Part 8
The barrage of comments in the livestream had long been covered by a row of bright red national slogans, immediately followed by all sorts of shouting and yelling.
“Who was it earlier that said this was a supernatural film mixed with ‘Approaching Science’? Sledge, come out, I know you’re the undercover dog planner hiding here.”
“Damn! I was almost scared to pee myself! Luckily it’s daytime and I’m still in the dorm.”
“A boss is a boss. Even if you’re a coward inside, you have to look tough on the outside.”
“To be honest, for a moment I really believed this boss. If it weren’t for Trident’s emotional fluctuation warning almost blinding me, I wouldn’t have believed she could be that scared.”
“Too many elements, I... I’ll just send a call first!”
“What’s up with this dorm? Do they hate Wendy Ward that much? Even pulling this kind of stunt.”
“A sudden twist—after sweeping away feudal superstitions, in the end it’s still about campus bullying?”
“Did Nathan Sanders die of fright? Pensive”
“Or maybe it was to avenge Nathan Sanders? If you think carefully about the first few things they said, it’s actually pretty interesting. And who turned on the lights outside?”
“Is high school life really this eventful? I’m just too ordinary.”
Quinn Foster was a bit surprised. For The Vault to have such a strong physiological reaction clearly meant she had entered a stress response, and it wasn’t just a normal psychological reaction anymore. Yet, there was no record of this in her file.
What was The Vault’s stressor? Afraid of ghosts, or afraid of the dark? Maybe it was some sudden element in the scene at the time—the sound of teeth grinding, or the play of light and shadow.
·
Night in the game passed quickly, and daylight shone from the horizon. Everyone left the dorm, feeling the cool morning breeze, with a hint of fresh sweetness in the air.
The crowd surged from the dorm to the cafeteria, then from the cafeteria to the classroom building.
The Vault was holding up her skirt, squatting rather ungracefully on a rock, recounting last night’s events to Julian Grant, who had come to meet her.
Julian Grant rubbed his chin. “You’re saying, your dormmates, together with other students, pretended to be ghosts to scare you... Wendy Ward? And then your suicide progress increased significantly.”
The Vault nodded.
Julian Grant tried to process this information, then asked, “Besides your roommates, was there anyone else?”
The Vault shook her head.
Julian Grant was surprised. “You didn’t go out to check?”
The Vault replied calmly, “I was too scared to move.”
Her tone was no different from saying, “Today’s food is too salty,” making it hard to believe.
Julian Grant looked at her seriously for a moment, unable to imagine this face expressing any emotion related to fear. Or rather, whatever could make her afraid must be some world-class mystery.
He hesitated for a while, then said, “...You’re too deadpan when you joke. It’s not very funny.”
“Oh, really?” The Vault looked up and said dryly, “I’m so disappointed.”
Julian Grant lowered his gaze to meet hers. The Vault stared back with innocent eyes.
After a moment, Julian Grant exclaimed, “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.” The Vault said, “I’m afraid of the dark.”
Julian Grant: “...”
The Vault added, “Really afraid.”
Julian Grant could only rack his brains for adjectives to comfort her. “Well... that’s pretty normal?”
The Vault said, “Yeah.”
A heavy silence fell.
The Vault couldn’t help but say, “Stop thinking about it. Your brainstorming is noisy, just keeps shouting ‘damn, damn’ and ‘what do I do, what do I do’.”
Julian Grant protested, “Don’t slander me!”
The Vault: “It’s written all over your face. It’s annoying to see.”
Julian Grant thought, why is this woman so hard to deal with?! In all his years, it was the first time someone had called him annoying, and he hadn’t even said a word.
“Typical straight-man comfort...” The Vault couldn’t stop complaining, “It’s always like, ‘What’s there to be afraid of in the dark,’ ‘There are no ghosts in this world,’ ‘If anything, ghosts should be afraid of you,’ ‘It’s nothing, just psychological,’ and so on.”
“That’s not just an ordinary straight man.” Julian Grant took a deep breath. “I propose we rank straight men by levels. You’re slandering me.”
The Vault glanced at him sideways, her eyes half-lidded.
She thought maybe... there was something wrong with his brain.
Julian Grant himself felt pretty dumb, and hooked his finger downward. “Can you come down and talk?”
The Vault jumped off the rock and stood facing him.
The two stood in silence.
Julian Grant raised his hand to scratch his hair.
Honestly, he’d met many eccentric geniuses—he had quite a few under him. But none of them made his heart race like The Vault.
Except, for normal people, a racing heart meant excitement. For him, it was a blockage. His heart was bearing pain it shouldn’t have to.
The Vault had already walked away.
Julian Grant followed and asked, “What do you think of your roommates? Could Nathan Sanders have experienced something similar?”
It was class time, and apart from the two of them, no one else was wandering around the school. At a glance, the whole campus looked like an empty city.
The Vault: “Based on my previous investigation, Wendy Ward used to have a decent relationship with her roommates. For things to deteriorate this much, there must be other factors at play.”
The Vault thought for a moment, then added, “Yesterday, when ghosts were mentioned, they brought up Nathan Sanders’s name. The way they said it was too deliberate—it was clearly meant for me to hear.”
Julian Grant: “Suppose they believe Wendy Ward is the one who killed Nathan Sanders, and they’re enacting justice.”
“Hmm...” The Vault said, “Their ghostly tricks weren’t sophisticated enough to push Wendy Ward to suicide. And if it was really just because of her roommates, with Wendy Ward’s family background, she could have switched to being a day student and escaped the bullying.”
Julian Grant: “Unless...”
The Vault: “Unless Wendy Ward herself felt intense guilt over Nathan Sanders’s death, and her roommates’ actions just kept reminding her of her past, leading her to mentally punish herself, and after prolonged torment, she chose to end it all.”
Julian Grant went over it in his mind, feeling something was off, but The Vault was already shaking her head. “But I don’t think someone with such a strong sense of morality would do something so extreme and persistent without a reason. Wendy Ward clearly sensed something before Nathan Sanders’s suicide. There are a lot of inconsistencies in this logic.”
Julian Grant turned his gaze to the high school girl beside him, who had completely shed her childishness.
Honestly, working with The Vault was a pleasure—as long as she didn’t suddenly crack a joke.
Unknowingly, the two of them had walked to the road leading to that dorm building again.
The Vault looked up at the old dormitory.
Because of its age and lack of maintenance, vines covered the tall side walls. The deep green leaves grew wildly in the shadows, not showing any beauty of life, but rather a sense of gloom.
Julian Grant stood beside her, waiting.
The Vault stared for a long time, then asked, “Did you watch the surveillance footage near this dorm on the day Nathan Sanders died?”
“I did. That day, Nathan Sanders came alone. Judging by the time, she went straight to the rooftop after going upstairs, didn’t hesitate, and jumped to her death. Wendy Ward never appeared—she had a perfect alibi.” Julian Grant knew what she was getting at and said firmly, “Nathan Sanders definitely wasn’t killed directly by Wendy Ward.”
The Vault asked, “Which cameras did you check?”
“The one at the dorm entrance, and another on this path, mounted on that pole. Both cameras cover everyone coming and going. That dorm only has this one entrance.” Julian Grant gestured to show her, then recalled the pain of reviewing the footage yesterday and couldn’t help pinching the bridge of his nose to ease it. “But honestly, those cameras are from years ago, the resolution is poor, and they only record. I watched for a long time and could only identify people by the timeline. Finding any detailed evidence would be tough. We’d need other technology and more time.”
The Vault: “There’s only footage from the day they died?”
“Right. The physical evidence only includes that day’s video.” Julian Grant explained, “The school’s surveillance only keeps footage for half a month to a month. By the time Wendy Ward committed suicide, it was already May. Even if the police noticed something was off and went to the school for footage, it was already gone. So the system doesn’t have it either.”
The Vault nodded, turned, and looked at the small shop nearby.
She said, “I’m going in to buy something.”
Julian Grant asked casually, “What are you buying?”
The Vault: “A dog-beating stick.”
Julian Grant was baffled. “Huh?”
This small shop was privately run. Though the store wasn’t big, it had all sorts of random things.
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