“I think this is the only reasonable way. Otherwise, if a player manages to escape, the keyboard warriors will start with their conspiracy theories and claim this round doesn’t count. Smile”

　　The Vault glanced at the sparse list of names under 【Fugitives】 and submitted an application backstage.

Chapter 42: Strange

　　When Julian Grant received the notification of The Vault’s registration, he was having hotpot with Quinn Shelby. One of his employees sent him a message, excitedly asking if he wanted to plant a closely-following character for him in The Vault’s instance, so the two of them could rekindle their connection.

　　Julian Grant was already mentally prepared for this slightly dim-witted kid—this friend was truly skilled at setting up his boss. Besides, what kind of character would be tied to a fugitive? A hostage? In that case, The Vault would definitely take care of him at the first opportunity—who would try to escape while dragging along a huge burden? Is this some kind of romantic elopement?

　　Does Julian Grant look like someone who would throw away his dignity like that?

　　Julian Grant replied coldly, “That won’t be necessary.”

　　The young man, who clearly didn’t understand how to read his superior’s mind, asked again, “Boss, how about assigning you the role of captain of the criminal investigation team? A man she can never truly escape from, even if she can’t outrun him! How about this character setting?”

　　“No need!” Julian Grant replied angrily, “If Trident staff go in as commanders, are you just trying to hand us over to the netizens? Always with the character settings—if you keep this up, I’ll transfer you next door to be an assistant to the planners, believe it or not!”

　　The young man protested, “Alright, fine. Then how about giving you a completely ordinary little green man… a humble public servant? Is that okay?”

　　Julian Grant almost wanted to block him. He put down his phone, only to see Quinn Shelby across the table, pointing his chopsticks straight at him.

　　Quinn Shelby asked dangerously, “Who are you talking to?”

　　Julian Grant kept a straight face. “Work.”

　　Quinn Shelby asked, “Did you hear what I just said to you?”

　　“No.” Julian Grant poured himself a drink and replied casually, “What did you just say?”

　　Quinn Shelby suddenly raised his voice, startling him so much his hand trembled.

　　“Work can get you so absorbed you forget everything else? You’re not chatting with The Vault, are you?!”

　　What is with these people! Julian Grant felt like his patience was being tested daily by those around him. He said helplessly, “No! What’s wrong with you lately? Did The Vault bite you or something? You’re not this scared of Harry Forrest, but when it comes to The Vault, you act like you’ve got PTSD. Can you give me some solid evidence?”

　　Quinn Shelby hesitated, then finally said gravely, “She’s really good at lying.”

　　When it came to “lying,” Julian Grant thought to himself that he was all too familiar with it. But even after being tricked so many times, he never felt that The Vault was the type to take revenge on society.

　　“You know, if you really think about it, the people who’ve lied to you the most since you were a kid are probably your parents. When you didn’t understand things, they’d brush you off, trick you into taking medicine, eating vegetables, studying, behaving. Did you ever think they were scary?”

　　Quinn Shelby pondered this, then suddenly gasped, horrified: “You think The Vault likes me? Where did you get that idea?!”

　　“Pfft! What kind of nonsense is in your head?” Julian Grant almost choked on his own saliva. “I mean those lies are harmless. She’s not really trying to deceive you, it’s just for fun.”

　　Quinn Shelby protested, “You don’t get it! It’s not that simple!”

　　Julian Grant knocked on the table: “If you don’t get it, just eat!”

　　Quinn Shelby was fuming, wanting to list all of The Vault’s faults, but some of the little things really weren’t worth bringing up—he’d just be nitpicking. He tried several times to speak, but in the end decided to stew in his emotions and lowered his head to organize his thoughts.

　　The hotpot broth was already boiling, white steam curling upward. Slices of meat tumbled alone in the spicy soup, and after they’d toughened, were finally picked up by a pair of chopsticks.

　　After just a few bites, Julian Grant’s phone rang again—a message from customer service.

　　They said an agency wanted to sign The Vault as their streamer and hoped Trident could help get in touch. However, after customer service sent a message to the contact info The Vault had left, there was no reply for a long time. So they asked if the supervisor could help pass on the message, and forwarded the entertainment company’s contact number.

　　Attached was a commission form from Trident’s legal department for contract supervision.

　　Julian Grant switched to his chat app and briefly relayed the message to The Vault.

　　The Vault quickly replied.

　　The Vault: Not going.

　　Julian Grant forwarded those exact words to the agency.

　　Unexpectedly, the other side was quite arrogant—probably mistaking Julian Grant for The Vault—and sent two long messages.

　　“If you don’t sign with us, it’ll be hard for you to make it. We can help you with anti-black campaigns, arrange partners, manage your fans and encourage tips. This industry is tough; win-win is the way forward. Hope you think it through.”

　　“We know a bit about you too, The Vault. Don’t underestimate the power of a team. If you stand out, you’ll take away others’ opportunities, and those people aren’t as easy to deal with as us. You’ve got quite a few black marks—easy targets for attacks. Even your identity alone will make people feel uneasy.”

　　The mix of threats and condescension made Julian Grant laugh in disbelief.

　　Ever since The Vault’s ID appeared on the new instance sign-up list, her fans had multiplied. With her skills, she didn’t need any extra maneuvering—she’d make it sooner or later. If she really wanted to make quick money, showing her face would be the shortcut. Who doesn’t like a smart, beautiful woman?

　　Trying to make money while acting all high and mighty, treating The Vault like some low EQ pushover?

　　Julian Grant took a screenshot and sent it to The Vault.

　　The Vault: Reply, scram【scram】

　　Nice—words with an illustration. No wonder she used to be a teacher; she thinks of everything.

　　Following The Vault’s wishes, Julian Grant sent the reply and blocked the agency, putting it out of his mind.

　　For once, The Vault didn’t disappear and kept chatting with him.

　　The Vault: Aren’t you eating with Quinn Shelby?

　　Julian Grant: I am.

　　The Vault suddenly asked: Do you know why Quinn Shelby is called Quinn Shelby?

　　Of course Julian Grant knew.

　　When Quinn Shelby’s mother was pregnant with him, she had a series of fantastical dreams for several days, to the point that this staunch atheist almost started to waver in her beliefs.

　　As everyone knows, in ancient times, the birth of a great person was always accompanied by omens—rosy clouds, goddesses appearing in dreams, all standard fare. Without at least one, you couldn’t be considered remarkable. When the elders in the family heard about it, they were convinced that The Shelby Family’s child was destined for greatness! Uncle Xie found it hilarious and decided to put it in his name, so that even his name would hint at something extraordinary.

　　Julian Grant: You know?

　　The Vault replied with a sigh: He really lived up to his parents’ intentions with that name. I’ve said it a hundred times—he’s truly extraordinary.

　　Julian Grant was shocked: You know him?!

　　The Vault: Yup.

　　The Vault: Otherwise, where would he get all that material to badmouth me?

　　Julian Grant looked up and asked, “You know The Vault? I mean, before Harry Forrest, you two were already close?”

　　Quinn Shelby froze, then slapped his chopsticks on the table and accused him, “You, you, you—don’t tell me you’re not chatting with her! I knew it, that look on your face is definitely not about work!”

　　“Alright, enough.” Julian Grant asked, “What exactly is your relationship?”

　　Quinn Shelby hesitated, “Just… a distant connection?”

　　Julian Grant asked, “What kind of connection?”

　　Quinn Shelby explained, “Her dad and my dad used to be close colleagues, though I didn’t know him. The Vault’s father died before she was born. Her mother was a bit traumatized, became mentally unstable, and cut off contact with her husband’s side of the family. Later, her mother also died, and for a while, no relatives were willing to take her in. My dad’s a cop, and seeing how pitiful she was, he brought her to stay with us for a while. Originally, our family wanted to adopt her, or at least find someone reliable to take care of her. But… during that time, we didn’t get along at all.”

　　Julian Grant adjusted his posture, face tense as he listened. But even before Quinn Shelby spoke, he already felt a bit of resistance inside.

　　“I didn’t want to say anything, since she was so young at the time. But she was really strange, very strange, loved to scare people. She spoke in a weird way, always being mysterious.” Quinn Shelby recalled, still shivering from the fear, “Her mom had just died, and she was so little, but she’d use her mom’s name to trick people. She kept saying her mom was still around, that there was something dirty near us. She’d say things like, ‘You’re lying, my mom told me so.’ Stuff like that gave our whole family goosebumps. I was a kid too, and she scared me so much I couldn’t sleep.”

　　A hint of doubt flashed in Julian Grant’s dark eyes, his brows arching: “Are you sure she did it on purpose, and not for some other reason?”