My Research Was Stolen, Then I Went Wild

At our College of Agricultures final project presentation, my girlfriend's childhood friend beat me to the punch, announcing all of my experimental results as his own.

This was a guy who was dead last in every single one of our major courses, yet he could flawlessly recite the most esoteric data from my soil analysis. The precise fertilizer concentration that took me hundreds of trials and sleepless nights to determine? He claimed he could figure it out to the last decimal just by sniffing a blade of grass.

I was trembling with rage, but then a strange overlay of text, like comments on a livestream, flickered across my vision.

[What's the point of the side character trying so hard? This is a power-couple romance. The main character has a cheat system; he can win just by showing up.]

[Poor guy. He's just a stepping stone for the protagonist. No matter what he achieves, it'll all be credited to the main character in the end.]

[It's fate. The main character just has to exist, and all the glory will be his.]

Reading those comments, I suddenly let out a sharp laugh.

Oh, you want to steal my work? Ill make you choke on the fruits of your own theft.

Out on the universitys experimental farm, Dylan stood with an air of unshakeable confidence, rattling off a string of complex data.

After my repeated measurements, the improved chlorophyll content has increased by 35%, and the expression of antifreeze proteins has doubled

I felt like Id been struck by lightning.

That was the final data set I had pulled just last night after an all-nighter in the lab!

To get those numbers, I had spent half a month in a walk-in freezer kept at ten degrees below zero. The frostbite on my hands still hadnt healed.

Besides me, not even my advisor had seen this final version!

How could he possibly know?

Professor Albright pushed his glasses up his nose, checking the figures against his own records. A look of undisguised admiration spread across his face.

Perfectly accurate! Dylan, you may not be the best in the classroom, but you have a god-given talent for this.

This kind of intuitive feel for the data most of my Ph.D. students dont have it.

The room erupted in applause.

Dylan stood casually next to Sarah, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. Its all thanks to Sarahs guidance. I didn't really do much of the lab work. I was just walking past the fields earlier, smelled the soil, and it just came to me.

Smelled the soil?

I almost laughed out loud.

This was a thesis defense, not K-9 unit tryouts!

It took a high-precision machine three days and nights to calculate that molecular formula, and he figured it out with his nose?

But of course, Sarah was beaming with admiration. She clapped him on the shoulder in front of everyone. See? I told you Dylan was a genius. Youre always so modest.

I couldnt take it anymore. I stormed onto the stage, my voice shaking with fury. Dylan, thats my data!

You dont even know how to turn on a centrifuge! You dont know that chlorophyll extraction has to be done in the dark! How could you possibly have come to this conclusion?

The room fell into a dead silence.

Sarahs face instantly darkened. She stepped in front of Dylan, shielding him protectively.

Alex, when are you going to stop making a scene? This is a project defense, not a place for you to throw a tantrum!

Dylan was in the lab for a whole week working on this project. I saw it with my own eyes! How can you stand there and slander him out of pure jealousy?

I stared at Sarah, completely dumbfounded.

She was my girlfriend. My lab partner.

That week Dylan had supposedly worked in the lab, he had been binge-watching shows in the break room, ordering takeout, and flirting with her.

Meanwhile, I was in the lab next door, watching that centrifuge spin over ten thousand times.

Sarah, how can you say that with a straight face? I held up my hands, raw with frostbite and caked with dirt.

This is proof of spending three months buried in the soil! Dylans hands still smell like the lotion he uses. Youre telling me hes the one who did the work?

Murmurs rippled through the audience of professors and students, but the glances they shot my way were filled with contempt.

Whats wrong with Alex? Is it that hard to admit someone else has talent?

Yeah, hes just a book-smart nerd. So much jealousy.

Dylan frowned, casting a hurt look at Sarah. He lowered his voice. Its okay, Sarah. Alex is probably just stressed out and overworked. I dont blame him.

As long as it brings honor to the department, I dont care whose name is on the paper.

This only made Sarah more defensive. Its your work, so it should have your name! Dont worry, as long as Im here, no one is going to steal your credit! she soothed him.

Then, she turned to me, her eyes flashing with a warning. Alex, dont be so petty.

Dylans talent is a good thing. You should learn from him instead of just burying your nose in books and running yourself into the ground.

I was trembling, not from cold, but from sheer, unadulterated fury.

Just then, more of those floating comments scrolled past my eyes:

[Here we go! Lets all enjoy this epic power-couple romance!]

[The side character might be smart, but who cares when hes just cannon fodder? The protagonist just has to stand there, and he wins everything.]

[I feel bad for the guy for a second, but this is a romance novel! Sarah will only ever believe the protagonist. The more the side character struggles, the more pathetic he looks.]

I froze.

Side character? Protagonist? A cheat system?

Was I living in a novel? And was Dylans apparent clairvoyance just a built-in cheat?

Forcing down the shock and rage, I looked at Dylan, my voice cold and steady.

Fine. If youre so talented, then please, for the benefit of Professor Albright, explain the derivation process for this data.

Dylans expression faltered. He looked down, a wounded look on his face.

Sarah, why does Alex keep pressing me about the process? Is he doubting me?

Sarah exploded. Alex! Havent you had enough? Is it so difficult to admit someone is better than you? Stop with this academic bullying!

Who cares about the process as long as the results are correct? You bookworms will never understand what real talent is!

Even Professor Albright seemed annoyed with me now. He tapped his pen on the table. Alex, in research, we need to be gracious.

Data is rigid, but people arent. Dylans intuition is a rare gift. Thats enough. This matter is closed. Dylans defense is passed, and the outstanding graduate award goes to him.

My heart went cold as I watched the scene unfold.

This wasnt the first time.

Ever since our senior year internship started, no matter what project I worked on, Dylan always managed to swoop in at the critical moment and claim the victory.

I pulled all-nighters researching papers; he went to the gym and the mall.

I toiled in the fields; he sipped coffee in an air-conditioned office.

But in the end, all my hard work was attributed to his natural brilliance.

And I was cast as the jealous, bitter underling who only knew how to study.

The comments kept scrolling furiously.

[The side character is so miserable, but I love it! It's so satisfying to see the protagonist effortlessly crush the book-smart nerd!]

[Can we get past this plot point already? Im tired of the cannon fodder. I want to see the main couple finally get together!]

[Patience, friend upstairs. Without Alex paving the way for their love story, it wouldn't be as dramatic.]

Paving the way?

If you say Im just cannon fodder meant to pave their road, then Ill just have to blow that road to smithereens and see where they go.

To prevent my work from being stolen again, I applied to move into the universitys most remote, abandoned laboratory building right after the defense.

I cut off all internet access, unplugged the ethernet cables, and locked all my hard-copy data in a safe. I didnt even bring my phone into the lab.

This time, I was developing a Super Soil Conditioner for highly alkaline land.

It was a major national project. If successful, it wouldnt just help solve food shortages but also bring in massive economic benefits.

For an entire month, I lived and breathed soil science, practically bathing in dirt.

Sarah sent me a few texts.

[Alex, how long are you going to keep up this silent treatment? Dylan wants to take you out for dinner to apologize. Dont be an ass about it.]

[What are you even doing hiding out in that dump? Youre unrepentant, cold, and pathetic!]

I found them laughable and simply blocked her number.

Finally, late one night, I perfected the formula for the conditioner.

My hands trembled with excitement as I stared at the perfect, pale blue liquid in the test tube.

But before I could even celebrate, the lab door was kicked open with a loud bang.

Sarah marched in, followed by Dylan and several deans from our department.

Dylan pointed at the test tube on my desk, his face a mask of feigned surprise. Sarah, I told you I had a feeling!

I had a dream last night that there was something wrong with the soil samples here. I cant believe Alex was secretly working on my project!

I was shaking with rage. I stood in front of my lab bench, shielding my work. Dylan, have you no shame? I completed this independently. There isn't even an internet connection here. How could you possibly know its your project?

Dylan sighed, looking exasperated. But, Alex I already finished this project.

He glanced past me at the whiteboard behind my back and said casually, Its sulfur powder mixed with gypsum, right? Then add a 3% concentration of organic acid, and a trace amount of rare earth elements?

BOOM.

A real clap of thunder rattled the old buildings windows.

I froze, completely rigid.

The formula he recited, so casually, was identical to the one I had just finalized moments ago.

I had no internet. I hadnt told a soul. I hadnt even had time to write down the final record. How did he know?

Seeing my silence, Sarah assumed I was guilty.

She shoved me aside with a cold look. I stumbled back, my waist hitting the corner of the lab bench with a sharp, searing pain.

She carefully picked up the test tube and handed it to Dylan, then spun back to glare at me.

Alex! You are a disgrace to the academic world!

Stealing Dylans results to conduct your own research? I never thought you could sink this low.

I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. I stole from him? Sarah, is your head filled with mud?

Im living in this abandoned building, and you two are in a downtown apartment. How exactly would I steal anything from him?

Sarah hesitated for a second, then doubled down. Then you must have planted a listening device on him! Everyone knows Dylan is a genius. A desperate person like you is capable of anything!

One of the deans frowned, his expression stern. Alex, your grades have always been excellent, but character is far more important.

Since Dylan can accurately state the formula, it proves the work is his. Hand over your experimental data. Dont force the university to put a mark on your permanent record.

The comments flooded my vision again.

[Awesome! The protagonists cheat system is unbeatable. The side character worked his ass off for nothing, hahaha!]

[He was so paranoid, trying to hide everything, and it was all for nothing. This is hilarious.]

[Thats the protagonist's halo for you. No matter how hard the side character works, hes just making the protagonist's wedding dress!]

I stared at the stolen test tube, my nails digging so deep into my palms that I drew blood.

Sarah looked at Dylan. Dylan, keep this safe. With this, next years national scholarship is definitely yours.

Dylan gave a slight nod. Thanks, Sarah. And thanks to Alex, for being so willing to step aside.

They took all my data and walked out, leaving me in the dust.

Just because hes the protagonist with a cheat system, he can just take whatever he wants?

I couldnt swallow this.

You all believe in talent, do you? Well, lets see just how long this fake talent of his can last.

Half a month later, during the most critical phase of our graduation projects, a rare and aggressive Red Spot Blight broke out in the experimental rice paddies.

This crop was a major joint project between our college and the National Agricultural Institute. It was tied to the degrees of every graduating senior in the department, not to mention millions in research funding.

In just three days, vast swaths of the paddies turned a sickly yellow, the leaves covered in terrifying red blotches, as if stricken with a terminal illness.

The Dean was so stressed his hair seemed to turn whiter overnight. He called an emergency meeting with all professors and students.

Whoever can solve this problem will get a direct admission into the Ph.D. program and a fifty-thousand-dollar grant! he roared, slamming his hand on the table.

Instinctively, every eye in the room turned to the boy genius, Dylan.

After all, he was the prodigy who could supposedly pluck formulas out of his dreams.

Basking in the attention, Dylan confidently adjusted his collar.

Dont worry, Dean. A small problem like this I should be able to get a feel for the solution just by taking a look at the fields.

Sarah, standing beside him, chimed in. Exactly. Dylan is our lucky star. Hell figure it out.

I sat silently, expressionless, spinning a pen in my hand.

Dylan stood up and walked over to me. Alex, I hear youve also been studying plant pathology. Why dont we make it a little competition? See who can develop a cure faster.

If you lose, he said, his voice dripping with arrogance, youll have to admit in front of the whole department that you stole my previous work, and youll apologize to me.