The university clinic examined twelve students before sunrise.
KM required six stitches above his eyebrow and two inside his lower lip. One of the original four had a fractured finger from catching himself against the reception desk. Another had a shoulder injury that the physician believed would heal without surgery. The student NS hit across the jaw remained conscious, angry, and medically well enough to continue complaining.
My right hand was not broken.
The radiograph showed swelling, bruised knuckles, and a sprain near the wrist. The physician wrapped it, told me not to use it, and then looked at the blood dried beneath my fingernails.
"You are fortunate," she said.
"That word keeps finding me in strange places."
"No fracture. No loss of consciousness that you remember. No difficulty breathing. Your ribs are bruised, but the chest film is clear. That is fortune. What you do with it is a different question."
She placed a small adhesive strip across the cut inside my eyebrow. My left cheek had swollen enough to narrow the eye. Purple marks covered my ribs, shoulder, and back where the chair had struck me.
Across the treatment area, NS sat on another bed with an ice pack against his cheek.
"He needs imaging," I told the physician.
NS lowered the ice pack.
"You are not practicing medicine tonight."
"Neither are you."
"I am aware."
The physician looked between us.
"Were you two not fighting each other in the tournament last week?"
"Technically, it was a tie," NS said.
"Technically, both of you should learn hobbies that do not require radiology."
She moved to the next bed.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then NS pointed at my wrapped hand.
"You hit KM eight times after mounting him."
"Nine."
"That correction does not help you."
"I know."
He returned the ice pack to his cheek.
"You had already won."
"I know."
"June denied the rumor herself."
"I know."
"JP asked you not to go."
I looked toward the curtain between the treatment beds.
"I know."
NS had nothing left to tell me that I had not carried into the dormitory and ignored.
Campus security separated our statements by rooms.
They placed me inside a small office beside the clinic at 2:40 a.m. The plastic restraint had been removed, but a red mark remained around both wrists. A security camera watched from the ceiling. Unlike the dormitory cameras, it had its own battery.
The supervisor placed a printed form in front of me.
"You entered the Engineering boys' dormitory after visiting hours?"
"Yes."
"Your access card failed at the main entrance?"
"Yes."
"You then used a side fire exit that had been intentionally propped open?"
"Yes."
"You understood you were not authorized to enter?"
"Yes."
He waited, perhaps hoping I would produce a more useful word.
"Why?"
"KM sent a location and challenged me."
"That explains how you found the location. It does not explain why you went."
The same difference had existed throughout my life. Reasons were not excuses, but I kept offering them as if the right listener might confuse the two.
"I was angry," I said.
"Because of the post about June?"
"Because of that, and because of what happened to JP."
"Did June ask you to confront KM?"
"No."
"Did JP?"
"No. He asked me not to."
The supervisor stopped writing.
"He asked you not to go?"
"Yes."
"And you went anyway."
"Yes."
That was the line the university would remember.
Jihye's preserved livestream proved the original five had prepared an ambush. It showed KM repeating the false pregnancy claim. It showed the fire exit deliberately opened and the cameras conveniently powerless. It also showed me entering voluntarily, taking off my jacket, and remaining after the first four men fell.
Evidence could prove that other people were guilty without proving that I was innocent.
The supervisor turned the form toward me.
"Read this before signing."
I could not hold the pen properly with my right hand.
I signed with my left.
The others waited inside an empty lecture room near the clinic.
NC had built a timeline on the whiteboard. Anna had collected names of students visible in the livestream. Jihye sat beneath a charging outlet with the complete video saved in three places. Bunny and Cherry monitored the rumor account, which had deleted the original post but continued uploading short clips from the fight. TZ paced beside the windows, still wearing damp shoes.
Kitty sat alone in the first row.
June stood near the rear door.
Mr. Kim remained at the lectern with both hands pressed against its surface.
When NS and I entered, everyone looked at the blood first.
"Before anybody speaks," NC said, "the original account deleted the invitation at 11:06, but Jihye has a copy. The dorm livestream establishes that five people were waiting. Twelve residents joined after KM went down. We have eight names and four partial faces."
"Fourteen joined," TZ said. "Two ran when security came."
"Then write their descriptions."
"I was busy saving our idiots."
"You pulled a fire alarm during a blackout."
"It was an emotional decision."
Nobody laughed.
TZ stopped pacing.
"Right. Bad room."
Jihye turned her laptop toward Mr. Kim.
"The short clips remove everything before XH mounts KM. They are already circulating outside the university. The full livestream proves the edit."
"Preserve both," Mr. Kim said.
"Already done."
"Send them to the disciplinary panel and campus counsel."
"Already done."
Mr. Kim looked at her.
"Thank you."
Jihye nodded without satisfaction.
It was June who finally crossed the room.
She stopped in front of me, close enough to see the cut above my eye.
"Why?"
"You saw the post."
"I answered the post."
"He kept saying it."
"Then let him lie."
"About you?"
"Yes, about me. My name. My body. My reputation. I was already handling it."
Her voice did not rise. That made every word harder to avoid.
"You did not protect me," she said. "You used me as permission. Again."
"That is not what I meant to do."
"Meaning is not the only thing that matters. You entered a dormitory because a man called me cheap, and then you made a room full of people watch you punish him in my name. Do you understand how that feels?"
I did not.
Not completely.
The honest answer showed on my face.
June stepped back.
"That is the problem," she said.
NS moved as if he might follow her. He stopped before taking the first step.
June left the room alone.
Kitty remained seated.
"Are you going to say something?" I asked.
"I have been saying things for weeks."
"Kitty."
She stood and held up her phone. The screen showed the lecture notes she had organized for me, the recordings she had uploaded, and the photographs of slides I could not access while suspended.
"I ran out of the lecture hall every day," she said. "I brought you food. I streamed classes until my battery died. I sat beside you when you could not breathe. Mr. Kim fought for you. NS testified for you. June admitted things that hurt her reputation because the truth might keep you here. JP's mother looked at you through an ICU window and begged you not to create another injured son."
Her hand began to shake.
"And you chose KM."
"I did not choose him."
"You gave him the whole night. What else do you call that?"
I looked at the empty chair between us.
"I am sorry."
"You are always sorry after you get what your anger wanted."
Kitty placed the phone on the desk.
"Your notes are there. The charger is in the bag."
She walked past me.
For one second, I thought she would stop.
She did not.
JP called at 5:12 a.m.
His mother held the hospital phone because his hands still tired easily. The rest of the group had gone to find coffee, dry clothes, or a place to sit. Only NS, Mr. Kim, and I remained inside the lecture room.
JP's face appeared beneath low hospital light.
He had seen the video.
"You won," he said.
The words contained no celebration.
"Yes."
"Did it fix my head?"
"No."
"Did Thoon call?"
"I do not know."
"She didn't. My sister checked."
He closed his eyes for several seconds.
"Did it make my mother stop crying?"
"No."
"Then what did you win?"
I could not answer.
JP opened his eyes again.
"I asked you to remember what happened to me."
"I remembered."
"No. You remembered KM."
His mother looked away from the screen.
JP's breathing became shallow with the effort of speaking.
"I was the one on the floor, XH. You were supposed to remember me."
The call ended because the nurse entered, not because either of us had finished.
I stared at my reflection in the dark screen.
NS stood behind me.
"Do not say it," I told him.
"I was not going to."
"You were thinking it."
"So were you."
Mr. Kim's phone rang at the lectern.
He answered, listened, and closed his eyes.
"The Acting Rector has called an emergency review at nine," he said. "Both of you are required to attend."
The preliminary recommendation had existed for forty-three minutes.
The panel transmitted it at 10:34 p.m. It recommended that I remain enrolled under supervised probation, counseling, restricted clinical access, and a final behavioral agreement.
At 11:17 p.m., campus security notified Student Affairs of the dormitory fight.
By 6:20 a.m., the recommendation had been frozen before the Acting Rector could sign it.
The emergency review did not repeat the full hearing. The panel joined through video because transportation disruptions and flooded roads prevented two members from reaching Campus 2. Sleeping Man sat at the end of the conference table. His face looked no more rested than ours.
The Dean placed both documents side by side.
"The first recommendation was based on your testimony that you understood restraint," she said. "Less than one day later, you knowingly entered a restricted dormitory to participate in a planned fight."
"An ambush," NS said.
"I have watched the livestream. The first assault came from KM's group. That is relevant. It is also relevant that XH accepted the invitation, bypassed dormitory access controls, and continued striking KM after he no longer presented the same threat."
NS leaned forward.
"The larger brawl began when Engineering residents blocked his exit. I joined because one of them attacked me while I attempted to remove him."
"Your conduct is under separate review."
"Then review it separately. Do not use my involvement to exaggerate his."
Sleeping Man spoke for the first time.
"Mr. NS, your effort to accept responsibility is noted. It does not transfer Mr. XH's choices into your file."
NS sat back.
The Dean looked at me.
"Do you dispute any part of the timeline?"
"No."
"Do you dispute that JP asked you not to confront KM?"
"No."
"Do you dispute that Mr. Kim called while you stood outside the dormitory?"
"No."
"Did you see the call?"
"Yes."
Every question removed another place where an excuse might hide.
The external ethics adviser appeared on the wall screen.
"At your hearing, you asked to earn trust through conduct. Were you sincere?"
"Yes."
"What should the university conclude from your conduct that same night?"
My wrapped hand rested beside the unsigned rehabilitation agreement they had prepared for me.
"That being sincere was not enough," I said.
Nobody argued.
The Dean closed the original recommendation.
"The panel will reconsider the complete matter. Your interim suspension continues. You are prohibited from entering all academic buildings, residence halls other than your assigned dormitory, university events, laboratories, and clinical facilities without written escort authorization. A final recommendation will be issued within forty-eight hours."
"What happens to the earlier recommendation?" Mr. Kim asked.
"It has no effect unless reissued."
Sleeping Man looked through the windows at the rain pressing against them.
"For clarity," he said, "permanent expulsion is now the presumptive outcome. The panel will consider whether exceptional mitigation exists."
Presumptive.
The university had found a professional word for nearly certain.
Mr. Kim walked me back to my dormitory under escort.
Classes had already begun. Through the windows of the Medical Sciences Building, I saw white coats moving between benches. One student hurried across the lab with a tray of slides. Another raised her hand while a lecturer pointed toward a pathology image.
Life had not paused to watch me ruin mine.
At the entrance to my dormitory, Mr. Kim returned my phone.
There were thirty-seven missed messages.
Chuu had sent one.
The spare key remains spare. It is not a surrender. Call if the room becomes too quiet.
I read it twice.
"What are my chances?" I asked.
Mr. Kim did not pretend not to understand.
"Before last night, I believed you would stay."
"And now?"
Rainwater fell from the edge of his coat onto the dormitory floor.
"If you require a number, five percent that the university finds a way to retain you. Ninety-five percent that it does not."
"That specific?"
"You asked."
He handed me the bag containing Kitty's notes and charger.
"What do I do for forty-eight hours?"
"Do not make it one hundred."
Mr. Kim left.
The electricity failed before I reached my room.
My phone lit the notes Kitty had prepared, June's public denial, JP's unanswered call, and the email containing a future that had survived for forty-three minutes.
Outside, the morning lecture continued behind bright emergency windows.
Inside, I stood in the dark with five percent.