A Tale of Faith and Fallacy

Ngọc Linh was a beloved high school teacher, admired for her beauty and gentle nature. Yet, despite her promising career and charming looks, her romantic life was a series of unfortunate dead ends. Troubled by her perpetual single status, she made a decision: she would visit Phước Liên Pagoda, a place rumored to grant wishes for love and family happiness. No one, including Linh herself, could have known that this quiet pilgrimage would be the last time she was ever seen alive.

The tragic turn occurred that very night. Abbot Lăng Huy, a man long esteemed for his devout and respectable demeanor, unexpectedly coaxed her into a private prayer room. In a fleeting moment of self-destruction and loss of control, he pushed her towards a terrifying crisis—a bi-directional event he could not reverse. He panicked when confronted with the irreversible consequences. Desperate, he dragged her body behind the pagoda and submerged it in the Koi pond, clinging to the belief that the water would wash away all trace of his sin.

Three days later, Linh’s body surfaced, sending a shockwave of dread through the entire village. The police initiated an investigation. The gate cameras recorded no evidence of her leaving the premises. Inside the private prayer room, investigators found a long drag mark on the floor, a damp cloth with a faint scent, a broken bracelet bead, and stray strands of hair. Crucially, identical shoe prints matching the abbot’s were discovered at the bottom of the pond. Evidence mounted, tightening the noose around him. The dark truth was exposed: greed, lust, and moral decay had unjustly ended an innocent young woman’s life. The case was closed, but the nightmare of that fateful night lingered—a perpetual warning that “when morality collapses, every crime must be paid for.”

Ngọc Linh stepped into the tranquil grounds of Phước Liên Pagoda on a quiet afternoon. She had spent the entire week contemplating her visit. Sleepless nights were spent wondering why a person as capable, employed, and attractive as her was constantly unlucky in love. She wasn’t one for superstitions, but she believed that sometimes, a heartfelt prayer, a sliver of faith, or a spiritual anchor could lighten the heart. And she needed that lightness desperately. At thirty years old, the teacher had been in several relationships that never reached fruition. She often questioned whether the fault lay within her or if the timing was always wrong. Her friends were nearly all married, and the occasional, gentle inquiry, “When will it be your turn?” while well-meaning, weighed heavily on her spirit.

She came to the pagoda seeking not grand hopes, but a simple desire: a dependable partner, a peaceful haven. This led her to Phước Liên, a place renowned in the community for its spiritual efficacy in family and relationship matters. As she entered the courtyard, she saw Abbot Lăng Huy speaking with a group of devotees, yet his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than was natural.

Ngọc Linh paid no mind. She went to the main altar, lit an incense stick, clasped her hands, and silently whispered her deepest wishes. She prayed for a long time, as if pouring all the sorrows bottled within her into every word. A lay devotee, seeing her prolonged prayer, approached to inquire and then introduced her to the abbot, telling her he was exceptional at guiding “love rituals.” She simply smiled and brushed it off, as private ceremonies weren’t her priority, but the repeated mention did pique her curiosity.

A little later, as she waited for her incense to burn down, Abbot Lăng Huy approached her himself. His voice was gentle and polite, perfectly fitting the image of a spiritual leader. He inquired about her work and life, then offered a suggestion: “If you truly wish to seek a better romantic destiny, there is a small, private ceremony. It helps calm the heart and illuminates the path of love. It won’t take much time.” His manner instilled a degree of trust. She had no reason to suspect ill intent from a man of the cloth. In his simple brown robe, standing amid the scent of incense and the rhythmic sound of the wooden fish drum, he appeared utterly honorable. People spoke highly of his compassion and his charitable work for the villagers. Ngọc Linh, suspecting nothing more than a routine ceremony, similar to others she had witnessed, nodded her assent.

Lăng Huy then directed her to a small room behind the main sanctuary, which he used for private consultations and specialized prayers for those seeking peace or counsel. Ngọc Linh entered. The room was simple, containing only a small table and a few typical temple items. The door softly closed, muffling all external sound.

Initially, everything seemed normal. He asked her about her experiences and her specific desires. She spoke briefly of the pressure of age and her anxiety about the future. He nodded sympathetically, mentioning that many were like her, and then began to prepare for the ritual. But as the minutes passed, his demeanor grew strange. His eyes no longer held the tranquil calm they had in the courtyard. He stood closer than necessary. His words remained soft, yet his voice became strangely deep and incomprehensible.

Linh began to feel uneasy but hesitated to react strongly, fearing she might be misinterpreting the situation. She subtly took a step back, but the door behind her was now blocked by his figure. His breathing changed; his face tightened, an entirely different person from the respectable abbot. Ngọc Linh understood something was wrong. She tried to assert that she only wanted a normal ceremony, but before she could finish, the atmosphere in the room turned heavy.

He advanced towards her too quickly, startling her. She panicked, desperately seeking an escape, but the space was too confined. Everything happened in a flash, a brutal contrast to the serenity she had expected upon entering the temple. She instinctively fought back. In the ensuing chaos, she fell to the wooden floor, the impact leaving her dazed. She struggled to get up but lacked the strength. Everything blurred, her breath grew shallow, and her weak cries for help were swallowed by the soundproof room. No one heard her.

Lăng Huy was now consumed by a desperate mix of fear—fear of discovery and fear of the situation spiraling beyond control. He called her name, but Ngọc Linh did not respond. His confusion transformed into sheer terror when he realized her body was completely still. He shook her, but there was no reaction. The silence in the room sent tremors through his entire body. Minutes dragged on, and he remained paralyzed, seemingly unable to grasp the magnitude of what had just transpired. His greatest fear wasn’t the legal consequence, but the exposure that people would know he had been alone with her in this room. The sound of the wind outside the door only heightened his distress.

He looked around and spotted a large ceremonial cloth often used during rituals. In a moment of madness, he wrapped the cloth around her body and pulled her close, trying to shield her from any passing gaze. He dragged her out of the room, along the adjacent hallway, trying desperately to remain unseen. The sound of his slippers scraping on the tile made him tremble with every step. Every small sound in the temple courtyard caused his heart to pound. He knew that the Koi pond was located at the back, a place few visited at night. In his mind, there was only one thought: How could he make this never have happened?

The pond was hidden behind a small cluster of trees. At night, the area was deserted, only the gentle sound of flowing water was audible. He looked around; no one was there. At that moment, he wasn’t thinking about the law, morality, or sin, only about concealment. He lowered her body into the water. Her form slowly sank, the cloth unraveling and floating lightly on the surface. He stood watching for a few seconds, unable to believe his own action. His hand shook so violently that he couldn’t hold the prayer beads he usually carried.

He quickly retreated to the temple, locked the private room door, and collapsed in a corner, as if recovering from a nightmare. He took a deep breath, telling himself that the incident would simply fade away, that perhaps people would assume she had met with an accident elsewhere. This flawed self-reassurance allowed him to appear normal for the next few days. He chanted, guided visitors, and showed no outward sign of distress. The entire village continued to regard him with the same respect.

Meanwhile, Ngọc Linh was reported missing. The school called her family when she didn’t show up for class. Her phone was unreachable. Friends speculated she had gone away for a few days to de-stress. Her family thought she might have visited relatives without notifying them. No one imagined she was lying at the bottom of a pond, mere steps from the temple.

Three days passed. Under the gentle sun, the pond water rippled, and the Koi fish swam around an unusual spot on the surface. Early that morning, a woman passing the pond noticed something floating and immediately screamed for help. When several villagers approached, they realized it was a woman’s body. The frantic cry plunged the quiet temple into chaos. The police were immediately notified. Crowds of people rushed in but were asked to keep their distance. Everyone asked the same questions: “Who is she? Why did she die here? Why is there a body in the temple pond?”

A few recognized the features of the teacher, Ngọc Linh. Soon after, her family arrived and confirmed the identity. The mother collapsed in grief right in the temple courtyard. The district police cordoned off the scene. The first priority was to determine why the victim came to the temple, who she spoke to, and what happened in the final hours before her disappearance. Some villagers recalled seeing her at the temple that evening but couldn’t confirm when she left. This information drew the investigators’ attention. Abbot Lăng Huy appeared with other devotees, feigning shock like everyone else. He told the police he had only seen her light incense and leave; he claimed ignorance about her disappearance. His voice was calm, but his hands trembled slightly—a detail that did not escape the eyes of the seasoned investigators. No one made premature conclusions, but a subtle suspicion had formed.

When the police inquired about areas she might have visited, a few locals mentioned the private prayer room. The door to that room was locked tight on the morning the body was found. The question arose: If the room wasn’t in use, why was it locked? Who locked it? What was inside? Ngọc Linh could not have locked herself in from the outside. This small detail prompted the investigators to focus on the seemingly insignificant. No one yet knew that everything they were seeing was only the surface. The truth, beneath the murky pond water, was beginning to rise. No matter how hard the abbot tried, he couldn’t stop it.

By the end of the first day of the crime scene investigation, the police preserved the site and requested a temporary halt to all temple activities. The villagers were in a frenzy of discussion. Ngọc Linh’s family was consumed by an indescribable grief. The school where she taught contacted the authorities, confirming she had mentioned going to the temple to pray on the day she vanished. As they drove away, an investigator quietly told his colleague, “This is not simple. Nobody falls into a pond for no reason. And the last person to have contact with her is the man standing there—Abbot Lăng Huy.” The abbot lowered his face, clutching his prayer beads tightly. No one knew what he feared more: the death of an innocent girl or the gaze of those about to uncover the truth.

The atmosphere in Phước Liên Pagoda was strangely unsettling. That night, the wind sighing through the tiled roofs felt heavier than usual. No one knew that from the moment Ngọc Linh’s body surfaced, Abbot Lăng Huy’s life had entered a chapter he could not reverse, and the upcoming investigation would completely strip away the respectable facade he had maintained for years.

Immediately after the Koi pond was secured, the investigation team began gathering all possible information about Ngọc Linh. What first caught their attention was the fact that her disappearance coincided with her visit to the temple to pray for love. Friends and colleagues confirmed she had clearly stated her destination. This made Phước Liên Pagoda the last place anyone had seen her alive.

The police started questioning everyone present at the temple that day. Many devotees testified that they only saw her lighting incense and chatting briefly with a few people; no one saw her leave the temple gate. This contradicted Abbot Lăng Huy’s statement. He had insisted she left immediately after offering incense. This inconsistency raised a significant red flag for the investigators.

One officer requested the security camera footage near the temple gate. Although the system was old and the images weren’t crystal clear, they were sufficient to track movement. During the time Ngọc Linh was reportedly leaving the main sanctuary, the camera recorded no image of her passing through the gate. This posed a critical question: If she didn’t leave through the main gate, where was she throughout the evening?

The forensic team then proceeded to inspect the entire temple grounds. Near the private prayer room, which the villagers confirmed only the abbot held the key to, they discovered signs that the door lock had recently been opened and re-locked. An officer bent down for a closer look and noticed a small scratch on the lock’s edge, as if someone had hurriedly opened the door. The suspicion intensified.

The abbot was summoned to open the room. He appeared flustered, his hand trembling as he held the key, a sign of instability that everyone nearby noticed. The door opened. The interior looked tidy, but a few small details were immediately visible to the experienced eyes. On the wooden floor, there was a long scuff mark, as if a heavy object had been dragged across it. Beside the altar, there was a dark brown cloth rolled up in a corner. An investigator picked it up and immediately noticed it was slightly damp, smelling of pond water mixed with incense. This coincidence led the team to immediately consider the possibility that the cloth had been in contact with the pond before being placed there.

In a gap near the corner of the room, a small, shining object caught the light from the flashlight. The investigator bent down and picked it up. It was a broken piece of a bracelet. The design matched the description of the bracelet Ngọc Linh often wore for good luck. Her close friend, upon seeing the piece, confirmed it was hers. Because Linh had replaced one bead recently, the bracelet had a slightly different color in one spot, and that very bead was missing from the broken piece.

Lăng Huy stood in the room, eyes fixed on the floor, repeatedly saying, “I know nothing about how that bracelet piece got here.” But the tension in his voice made the room feel heavier. No one jumped to conclusions, but clearly, his statement was now contradicting the evidence before their eyes. An investigator asked him, “If she left the temple immediately after lighting incense, why are her belongings in the prayer room?” Lăng Huy’s reply was halting. “Maybe someone dropped it while cleaning? I… I don’t remember clearly.” No one was convinced.

That afternoon, the police took the cloth and the bracelet piece for forensic examination, and they requested the pond water be partially drained to inspect the bottom. As the water level dropped, onlookers watched in silence. No one expected anything specific, but everyone had a premonition that new clues would emerge. When the bottom of the pond was exposed, an investigator discovered a faint footprint in the layer of mud—a large shoe size, not a woman’s. They compared it to the shoes the abbot frequently wore and found the size to be commensurate. Although not conclusive yet, the suspicion became increasingly clear.

Meanwhile, Ngọc Linh’s family brought her spare phone, which she often synced her messages to. Through this, the investigators read the last text message she had sent to her best friend: The master is doing a private ceremony for me in a bit. They say it’s very effective. This message changed the atmosphere completely. It confirmed she had entered the private room, and if she went in but never left through the gate, everyone knew who had been with her at that time.

Abbot Lăng Huy was invited for questioning a second time. In the interrogation room, he could no longer maintain his initial composure. Every answer contradicted the previous one. He claimed not to remember, then that he was busy that day, then that he did not interact with her. The investigators did not pressure him but asked calm questions focused on the core facts, which only amplified his distress. A senior investigator looked at him for a long time and said, “Master, the truth cannot disappear just because we wish it to. She was a teacher, a decent person. You were the last person to see her, and all the signs point to you. If you don’t tell the truth, the situation will only worsen.” Lăng Huy was silent, his hands trembling violently. He did not immediately deny it but did not confess either. His silence further convinced the investigation team that he was concealing something very important.

Late that day, the initial forensic results on the cloth arrived. On its surface, there was pond water and long strands of hair matching Ngọc Linh’s sample. This result brought the entire team together for an immediate analysis that evening. The cloth was found in the private room, the broken bracelet was in the private room, the footprints in the pond matched the abbot’s shoe size, the victim’s last message confirmed she entered the room, and the gate camera did not record her departure. The fragmented pieces of evidence began to form a cohesive picture, making it clear that the case was no longer a simple accident.

The victim’s family was informed of the preliminary findings. Her mother wept uncontrollably. Her father sat in silence, looking like he had lost everything. The school where she taught set up a temporary memorial. Students came to lay flowers and write letters to her. These images strengthened the investigators’ resolve to pursue the case to the end. The only thing left to clarify was the actual sequence of events in that room that night. Therefore, they decided to re-examine the crime scene the next day, cross-referencing new testimonies, hoping to find the final key to force the abbot to confess the truth.

That night, Phước Liên Pagoda was closed. The people standing outside the gate felt a heavy heart. They had trusted the abbot implicitly. Now, everything was shaken. The silence of the night made everyone uneasy. Whispers spread, soft but sharp as knives: Could the master have been the last person with the teacher? No one dared to say it aloud, but everyone thought it.

In his small bedroom, Abbot Lăng Huy sat alone, his prayer beads in hand. The beads were meant for meditation, but tonight his hands trembled so much he couldn’t grasp them. His face was strained, his eyes fixed on the floor as if afraid to face anyone. He knew the truth was being peeled back layer by layer, and he knew that with just one more concrete piece of evidence, everything he had struggled to preserve for years would completely crumble. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees. No one heard his sigh, but everyone understood that since Ngọc Linh’s body surfaced, his path back to peace was gone.

The next morning, the investigation team returned to Phước Liên Pagoda earlier than expected. They did not want to allow too much time to pass, as any small clue could be erased or altered. Villagers had gathered outside the gate since dawn, waiting to see what would happen next. Curiosity mixed with sorrow for the young teacher made the atmosphere around the temple unusually suffocating.

When the police entered the grounds, Abbot Lăng Huy stood on the main steps, his hands clasped in front of him, trying to maintain a semblance of composure, but his eyes constantly avoided direct contact. Since Ngọc Linh’s body was found, he had barely slept. Last night, he only sat leaning against the wall, afraid to close his eyes for too long. Every small sound startled him.

The investigation team requested that he lead them to the private prayer room once more to re-examine a small detail they might have missed the day before. As he opened the door, his hand shook so much that the key fell to the floor. An officer picked it up and handed it back, looking at him with an expression of deep suspicion. Such trembling was not the mark of an innocent man.

Inside the room, the familiar atmosphere was now viewed through different eyes. They focused on details an ordinary person would never notice: the floor structure, the altar’s position, the window height, even the placement of objects. Everything could potentially speak volumes. One investigator carefully shined a light on the long scuff marks on the floor. He observed for a long time before saying, “Master Lăng Huy, yesterday you said you didn’t remember anyone using this room, so where did this scratch mark come from?” Lăng Huy looked at the floor, stammering, “Maybe from cleaning… I didn’t notice.” No one immediately refuted him, but the eyes of those standing nearby implicitly understood he was avoiding the truth.

Another investigator opened the window; a tiny purple thread was stuck in the wooden frame. They carefully removed it, bagging it as evidence. When cross-referenced with the victim’s clothing, the color matched perfectly. This detail reinforced the fact that she had been in this room before the incident occurred. An officer immediately asked, “If she only lit incense and left, as you claimed, why are her belongings here—on the window, on the floor, and in the wooden gaps?” Lăng Huy didn’t answer. His lips trembled slightly, his eyes looking away. His silence, unintentionally, confirmed the truth of their findings.

After examining the interior, the investigation team expanded their scope to the hallway leading to the pond. Here, they found a noticeable detail: a faint mud smear on the wall’s edge, not very high, only about a mature person’s hip level. This suggested that someone had passed through the area while wet or covered in mud. Compared to the sediment from the partially drained pond, the mud appeared similar. As they took a sample of the mud for comparison, an officer quietly asked the abbot, “The night she disappeared, did you go to the pond area?” He immediately replied, “No, I was busy inside the temple.” But his voice was slightly higher than normal, lacking sincerity. A seasoned investigator looked at him and quietly told his colleague, “He is contradicting himself.”

While the team continued to search, two elderly devotees, long-time residents of the temple, volunteered information. One woman said she heard a strange noise behind the hallway on the night the teacher visited but dismissed it as a cat and didn’t check. An older man recalled that the light in the prayer room was on late, unusually so compared to other nights. Though small, these details, when put together, created a timeline that closely matched the investigation team’s suspicions.

By noon, the forensic results for the broken bracelet piece arrived. The conclusion: it was indeed Ngọc Linh’s bracelet, and the fracture matched the remaining piece provided by the family. The private prayer room was confirmed as the most critical location—the scene before her death.

Upon hearing the investigator read the results, the abbot’s face hardened. Despite his efforts to remain calm, sweat beaded on his temples. He no longer possessed the confidence to deny everything as he had the day before. An investigator spoke directly, “Master, everything we’ve found points in one direction. We believe the incident took place in this prayer room. You were the only one with her. It would be best for you to cooperate and clearly state the events of that evening.”

Lăng Huy bowed his head. He didn’t deny it, but he didn’t answer. The silence lasted for over a minute, making the room feel heavy, as if crushed by a stone. When invited back to the police headquarters for a third interrogation, he only said, “I need time. I’m afraid I’ll say the wrong thing.” This only further convinced the investigation team that he was hiding something.

That same afternoon, a crucial new piece of evidence emerged. While continuing to drain the pond water for a thorough search of the bottom, an investigator found a long drag mark in the mud, as if a heavy object had been pulled from the pond’s edge downwards. This trail led directly towards the hallway of the prayer room. An officer whispered, “There’s no way this can be a coincidence.” This drag mark was the missing piece of the puzzle. The victim had been moved from the prayer room to the pond on the night of the incident. Everything was becoming clear.

The investigators recalled the abbot’s expressions, his nervousness while opening the door, his evasiveness when questioned, and the contradictions in his statements. All signs led to the same conclusion. He knew what had happened; not only did he know, but he was the sole witness.

As evening fell, the investigation team left the pond area, carrying photos of the mud, cloth samples, the bracelet piece, and detailed notes of all critical evidence. The villagers watched them, their eyes filled with suspicion. They had once trusted him as a family member; now they felt betrayed. Whispers rose everywhere, but no one dared speak loudly, still hoping that it was all just a misunderstanding.

In the workroom late that day, the lead investigator told his subordinates, “Tomorrow, we start compiling the evidence for the confrontation. We only need one small piece more, and he won’t be able to hold it together.”

And indeed, the circle of suspicion had closed around Abbot Lăng Huy. He knew it. That night, sitting alone in his small room, hearing the rhythmic chanting from the temple echoing, he felt both familiar and utterly alien. There was nothing left to shield him. The truth was slowly tightening its grip, like a heavy door slowly opening, soon to burst wide.

The next morning, the investigation team’s office was alight early. All files, photos, and samples were neatly arranged on the table, preparing for the most critical confrontation since the start of the case. Everyone understood that today would be the turning point—either they would break the deadlock, or the case would stall. No one wanted the latter.

An officer was sent to Phước Liên Pagoda to invite Abbot Lăng Huy to the headquarters. He appeared visibly exhausted, his eyes deeply sunken from sleepless nights, yet he tried to maintain a calm demeanor. The arm holding the prayer beads trembled slightly. It wasn’t from the cold; he knew. Today, they would ask the questions he feared the most.

In the interrogation room, there were only a few experienced investigators. They were not hasty, nor did they immediately apply pressure. The lead investigator sat opposite him, his voice steady. “Master Lăng Huy, we have invited you here to clarify a few more details. Your cooperation will determine a lot in the final outcome.”

Lăng Huy nodded, silent. The investigator spread the evidence across the table: the damp cloth, the broken bracelet piece, photos of the footprints in the pond, the mud sample from the hallway, Ngọc Linh’s final text message, and the forensic report confirming the hair on the cloth. Everything was laid out before him, a mosaic of truth connecting every fragment.

“Take a look, Master,” the investigator continued. “All of this points to one common factor: the prayer room and the pond area. There was no one else going in or out. If you don’t clearly state what happened, we can no longer help you.”

Lăng Huy swallowed hard, his hands clasped together under the table. “I told you, I don’t remember clearly.”

That tired phrase made everyone exchange glances. Another investigator spoke softly, “Not remembering is the reflex of someone afraid of responsibility, not of an innocent person.”

The silence stretched for nearly a minute. In the closed room, one could almost hear his strained breathing. The investigator continued, opening a laptop and playing the gate camera footage from that night. “Ngọc Linh never left the gate. You said she left, but this segment proves she didn’t exit. How do you explain this?”

Lăng Huy lowered his face, his eyes starting to redden. He understood that his vague statements were no longer effective. Every step, every statement he made, was now returning to force him to face the truth. The investigator didn’t push too hard but brought out another photo: the long drag mark at the bottom of the pond. “This is the trail left by a heavy object dragged into the pond. This mark leads straight from the hallway of the prayer room. We measured it. The size is entirely consistent with an adult human body.”

He flinched, his eyes widening, his lips trembling slightly. “No, it wasn’t me.” But his voice lacked conviction, sounding like someone who no longer believed his own words.

The investigator continued, “Master, the shoe prints at the pond’s edge match the shoes you frequently wear. We have cross-referenced them. Only you wear that style of shoe in the temple grounds in the evening.”

As if being choked, his chest heaved, and the prayer beads in his hands were squeezed so tightly that his knuckles turned purple. “I… I didn’t mean to.” The words burst out, even though he hadn’t been asked about specific intentions or actions. This unconscious admission told the investigators that the psychological wall he had built was fracturing.

The lead investigator looked him straight in the eye. “If you truly didn’t mean to, then you must tell the truth. A teacher came to the temple seeking peace. That evening, she entered the prayer room with you. After that, she never returned. Your silence only makes things worse.”

No one in the room spoke harshly, but every sentence struck his deepest fear: The Truth. Lăng Huy began to breathe heavily. He raised his hands to cover his forehead, sitting still as if all his strength had been drained. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse, “I didn’t know things would turn out like this. She… she fell down. I didn’t react in time.”

The investigators did not interrupt, allowing him to continue speaking. “At that moment, I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I only thought that if this were revealed, the whole temple would be disgraced. I… I was wrong.” He put his hands over his face, hiding his red eyes. His whole body trembled, devoid of his usual dignity.

An investigator spoke softly but clearly, “You were afraid of disgrace, but what about a human life? She couldn’t have walked into the pond herself.” That question was the final cut, severing all his defenses. Lăng Huy nearly collapsed, his voice strained, “I took her out there. I was afraid someone would find out. I didn’t have time to think.”

The only sounds in the room were the pen scratching on the report and his heavy breathing. The investigators showed no sign of joy or satisfaction. They understood that although the confession was incomplete, the door to the truth had opened. They needed to continue verifying, clarifying the motive and the specific sequence of events. But the most important step had been achieved: he was no longer denying it.

That afternoon, the investigation team left the office, their spirits tense but resolved. They knew the next day would be even more critical—reconstructing the scene, clarifying the timeline, and forcing the abbot to fully disclose the entire sequence of events. Meanwhile, Lăng Huy was led to a temporary holding cell. He sat down and stared at his trembling hands. In that moment, he understood that there was no turning back. The heavy wall he had painstakingly built over the years—his reputation, his morality, his image—had utterly collapsed in a single night when he lost his reason. And he knew this was only the beginning of what he had to face.

The next morning, the investigation team brought Abbot Lăng Huy back to the temple for the scene reconstruction. The atmosphere was unusually quiet. Curious villagers stood silently outside the gate, watching his every step. They had once bowed to him, once believed in his teachings. Now, they looked at him with eyes that could no longer distinguish between disappointment and indignation.

The abbot walked slowly, his shoulders slightly stooped, his face lifeless. Every step he took brought the memories of that night back with terrifying clarity, as if everything had happened just minutes ago. The investigation team asked him to retrace the entire path, from meeting Ngọc Linh, leading her into the prayer room, to the final moment she was alive, and finally, how he disposed of her body in the pond. No one rushed him, but the stern voice of the investigator left him no room for evasion.

The door to the prayer room opened. The daylight shining in made the once somber room feel even more exposed. Every detail in the room seemed to accuse him.

The lead investigator began, “Stand exactly where you stood when she entered the room.”

Lăng Huy slowly walked to the altar, his voice dry. “When she came in, I sat here and spoke with her. She talked about her sorrow in love. I… I took advantage of that.”

No one in the room spoke, but the air thickened, as if someone was being strangled.

“How did she react?”

“She backed away, terrified. I… I lost control. I couldn’t think.” His shoulders shook. The investigator didn’t comment, only asked him to continue.

“How did she fall?”

“I don’t know. She tried to run, I grabbed her arm. She stumbled, and her head hit the floor.” He pointed to the long scratch mark on the wooden floor. “She fell right here.”

An investigator bent down to re-examine the scuff mark they had once suspected. Now, it was living evidence connected to the testimony of the only person present in the room that night.

“When she fell, what did you do?”

“I called her name to wake her up, but she was only breathing very weakly, and then… she didn’t respond anymore. I checked, but…” He didn’t dare finish the sentence. The atmosphere seemed to drop. They didn’t need him to continue to understand what had occurred.

“Then I panicked. I thought if people knew she died in my room, they would assume I intended to harm her. I didn’t know what to do.”

The investigator pointed to the brown cloth on the evidence table. “What did you use this cloth for?”

Lăng Huy looked at the cloth for a long time, as if looking at his own mistake. “I wrapped her body so no one would see her face.”

A young investigator stifled a sigh, but the lead officer kept his voice steady. “How did you get her out of the room?”

“By dragging her across the floor. I was in such a rush; I didn’t dare lift her, afraid someone would see me.” He pointed towards the hallway. “The drag mark you found yesterday was because I was panicking.”

“And how did you move the body to the pond?”

“Through the path behind the room. I walked close to the wall to avoid the light. When I reached the edge of the pond, I let her go.” His voice faded like a snapped wire.

The investigators meticulously recorded every detail. No one raised their voice, no one was aggressive. But their silence made his confession even heavier. The lead investigator asked the final, most crucial question.

“Did you know if she was still alive or already dead before…”