where’s the photo bundle?”Cal fetched my bag from the workbench. Inside was the bundle of photographs. I’d been carrying them in my bag, unable to find a better hiding place. Cal had seen that bundle. And by seeing those photos, he’d seen everything about me. There was no way to remove him from this game now. He was involved not just in this round, but right to the game’s end.I needed to explain to Cal, but before that, I needed to explain to myself more than anyone.Knowing Cal felt uncomfortable, I remained silent and checked my watch. My unconsciousness hadn’t lasted long—about thirty minutes. Accounting for the walk from the library here, I’d been on the sofa less than ten minutes. The ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) clock had just passed six in the evening. There was plenty of time.First, I cleared the workbench. Then I laid out each item in turn: the photo bundle, the note about predecessors, the pill packet George had given me, the key to Room B402, and all the information George had passed along that couldn’t fit on the bench. Now I had to separate what was false.The photo bundle was real. The predecessors were fake. The pill packet and the key to 402 could not yet be verified—they were overwhelmingly likely to be false, but I didn’t want to allow any exceptions. The situation had to be defined in black and white only. So I set the pill packet aside, slipped the key into the photo bundle, and returned it to my bag. The note about predecessors was trash—I tore it to pieces.More than anything right now, George was critical. I had to judge George. Of course, George—damn it!—had deceived me beautifully! All his talk about my predecessors had been utter lies! George was clearly complicit!But—really? Could it be? Was George the only true predecessor, closest to being my sole predecessor?I couldn’t split George into black and white either. So I decided to use George’s own bait to test him. It would widen the range of possibilities. I filled a cup at the workshop sink, dumped in every pill meant for Jérôme, and stirred until they dissolved.I turned back to Cal, who’d been silently waiting without interrupting. He fiddled with a carving knife out of habit and looked up at me.“Tell me what you want to do.”I shook the cup and continued:“And tell me what you felt.”While I sorted my thoughts, Cal seemed to gather his own, too. Unlike his hesitance all evening, he spoke at once.“First, I want to know exactly what happened. But if you don’t want to say, I don’t want to hear it.”Cal paused. I said nothing. After a brief silence, he jumped up from his chair.“All right. Then let’s go report this to the police.”“If I were the police, and a twenty-year-old, 188-centimeter-tall guy reported he’d been raped… well, I guess they’d take an interest. The only evidence would be a bunch of pornographic photos, but one suspect is a member of the royal family. Think they’d help me? They’d help send me to a mental hospital.”Despite my cynicism, Cal didn’t budge. He simply acknowledged the point.“You have a point. The police might be suspicious. But at least they can extract you from this school.”He said calmly:“I can’t help, Raymond. I’m just a student. And so are you—you can’t do anything either. You’ve already done everything you could to survive this far.”“Is that what you want?” I asked.“You want to call the police and get me out of school?”“Yes.”“I refuse.”“Think carefully, Raymond. We can’t handle this ourselves. You can’t handle it alone. This is a crime—an atrocious crime. No one should go through this. You need help, Raymond. We all need help…”“You’re right. I need help. I crossed the line long ago, too.”I confessed frankly. Cal nodded anxiously, then spoke evenly.“It’s not because of Jérôme. It’s been since my dad died.”I downed the cup of dissolved pills and looked at Cal. He watched the empty cup with worried eyes.“I know what you want, Cal. I can’t explain. You have two choices. First, help me recklessly, without any explanation or questions, even at the risk of mortal danger. Second, pack up and leave the school immediately. There is no other choice. If you stay, you’ll get dragged further into this. If you don’t want to help me, you must leave. I’m sorry it’s come to this. You shouldn’t have been involved so deeply.”“Raymond…”“I can’t explain everything. So think. If you plan to leave, pack by tomorrow morning. Frank warning: if you stay here, you risk experiencing exactly what I did.”I spoke in a monotone and watched Cal’s face. He looked despairing.“Think about it.”I ended the conversation and sank into a chair. If George’s pills were real, they’d take effect soon.“From now on, I’m going to stay up all night. If I look like I’ve fainted, wake me. If I still can’t wake, tell me in the morning. If you can’t, leave me a note.”I fell silent. Cal, true to my declaration, asked nothing. He simply looked at me and lowered his head.… I had no idea when I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes, I was again looking at that rough stone wall and its half-erased fresco. Turning my head, I saw Cal asleep underneath the sofa on a makeshift blanket.He’d decided to stay with me after all. I reached out and touched the boy’s cheek. Cal woke, blinked at me, then his sleepy expression turned melancholy. My hand was still on his cheek. Cal said,“You passed out last night, Raymond. That can’t be a good sign, can it?”He sighed and frowned.“Am I allowed to ask that?”I gave him a small smile.“You can ask. And to answer—Cal, it was surprisingly positive.”The pills were real. George really had planned to kill Jérôme. That was the one thing among George’s many claims that wasn’t a lie.Even though I refused to explain anything, Cal kept asking questions. But none concerned Jérôme or the photo bundle. He honored the promise he’d made last night not to ask. Crossing the quad to breakfast, Cal’s questions were mostly like this:“Do you like vanilla ice cream?”I stopped and looked back at him. He paused a step behind me and tilted his head. Bewildered, I asked,“Why that?”Cal just shrugged.“…I’m not really into ice cream.”At once his eyes lit up. He asked eagerly again,“Do you prefer summer or winter?”I just stared. Cal grinned cheekily and, without waiting for an answer, strode ahead. I followed, finally replying,“Summer.”“Is it ‘1984’ or ‘Brave New World’?”“I’ve never read either.”“Then between ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and ‘Wuthering Heights’?”“Why that…”Without finishing my complaint, I answered—after all, Cal wouldn’t answer my questions either.“‘Wuthering Heights.’”“I prefer ‘Pride and Prejudice,’” Cal said playfully.“Between Julia and Meg?”I said nothing—there was no need to tell him Julia was my mother. Cal didn’t mind the lack of answer and continued firing questions: coffee or tea? Real Madrid or Barcelona? Dogs or cats? No, wait—don’t tell me! I’ll guess.Rolling his eyes in thought, Cal suddenly shouted,“Dog! Definitely dog, right?”Instead of answering, I just watched him. The bright, harsh summer sunlight broke into fragments on his face. His mischievous grin was dazzling. He waited for my answer. This time I overtook him.“Neither. I like sheep.”From behind me, Cal asked one last question. His voice was calm:“Sculpture?”He said, “Actually, you’re not interested in sculpture, are you? You only came because of Judy, right?”I answered,“Yeah.”Even that final exchange, the atmosphere between Cal and me was soft and peaceful. It felt like ages since I’d talked so easily without tension. Cal’s questions held no hidden edge—unlike the Q&A with George. Cal feigned sulking:“So all your interest in my statue was just made up?”“Hmm…”I smiled at the pouty Cal.“I really meant the compliment. It’s amazing.”“Yeah, right.”“I’m serious…”Mocking, Cal shook off my arm and slipped ahead into the dining hall. I followed, laughing. When I grabbed his collar to sling my arm around him in return, I startled: Simon was sitting alone, eating, and our eyes met.Simon set down his spoon and stared, not at me but at Cal. Cal, oblivious, hummed a tune and read the menu. A wave of guilt pressed down on me. Cal didn’t know anything—what I’d endured, how he’d been dragged in, who our enemy was. His ignorance might grant a moment’s peace, but it would ultimately kill him. I felt that more strongly than ever because Simon’s gaze never left us.I forced myself to look away and ordered breakfast with Cal. By the time we sat, Simon had already left the dining hall. I watched his retreating back until he disappeared, then turned back to Cal. He studied my face with concern, then sheepishly smiled when our eyes met. Cal was still worried about me, and I…

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