Chapter 5: The Final Reckoning

Chapter 5: The Final Reckoning

The password Tom had sent was a pathetic mix of arrogance and insecurity: RichterKing22. Inside Alex’s spartan dorm room, the laptop’s fan whirred like a captured insect. On the screen, a progress bar crept across a decryption utility Alex had coded himself. Lena sat perfectly still, watching, her hands resting calmly in her lap.

“He’s good at hiding things, I’ll give him that,” Alex murmured, his fingers flying across his own keyboard, running diagnostics. “But not good enough.”

There was a soft click sound from the speakers. The progress bar vanished, replaced by a file directory labeled _VAULT_. Alex’s mouth curved into a grimly satisfied smile. “We’re in.”

He navigated the files with practiced efficiency. It was all there, a digital monument to Mark’s fraud. Encrypted receipts for payments to a postgraduate student in Munich. A series of drafts for the economics essay, showing the gradual refinement of another person’s work. A chain of emails, couched in careful language, discussing “tutoring sessions” and “conceptual feedback” that were clearly a cover for contract cheating. He even found a subfolder labeled Prank Gold, containing raw, unedited footage of other cruel jokes played on unsuspecting students.

Alex methodically copied everything to a secure, encrypted flash drive. He looked over at Lena, who was watching the screen with an unblinking, predatory focus. “This is more than enough to get him expelled,” he said. “It’s a complete, undeniable record of academic misconduct.”

“Expulsion is only half of it,” Lena replied, her voice as cold and clear as ice. “He tried to destroy my social existence. I’m going to return the favor.”

She took the flash drive from him, their fingers brushing for a brief moment. A spark of shared purpose, a silent acknowledgment of the trust between them. Back in her own room, Lena began to assemble the pieces for her two-pronged attack.

First, she packaged the most damning evidence for the public square. She compiled screenshots of the payment receipts and the most blatant emails. She edited a short video, intercutting clips from Mark’s Prank Gold folder—showing his pattern of cruelty—with the infamous audio of his terrified screams from the woods. It was a masterpiece of narrative assassination, painting him not as a charming prankster, but as a cowardly, sadistic fraud. She sent the entire package to UniLeaks with a simple, anonymous subject line: The Real Mark Richter.

Second, she composed a formal, meticulously detailed report. She attached every piece of evidence Alex had recovered—every draft, every receipt, every email—and addressed it to the Dean of Students, the Head of the Business Faculty, and the University’s Academic Ethics Committee. There was no emotion in her writing, only cold, irrefutable fact.

With both messages drafted and ready, she took a deep breath. She hit ‘send’ on the UniLeaks email first. The digital bomb was launched. Less than a minute later, she sent the formal report. The institutional gears began to turn. There was no going back.

The explosion was almost instantaneous.

Within an hour, the UniLeaks post was the only thing anyone on campus was talking about. Phones buzzed in lecture halls and vibrated on cafeteria tables. The title was devastatingly simple: MARK RICHTER: PAID FOR GRADES, SCREAMED AT GHOSTS.

The social media fallout was apocalyptic. Mark’s carefully curated image was not just tarnished; it was vaporized. The same people who had basked in his reflected glory were now the ones sharing the post with laughing-crying emojis. The video of his screams, now contextualized by his history of bullying, became a symbol of his hypocrisy. He was no longer the campus king. He was a fraud, a coward, and a joke.

Lena watched the digital storm from the third floor of the library, the same place she had confronted Tom. It was quiet here, a sanctuary of ordered knowledge amidst the chaos she had unleashed. She felt a grim sense of finality. She hadn't just won; she had systematically deconstructed his entire identity.

A sudden, jarring slam of a fire door from the nearby stairwell echoed through the silent stacks. Lena looked up, a premonition of danger prickling her skin.

Mark stood at the end of the aisle.

He looked nothing like the arrogant boy who had cornered her in the alley. His clothes were rumpled, his hair a mess. But it was his eyes that were truly terrifying. The cool, calculating cruelty was gone, replaced by a wild, desperate fury. It was the look of a cornered animal, just as she and Alex had predicted. All the psychological torment, the public humiliation, the finality of his career ending—it had all coalesced into pure, unthinking rage.

“You,” he hissed, his voice a raw, ragged sound. He started walking toward her, his steps heavy and menacing. Other students in the aisle looked up, sensing the shift in atmosphere, and began to discreetly melt away.

“It’s over, Mark,” Lena said, her voice steady, though her heart had begun to pound against her ribs. She stood her ground, refusing to show fear.

“Over?” He laughed, a harsh, broken sound. “I had everything! The internship, the respect… everything! You took it all away!” He was only a few feet from her now, radiating a palpable heat of rage. “You think you can just burn my life down and walk away? You’re the ghost, right? Let's see if you can disappear now.”

He lunged.

He didn't try to hit her. He grabbed the front of her jacket, his fingers digging in like claws, and slammed her back against a heavy oak bookshelf. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and books rained down around them, thudding onto the carpeted floor. His face was inches from hers, contorted with hate, spittle flying from his lips.

“I’m going to make you pay for this,” he snarled.

For a terrifying second, raw panic seized her. He was stronger, his rage making him unpredictable. But then, years of studying the human mind—its breaking points, its levers of fear—took over. He was an animal. And animals react to stimuli.

She didn't scream for help. She screamed at him. A raw, piercing shriek that was not born of fear, but of pure, calculated fury. It startled him, making him flinch for a fraction of a second.

It was the only opening she needed.

She didn’t try to fight his strength. Instead, she brought her knee up sharply into his groin. He gasped, his grip loosening as a wave of agony shot through him. In that same instant, she grabbed the heaviest book that had fallen near her feet—a thick, hardbound volume of legal statutes.

As he doubled over, she swung it with all her might against the side of his head. It wasn't a hero's knockout blow, but the solid, sickening thud was enough. He staggered back, his eyes dazed, a thin trickle of blood appearing at his temple.

"Security!" Lena's voice rang out, sharp and clear, cutting through the library's horrified silence. "Security, third floor! I'm being attacked!"

It was over in seconds. Two campus security guards, alerted by the commotion, came running down the aisle. They saw the scene—the disheveled, bleeding Mark, the scattered books, and Lena, standing pale but resolute, the heavy book still clutched in her hand like a weapon. There was no ambiguity. Mark, cornered and desperate, had made his final, fatal mistake.

They dragged him away, shouting incoherent threats and curses. He was no longer just an academic fraud; he was a violent criminal, his fate sealed in the most public way imaginable.

Later, as the sun set, casting long, golden rays across the now-quiet campus, Lena met Alex by the lake. The adrenaline had faded, leaving a profound sense of calm.

“The Dean’s office sent a campus-wide email,” Alex said softly. “Mark Richter has been summarily expelled and is facing assault charges.”

Lena nodded, staring out at the water. She had done it. She had faced the monster and methodically dismantled him, piece by piece, until there was nothing left. She had refused to be a victim, and in doing so, had discovered a strength within herself she never knew she possessed.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

Lena turned to look at him, her cool, observant eyes finally softening. “I am now,” she said. A small, genuine smile touched her lips for the first time. “It’s quiet. The ghost can finally rest.”

The hunt was over. She was finally free.