When she lifted her finger and was about to press the end button, the endlessly spinning little loading icon at the end of the progress bar finally finished, and a green indicator appeared.

The system announced that the instance scene was loading. Immediately, a wave of dizziness swept over The Vault.

The Vault disliked that groggy feeling. After a moment of discomfort passed, she forced her eyes open, only to find her vision shrouded in a hazy gray mist.

She could see blurry figures moving around her, and could hear what sounded like distant laughter and conversation. The surrounding environment indicated that she was currently in a classroom.

At the same time, a row of black text floated in midair, forcing her to pay attention.

--

Welcome, player, to the fully immersive simulation live-stream game [Crime Scene Breakdown] (Newcomer Qualification Test). The identity you applied for is [Victim]. Case-related memories have been locked. Please follow the character prompts, strive to escape a death ending, or assist the [Culprit], or the [Investigator], to complete the scenario reconstruction.

Identity: Wendy Ward (alias)

Cause of death: Suicide (archived)

Player score: 92 (A genius like you is sure to break out of your cocoon and be reborn, right?)

Character fit: 36% (You and the deceased are two completely different types of people)

Suicide progress: 87% (Your character is on the verge of a mental breakdown)

[Note] This game is automatically generated based on big data and criminal case files. Please actively explore all possible storylines!

[Click here to view instance details]

--

The Vault's memory was a bit fuzzy. She opened the details, her gaze sweeping over the brief lines of description.

[Crime Scene Breakdown] does not provide much information at the start, only a bit of background. Even the character's profile is not given directly; you have to discover it yourself. However, the surrounding characters will react to your behavior, reminding the player to make adjustments.

The abnormality seemed to have started one autumn, but at the time, no one paid attention.

In the first semester of senior year, a student from Class 1, Grade 12, jumped to their death.

Student suicides are not uncommon, especially among seniors. After communication between the police, the school, and the parents, it was confirmed that the student had long-term mental instability, poor family finances, and a recent sharp drop in academic performance. It was determined that the suicide was likely due to psychological pressure.

No suspicious signs were found at the scene, and the parents had no intention of investigating further. After compensation and follow-up matters were settled, the incident was quietly resolved.

A little over a month later, another girl from the same class jumped to her death.

Then, in late spring or early summer, a third student chose to jump from the same spot.

According to communication records, the third person had called the police twice, but ultimately said nothing.

By the time the class graduated, in less than a year, a total of five students had died—an abnormal number by any standard.

The Vault's current identity was the third victim, Wendy Ward.

The primary goal for clearing the instance was to find out the reason for Wendy Ward's suicide.

The Vault quickly finished reading the information and clicked close.

[Instance loading complete. The live stream officially begins. Welcome, player ID: QC1361.]

[Please actively explore the instance storyline before the death condition is officially triggered.]

After the final prompt, all the mist faded away, and both sound and visuals became instantly clear. The Vault could feel the warm breeze blowing in from the window, and the slight heat on her bare arms.

Above the blackboard on the podium, the clock's hands pointed to 9:50.

She was standing behind a desk, in the last row of the classroom.

The Vault turned her head, her gaze sweeping over every corner of the room, trying to memorize all the details of the classroom and the facial features of each student.

During the long break, the school was noisy and bustling. Bright sunlight streamed in through the side windows, casting a nostalgic mood.

The Vault was halfway through her observation when her head was suddenly struck by a flying object, the impact making her stagger. Accompanied by a dull thud, an orange basketball flashed across her field of vision.

The Vault's lips parted slightly, and for the first time, a dazed expression appeared on her face. Her half-closed eyelids lifted, her eyes slowly turning as she looked toward the door.

The culprit stood by the door, grinning cheekily at her. Several boys stood beside him, arms slung over each other's shoulders, clearly not feeling very apologetic.

·

Outside the screen, seeing this scene, Quinn Foster suddenly spat out a mouthful of water.

This... is this for real?

·

The Vault raised her hand to touch the back of her head.

Although the Trident System simulation system wouldn't let her feel intense pain, the pain level and dizziness indicators marked by the system proved that she had just received provocation and harm from a classmate.

The Vault pushed her chair back with her leg, listening to the screech of metal sliding on stone, and turned around expressionlessly, walking toward the door.

Everyone thought she would, as usual, silently shrink into a corner, but unexpectedly, she stopped in front of the boy who had thrown the object and stared straight at him.

Her gaze was chilling, or perhaps unsettling. The boy being stared at gradually sensed something was wrong, his smile freezing into an awkward curve.

Just as he was about to say something to brush it off, The Vault suddenly grabbed his hair and slammed his head against the iron door.

With a loud "bang," like a thunderclap, the classroom fell into a vacuum of utter silence.

Dozens of shocked eyes swept over in unison.

"Huh? Who. Gave. You." The Vault enunciated each word slowly and evenly, "the right to hit my head?"

Author's note:

The female lead is cold and unfeeling to the outside world, a high and aloof flower, but inside she's a mischievous little devil. In short: reserved but secretly wild.

Male lead: Julian Grant

Chapter 2: Information

Quinn Foster's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

He hoped no one would doubt his professionalism as a psychologist because of this.

The live-stream chat exploded with comments in an instant.

"It's here! It's finally started! I thought this stream was going to be canceled!"

"I just exited to go study, and now it's started? I only missed a minute, right? Why is this scene so weird?"

"I think I've seen this case before. The last player was as timid as a dog, suffocating me. They spent the whole time groveling and didn't even explore half the plot. Can't believe a newbie picked this instance."

"As everyone knows, this is a comedy game. [doge] You never know what kind of death a player will come up with."

"Is that guy the player this time? He seems kind of weak? Starting off with a school bullying scene? So if you just fight back later, you win?"

"Check the instance info. What guy? That's just a poor NPC. Tragic."

"92 points? I'm jealous! Has there ever been a newbie with such a high score? Is this a girl? Maybe a forensics expert?"

·

After a few heavy breaths, the young man finally came to his senses, his trembling pupils refocusing.

He roughly raised his arm and swung it to the side.

The Vault let go a step ahead, stepping back just in time to dodge.

The silence was broken, and the classroom erupted in screams, echoing down the hallway and alerting distant teachers.

The sound of running footsteps echoed as a group of people rushed over in a panic.

The Vault's emotions cooled again amid the noise, and she put on an innocent expression, more detached than anyone else.

"Are you crazy? You hit me?" the young man named Hugo Spencer said in disbelief.

The Vault wasn't very strong, and he was tall and sturdy. Although the impact sounded loud, the wound on his forehead didn't actually hurt much.

He wiped it, confirming there was no blood, but he was still so angry he shivered.

The Vault glanced at the character's suicide progress out of the corner of her eye.

"Wendy Ward!" Hugo Spencer shouted, seeing her unresponsive, and furiously grabbed The Vault's collar. "What's with your attitude!"

"Enough! Stop it!" A sharp, slightly hysterical middle-aged woman's voice stopped him. "What are you two doing?"

The character prompt identified the newcomer as the homeroom teacher. Once The Vault had seen this, the floating black text flashed and disappeared.

Hugo Spencer was interrupted, his fierce expression softening a bit. He pointed at The Vault and complained, "She hit me!"

Seeing that no one was hurt, the homeroom teacher calmed down, then her anger flared. She glared at everyone around and shouted, "You two, come to my office! The rest of you, disperse! What are you looking at!"

In early May, the office already had the air conditioning on, but the cold air couldn't dispel the irritation in everyone's hearts.

The Vault remained silent, her gaze wandering as she observed the teachers' expressions and the information on their desks.