The sky loved listening to the faint snoring sounds the dog made while sleeping, because at that time, she couldn't stand a completely silent environment. It was an obedient yet alert dog, extremely endearing. Whenever The Vault approached it, it would quickly wake from its sleep. But it knew not to bark at night, and would only open its pitch-black eyes and look at her innocently.

The little dog was always especially patient with children, staying up late to keep her company.

Pets are much more direct in sensing human emotions, and their ways of comforting are just as simple. When The Vault reached out her hand, it would nuzzle its head against her, using its fur to keep her warm. Over time, it would let its guard down and sleep in her palm, tilting its head to show affection.

That night, the house quieted down and everyone fell asleep. As usual, The Vault, unable to sleep, walked toward the doghouse, but this time, the dog didn’t react at all, just lay there on the ground.

The Vault squatted in front of its wooden house, hugging her knees and quietly watching its sleeping face.

In the silence, the sticky sound of bare feet on the wooden floor echoed in the darkness. The Vault turned her head and saw that bloated figure walking toward her step by step.

One tall, one short, they stared at each other, neither saying a word.

The Vault saw her pause by the side of the sofa, staring at her with a pair of emotionless, chilling eyes. Her long hair hung down the sides of her face, and the corners of her mouth drooped, resembling the visage of a demon.

Then, she turned and went to the kitchen, returning with a knife gleaming coldly.

The night wind blew in through the cracks, carrying a familiar muddy, bloody stench, as if connecting two scenes across time and space. The Vault's eyes flickered, her throat dry and swallowing hard.

The only thing she found blurry in the whole memory was Mrs. Shelby's face. Maybe she was too scared at the time and forgot to look, or maybe it was just too dark to see clearly. Only that chilling feeling remained vivid, impossible to explain.

She remembered herself stepping back, watching as the sharp tip of the knife in the other’s hand pointed at her, swaying with each step, several bulging veins tightly wrapped around the woman’s slender arm, cold and powerful.

At that moment, The Vault wanted to speak, opened her mouth, but couldn’t make a sound.

She stared, her gaze moving from the woman’s exposed toes to her deathly pale face, then lowered her head.

But the knife didn’t stab her—it stabbed the sleeping dog beside her.

The sharp blade plunged into the dog’s neck, making a brief, indescribable tearing sound. The faint, youthful noises painted a vivid picture, telling The Vault how the cleaver pierced in, was pulled out, and then repeated again and again.

Blood gushed out, the sound in the night turning all intense emotions into a surging spring, bursting forth.

The dog probably woke from the pain, but with its mouth covered and its body weak, it could only let out a faint whimper.

The Vault raised her hands to cover her ears, squeezing her eyes shut. Only when a warm liquid flowed to her feet did she slowly open them.

From her angle, she could see the little dog lying on the ground. It was still alive, its misty black eyes brimming with tears, lying motionless and limp. It gazed at her humbly, accepting the rapid loss of its life.

The resonance The Vault felt with a dog was unexpectedly the strongest. She thought the look in the dog’s eyes was so much like her own.

Mrs. Shelby picked up the dog in front of her, stuffed it into a cabinet, turned her back, and squatted in front of the cabinet for a long time.

After the madness, the woman probably began to regret it, her dazed face covered in cold sweat, pressing her head against the edge of the cabinet, sobbing silently.

The people in the bedroom were still sound asleep. Mrs. Shelby wiped her face and went to the bathroom farthest from the bedroom to wash her hands.

The sound of running water echoed, while the living room remained a bloody mess, proof that everything just now had really happened.

The scene was foul, chaotic, and trembling, overwhelming The Vault's senses.

The Vault found the light switch and turned it on.

The moment the light came on, all the sounds and images were driven from her mind.

In the empty living room, only the string of blessing wooden plaques left by Logan Carter was swaying. The plaques, tied with red string, hung from the glass window handle. Disturbed by the night wind, they would flip over—one side printed with “福” (fortune), the other with “安” (peace).

The Vault laughed, raising her hand to wipe the cold sweat from her forehead.

If it were the current The Vault, she could calmly comment on the incident, maybe even sneer twice. Unfortunately, the The Vault of that time could only realize one thing—so adults could use such extreme methods to show their dislike for someone.

She missed her family terribly, unable to wait another moment. Even if Kevin Quinn wasn’t such a successful mother, at least she could rely on her for comfort.

She pushed open the door and went out into the night, walking through the long streets, returning to her own home, waiting by the dim doorway for her mother to come back.

In the pitch-black night, that fruitless plea for help made The Vault suddenly understand that death is when humans are forced to accept loneliness. From then on, all waiting became remembrance.

The Vault took down the red wooden plaque and closed the window tightly.

There are many people in this world hiding secrets.

Many hide their cruelty and coldness deep inside, wearing a mask of kindness.

To those people, The Vault felt that if, after experiencing the fragility of life, they could still restrain their instinctive impulses within the boundaries of the law and maintain a normal appearance, in a way, that was also a kind of strength.

It was their contrast that made The Vault realize clearly that she might never be a truly selfless good person, but she certainly couldn’t become a monster. Even if she grew up wild, at most she’d just be an ordinary person.

The Vault sat on the sofa with the wooden plaque, waiting for the cold sweat on her body to fade. She raised her hand, letting the plaque spin in the air.

A highly respected, well-educated woman taught her the bottom line of killing.

A despised criminal’s family member taught her what it meant to be unable to bear it.

The Vault let out a low laugh: “A valuable lesson.”

It means that as long as you keep living, you’ll always encounter something good.

The Vault picked up her usual bag and carefully put the wooden plaque inside.

“If kindness can be blessed, I hope your son can one day return with his head held high.” The Vault said with a smile, “Good night, Ms. Carter.”

·

The new instance of 【Crime Analysis】 quickly began testing. This was probably the most participated-in team instance in Trident's history.

The Vault carried her black cloth bag and walked straight through the main entrance.

The lobby of Trident was as bustling as ever. Because so many players had signed up this time, and many were newcomers, the scene was even more lively than usual.

Those with excited expressions were obviously new players; they didn’t yet know how to hide their feelings. Being chosen for the game meant they had a chance to shine in front of hundreds of millions of people, which was certainly something to brag about. To perform well, they had already read through all the important guides on the Trident forum before setting out, but before they could put theory into practice, during the socializing phase, all those complicated theories were already being refuted by veteran players.

The new and old groups were engaged in a heated debate over game strategies.

The Vault made her way through the crowd, took the elevator, sat quietly in the lounge for a while, then went to the designated room to log into the game.

Logging in for the third time, The Vault had gotten used to a lot. She waited quietly for the dizziness to pass, watching the black subtitles appear before her eyes.

【Fugitive: QC1362】 has officially entered the game! Welcome to 【Crime Scene Breakdown】. This instance is a special limited-time scenario. You will embark on an exciting solo escape storyline.

Be careful! Being caught by the police means immediate game over. Escaping the police pursuit red zone counts as victory. The red zone is determined by the police’s search and pursuit plan; third-party viewers can check it at any time, players must judge for themselves.

Good luck!

Identity: A wanderer with no known background. You are a fugitive on the run.

Player rating: 96 (This character is practically tailor-made for you!)

Character compatibility: 86% (Geniuses are probably all similar, for example, brains favored by fate.)

Escape progress: Although the wanted notice hasn’t been issued yet, your life on the run has already begun. Cherish every second from now on!

【Note】You have three minutes to stand still and observe your surroundings. When the countdown ends or you leave your spot, the instance begins immediately. Watch out for street cameras and helpful bystanders.

【Click here for instance details】

·

Before The Vault could immerse herself in the scenario, the viewers in the livestream were already in an uproar.

“Holy crap, there’s a 96 here! Is this for real?”

“I looked around and found that the character compatibility scores in this instance are all really high, so the ability scores have all gone up a bit too. As expected, Trident must be matching characters based on IQ!”