Chapter 2Pillow Talk of Death

For the next few days, I acted completely normal.

Classes, meals, lab work, back to the dorm.

I talked when I needed to, smiled when appropriate.

But I no longer let Vera touch any of my things.

Several times, she tried to help me organize my desk, bring me food, or collect my laundry, but I subtly refused each time.

Every time I refused, she'd look at me with those wet, innocent eyes, like a puppy abandoned by its owner.

My other roommates couldn't stand it.

“Eleanor, Vera is so good to you. Why are you so cold lately?”

“Seriously, she genuinely cares about you. Don’t hurt her feelings.”

I just smiled, offering no explanation.

On the evening of March 11th.

Vera went to the library.

Ten minutes after she left, I locked the dorm door and began my inspection.

First, I checked my medicine cabinet.

The swapped allergy medication was still there; I had already sealed it away separately.

Then I checked my bed.

I pulled off the pillowcase and shook it out.

Nothing amiss.

I unzipped the pillow insert.

My hand froze.

Tucked inside the pillow insert’s lining was a small bag.

It contained dried flowers.

Tiny petals and pollen, sealed in a clear plastic bag. The bag had a small tear at the opening, and the pollen was slowly seeping into the pillow’s stuffing.

Every night, I’d lay my face on that pillow, breathing for an entire night.

Pollen would directly enter my respiratory system.

For someone with severe pollen allergies, this was like burying my face in an allergen.

In my previous life, on March 12th, my allergies flared up, sending me to the hospital.

The doctor had attributed it to seasonal changes.

Who would have thought someone had deliberately placed something in my pillow?

I carefully removed the bag of petals with tweezers and placed it in a sealed bag.

Then I replaced my pillow with a new one.

On March 12th, I was perfectly fine.

No allergies, no hospital, nothing happened.

That evening, Vera returned to the dorm and saw me sitting quietly at my desk, reading.

Her gaze lingered on my face for two seconds.

It was brief, but I caught it.

She was checking my skin for rashes, swelling, or signs of difficulty breathing.

There was nothing.

Her eyes flickered.

I closed my book and spoke casually.

“Vera, those dried flowers you put in my pillow last time were quite fragrant. What kind were they?”

The entire dorm went silent for a moment.

Vera turned, her face a mask of bewilderment.

“Eleanor, what are you talking about? I never put anything in your pillow…”

“Really?”

I took the sealed bag from my drawer and held it up to the light.

“This bag of petals fell out of my pillow insert. Want to take a look?”

My roommates gathered around.

“No way! Flowers in a pillow?”

“Who would put flowers in a pillow…?”

Vera’s lips parted, and her eyes began to redden.

“Eleanor… maybe when I was airing out your bedding, some petals accidentally got on it… the school garden has so many flowers blooming lately…”

“Petals that just ‘got on’ wouldn’t be in a plastic bag.”

I flipped the sealed bag over.

The clear plastic bag still had the torn opening.

Clearly, someone had intentionally opened and placed it there.

Vera was speechless.

Tears streamed down her face, and her hands twisted together.

“I really don’t know… maybe someone played a prank… Eleanor, please don’t accuse me…”

The other roommates exchanged glances, unsure whose side to take.

I didn’t press further.

The time wasn't right.

I put the sealed bag away and smiled.

“Never mind, I must have been mistaken.”

Vera let out a sigh of relief, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

But I noticed that when she returned to her bed, her first action was to reach under her pillow.

Only after confirming the notebook was still there did her shoulders truly relax.

That night, I took the bag of petals to the school’s biology lab and asked a senior student for help with identification.

The results came back the next day.

It wasn't ordinary flower petals.

It was ragweed pollen, mixed with a small amount of mugwort pollen.

These two are the most common and potent allergens for all pollen allergy sufferers.

Mixed with dried flower fragments, they were extremely subtle, almost impossible to discern with the naked eye.

I took photos of the identification report and saved them.

Just as I was about to turn off my phone, a text message popped up on the screen.

An unknown number.

No sender name.

Just one line of text.

[She didn’t buy the flowers herself. Check the old flower and bird market in Westside, March 5th.]