They went upstairs. Min and Kasem returned to their rooms. Kiet entered his and Dao’s room, but Dao didn’t follow. He glanced around, then walked to the room Niran had run from yesterday. The porridge and ointment were gone—so, still alive. Dao smirked and turned toward his own room, only to find Kiet’s head sticking out of the doorway with a ridiculously fake neutral expression. Dao flipped him off, gestured toward Niran’s door, and walked in.

“What’re you gonna do instead of stalking?” Kiet asked.

“Thinking about killing witnesses,” Dao flopped starfish-style onto the bed. “Might nap a bit more. I’ve got no energy left after yesterday.”

“You sure you’re not sick?” Kiet glanced over while setting a canvas on his easel.

“Nah, just tired. Wake me around five? I wanna shower again before the ceremony. I’ve waited so long…” Dao mumbled, already half-asleep.

“Of course.”

But no matter how tired he was, Dao couldn’t fall into a deep sleep. He heard barking dogs outside, Kiet’s chair creaking, students chatting in the hallway. He forgot to call his grandma and ask how`s she doing—part of his daily routine. He still had anatomy to study, or he’d fall behind. His thoughts spiraled, and Niran’s whining from yesterday didn’t help. Just as his mind got to the absurd image of having tea with the dean and Niran in a slum alley, something grabbed his leg. Dao kicked wildly and screamed for the whole dorm to hear:

“No! Don’t bite me! Stop!”

He jolted up on the bed. Kiet stared at him, unimpressed.

“You sure you’re not sick? You look pale and kinda dead,” Kiet said, hands on his stomach. “You know it’s not the end of the world if you skip the ceremony, right? We’ll tell the P what happened.”

“No, no, and no,” Dao jumped up and grabbed Kiet by the shoulders. “I’m going. I’ve waited so long for this,” he stared into Kiet’s face. “Seriously.”

“Alright then. Go shower,” Kiet nodded, returning to his seat with all grace—but didn’t touch the canvas.

Dao ran back to the shower on wobbly legs. He washed quickly. When he returned, he saw Kiet already dressed.  As freshmen, they were required to wear uniforms - shirt, black pants, ties. They weren't even allowed to wear their faculty badges. Everything had to be earned from their Ps. Today, they’d find out how.  Dao dressed fast while Kiet sat scrolling on his phone, occasionally sighing—probably reacting to screenshots from Kasem’s viral milk moment. Dao checked himself in the mirror, smiled, frowned, fixed his hair.

“You really don’t know who that guy was?” Dao asked, trying to distract him. “The one you doused with pink milk?”

“You think I tried to find out? Don’t care,” Kiet replied gently. “Just another loudmouth punk. I forgot about him already, but everyone keeps asking…”

“Hope Niran ends up the same,” Dao rolled his eyes. “I’m ready.”

“We’re ready too!” Min burst in with Kasem. “God, we all look amazing in this uniform!”

“Yeah, all clones,” Dao muttered. “Did you break the lock just so you don’t have to knock anymore?”

“Guys, twenty minutes left. Let’s go or we’ll be late!” Kasem put his hand on Minu's head and began to rub the top of his head. “Fix their lock. You’re harmless, but what if someone else gets in?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll fix it when we get back,” Min groaned, pushing Kasem away. “So weird seeing you without your camera.”

“I’m recording everything with a voice memo!”

They walked to the indoor stadium. Now Dao understood why the seniors picked this place—uniting multiple large faculties wasn’t easy. Everyone looked like copies: same uniforms, same pace, same direction. Despite the crowd, Dao felt this irrational joy. He wasn’t a fan of crowds, but he wasn’t going to hide in a dark corner either. If not now, then when? Yes, his life path was unknown to his friends, who probably also hid problems behind smiles, but right now Dao wanted to make the most of it. He glanced at his watch—ten minutes left.

They walked with the guys up to the stadium where the seniors were hanging signs with their IDs on the students. The flow of students was great, so in a matter of seconds, the friends were rushing through the covered area of the stadium. A few signs separated them by faculty, and now Dao walked alone among the crowd. He didn't know his classmates well yet. Ahead of him he saw a huge stage, senior students running around and endless cheers of seated students. He found a vacant seat and sat down in the lotus position, looking around. There were no more than a few seconds to go. Dao looked ahead. One guy walked onto the stage.

“Hey everyone, I’m P’Korn, and I—”

But murmurs cut him off as whispers spread and cameras clicked, flashlights flaring. So much for the no-recording rule. It's totally obvious... There was a lot to see and a lot to shoot.

Because there he was—Niran—walking casually between rows. It wasn’t just that it was him. It was how he looked: flawless black slacks, scarlet satin shirt rolled to the elbows, unbuttoned nearly to his navel, gold chains clinking of whichseemed to resound even outside the stadium, caught everyone's eyes. But his main attraction was his complete equanimity . Like he wasn’t a freshman, but a guest idol. Dao frowned and groaned at the absurdity before Niran turned around and looked at him with a defiance. That cocky look promised him trouble.

“You recovered quickly, I should 've put poison…”

Now everyone turned around to look at Dao.