11
That comment wasn’t entirely wrong.
Yes, I was the one who drugged them.
When I invited the four of them to the karaoke room, they had already prepared drinks spiked with aphrodisiacs for me.
They were too confident, convinced that no matter what I did, I must have feelings for at least one of them–if not all four.
They had prepared the drinks with a dosage strong enough to knock me out for three or four days.
But I was already familiar with their tricks. Using the excuse of wanting to see their dorms earlier, I had stolen the drugs they planned to use and slipped them into their water bottles instead.
As for those other girls in the room? All of them were their admirers.
They had learned about the May 20th meeting through my social media updates and decided to crash the party.
When they arrived, the drugs had already taken effect on Ethan and his friends. Fueled by the substances, Ethan forced the girls to drink the spiked alcohol that had originally been meant for me. And that’s how the chaos unfolded.
One of those girls happened to be the mayor’s daughter.
That’s why, even now, all four of them are still sitting in custody.
If they hadn’t drunk the water, I had a backup plan: I would have made them drink the drugged alcohol during my live stream.
I had also coordinated with Emily Dawson. If anything went wrong during the stream, she was ready to call the police immediately.
What I didn’t expect was how smoothly everything went.
12:44 PM
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That’s why, even now, all four of them are still sitting in custody.
If they hadn’t drunk the water, I had a backup plan: I would have made them drink the drugged alcohol during my live stream.
I had also coordinated with Emily Dawson. If anything went wrong during the stream, she was ready to call the police immediately.
What I didn’t expect was how smoothly everything went.
The results exceeded my expectations, and the fallout was far greater than I had imagined.
Because the authorities took their time releasing an official statement, people began questioning the integrity of the justice system.
In the process, other scandals tied to Ethan’s family came to light–cases of forced land sales, bribery, and even murder.
Former transfer students from St. Augustine Academy also started coming forward, describing the abuse they had endured at the school.
The pattern was always the same: they would pretend to treat you well, lure you into a relationship, and then expose everything–private chats, photos, and even intimate pictures.
What followed was relentless bullying.
Some were left with lasting injuries, others were permanently disabled, and some didn’t survive at all.
These once–promising students, full of hope, were reduced to shells of their former selves. Many couldn’t even take their college entrance
exams.
Hope turned to despair.
Even more shocking, Chris Langston, the principal’s son, was implicated in using his position to demand sexual favors in exchange for admissions.
The situation spiraled out of control, and I wasn’t done yet.
I produced another piece of evidence: Ethan had raped a girl under the age of 14 three years ago. His family had used their power to bury the
case.
That girl had developed severe depression afterward, and her father died in a suspicious car accident while seeking justice for her.
The girl’s initial report lacked direct evidence, but during my earlier visit to Ethan’s home, I had found a piece of damning proof: a pair of underwear that belonged to the victim, which Ethan had kept as a trophy.
