The school turned out to be much livelier than I had imagined.
Student projects were neatly displayed all across the grounds. There were paintings, handicrafts, simple technology, and all kinds of projects I didn't even really understand.
I walked along behind Raka and Alma.
"The violin section is over there."
Alma pointed to a room filled with several musical instruments.
I followed her.
Several students were getting ready before their performances. Some carried violins, guitars, small pianos, and even a few traditional instruments.
I stopped when I saw a board covered in photographs and awards.
Most of the names written there belonged to Alma.
I looked at her.
"You have this many?"
Alma shrugged.
"I've had them for a long time."
"And you said this was nothing special?"
Alma gave a small smile.
"It is."
I sighed.
This girl really had no idea how to appreciate her own accomplishments.
I didn't get a chance to say anything else because one of the teachers called Alma over.
"I'll go ahead."
I nodded.
"Go."
Alma walked away from us.
Now it was just Raka and me.
"Then where's your project?"
Raka looked at me for a moment.
"Over there."
I followed him.
We walked past several tables before finally stopping in front of a fairly interesting project.
I studied it for a few moments.
"You made this?"
"Yeah."
I examined several parts of the project more closely.
I didn't really understand Raka's field, but from the way the project had been put together, it was obvious that he had worked on it seriously.
"It's good."
Raka looked at me.
"Good?"
"Yeah."
"You don't even know how it works."
I chuckled.
"I don't understand all of it."
"Then why say it's good?"
"Because I can see someone's effort without having to understand their entire field."
Raka fell silent.
His gaze returned to his project.
I didn't know what he was thinking.
At least he didn't argue with me.
I was just about to ask more when a teacher came over to us.
"Raka."
Raka immediately turned around.
"Yes, ma'am?"
The teacher looked slightly awkward.
"Come with me for a moment."
Raka frowned.
"Why?"
"I want to discuss something about your project."
I immediately looked at the teacher.
"Is there a problem?"
The teacher hesitated.
"There's been a report about Raka's project."
Raka's expression instantly grew serious.
"What kind of report?"
The teacher took a breath.
"For now, we've found similarities between your project and one that was published previously."
I looked at Raka.
His expression changed immediately.
"That's my work."
"I know that's what you're saying."
"But it really is my work."
His voice began to rise.
Several students around us started paying attention.
The teacher tried to calm things down.
"We're not saying you're at fault."
"But you've already decided that I plagiarized it."
Raka clenched his fists.
I watched his face.
He looked angry.
Not just because he was being accused.
There was something deeper than that.
Fear.
Fear of losing something he had been proud of all this time.
"Raka."
I called his name.
He turned to me.
I stepped closer.
"Calm down."
"Mom, you don't know anything."
"I don't know yet."
I answered calmly.
"But precisely because I don't know yet, I'm not going to blame you."
Raka fell silent.
The teacher then handed us several sheets of paper.
"This is the initial report we received."
I took it.
I read it quickly.
The project's name.
The publication date.
The submission date.
The creator's name.
Everything was listed clearly enough.
According to the document, the work considered the original had been recorded earlier than Raka's project.
If you only looked at the dates...
Raka did look guilty.
I looked at him.
"When did you finish this project?"
"A few months ago."
"When did you first show it to a teacher?"
Raka gave me the date.
I looked at the document again.
There was a gap between them.
A fairly long one.
But that didn't necessarily mean anything.
I handed the document back to the teacher.
"Who reported it first?"
The teacher looked slightly surprised by my question.
"I'm not sure."
"You're not sure?"
"The committee division is handling the report."
"Then I want to meet the person who filed it."
Raka looked at me.
"Mom..."
I turned to him.
"What?"
"Why do you care?"
The question sounded simple.
But for some reason, it made me fall silent for several seconds.
I didn't know how the original Xana would have answered that question.
But I knew how I wanted to answer it.
"Because you're my son."
Raka immediately fell silent.
I looked back at the document in my hand.
"And because I don't like accusing someone before I know the truth."
The teacher finally nodded.
"I'll call the person handling the report."
I gave her a faint smile.
"Thank you."
The teacher left with the documents.
Raka was still standing beside me.
I could feel his gaze on me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring at me."
Raka quickly looked away.
"I'm just surprised."
"Surprised by what?"
"You're different, Mom."
I gave a small smile.
"Maybe because I just got better."
Raka didn't answer.
I looked back at his project table.
I examined several parts more closely.
Then my gaze stopped on a small note at the bottom.
A date.
I frowned.
"Raka."
"Hmm?"
"Did you keep the original file for this project?"
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"On my laptop."
"Including the work history?"
Raka nodded.
"It should be there."
I gave a faint smile.
"Good."
"Why?"
"Because if you really made it yourself, there should be a record of the process."
Raka looked at me.
For the first time since we arrived at the school, he didn't look like a child dealing with a mother he disliked.
There was a little trust in his eyes.
Very little.
But it was there.
I read the document again.
Something felt strange.
The reported project's date was indeed earlier.
But that was exactly what made me suspicious.
I had managed a company for quite a long time.
I knew how a document could be made to look perfect.
Too perfect.
I raised my head.
"Raka."
"Yeah?"
"Don't give your laptop to anyone yet."
"Why?"
"I don't know yet."
I put the document into the folder.
"But I want to see the original work history for your project before anyone has a chance to change anything."
Raka nodded slowly.
"Okay."
I smiled.
If Raka had really plagiarized it, I would accept that reality.
But if he hadn't...
I would find out who had made him look guilty.
Because the thing I hated most was someone using lies to destroy another person.
And today...
I felt that someone was trying to do exactly that to my son.