Chapter 275

Chapter 275

The scholars below stared at the densely packed iteration logs and fell silent.

"Not only that."

Lucinda narrowed her eyes slightly and pulled up the so-called classified paper cited in the accusation.

She pointed to the third line of the core algorithm and let out a cold, disdainful laugh. "The author of this paper used a fake formula here to force the logic closed."

"Because under quantum conditions, this constant doesn't hold. Run it more than a thousand times and the whole thing collapses."

Lucinda turned and looked down at everyone below. "And this flawed derivation method... is something I discarded on scratch paper in under five minutes three years ago. Literal garbage."

"Me, plagiarizing something I threw in the trash?"

"Sorry. That kind of academic cripple isn't worth my time."

Cool. Arrogant. But backed by absolute, undeniable skill.

"Excellent! Well said!"

As the room sat stunned, Royce—seated in the front row—was the first to stand.

He walked straight onto the stage and snatched the microphone from the host's hand. "Lucinda's project was personally supervised by me, Royce. I stake my forty years of academic credibility on this—Lucinda absolutely did not plagiarize!"

"Not only did she not plagiarize." Royce turned to look at Lucinda, eyes full of pride. "I can tell you all plainly—Lucinda's mastery and ability in quantum calculus algorithms... surpasses even mine. If not for seniority, she should already be the chief researcher at this institute!"

"This malicious smear campaign—we will investigate to the very end! If we don't skin and gut whoever's behind this, I, Royce, will resign in disgrace!"

Everyone in the room stared, wide-eyed.

Lucinda's abilities surpassed Royce's?

She should already hold the chief position?

This impossibly young woman was standing at the very peak of the scientific world?

Below, reporters frantically clicked their cameras.

And in the back row, Dahlia—upon hearing the words "surpasses even mine"—went deathly pale.

She kept her head down, hair covering half her face, palms slick with cold sweat that clung to the canvas of her bag no matter how much she wiped.

She had to leave. Now.

She couldn't be traced.

At the end of the corridor, she practically jogged around the corner.

Back in her dorm, she locked the door, threw her bag on the floor, and curled into the chair, knees pulled to her chest.

Her phone buzzed on the table.

It took her several seconds to reach for it.

[Don't panic. The dean said they'd investigate, but that doesn't mean they'll find anything. Don't do anything unusual for the next few days. Go to class. Eat. Once it blows over, you'll be fine.]

Dahlia flipped the phone face-down on the desk and closed her eyes.

Two days later, in the afternoon. The dean's office door was shut tight.

A teacher stood in front of the desk, holding a printed investigation report.

"IP address traced to the women's dormitory, Building Three, fourth floor. Port corresponds to Room 418. Dahlia's room."

The dean said nothing. He took the report, flipped through two pages, and stopped at the surveillance screenshots.

In the image, Dahlia wore a dark jacket. The timestamp read 1:17 a.m. She appeared in the corridor near the public workstations.

She stood in front of the shelf where Lucinda kept her materials, head down, flipping through them for about four minutes. Then she left.

"Surveillance retention is seven days," the teacher added. "We pulled this just before it expired."

The dean closed the report and was silent for a few seconds. "Notify the Douglas family."

That evening, the Douglas Estate's living room was brightly lit.

Dahlia knelt in front of the sofa. Valencia sat above her, eyes red.

"Dahlia." Valencia's voice was hoarse. "Tell me the truth. Did you really do this? How could you do something like this?"

Dahlia kept her head down, shoulders trembling slightly.

Then she lifted her head. Tears streamed down her face, and her emotions broke completely. "Because she has everything! The dean's mentorship, Reginald's engagement, the Douglas family's blood daughter..."

Her nails dug into her palms. "And me? All I have is hard work! I'm the first one in the lab every day, the last one out. I filled three notebooks, but you never praised me once! All you see is her! Only Lucinda!"

Valencia was momentarily stunned by the words.

Wesley sat on the other side of the sofa, his expression dark. "Dahlia, a plagiarism accusation in the research world is enough to destroy someone's future. Did you think about that?"

"But she wasn't destroyed!" Dahlia's sobs rose sharply, then dropped. "She's so brilliant... I can't even touch her... I did all that, and she overturned it so easily. Do you know what that feels like? Everything I do is a joke..."

Her voice grew quieter and quieter, until it became a broken murmur.

The living room fell silent.

Lucinda sat in the single armchair beside Valencia. She hadn't spoken since entering the room.

Only after Dahlia's crying began to fade did she finally speak. "The first half of your proposal showed real effort. You consulted a lot of literature. But the second half was rushed. Because you were in a hurry to compete with me."

Dahlia froze.

"The reason you can't catch up to me isn't because you're not smart enough. It's because you spent all your energy trying to surpass me, instead of doing your best work." Lucinda spoke slowly, deliberately.

Dahlia opened her mouth to argue, but the words stuck in her throat.

She realized she had nothing to say.

Wesley stood, walked around the sofa, and looked down at her. "Dahlia, starting tomorrow, you'll stay home. You're suspended from the institute for reflection. You are not to leave without my permission."

Dahlia knelt on the floor, tears falling onto the marble. She didn't argue. She just nodded slowly.

The butler came over, helped her to her feet, and escorted her upstairs.

After the door closed, Dahlia sat on the edge of her bed for a long time.

Then she slowly bent forward and pulled an old phone out from under her pillow.

The screen lit up. Over a dozen unread messages, all from the same chat.

The latest was sent this afternoon: [You have one last chance. Bring Lucinda out. I'll have a proper talk with her for you.]

Dahlia stared at the line of text, fingertips trembling.

She remembered what Lucinda had said earlier.

"You spent all your energy trying to surpass me."

But she didn't know what else she could do besides surpassing Lucinda.

This house was too big. So big that the only way not to be swallowed up was to stand at the very front.