Chapter 4: Nguyen Nhat Vuong’s Secret

As soon as Nam stepped out of the infirmary, his face twisted in frustration upon seeing that Vuong was still waiting for him in the hallway.

"I already promised not to tell anyone, so can you stop following me, Vuong?"

Nam was beginning to suspect that his newfound fame wasn't just because of the Hoang Anh Tuan incident—Vuong had something to do with it too. Lately, Vuong had been sticking to him like glue, almost everywhere he went. Maybe Vuong wanted to make sure no one else cornered Nam for questioning, the way Dzung the Nerd had earlier that morning.

"If you keep doing this, people will get even more suspicious."

"Suspicious about what, bro? I'm just heading back to our classroom."

(Hmph, such a smooth liar.)

Nam recalled the moment he stood before Hoang Anh Tuan's mutilated corpse. Vuong hadn't shown even a hint of fear. Instead, he had pushed Nam back to get a better angle for photographing the crime scene with his iPhone 16 Pro Max.

Vuong stepped carefully, ensuring that no evidence was disturbed. As he reached the body, he took close-up shots of every wound on Tuan's corpse.

But the action that truly made Nam's skin crawl was when Vuong lifted the dead boy's lips, inspecting his teeth closely, snapping several photos as he did so.

Even that wasn't the most unsettling part. Vuong leaned down, bringing his face dangerously close to the gaping wound in Tuan's throat. Then, he sniffed deeply, as if trying to memorize a scent.

Aside from the overpowering stench of blood and the ever-present salty sea breeze, there was a faint floral fragrance lingering in the air—delicate, almost imperceptible. Nam couldn't identify which flower it belonged to.

Noticing that Nam had been watching his every move, Vuong suddenly stood up and moved swiftly toward him. He raised a finger to his lips.

"Shh."

The early September sunlight bathed Vuong's face, accentuating his sharp, chiseled features. Nam's breath caught in his throat. For a fleeting moment, he noticed something strange—Vuong's pupils, subtly almond-shaped, just like those of a cat.

Paired with the eerie smile Vuong flashed at him, Nam felt a wave of nausea and unease washing over him. His legs trembled, as though he were standing in front of a deadly predator.

Suddenly, everything went black.

The world around Nam vanished into darkness—Vuong, Hoang Anh Tuan's corpse, the entire scene.

When Nam regained consciousness in the middle of the night, he found himself lying in a hospital bed inside a private clinic somewhere in town.

He had no idea how he got there.

His breathing was labored, and a splitting headache pounded against his skull. He was burning up with a fever, yet his whole body felt ice-cold.

The night air by the sea was far colder and more humid than the daytime, and Nam wasn't used to it. It was no surprise that he had fallen ill.

Huddled beneath the thin hospital blanket, shivering, Nam felt a deep melancholy settle over him. He was far from home, sick and alone, with no family to take care of him. He longed to go home.

"There's nothing to be sad about. Stay strong."

Muttering to himself, Nam drifted back into a fitful sleep. In his fevered dream, Nam felt a gentle presence approaching his bedside.

A small, warm hand pressed lightly against his burning forehead. Then, the person climbed onto the bed, wrapping slender arms around him from behind in a soft, comforting embrace.

It felt so real.

The human brain was truly amazing, Nam thought. Even in a delirious state, it could simulate sensations with such vivid accuracy. 

He could feel the warmth, inhale the intoxicating scent of lilies lingering in the air. And then, a voice—as clear and delicate as an angel's whisper—murmured into his ear:

"It was just a nightmare. Forget everything you saw this morning."

The next day, Nam dismissed the dream as nothing more than a fever-induced hallucination.

But the scent of lilies still lingered in the room when he woke up.

And judging by the way Vuong twitched his nose the moment he stepped into the hospital room to pick Nam up after completing the discharge paperwork, it was clear—

Nam hadn't been dreaming at all.