After Michael Wood achieved fame and success, no one would listen to Julia Campbell's complaints anymore. Michael Wood maintained a good-guy reputation in public, playing the role of a loving husband. Everyone thought she was a wealthy socialite, living a carefree life. Even if she had worries, they were seen as nothing more than little touches of drama to spice up her days.

Day after day of emotional neglect pushed Julia Campbell to the brink of collapse; even in her dreams, she screamed about these people's crimes.

Julian Grant sneered, "He knew long ago that he couldn't have children. Back then, he stabbed someone and was left with psychological trauma. Later, the stress of life made him ill, and he was completely done for. He refused to go to the hospital, so I had to go instead. At first, I really thought it was my problem. He watched me suffer, grow haggard, lose sleep, and run fevers, but never asked about any of it. To others, he claimed I didn't want children and that he was respecting my wishes. As if I'd believe that nonsense. He became useless, so he decided to torment me?"

Armed robbery is a serious crime, especially since Michael Wood stabbed someone. If he had been caught back then, he might still be in prison today.

I wonder, on those lonely nights, when Michael Wood looks back on the past, does he ever feel a twinge of regret?

The Vault asked, "Did you ever think about getting a divorce?"

Julian Grant replied, "I couldn't let go, and I couldn't bear to. I wasn't as ruthless as he was. I kept thinking about how good he used to be to me, hoping he might change his mind. But in the end, he could smash a vase over my head without batting an eye, then walk away as if nothing happened. Ha, I didn't want all those years of feelings to go to waste, but the more I invested, the more I lost, until I had nothing left. I'm not a good businessperson; in his eyes, I was just another sucker to be taken advantage of."

"The human heart is the worst thing to use as a bargaining chip. Even after ten or twenty years together, once the feelings are gone, what builds up isn't affection, but resentment," The Vault said. "That's why I'm a pessimistic investor."

Julian Grant immersed himself in his own persona: "Michael Wood is a hypocrite. All that charity work is just to cover up his inner anxiety. Praise from the media and netizens helps him forget who he used to be. He can escape punishment for a while, but he'll never escape his conscience. But if he can be so cruel to me, does he really feel no guilt? He can recognize the wrongness of his robbery, but in his eyes, I deserved to suffer? Did he ever have any feelings for me at all?"

The Vault silently answered in her heart.

"No," Julian Grant answered himself. He gave a bleak smile. "In the end, I became just like Michael Wood, using others. Do you think someone like me is pathetic?"

The Vault looked at him deeply, wanting to applaud. She was just marveling at how incisive and precise Quincy's interpretation of the character was when Julian Grant's expression changed and he hurriedly clarified, "I didn't make any of that up—it's all from the original testimony."

The Vault: "..." Is there really no overtime pay for this?

Julian Grant quickly switched back to character and sighed, "That's it, I accept it. Go ahead and arrest me. At least I won't have to spend the rest of my life as a pathetic wretch like Michael Wood."

The Vault: "..." Now here's a question: is this a Best Actor or Best Actress performance?

·

The Vault led Julian Grant out of the interrogation room, just as Spencer Lewis was being escorted out of the room across the hall. The group met in the narrow corridor.

Spencer Lewis looked disheveled. Seeing them, he swallowed hard and couldn't help but ask, "Can I ask you all a question?"

The Vault glanced at Julian Grant out of the corner of her eye.

She thought to herself, there probably was never any love. Quincy is a heartless cool boy, after all.

"How did you catch me?" Spencer Lewis choked out. "I was just playing games, I didn't do anything. I was gaming the whole time after I logged in, I don't even know what else I could've done. It was only after the story fast-forwarded and I got the full script that I realized I was destined to miss a phone call. I kept... waiting for your call. Miss, may I ask your name?"

...Case closed. So it was you!

Julian Grant said coldly, "Big brother."

Spencer Lewis's body jolted. "Eh!"

The Vault explained sympathetically, "He means, he's your big brother."

Spencer Lewis: "..."

Spencer Lewis swallowed his bitterness and finished his lines bravely: "It's fine, I don't regret it. I did it all willingly. Jiajia, I hope you can live well and protect yourself."

The Vault's review: Not even half a cent's worth of acting, couldn't be any less.

As he finished speaking, the words "Game Cleared" floated through the air.

Julian Grant let out a huge sigh of relief and logged out of the instance before the countdown even finished.

The Vault looked at the suddenly empty spot beside her, reached out to grab at the air, then followed the system prompt and exited the simulation pod as well.

·

Viewers in the livestream room all jumped in to offer congratulations.

"Cleared the game, confetti~ Does this count as an all-villain scenario? Not a single innocent person except the extras."

"There is one—Harry Forrest, who was just along for the ride and only had a name. [Shocked]"

"No need to deny everything just because of a few bad apples. None of them were truly evil; it's just that human nature has its flaws, and they were simply unlucky."

"Throwing confetti~ Too bad the [Murder Night] instance didn't open here, so the pro didn't get the million-dollar bounty. Several people next door got lucky and triggered it. But the crime reconstruction here was the most accurate so far."

"This instance taught us that if you shirk responsibility, men really can't make it. [Eyes wide open]"

"I was feeling so serious at first, but in the end, two clowns showed up. [Facepalm] Still, confetti for the win."

Chapter 38: Newcomer

The Vault climbed out of the simulation pod, feeling weak in her limbs. The simultaneous return of multiple memories hit her hard. She sat quietly on a chair nearby to ease her mental fatigue.

The equipment room was unusually quiet, with only the sounds of various engines running. The staff received a notification that she had exited the pod, but when she didn't come out, they knocked gently on the door, asking if she felt unwell.

The Vault replied perfunctorily, then put her hands in her pockets. Her fingertips bumped into something hard. She looked down and pulled out a game card from Trident.

The Vault thought of that luxurious lounge in the Trident building and couldn't help but smile, then took out her phone and dialed the most recent number.

The Vault: The instance is over. Let me treat you to a meal.

Julian Grant, who was checking backend data, was pleasantly surprised, almost unable to believe it, afraid he was reading too much into it. He stopped what he was doing and replied.

Julian Grant: Where are we eating?

The Vault: The lounge. The service there is top-notch and comprehensive. Even a dedicated club can't compare.

Julian Grant: "..." Thank you, but how is this different from me paying?

Julian Grant: Keep going, have you even been to a dedicated club?

The Vault: Aiya.

The Vault's reply showed her surprise—she hadn't expected an ordinary person to catch on so quickly.

The Vault: So, are you coming or not?

Julian Grant: Coming.

After replying, Julian Grant felt he shouldn't seem too eager, so he finished and uploaded his summary report before strolling over at a leisurely pace. By the time he arrived, The Vault was already eating, not the least bit reserved.

Several large bowls were set out in front of her, and the cold noodles in her hand were still giving off a chill.

Julian Grant couldn't help but laugh at the sight. Not bad, she really knows how to enjoy herself.

He sat down across from her, tapping his knuckles on the table as a greeting. The Vault looked up at the sound and said politely, "Help yourself, just make yourself at home. I won't play host."

Julian Grant: "..." Isn't this his place?

The Vault enthusiastically recommended, "The cold noodles and braised beef are really good. The uncle over there even shelled a whole crab for me—I thought it was delicious too."

Julian Grant glanced at the already empty small plate, feeling complicated. "There's no crab-shelling service here. I've never been treated like that. You must have some serious status."

"Really?" The Vault was delighted. When she smiled, her usual cool aura faded away. She said happily, "The people here are so nice—they even mixed the sauce for me."

Turns out, making her happy was such a simple thing. Julian Grant smiled too. "You've never mixed your own sauce? It only has soul if you do it yourself."

The Vault replied with perfect clarity, "I don't want to give it the soul of a kitchen disaster."

As the two of them ate, more people gradually filled the lounge, most of them players who had just finished [Crime Analysis].

This time, the number of players summoned by the bounty was impressive, including many star players. Julian Grant recognized quite a few familiar faces, sitting in the corners touching up their makeup.

Not everyone who could participate in [Crime Analysis] was a genius; Trident's assessment focused more on players' psychological qualities. That's why some internet celebrities with camera experience actually found it easier to pass the test. Even if they couldn't solve the case, their humorous and contrasting livestreams still carved out a path for themselves.