I can't believe this is real…today has been the worst day.
Gura's graduating.She announced her graduation and i don't even know how to feel. i grew up watching her — she was always there when i felt lost or alone. her laugh, her voice, her silly jokes… everything.
it hurts so much.i didn't think this day would come, not yet.i know she's doing what's best for her and i'll always support her no matter what… but my heart's not ready to say goodbye, thank you for everything, Gura.i'll love you forever, my little shark T-T
......
There were no official statements. Everything happened quietly, invisibly — as if the university had decided to wash its dirty laundry in the dark, far from the judgment of the students. But the atmosphere said it all: a tension in the air, a quiet anticipation that seeped into the classrooms and lingered in people's eyes. Something was about to happen, and many already knew Santiago was at the center of it.
The internal hearing was held in a conference room in the administrative building. Only a few were authorized to enter — the ethics committee, a legal representative, and the accused.
Santiago arrived in a light gray suit, his hair slicked back with gel, a black briefcase clutched in his hands. He walked stiffly, like every step hurt.
— It's just a formality — his lawyer had told him. — With your evidence, there shouldn't be a problem.
He wanted to believe him, but deep down he knew it was useless.
When he entered the room, he found six serious faces that didn't even look up to acknowledge him. The rector wasn't there. Neither was the dean. The committee was led by a law professor Santiago barely knew. He thought that might work in his favor. He sat down across from them, opened his briefcase, and carefully laid out the documents he had prepared.
— Thank you for seeing me. I've come to clarify this situation with complete transparency — he began.
The committee members said nothing. Only the chair nodded briefly.
— Go ahead, please.
Santiago presented the false evidence he had fabricated weeks earlier: edited screenshots, manipulated testimonies, a carefully arranged timeline meant to refute the accusations. His voice trembled slightly, but he held it steady.
When he finished, the room fell silent. Then, one of the committee members placed a different folder on the table. It was thicker — held together with clips and dividers. Santiago frowned.
— We've received additional documentation — said the committee chair. — From anonymous sources, but verified.
Santiago felt the ground shift beneath him.
— Anonymous? That can't be considered valid! — His voice rose a notch.
— Validity isn't about the source. It's about the truth. And the documents we've received… substantially contradict your defense.
— This is a setup — Santiago said, rising to his feet, his face pale.
— We ask that you sit down. You haven't been dismissed yet.
…
Antonella wasn't in the room. She didn't need to be. She had delivered everything beforehand — copies of conversations, printed emails, recordings, statements from a girl who had been ignored for years. She had sent each piece through fake accounts, anonymous envelopes, a drip-feed system that had forced the committee to investigate in silence.
Now she simply waited. Hidden in the hallways, among distracted students and tutoring flyers. Her hair was tied back, thick-framed glasses perched on her nose. No one seemed to recognize her.
Semiel arrived minutes later, a formal summons folded in the pocket of his jeans. He wore a jacket that didn't belong to him and deep shadows under his eyes.
Antonella approached without drawing attention. She stopped beside him without looking directly.
— Today's the end for him — she whispered with a small smile.
Semiel swallowed hard. He didn't answer. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, then walked into the room.
…
During his testimony, Semiel didn't say everything. But he said enough. He confirmed that he had seen certain behaviors. That inappropriate comments had been made during informal meetings. He didn't mention Antonella. He didn't mention their deal.
When he walked out, he felt like everyone was staring at him.
…
Santiago couldn't believe it. Every word he heard dragged him further down. Each testimony, each piece of evidence, stripped him of control. His hands were visibly shaking. Sweat dripped from his forehead. He no longer spoke with confidence, but with rage. His lawyer tried to calm him down, but it was too late. Everything was falling apart around him.
—This is a witch hunt —he shouted at last—. A vendetta. Someone's pulling the strings behind all this.
No one replied.
The committee chair closed the folder in front of her.
—We'll inform you of our decision through official channels. You may leave.
Santiago stormed out, slamming the door. He stumbled through the hallway, as if he had no idea where he was going. Several students saw him pass. Some filmed him on their phones. Others just stepped aside.
When he reached the main exit of the university, he stopped. Looked back. His face was wrecked. Eyes wet. Lips tight with fury.
—This isn't over! —he screamed, voice cracking.
And then he left.
From behind a column, Antonella watched him vanish into the traffic noise.
Only then did she let her expression shift.
And she smiled.
Goodbye, toy. It was fun while it lasted.