A group of people went back down the stairs, and this time their steps were much lighter.

When they reached the third-floor corner, Quinn Sinclair and Melanie Spencer returned to their dormitory, but The Vault didn’t stop and kept walking forward.

Julian Grant noticed and quickly called out, “Wendy Ward.”

The Vault stopped.

Julian Grant, holding onto the handrail and looking down from above, asked, “Where are you going?”

The Vault made a gesture: “Going to find an easy target, to test my skills.”

“Huh?” Julian Grant said, “It’s not persimmon season, where would you find one now?”

The Vault simply asked, “Do you have a high-definition pinhole camera?”

Julian Grant replied, “If it’s high-def, it’s not pinhole; if it’s pinhole, it’s not high-def. Maybe in a couple of years, but this scenario doesn’t provide one.”

The Vault: “Then I’ll choose pinhole.”

Julian Grant: “Sure, I’ll go back and apply for one from the bureau. What reason should I give?”

The Vault said with disdain, “…Too much trouble, forget it. I’ll just use my phone.”

She continued downward, with Julian Grant following closely behind.

The Vault stopped again and waved her hand: “My friend, don’t follow me, seriously. Go comfort Quinn Sinclair and Melanie Spencer, show them more of the brilliance of our nation’s humanity, and cheer up the audience, do some legal education—how meaningful is that? You’ll have plenty to do later.”

Julian Grant gave her a suspicious look and asked, “How far along are you in your suicide progress?”

The Vault held up one finger: “Maybe Wendy Ward already knew about this before, so this time it only increased by 1%.”

“So now it’s at 96%?” Julian Grant said, “Be careful, that number is really dangerous.”

The Vault said, “Wow, everything I do next will only make me feel especially happy.”

Julian Grant laughed, thinking that was true.

Melanie Spencer and Quinn Sinclair were willing to come forward and testify, which was already a major breakthrough for solving the case. The truth could be revealed, and Wendy Ward should finally be at peace.

Julian Grant: “What happy thing are you planning to do? Share it with me. Police and civilians are one family, after all.”

The Vault stopped, thought for a moment, and said, “I just think the media always loves to dig into the victim’s past, especially in sexual assault cases. It’s as if finding faults with the victim and labeling them with all sorts of dirty tags can prove the perpetrator’s innocence. Aren’t those people self-proclaimed successful individuals, the ones with the most say? They’re not likely to accept their own failures so easily.”

Julian Grant nodded, “Right, they’re very good at guiding public opinion and exploiting legal loopholes.”

“I’m just going to add fuel to their fire,” The Vault said. “I’m past the age where others need to worry about me.”

Julian Grant smiled, “That has nothing to do with age. People who care about you will always worry about you.”

Although he said that, he didn’t insist any further, just waved and said, “Go and come back soon, keep in touch.”

The Vault: “Mm.”

Author’s note:

The Vault: Please begin my performance

Chapter 16: Stirring the Pot

The Vault walked into the sunlight and glanced at the suicide progress in the upper right corner.

After the data jumped to 100%, the spot where the suicide progress bar used to be turned into a line of red text—Suicide countdown: 24 hours.

The following prompt read: The player may arrange things as they wish, or it will be forcibly executed when the time is up.

Life really can be fragile sometimes.

The Vault rummaged through her bag, pulled out a hat, put it on neatly, and then started walking forward.

She was planning to find the middle-aged man who was the first to talk to her in the meeting room last time.

According to the name given by Melanie Spencer, she searched for photos online and confirmed his identity and position.

That middle-aged man was a leader in the school’s administrative office, and was very likely the person whose photos were stolen by Yvonne Thornton.

From various details, it seemed this person was very bold in committing sexual crimes, showed no restraint, was arrogant, and highly narcissistic. When taking photos, he deliberately aimed at his watch several times, indicating a strong sense of vanity.

People like this, when in high positions, often display overconfidence. They believe their intelligence and abilities far surpass others—at least far surpass their students—especially since he had committed crimes for years without consequence.

However, his psychological endurance wasn’t strong; he was easily provoked and could fall into cognitive traps. Last time, when The Vault embarrassed him in person, he gave himself away and was reprimanded by the principal, so he probably held a grudge against her.

The Vault stopped near the school’s administration building, took out her phone, and edited several text messages to him, breaking up her message into multiple parts and sending them in rapid succession to create the illusion that she was emotionally agitated and out of control.

The Vault: You pressured me through my mom—do you think that’s the end of it? Do you think teaming up with parents will scare me?

The Vault: No, not even close! You’ve already caused two deaths, and now you want to drive me to suicide too? I won’t stop until one of us is dead!

The Vault: You think I really have no evidence? Nathan Sanders told me everything before she died. She recorded everything you did.

The Vault: I know it’s you. I recognize your watch!

The Vault: The person in the photo is definitely you. Even if your face isn’t shown, your belongings, the spots and moles on your skin can prove it. The police will find out as soon as they check. You can’t escape.

The Vault: Forcing students to sleep with you—you’re finished!

The Vault: At worst, we’ll go down together! I’ll be watching you!

The middle-aged man sat in his office, listening to his phone vibrate nonstop. He picked it up and glanced at it. The black text kept popping up, and his eyelids started twitching ominously.

He cursed, “Psycho,” tossed the phone onto the desk, and strode to the window, yanking the curtains open roughly.

He pulled out a cigarette, stuck it in his mouth, and as he looked down for his lighter, he saw a figure skulking under the tree in front of the building.

That person was wearing a hat, squatting on the ground, head down, looking at something in her hands.

At that moment, the phone on the desk vibrated again.

The middle-aged man, cigarette between his fingers, walked over suspiciously and picked up the phone again.

The Vault: I’m waiting for you at the café outside the school. You have half an hour. If you don’t show up, I’ll make the photos public, and we’ll all go down together.

The Vault: I know you’re at school. Don’t play dead—I know everything!

The middle-aged man quickly walked back to the window, stuck his head out, and observed the figure below.

The girl downstairs was nervously looking left and right, then shrank her body behind the tree to make sure she couldn’t be seen from the entrance. But from above, this move was completely obvious—hiding in plain sight.

The middle-aged man laughed heartily, slowly raised his phone, and arrogantly replied with a single word: “Okay.”

Of course, he could tolerate and play along with this girl who was all bluff.

He even found it amusing.

The middle-aged man opened his contacts and dialed a certain number.

“…Letting her run her mouth outside isn’t a big deal, but it’s still a bit dangerous.”

“If possible, it’d be best to get rid of her for good—just expel her. Now’s a good opportunity.”

“…She’s just an ordinary student, right? Didn’t you say her mom came to school to apologize today? The parent seems pretty reasonable. Without her mom’s help, what can she do besides panic?”

“Don’t worry, there’s no way she has evidence. Nathan Sanders probably just told her verbally; otherwise, she would’ve shown the photos already. When Yvonne Thornton died, wasn’t her phone taken by Melanie Spencer and the others?”

“They’re all bitches!”

After hanging up, the middle-aged man tidied up the office a bit, then picked up his suit jacket and calmly walked out.

He acted as if nothing had happened, walked straight out the main entrance, and headed toward the school gate without looking around. Only when he turned into a blind spot did he stop, turn around, and look at the camphor tree in front of the building with the eyes of a hunter toying with his prey.

When he saw the shadow at the entrance hurriedly run into the building, he looked down to straighten the wrinkles in his clothes, unable to hide his smile as he retraced his steps.

Inside the office, the girl with the hat and covered face was nervously searching at the desk.

The middle-aged man leaned against the door, knocked, and asked, “What are you looking for?”

The Vault seemed startled, shrank back, and quickly retreated until her body was pressed against the wall.

Apparently pleased by her reaction, the man’s smile grew even more genuine.

“Are you wondering why I didn’t leave?” the middle-aged man laughed. “If you really had evidence, you wouldn’t just come here to threaten me verbally. Do you really think you can fool your teacher with such a clumsy lie? I’ve told you before, the world isn’t that simple. You should listen to your teachers more—why won’t you believe it? Learned your lesson yet?”