The Vault: The person who sent you the package should be a student from Central High. That student committed suicide this March. [Website link]. The police are currently investigating the reason for her suicide. If possible, I hope you can, while keeping the information confidential, send the notebook with writing in it from the package to the Public Security Bureau.

Because it’s a game setting, the other party replied very quickly.

Cat in the Attic: How do I know I can trust you?

Cat in the Attic: So many boring people have popped up lately, all claiming to be the original owner. Your reason is at least a bit more creative.

The Vault switched to the text message interface.

The Vault: Send me a photo of your police officer ID.

Julian Grant: ??

Julian Grant: [Image] Don’t use the game as an excuse to do bad things.

The Vault sent the photo taken by Julian Grant.

The Vault: Her Douyin account has already been deleted. You can search for related news online yourself. The keywords are A City Central High, suicide.

The Vault: Her mailing address and contact number, are they...

The Vault sent the school’s address and Nathan Sanders’s phone number.

Cat in the Attic: Ah... I searched and it’s actually true. No wonder I suddenly couldn’t reach her. Oh my god, what a pity.

Cat in the Attic: This phone number is indeed the one she left me before, but the address on the delivery slip is a different one. [Image] It’s this place.

Cat in the Attic: Also, this package was actually set up for scheduled delivery. She deliberately delayed sending it to me until now. Is there some deeper meaning behind that?

The Vault opened the navigation app. After entering the address shown above, she found that the location that popped up was actually the XX Street Police Station in A City.

That line of black-and-white text was imprinted in The Vault’s eyes, making her quickly understand Nathan Sanders’s intention in arranging all this, and at the same time, she felt the gentleness and fragility of this unfamiliar girl in every arrangement she made.

Her curled fingers paused in midair, not knowing what to do for a moment, and finally she let out a barely audible sigh.

Before Nathan Sanders died, her mental state was extremely unstable. She suffered severe psychological torment and was constantly struggling and hesitating over whether or not to expose the school’s scandal. As a result, even though she ultimately chose suicide, her heart could not find peace. So she decided to send a clearly suspicious package to a stranger, hoping that after her death, someone would help push the investigation of this case forward.

She must have known something about this UP host, knowing that this person wouldn’t deliberately ignore the oddities for the sake of a small gain, and that if she couldn’t reach her for a long time, she might send the package back to the original address.

If the police station received the package and had suspicions about the two suicide cases at Central High, they would patiently investigate, and maybe the mastermind behind the scenes would be exposed. If not, then this was already her last effort—at least she could give herself a little comfort.

Nathan Sanders deliberately set the delivery date for early May, probably intending to delay the escalation of the matter. Even if the police really investigated the case according to her plan, by the time everything was resolved, the victims would have already graduated and left, and wouldn’t be too badly affected.

She could never have imagined that after her death, this vicious incident not only didn’t end, but actually escalated further. And what she left behind would become crucial evidence for uncovering the truth and exposing the lies.

The only unexpected part was that she set a delivery time for the package, causing it to be delayed for too long before entering the public eye.

If The Vault hadn’t discovered its existence today, by rough calculation, when it was sent back to A City, it might have been right around the time of Wendy Ward’s suicide.

That period was exactly when the authorities were paying the most attention to the case, ensuring that the package wouldn’t be overlooked as an ordinary item.

Sometimes, you have to admit that fate’s arrangements are always so coincidental. It appeared at just the right time, yet also too late.

...She was clearly someone who tried so hard to live.

The Vault suppressed the regret rising in her heart.

The Vault: This address is our street’s police station. You can search for it on the navigation app.

Cat in the Attic: I know, I searched for it. I couldn’t figure it out at the time, thought it was a prank.

The Vault: She probably wanted to report to the police but had concerns, so she sent out the evidence before she died. Please send the relevant evidence to the A City police station. I can buy it back at the original price and pay for your shipping. Thank you for your cooperation.

Cat in the Attic: No need, no need, happy to serve the people. I’ll send it back to you in a bit, using a reliable courier. By the way, do you only want the one with writing, or do you want everything?

The Vault: It would be best if we could check everything. If we confirm something is unrelated to the case, we’ll return it to you. If it’s convenient, I hope you can take photos of the written notebook and send them to me now, so I can review them in time.

Cat in the Attic: Okay, wait a moment, I’ll go take pictures now.

Cat in the Attic: Actually, I glanced at it before and thought what was written inside was pretty creepy. I didn’t know what she was writing about, and I was afraid of invading her privacy, so I didn’t look closely.

The Vault: Thank you. We’ll investigate.

The Vault put down her phone, raised her hand to press the acupoints on both sides of her forehead, and tried to relax while waiting for a reply.

·

In the livestream room, it was almost time to set off party poppers. Watching The Vault’s streams always seemed to be a rollercoaster ride. You never knew when or how the evidence would appear, but it never let them down.

If you opened the bullet comments at this moment, the screen would be filled with dense lines of text, making it almost impossible to see anything else.

“Ah—idol! It’s a pity someone like her isn’t in the police force!”

“Damn! She really is! Is she flying through the plot? What brand of little wings is that?”

“If I had her reasoning and intelligence-gathering skills, I’d have nothing to worry about in my career!”

“I just want to ask, has the investigator for this quest disappeared again? This is the first time I’ve seen a victim solve the whole case on their own [I’m out, I’m out].”

“So it turns out that if a top student can’t solve a problem, they just need to look at it a few more times. So here’s the question: what should a struggling student do?”

No matter how excited the viewers in the livestream room were, The Vault calmly organized the items on her desk.

On Kitty’s end, she moved quickly, enthusiastically arranging the photos in order, packaging them into a file, and sending them to The Vault.

The Vault clicked to enlarge them and browsed through page by page.

Nathan Sanders was a very cautious person. She didn’t directly write down the world she saw in the notebook, but instead used fragmented narration to subtly describe a true story.

Someone who knew nothing would probably think it was just an absurd horror story. But those who knew the inside story could easily deduce the hidden meaning.

—Filthy demons, cloaked in a glamorous exterior, descend into human society. They dress impeccably, put on the kindest and most benevolent faces, and approach those poor, weak humans.

—The poor are grateful, but don’t realize that to the other side, they are nothing but insignificant entertainment, food that has already been selected. The nightmare has already arrived without them noticing...

Nathan Sanders wrote in great detail, and due to emotional turmoil, some parts were filled with chaotic thoughts. The Vault translated and organized her writing, roughly piecing together the whole case.

Since several years ago, Central High began to aggressively recruit poor students, mainly female.

For poor students, this was a chance to change their lives. With the brightest hopes, they came to Central High, a prestigious key high school.

The school leaders put on the kindest, most benevolent faces, carefully helping and accepting them. They proactively applied for scholarships, waived tuition and fees, distributed cafeteria meal subsidies, and their thoughtfulness was present in every detail, making everyone let down their guard and feel grateful for their kindness.

Then, some evildoers began to stir.

They used reasons like chatting with students, helping them plan for the future, taking them to various provincial and city competitions, or other legitimate excuses to create opportunities to be alone with students. At the same time, they subtly showed off their social status, psychologically establishing themselves as superiors.

At first, it was just simple harassment, disguised as closeness, making students think it was just their own oversensitivity. Gradually, they invaded their lives, and eventually, under the pretext of drugging or getting drunk, might directly assault them.

Some even secretly took photos, and when they sensed resistance, used their power to threaten them, then used benefits to break down their defenses.

Poor students are easy to manipulate. Because of their limited backgrounds, many are timid and afraid of causing trouble, and they exaggerate the authority and power of the leaders. For them, getting through three years of high school safely is the most important thing, and the school leaders are elite figures with high social status—they simply have no strength to resist.