"Has the boss gone crazy?" "The boss sighed again today." "Did the boss get dumped?" "So can we finally confirm the boss's sexual orientation?"

Julian Grant: "……" The boss has just given you all too much freedom.

Julian Grant finally dug out the documents from the bottom of the box and dialed the number listed.

"Hello?" His tone was laced with workday indifference. "Trident routine follow-up. Are you at home?"

·

The address listed in The Vault's file was in a residential area near University A. At 8:50 in the morning, Julian Grant arrived smoothly at the parking lot. He waited in the car for ten minutes, and only when the clock officially ticked past nine did he tug at his collar and head up the stairs.

The door opened, revealing The Vault's somewhat pale face.

"Hello." Julian Grant reached out to her again, smiling politely. "Follow-up visit."

The Vault replied lazily, "Mm."

She stepped aside to let Julian Grant in.

Even though it was broad daylight, her apartment had heavy curtains drawn. All the curtains were made of dark, multi-layered fabric to ensure complete privacy from the outside.

And the overhead lights were on.

This bizarre setup made Julian Grant feel an urge to turn around and leave.

The Vault said, "Come in quickly."

Julian Grant stepped inside, changed into slippers at the entrance, and asked, "Why do you do this?"

"No one likes being watched." The Vault shrugged. "Ever since Harry Forrest escaped capture, the police have been keeping watch downstairs, thinking he might come here. Oh, Harry Forrest is my student, Quinn Shelby should have mentioned it to you."

Julian Grant nodded and naturally glanced around.

Aside from the drawn curtains, the furnishings in her apartment were actually quite ordinary. The furniture was mostly white, with standard designs. The living room was relatively spacious, and the sofa was neatly covered with various papers, showing she liked to work here.

The Vault pushed the pile of documents to the corner of the sofa, gesturing for Julian Grant to sit wherever he liked.

The Vault said, "Let me make you some tea."

Julian Grant: "Thank you."

The Vault simply brought the kettle over, set it on the coffee table, and pressed the switch.

Her way of doing things was truly unconventional.

There was only one photo in the room, placed right next to the TV cabinet, in a very conspicuous spot.

Julian Grant couldn't resist and walked over to take a look.

The photo was so old that it had faded from the sun, becoming quite blurry. The Vault kept it there, perhaps just for remembrance.

In it were two people leaning on each other, their identities almost obvious.

Seeing him looking, The Vault said, "Yes, that's my mom. The prototype for Quinn Sinclair."

She made no attempt to hide it, and even looked at Julian Grant with interest, waiting for his response.

Julian Grant tried to keep it innocent: "I just happened to see it."

The Vault didn't mind, only said from behind him, "She was very beautiful, much more beautiful than in the game."

Julian Grant recalled the photos he'd seen before and had to admit she was right.

"But such a beautiful woman ended up marrying a man who couldn't even appreciate her looks." The Vault looked away. "My dad was blind."

This time, Julian Grant was genuinely surprised. He only remembered that the man in the wedding photo was handsome, his eyes cast downward, but he hadn't realized he was actually blind.

"Maybe that made her feel safer. She wasn't a very lucky person." The Vault said, "From what she described, my dad had a bit of a savior complex. She probably really needed kindness from others, so she fell deeply in love with my father. Unfortunately, good people don't live long, and saviors even less so."

Julian Grant fell silent.

The Vault asked, "Is it cold?"

Julian Grant exclaimed, "That was a joke?!"

The Vault asked, "Otherwise? Should I cry?"

Julian Grant thought for a long time before saying softly, "Everyone has times when they're sad but can't cry. It's nothing, and you don't have to force a smile."

The Vault gave him another look, then walked over and pointed at the two people in the photo. "Actually, I don't really know either of them. Him, I've never met. And I've never seen her like that, either. I can completely treat Quinn Sinclair and her as two different people."

Julian Grant asked vaguely, "So, how does that feel?"

The Vault turned and walked to the sofa, as if she hadn't heard, slumped down, and fell silent.

About five or six minutes later, as Julian Grant watched the kettle boil and heard the bubbling, The Vault suddenly spoke.

"It's very strange," she said. "That's why I don't like watching crime cases."

Julian Grant: "Then why did you join [Crime Analysis]?"

"Curiosity." The Vault's gaze was unfocused, as if she was thinking. "Because I suddenly realized that running away doesn't solve anything. Only by satisfying your curiosity do you realize it's not really that interesting after all."

Julian Grant nodded thoughtfully.

He didn't try to force himself to understand The Vault's meaning. Different experiences lead to different perspectives.

Maybe even she didn't fully understand herself.

Julian Grant took out his tablet and asked her a few routine questions. After two hours, there was nothing work-related left to say.

Julian Grant stood up to take his leave.

The Vault touched her ear and said, "Well, since you're already here…"

Julian Grant thought, please, not that phrase again. He was now afraid of hearing those four words—so many tragedies start with that reckless spirit.

He knew when people said that, they were about to take advantage.

Sure enough, The Vault's next sentence was: "Buy me a meal."

Julian Grant refused to give in: "Why should I buy you a meal? Shouldn't you be treating me? I'm at least half a guest here, right?"

"Because I'm broke. We're friends." The Vault said, every word making sense. "Talking with you made me hungry."

Shameless!

Julian Grant looked cold: "You should wait for Trident to settle accounts. No rush for this meal. Your livestream tips are pretty high."

The Vault said sincerely, "I have a mortgage to pay. I don't have any inherited assets, have to start from scratch. Don't be fooled by how shabby this building is—it's near the city center and the university town. Paid over five million in full. Loaned two and a half million, thirty-year installments, with the current interest rate…"

Julian Grant quickly cut off her tale of hardship: "Enough."

The Vault tried another angle: "How about I sell it to you for five million? I don't want to live here anymore. If you're patient, you could probably sell it for six million. I won't ask for the extra."

Julian Grant realized this lady was really dreaming.

With her unique aura, a house she lived in would practically need a "Danger" sign on the door, and she still wanted to sell it at cost? She should be paying someone to take it.

The He family doesn't do losing business.

The Vault saw the rejection on his face, sighed in disappointment, and suddenly said something quite scary: "Actually, sometimes I think, with my intelligence and observation skills, if I planned to kidnap Trident's boss—if not the boss, then the boss's son—I definitely wouldn't get caught. I'm not greedy, just want one day's revenue from Trident. If I spend it carefully, it could make my next nine generations shine."

Julian Grant didn't know how the topic had circled back to himself, and shivered all over.

The Vault remembered something and asked, "By the way, does Trident's boss have a son? If not, a daughter? I couldn't find out after searching for ages. Their privacy protection is pretty good."

A grimace flashed across Julian Grant's handsome face, but he quickly regained control.

Is this a threat?

Julian Grant said, "Would you really put all your savings into real estate? That's not the best investment strategy. With your personality, shouldn't you keep some emergency funds?"

"I bought two graves on a whim, and two coffins." The Vault said. "I didn't expect burial plots to be so expensive. Got a pair, hired someone for the burial, and thirty thousand was gone. That wasn't in my plan either."

Julian Grant exclaimed, "Whose graves?"

The Vault replied vaguely, "An aunt who took good care of me, and her daughter."

The sadness on her face made Julian Grant feel a little guilty, and he softened his tone: "Let me buy you lunch."

"How could I accept that?" The Vault's expression instantly became lively, and she said gratefully, "Thank you. You're such a good person."

Julian Grant couldn't shake the feeling he'd been tricked.

No, he was just a hostage.

The Vault asked, "Why do you have that look on your face?"

Julian Grant: "Are you really concerned about me?"

The Vault replied tactfully, "No, I'm just being polite. After all, I'm about to eat your food."

Julian Grant gave up struggling and waved his hand: "Forget it, let's go."

·

Julian Grant took The Vault straight to the noodle shop downstairs for lunch.

He didn't even dare to act too wealthy in front of The Vault, afraid this shameless person would accuse him of tempting her again.