The One Who Steals My Degree

Pushing open the door, I noticed two leaves of the philodendron at the reception desk had wilted. I put down the canvas tote bag I had been carrying during fieldwork; my shoulders still ached. After three consecutive days of community recruitment, the soles of my shoes had worn thin. "Ms. Sosa, you're finally back!" Amelie peeked out from her workstation, eyes a little anxious. I rubbed my temples and headed to the office. "What's wrong? Is there any problem with the recruitment data?" She hurried to catch up, lowering her voice even more. "A new teacher has arrived, advising students' graduation thesis." I stopped in my tracks, the water cup in my hand wobbling slightly. "No one mentioned we were hiring a new teacher." Amelie pointed toward the conference room. "Ms. Marsh brought her in. She said the new teacher was experienced. Today is her first day on the job." Emma Marsh is a longtime employee at the institution, responsible for administration. She rarely speaks, yet her work is always somewhat ambiguous. I pushed open the conference room door; inside sat a woman wearing a white dress. She looked up at me, her long eyelashes framing a faint, indifferent smile at the corner of her mouth. "Hello, I'm Miley Shah, the new thesis advisor." She extended her hand, her nails painted a bright red. I shook her hand, feeling a slight chill at my fingertips. "Lilian Sosa, head of the institution." Her eyes swept over the badge on my chest, then she suddenly raised an eyebrow: "Oh? Ms. Sosa, are you also a master's graduate from the Literature Department of A University?" I was momentarily stunned: "You too?" She took a copy of the academic qualification certificate from her bag and pushed it in front of me. "What a coincidence—not only the same school and major, but also the same graduation year." I picked up the copy; the information on it was almost identical to mine. The name field read "Miley Shah," but the photo looked somewhat familiar, as if I had seen it somewhere before. "That's a bit strange," I said, looking up at her. "There aren't many graduates from A University's Literature Department master's program this year. How come I don't recall a classmate like you?" Her smile faded slightly as she withdrew her hand. "Does Ms. Sosa think there's an issue with my academic qualification?" "I'm not daring, just curious." I pushed the photocopy back. "After all, we graduated from the same school and major; it's a shame we never met." She sneered, leaning back in her chair. "Maybe I'm more low-key, unlike Ms. Sosa, who runs around recruiting students everywhere and gaining fame." The sarcasm in her tone was obvious, and I frowned. At that moment, Emma Marsh walked in carrying two cups of water. Seeing the photocopy in my hand, her hand suddenly trembled, spilling water onto the desk. "Oh no, sorry!" She hastily grabbed some paper to wipe it up, avoiding my gaze. I fixed my gaze on her hands, the ones that usually handled documents steadily but today couldn't even hold a cup. "Ms. Marsh, do you know Ms. Shah?" I asked. She hesitated, her voice slightly stammering: "Yes...I know her. Introduced through a friend before." Miley Shah glanced at Emma Marsh and added, "Ms. Marsh and I are relatives; she knew I was looking for a job and recommended me here." Relatives? My suspicions grew stronger. Emma Marsh had never mentioned any relatives involved in thesis advising, and Miley Shah's academic qualifications seemed suspiciously coincidental. I picked up the canvas tote bag and said, "Ms. Shah, please get familiar with the environment first; we'll discuss the teaching plan later." As I walked out of the conference room, I glanced back. Emma was speaking to Miley with her head down; Miley's expression was slightly impatient, and she gently pushed her. This scene didn't look like relatives but rather like they were hiding some secret from me.