Chapter 3
I didn't hurry to look into that strange message.
The next date April 3rd was coming up fast.
In my last life, I almost died that day in my drug chemistry class.
Someone had swapped the labels on two reagent bottles.
I followed the label and used ethanol for a dissolution experiment, but instead added hydrochloric acid, which reacted violently with another reagent, causing the flask to explode.
The back of my hand got burned.
Everyone just assumed it was a lab management oversight.
Yolanda cried, barely able to catch her breath, "I'm so sorry, Emily. I accidentally knocked something over while I was cleaning the lab. I'll pay for your medical expenses."
Charles said, "She's from the humanities, how would she know the difference between chemicals? You didn't check, why blame her?"
I didn't blame her.
In my last life, I never blamed her.
But this time, I was going to catch her in the act.
On March 28th, six days before the experiment, I went to see the lab manager, Mr. Smith.
"Mr. Smith, do we have any security cameras in the lab?" I asked.
Mr. Smith shook his head.
"We used to, but it's been broken for six months, and the school hasn't allocated funds to fix it." he said.
I had expected that.
In my previous life, the lack of cameras was why Yolanda felt she could act without consequences.
"But..." Mr. Smith pointed to a camera on the ceiling in the hallway.
"There's one by the lab door, it can capture who comes and goes," he added.
Not enough.
I needed footage from inside the lab.
That afternoon, I bought a tiny recorder online.
It was barely bigger than a fingernail, magnetic, and could attach to metal racks.
On March 31st, late at night, I entered the lab when no one was around and attached the recorder to the top of the reagent shelf opposite my station.
The angle covered my entire work area.
Then, I waited.
At 11:40 PM on April 2nd, I was in my dorm, scrolling through my phone when I received a notification from the recorder app.
There was movement in the lab.
I checked the live feed. The image was green under night vision.
A figure entered the lab, walked to my desk, and pulled rubber gloves from her pocket.
She took out a pair of tweezers from another pocket and crouched down.
Carefully, she peeled the labels off two reagent bottles.
With steady hands, she swapped the labels and stuck them back in place, perfectly smooth.
The entire process took less than three minutes.
Her actions were quick and smooth, without hesitation.
She stood up, removed the gloves, and stuffed them and the tweezers back into her pocket.
As she turned to leave, her face was clearly visible to the recorder.
It was Yolanda herself.
Her expression was calm, her eyes focused.
No sign of nervousness, no fear.
I downloaded the video, encrypted it, and stored it in the cloud.
On lab day, April 3rd, I showed up ten minutes early and went through every reagent bottle in front of my classmates, pretending to notice the swapped labels.
I raised my hand and called the instructor over.
"I think these two labels look reversed." I said.
The instructor checked and saw they had been switched.
"Who touched the chemicals at this station?" the instructor asked.
No one answered.
Yolanda was sitting in the observation area.
As a liberal arts visitor, she didn't have to do the experiment, just watch.
She tilted her head with that innocent look on her face, "Is something wrong, Emily? Did something happen to the reagents?"
I looked at her, "It's nothing. Someone swapped the labels. Luckily, I noticed in time."
Yolanda's expression didn't change.
The class ended without incident.
After class, I went to check Yolanda's student record in the school system.
I had been meaning to do this for a while.
Her record showed:
Yolanda, female, 21, a third-year literature major, transferred to the pharmacy school as an auditor in her second year.
She came from a remote poor area, with a family in financial trouble, and her father was bedridden due to a work injury.
I already knew this.
But there was one detail I hadn't noticed before: Her college application choices.
Pharmacy was her first pick.
Pharmaceutical Chemistry was her second.
literature was her third choice.
Her first choice was Pharmacy, not literature.
She had originally wanted to study medicine, but due to her exam score, she was placed in the literature department.
Would someone who chose Pharmacy as their first choice not know what allergens trigger pollen allergies?
Would she not understand the importance of reagent labels in the lab?
Would she not know that adrenaline pens have expiration dates?
She knew it all.
She was just pretending not to.
I closed the computer, and my phone buzzed again.
It was that same unknown number again.
[Was April 3rd safe?]
I hesitated for a few seconds and replied.
[Who are you?]
The reply came quickly.
[Never mind, be careful with your epinephrine pen on May 18th.]
I sent another message, but got nothing back.
This person knew Yolanda's entire plan.
Every date, every step of her game.
Was this person her accomplice?
Unlikely.
If this person is an accomplice, why would this one warn me?
That meant this one is Yolanda's enemy or another victim.