I felt trapped in a suffocating web of confusion. According to Dita, Roy was her boyfriend. If she ever found out I was communicating with him again, a massive misunderstanding was inevitable. Moreover, Dita had openly admitted she couldn't leave him, despite knowing he was a toxic presence in her life. On the other hand, my desperation regarding my thesis had reached a breaking point. So far, the only solution Dita offered was the ridiculous idea of "surrendering" to the killer lecturer—an option I desperately wanted to avoid. I figured there was no harm in considering Roy's help now. At the very least, a "thesis proxy" sounded much more rational and carried fewer moral risks than Dita’s suggestion. Finally, with a heavy heart, I pulled out my phone and unblocked Roy’s contact. "There. Done," I said curtly, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Roy checked his phone immediately, a broad, satisfied grin sprea
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