Identity: Michael Wood (alias)

Gender: Male

Cause of death: Murder (archived)

Player rating: 93 (You have surpassed 99% of players nationwide.)

Character compatibility: 42% (If you really have to force a similarity, maybe it’s just that you’re both East Asian.)

Death progress: There are 4 days left until the [Murderous Night] scenario opens.

[Note] Your life is already under threat. Please actively explore the storyline, find relevant clues, and unlock the [Murderous Night] scenario.

[Click here to view scenario details]

·

All information about the case in The Vault’s mind had, as expected, been concealed. She pressed her temples, trying to shake off the discomfort.

The case introduction was as simple as ever.

Michael Wood was the boss of an internet operations company, having started out in new media content. The company had signed more than a dozen well-known internet celebrities, including professional players from [Crime Scene Analysis].

He was young and successful, 33 years old this year, with assets exceeding one billion. Married, no children. A model of success, with a good reputation in the public eye.

On February 26th, Michael Wood noticed someone was following him and called the police. After the police provided protection, no suspect was found.

On the night of February 28th, Michael Wood died in his own home. He was discovered the next morning. The scene was extremely brutal. Initial judgment was that the killer harbored intense hatred toward the victim.

At the time of death, he had suffered multiple types of injuries. After death, parts of the body had been dissected. Several messages about punishment for the crime were left at the scene.

As for the exact cause of death and the specific content of the messages, the introduction did not specify. These should be revealed to the player as the [Murderous Night] scenario is unlocked and the scene is reconstructed.

At this moment, the scenario time is: February 25th, 8:00 a.m.

·

The Vault closed the plot description and tentatively took a step forward.

The scene gradually became clearer. The Vault silently observed her surroundings, gathering information.

This was a villa, the decor... lavish and ostentatious.

Even though The Vault was quite poor, she didn’t really like such a blatant display of wealth. It felt as if she might be bent over by the weight of all the gold.

The Vault lowered her head.

She was wearing loose gray pajamas and a diamond-studded watch. The skin of her palm was a bit rough, and there was a noticeable knife scar on her finger. Judging by the position and angle, it was likely left from being cut by a kitchen knife as a child.

It seemed that before Michael Wood became successful, his living conditions might not have been very good.

The Vault bent down, glanced at the items on the coffee table, and was about to continue observing when suddenly, the sound of a porcelain bowl shattering came from the direction of the kitchen.

The Vault quickly walked over and saw a woman standing with her back to her at the dining table.

"Her" shoulders were shaking violently, as if she had been strongly provoked. Next to "her" character avatar was a green character introduction.

"Julia Campbell, wife, housewife, observer."

The Vault coughed, producing a deep male voice from her throat: "Hello?"

The woman turned around, her face flashing with anger, forbearance, and all sorts of indescribable expressions—summed up, it was a kind of twitching ferocity.

That expression... looked oddly familiar.

The Vault blurted out, "Q-ge?" Is your taste really this heavy?

Julian Grant gritted his teeth: "No!"

The Vault: "..."

How was she supposed to tell this man that everyone has their own way of controlling their expressions, but in her eyes, his face might as well have "贺决云" written all over it.

But The Vault quickly began to gloat.

At first, she was a bit reluctant to play yet another character doomed to die soon. But compared to Julian Grant, it didn’t seem so bad.

Julian Grant was still trying to accept this cruel reality. The Vault silently stepped forward, used her slipper to pin down a shard of porcelain, and kicked it in his direction.

The Vault scolded sternly: "Why aren’t you cleaning this up? Why are you just standing there?"

Julian Grant looked up in surprise.

The Vault sneered, "You’re a woman, and you can’t even hold a plate steady. What use are you? Do you know how much this plate costs?"

The ferocity faded from Julian Grant’s face, but the muscles at the corners of his mouth still trembled, leaving him in a state of shock.

The Vault frowned, every word laced with humiliation and disdain, gesturing as she ordered: "Make breakfast again and bring it to my study. You have ten minutes. Hurry up!"

Seeing that her expression didn’t seem fake, Julian Grant, full of exasperation, couldn’t help but curse: "The Vault, are you out of your mind?"

"Who is The Vault?" The cold man pinched two fingers together, exhaled a puff of imaginary smoke, and said, "From today on, remember, I’m your man."

Julian Grant finally couldn’t take it and swore: "...fuck!"

The Vault shot him a warning glare.

Julian Grant shouted, "Stop giving yourself weird character settings! This has nothing to do with the scenario! You’re just making the game harder!"

"In all honesty, I didn’t." The Vault walked over, grabbed Julian Grant’s hand, and showed it to him.

"Rough fingers, pale skin, sallow complexion, dry hair, dark circles under the eyes. Clearly, you don’t take care of yourself and may have been ill for a long time. You don’t look like a pampered rich lady."

The Vault pointed him up and down.

Julian Grant said, "Are you reading my fortune? Maybe she just got sick and looks a bit haggard."

The Vault raised her watch: "It’s 8 a.m., and there’s no housekeeper here. You’re in the kitchen, holding a plate, so it’s obvious you’re making breakfast for me."

Julian Grant: "Maybe the maid couldn’t come today. Or maybe Michael Wood is paranoid and doesn’t like other people in the house. Julia Campbell is a housewife, so making breakfast isn’t strange."

The Vault stared at him for a while, then smiled: "You can tell a lot about a family’s relationship from all sorts of details. Sometimes, it’s obvious at a glance."

The Vault pointed to the two deliberately separated chairs by the dining table. She held up one finger: "One."

Then she pulled Julian Grant back two steps to the living room, pointed at the photos on the cabinet, and waved her hand in front of him: "Two."

Julian Grant looked over and saw that the people in the photos weren’t the couple who owned the house, but Michael Wood and his parents.

Looking around, there wasn’t a single photo of the couple together in the living room.

The Vault walked to the entrance, in front of the shoe cabinet that took up half a wall, opened the cabinet door, and gestured: "Three."

All of Michael Wood’s shoes were placed in the most prominent spot, taking up the vast majority of the space. Julia Campbell’s shoes were squeezed into a corner at the edge.

"I admit, their marriage might be strained. But the next step in the deduction needs to be verified," Julian Grant said stubbornly. "There might be a walk-in closet upstairs. Julia Campbell’s things could be up there."

The Vault found his desperate struggle amusing and led him to the coffee table, motioning for him to look.

On the coffee table was a hospital examination report for Julia Campbell, impatiently shoved into a corner. Julian Grant couldn’t make sense of the scans, but the conclusion at the bottom was that there was nothing seriously wrong. Yet there were still two large bags of medicine on the floor.

Julian Grant flipped through them: injections, hormone medications, and supplements.

The Vault picked up a sticky note from the table, which listed appointments at different hospitals on different dates.

Julian Grant felt his scalp tingle and his whole body uncomfortable.

The Vault said, "Julia Campbell’s medical results clearly show nothing major, yet she’s still undergoing intensive treatment. The two have been married for... almost seven years, and still have no children. Excluding the possibility that it’s their own choice, there’s only one reason. You’re a man, you know what I mean."

"I don’t know!" Julian Grant protested, "Don’t try to slander me! Why should I know about him?!"

The Vault replied dryly, "Oh."

The Vault squatted down, picked up all the bags of medicine, and threw them into the trash can.

"At a glance, the only thing in the living room that clearly marks the presence of a female owner is this medical record. Julia Campbell put it in such a conspicuous place, probably as a silent protest. Even her protest is so low-key—what does that say?"

Julian Grant’s face darkened.

The Vault resumed her cold, ruthless demeanor and ordered, "Breakfast. Study. Ten minutes. I’m your man. For the sake of solving the case, thank you for your cooperation."

With that, she left arrogantly.

Chapter 23: Investigation

The viewers in the livestream burst into laughter, never expecting to encounter these two jokers as soon as they tuned in.

"Thank you, that was hilarious. Also, congrats on your marriage, you two are a perfect match."

"Welcome everyone to: 'Q of the Rich and Powerful, Those Years as a Lonely Q in the Deep Boudoir' Episode 1."

"Lu Xun: The name Ah Q is not for you to mess around with like this."