"I've read your copy, and I've re-examined myself." Harry Forrest explained slowly, "Before I got out of prison, I sincerely hoped that they had already started living lives that didn't need me. I could just watch them from afar, let them live their own lives. I can't tell whose fault this really is; the fact is, I owe them."

The Vault closed her eyes.

Harry Forrest: "I want to start over too..."

The Vault called out, "Harry Forrest."

Harry Forrest: "But I can't..."

The Vault's voice grew heavier as she called, "Harry Forrest."

Harry Forrest quieted down a bit, and The Vault could only hear his heavy breathing through the speaker.

The Vault said softly, "Come back."

Harry Forrest: "Do you want me to forgive them?"

"Who don't you want to forgive?" The Vault said. "If it's a certain person, that's fine. But if it's yourself... don't do that."

Harry Forrest fell silent again.

His silence made his attitude clear, or perhaps it was just stubbornness.

He knew exactly what he was doing; he was no longer accepting The Vault's advice.

The Vault asked, "Where are you?"

Harry Forrest didn't answer: "When does Trident's closed beta start?"

The Vault: "Which beta?"

She realized as soon as she asked that it was a pointless question.

What kind of case would Harry Forrest care about? The only closed beta scenario Trident could create was the case of the fifth witness's death.

The Vault pressed her lips together, trying to calm herself.

Harry Forrest said, "In the beta, there will be some clues that actually appeared at the real crime scenes. When the scenario is officially released, Trident will delete all information unrelated to the case. Only by entering the beta version can you know the real information from the scene investigation."

The Vault: "What do you know?"

Harry Forrest: "Teacher, can you help me?"

"How do you want me to help you?" The Vault said. "I can't participate in the beta scenario."

"Trident has a good relationship with you, they'll trust you." Harry Forrest said. "They've been willing to make exceptions and let you join some large scenarios, maybe they'll agree this time too. Your supervisor has enough authority, he's not simple."

The Vault licked her lips, gazing at the distant pale mountains from the balcony.

"I don't like using people. Especially people who trust me." The Vault said firmly. "Tell me, what do you want to know?"

"I want to know the truth. I don't trust them, I only trust you. They keep making mistakes." Harry Forrest seemed to be in a very quiet place, making his voice sound clear, yet a bit hollow. "Annie is dead, Teacher, and the five witnesses are dead too. If I miss this chance, I'll never have another."

The Vault braced herself against the wall with one hand, lowered her head, and let out a heavy breath.

Harry Forrest couldn't wait for her response and spoke again.

"The first three witnesses were killed by Annie."

The Vault's eyelids twitched violently. She said, "What did you say?"

"She killed them, I know it was her." Harry Forrest's calm tone stirred up a ripple, and he said in a suppressed voice, "It was Annie who killed them. She said she knew I was innocent, she hinted at it to me several times, but unfortunately I didn't understand. But she couldn't possibly have killed so many people and cleaned up the scene so well. She simply didn't have the means, nor the resolve. And before I got out of prison, she always acted normal. There can't be so many coincidences in the world; she must have been used by someone."

The Vault heard herself swallow, feeling as if her throat was being squeezed, overwhelmed by suffocation and nausea.

"She said she thought about ending it, but some things, once they start, never end. It was only after she died that I realized I never really knew her." Harry Forrest said bleakly, "She shouldn't have had to face this. I already gave up, so why did they still come for her?"

To lead an innocent person down the path of crime, and have her help clean up witnesses—what kind of chilling malice is that?

The Vault clenched her fingers.

Harry Forrest asked again, "Teacher, if it were you, what would you do?"

The phone fell silent once more.

No matter how high her IQ was, she couldn't give Harry Forrest the answer he wanted.

After a long time, Harry Forrest said, "Teacher, you already guessed, didn't you?"

The Vault's thoughts drifted far away, her mind dazed, a strong sense of powerlessness welling up inside.

The killer would murder the witnesses from back then—if not to silence them, then for revenge.

If it wasn't Harry Forrest who killed them, then who else would go to such lengths to avenge him?

The police said, five dead, three killers. Clearly, there were five connected people—why were there three killers?

"Julia Campbell" said that misfortune is contagious, and that the answer wouldn't be what they wanted to know. In fact, when she said that, a person The Vault didn't want to imagine had already appeared in her mind.

The word "misfortune" might not have been her evaluation of Harry Forrest based on her own life, but rather her evaluation of Andrew Forrest.

The two of them knew each other, maybe because of domestic violence, maybe because of some secret from the past, but that was no longer important.

Andrew Forrest couldn't bear it, stopped halfway, and eventually suffered a mental breakdown and committed suicide.

"Julia Campbell", using information from Andrew Forrest, faked the death scene of her own husband—the fourth witness.

So who killed the last witness?

This was probably Harry Forrest's only chance to get close to the truth.

"Teacher, I want to know the truth... I've been searching all my life. After Annie died, I realized that from the very beginning, I never had a chance to start over; the past is something you can never get around. He's enjoying this scene, he only sees me as prey." Harry Forrest said through gritted teeth, "I don't forgive, I won't forgive anyone!"

·

When Julian Grant got home, he saw The Vault sitting motionless at the dining table, lost in thought. Her upright posture was just like a kindergartener waiting for the teacher to serve food.

"Little genius," Julian Grant said with a laugh, "Are you hoping food will appear just by staring at the table?"

The Vault moved a little, turned her head to look at him, and said in a daze, "You're back."

Julian Grant was a bit taken aback by her "You're back," then carried his bag to the kitchen, and came back out, saying, "I went downstairs and bought claypot soup and fresh wontons. You don't have any dietary restrictions, right? You must be hungry now? I'll cook them for you."

The Vault's stomach was empty, but she didn't really feel hungry. She nodded, "Thank you."

Julian Grant lit the stove to boil water, heated up the chicken soup, and started another pot to cook the wontons.

Taking advantage of the wait, he came out and saw The Vault still in the same position. Leaning against the door, he said with a smile, "Are you still half-asleep?"

The Vault: "I'm just thinking."

"I'll take you home later to get some things." Julian Grant said. "I have a lot of stuff at my place, the big items might not fit. Let me clear some space, then I'll move them over."

The Vault said softly, "I don't have much stuff."

Julian Grant: "That's perfect then."

The water boiled.

Julian Grant brought out the wontons and placed them in front of The Vault.

The fragrant aroma of chicken soup wafted up, and The Vault's stomach finally felt a bit real. She picked up the spoon and took a sip.

The scalding liquid slid from her mouth down her esophagus, the fresh yet light flavor instantly awakening her hunger.

"How is it?" Julian Grant smiled. "The soup from this place is pretty good, right?"

The Vault nodded, thinking it tasted a bit familiar.

"It's very homestyle," Julian Grant said with a smile. "Tell me, how do you think the 'homestyle' flavor is the same all over the country?"

The Vault's spoon paused in midair. Is this really the taste of home? It was quite similar to the flavor Logan Carter used to make.

Julian Grant had been watching her, and seeing that she wasn't really present and didn't want to talk, he fell silent too.

After dinner, Julian Grant grabbed his car keys and said he'd take her home to get some daily necessities. The Vault had nothing else to do, so she obediently followed him out.

When Julian Grant arrived at The Vault's place, he realized that a terrible incident had indeed happened there last night.

The entire wall was covered in messy red paint, and most of the plaster had been scraped off, leaving it pitted and uneven. The cleaners had tidied up a bit, but the mess was still obvious.

Julian Grant stared at the insulting words on the door, anger boiling inside him. He felt that the way things were handled this morning was too lenient on those four people; he should really pursue responsibility again.

The Vault walked past as if she hadn't seen anything and opened the door.

The room was almost unchanged from the last time Julian Grant saw it. He carried an empty box inside and asked, "What do you want to take?"

The Vault looked around and realized there wasn't much she needed to bring—just some toiletries and a few changes of clothes.

Her life didn't seem to have any irreplaceable marks; it had always been simple.

Julian Grant stood in front of her waiting for instructions. Seeing her confusion, he raised his eyebrows in puzzlement.

The Vault casually pointed toward the kitchen and dragged her not-so-nimble legs in that direction.