“My dad thought she was having hallucinations due to psychological trauma and took her to see a psychiatrist. She was a bit resistant to the doctor, but her thinking was clear, her attention focused, and there were no signs of schizophrenia. She also knew exactly what she was saying.” Quinn Shelby bit her lip, speaking with a tone full of unresolved feelings, “If it were just that, it would be fine. We could chalk it up to her being immature, something she could grow out of. But she also tortured and killed small animals. The dog our family had raised for three years was killed by her.”

Julian Grant’s eyelids twitched nonstop. He raised his hand to press the bridge of his nose and said, “Wait a minute. You’re saying The Vault tortured and killed animals?”

Quinn Shelby nodded, a lingering fear in her voice: “Childhood abuse, animal torture, bedwetting—many serial killers have these experiences in their youth, you know that, right?”

Julian Grant’s fingers tapped restlessly on the table as he sought confirmation again: “She killed your family’s dog?”

Quinn Shelby said, “Yes. That dog was very smart. It wasn’t quite a police dog, but my dad trained it to be very understanding. She fed the dog the medicine prescribed by the doctor, drugged it, then killed it in the middle of the night and stuffed it in the kitchen cabinet. My mom was pregnant at the time, and when she saw it, she was so scared she almost miscarried. Can you imagine such a young child doing that?”

“Let’s not even talk about whether The Vault could have done what you said at that age.” Julian Grant felt that everything Quinn Shelby described was bizarre, even absurd. He retorted, “The Vault is afraid of the dark. How could she go out in the middle of the night to kill your dog and then hide it in a cabinet? Why would she do that?”

“Before she started playing the game, she never showed any fear of the dark! Anyway, I... I think she’s terrifying. Back then, I even imagined that the dog I considered a friend, after being buried in the ground, couldn’t rest in peace and kept clawing its way out with bloody paws.” Quinn Shelby said with lingering fear, “Later, a lot of things kept happening around her, proving it wasn’t just my imagination. I don’t want to be biased, but if you had gone through these things, you’d feel the same as I do.”

Julian Grant tried to imagine things from Quinn Shelby’s perspective. He thought that, in Quinn Shelby’s childhood, The Vault must have been like a demon with a mouth full of fangs, grinning and showing cold, white teeth. No wonder he was still so wary of The Vault to this day.

But that was nothing like the The Vault Julian Grant knew. The Vault’s worst habit seemed to be telling pointless, cold jokes. She didn’t have a strong desire to show off, wasn’t fond of socializing, and usually just went between school and home. She could empathize with Jiang Ling and had a certain sense of social morality.

She definitely had a lot she didn’t say, but her actions didn’t match the image Quinn Shelby described.

Quinn Shelby said, “When I saw her again, I could tell from her eyes that she hadn’t changed. She just learned to hide it, from you, from everyone else. Maybe she really enjoys the process of committing crimes and pretending. She had a student who killed several people and dumped their bodies, just like that. That killer really enjoyed watching the police scramble from the shadows, and he worshipped The Vault—why do you think that is?”

Julian Grant’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his handsome face clouded with thought. He asked, “Dreama, are you afraid of her, or are you afraid of her abilities?”

Quinn Shelby shrugged and sighed, “I know you have doubts. You don’t have to believe me, but I hope you won’t ignore how dangerous she is.”

Julian Grant pulled a half-smile, noncommittal.

The two of them automatically dropped the subject.

·

After saying goodbye to Quinn Shelby, Julian Grant returned to Trident and went over the information again.

He pulled up the recordings of the two game instances The Vault had participated in and watched them again, as well as the video of The Vault’s test.

When he was actually in the game, the The Vault he faced was only one side of her, but that image felt real and familiar. Watching the whole game as a third party, he realized The Vault was an incredibly reliable person.

“Reliable” is an interesting word; it means someone can give you a sense of psychological security. When this word came to mind, Julian Grant knew that deep down, he still believed The Vault was a good person.

His intuition was the result of his life experience. His life experience was built from everything he had seen, heard, and learned. If he couldn’t trust himself, who could he trust?

Besides, if The Vault really was an extraordinary actress, how could she fool him but not Quinn Shelby? That level of intelligence just didn’t add up.

Julian Grant found himself amused by his own overthinking. He took out his phone, his eyes falling on the square profile picture in the top left corner of the screen. He thought of a few opening lines, didn’t finish typing, and just exited to call directly.

The Vault’s voice sounded a bit lazy as she asked, “Hello?”

Hearing her casual tone, Julian Grant actually felt a little more relaxed. He spun once in his chair and said, “I want to ask you something.”

“Eh?” The Vault exclaimed in surprise, sounding much more awake. She said, “You actually managed to hold back until now?”

Julian Grant: “If I didn’t ask you…”

The Vault countered, “Can you still cash in a lottery ticket after it’s expired?”

Julian Grant laughed.

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the stars streaming down like a river, the city lights shining like a sea, dazzling and bright, the sparkling points of light painting a captivating scene.

“I remember Quinn Foster said it too—he said that in the world of top students, all the answers are already written. So, is your world really any different?”

“There are no answers in this world. I’m just someone whose brain has been injured, that’s all.” The Vault said indifferently, “But why did you all take the words of a six-year-old who just lost her mother and was seeking attention so seriously? I was lying to them.”

Julian Grant: “Because you were immature?”

The Vault: “Exactly.”

Julian Grant: “People are more likely to tell the truth when they’re immature, because after running into walls, they grow up.”

The Vault’s voice was so soft it was almost inaudible, like a murmur held in her mouth: “Is that so?”

Julian Grant asked, “Why didn’t you explain things to Lao Xie? He’s actually pretty easy to talk to.”

The Vault: “I didn’t like that place anyway. I don’t like anywhere with other people. Quinn Shelby, heh, he’s quite an interesting person.”

Julian Grant: “So the dog Lao Xie keeps thinking about…”

“Hmm…” The Vault mused, “When someone is under too much mental stress, they might do something extreme to vent, and maybe regret it afterward. There’s no point in digging into it.”

Julian Grant asked, almost without suspicion, “Who was it?”

There was a moment of silence on The Vault’s end, then a muffled laugh.

Julian Grant was caught off guard by her laugh, and then heard her softly sigh, “The moonlight is beautiful tonight.”

Julian Grant: “……”

“So…” Julian Grant paused, his expression very odd, “You really are just complimenting the moonlight, right?”

The Vault: “Of course. It’s been clear all day, and the night sky is especially bright.”

Julian Grant said, “Alright then.”

The Vault laughed, “Good night.”

Julian Grant replied gloomily, “Good night.”

Julian Grant waited a while, but The Vault didn’t hang up.

He took the phone down, about to press the red button, when the speaker sounded again: “Oh, let’s set a time to meet next. See you in the game.”

“See you in the game.” Julian Grant’s profile was bathed in a gentle light under the lamp, the corners of his lips curving up, “Wish you a successful escape.”

“That doesn’t need any luck.” The Vault said confidently, “It’s a sure thing.”

Chapter 43: Login

The Vault hung up the phone, but Julian Grant had already made her fully awake, and she couldn’t feel sleepy anymore.

The room was even quieter after the call ended. She heard a dull, intermittent thumping from the living room—probably the window wasn’t closed tightly, and the wind was blowing something hanging there.

The Vault closed her eyes and breathed steadily, tossing and turning, but the noise kept her from falling asleep. Resigned, she sat up and walked barefoot to the living room.

Her eyes, accustomed to the dark, still saw only vague shadows in the unlit hallway.

A giant vase standing in the corner overlapped with a figure from The Vault’s memory, making her freeze in place.

The Vault was not happy to see Quinn Shelby, just as Quinn Shelby felt about her. That person’s appearance reminded her of things she had almost forgotten.

Her super memory meant that whenever she started to recall the past, she could automatically fill in all the key details, as if reliving yesterday, impossible to escape.

And when those confused, ignorant emotions were filtered through the lens of time, the fear she once ignored surfaced like yellow stains on an old photograph.

The Vault took a step forward, reaching out to feel for the light switch on the wall.

Back then, she was assigned to sleep on the sofa bed in the living room, while Quinn Shelby’s pet lay in a dog bed in the corner.