Julian Grant deliberately changed into loose clothes before coming over. He stopped The Vault, who was about to squat down, and gestured for her to stand back. Then he rolled up his pant legs and said, “Let me handle this. Your foot isn’t convenient. Just tell me where things go.”

Julian Grant squatted down, opened the cabinet door, and saw a row of transparent boxes.

“Why are there so many lunch boxes?” Julian Grant took them out one by one and lined them up on the floor.

“They’re all from Logan Carter,” The Vault said. “And these aren’t lunch boxes, they’re food storage containers.”

Julian Grant: “……” Can’t I just use them as lunch boxes if I want?

The Vault added, “But they can occasionally be used as lunch boxes.”

Julian Grant looked up, his facial muscles twitching. “Thank you for accommodating me.”

The Vault shrugged.

Julian Grant put all the food storage containers into the box, and also carried in the leftover oil from her kitchen. The Vault almost wanted to praise him for being so considerate.

Once most of the kitchen was packed up, The Vault led the way to the bedroom.

A woman’s bedroom is a private place, and Julian Grant hadn’t really wanted to go in. But since he’d just made a bold statement, backing out now would seem a bit cowardly.

So he kicked the empty box and stood guard at the door, first gathering up the bedding from The Vault’s bed, then waiting for her to slowly sort through her clothes.

The Vault tidied up inside, handing things over as she went, and Julian Grant packed them into boxes.

The Vault actually had quite a lot of clothes, including several youthful dresses that didn’t really match her usual style—Julian Grant had never seen her wear them. The clothes had a faint fragrance, which made Julian Grant’s mind wander. As his fingers brushed the soft fabric, images of The Vault in those dresses flashed through his mind.

…What the heck?

The atmosphere was so quiet it became awkward; Julian Grant even considered singing a song to break the tension.

Fortunately, The Vault didn’t make him handle anything too strange. Near the end, she just asked him to fetch towels and toothbrushes, while she put away her personal items herself.

Julian Grant came out of the bathroom, let out a big sigh of relief, and quickly headed to the study, loudly and deliberately asking, “Do you want to bring your books over?”

The Vault followed and said, “Of course.”

Julian Grant pulled a thick book with a colorful cover from the corner of the desk, curiously asking, “You still cover your books? Did you do this yourself?” He hadn’t done that since first grade.

Julian Grant opened the book and saw a few lines of unfamiliar handwriting, then flipped back to the first page.

The whole book was very worn, the page corners curled, and the spine was nearly coming apart, showing it had been used a lot—the cover hadn’t helped much.

“Harry Forrest’s,” Julian Grant saw the name at the bottom. “He sent you homework?”

The Vault stood by the window with her hands in her pockets, half-bathed in sunlight, and absentmindedly replied, “Mm.”

Julian Grant closed the book and set it aside, asking, “What are you thinking about?”

The Vault turned her head and smiled at him. “Guess.”

Julian Grant placed the book at the bottom of the box and said, “There’s a new closed beta instance in Crime Analysis related to Harry Forrest—the fifth witness who died. I can recommend you to join; they need a few different types of players for the beta.”

The Vault’s smile faded.

Julian Grant continued, “But joining the beta is a bit troublesome. Before the official release, you have to keep everything absolutely confidential. During testing, your psychological evaluator, supervisor, and law enforcement all have to be present. Plus, the beta progresses very slowly—every step might pause to ensure everyone’s cooperation. Trident will pay you, but not much.”

The Vault stared at him.

Julian Grant asked, “What? You don’t want to?”

“Of course not,” The Vault said. “I was just wondering if you figured this out yourself, or if it’s another twist of technology.”

Julian Grant stood up and admitted, “My place has full HD surveillance everywhere except the bathroom. I didn’t mean to monitor you—I just didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

The Vault said, “I understand.” After all, there were so many valuables at home.

She stepped forward and held out her hand to Julian Grant. “Thank you.”

Julian Grant took her hand, squeezed her fingers, and looked at her seriously. “I can keep this from others because I trust you, and I also sympathize deeply with Harry Forrest’s situation. As long as he hasn’t done anything wrong, I respect his wish to hide. But I still think his best choice is to come back. At least among us, no one wants to target him.”

The Vault: “That’s his own choice.”

Julian Grant said seriously, “The Vault, you can keep things from me, but I hope you won’t lie to me, no matter the reason. I really do trust you.”

The Vault’s lips curled up slightly. “Okay.”

Chapter 60: Login

The Vault had more books than anything else. After the two of them searched the study, they’d gathered almost everything, and Julian Grant took charge of moving it all back.

With an extra person at home, the place suddenly felt lively.

The Vault organized things in her room, while Julian Grant moved all the rarely used items stacked in the hallway to the garage.

He busied himself going up and down in the elevator, and after half an hour still wasn’t done—he started to regret it. Wouldn’t it have been better to just hire a mover? Why did he have to act so down-to-earth in front of The Vault? When did he get this persona?

When Julian Grant took the elevator up again, he heard someone calling “boss” on a certain floor. The familiar voice and tone left no doubt who it was.

Julian Grant rushed downstairs and, sure enough, saw a young man peeking around in front of his tightly closed door.

When Susan Scott saw him, he waved and said, “Boss, so you were upstairs?”

Julian Grant unconsciously lowered his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t come to work today, just posted a statement backstage, so I thought you might need help.” Susan Scott pulled a stack of documents from his backpack with feigned sincerity. “And I brought you some warmth.”

Julian Grant grabbed him, trying to shove him into the elevator. “Are these documents that have to be signed today? If you love work so much, do you want me to bring you some warmth too?”

Susan Scott struggled and shouted, “You’re just covering up! I don’t believe it! My super-intelligent robot was moved by you—you either want to throw it away or you’re moving. Tell me, are you secretly seeing a pretty lady behind my back?”

Julian Grant was startled, quickly covered his mouth, and twisted him aside, muffling his screams. “Do you want me to add a line to your epitaph?”

Susan Scott was shoved into the elevator, protesting, “Aren’t you going to invite me for a meal? I want to eat with the pretty lady too!”

Julian Grant: “Eat, eat, that’s all you think about!”

The young man clicked his tongue and gave him a knowing look. “Boss, you’re something else. So there really is a pretty lady.”

As the elevator doors closed, the person inside made a face at him.

Julian Grant watched the elevator descend, then walked to the stairwell window to look down.

Soon, Susan Scott came out the main door, looked up, angrily made a gesture at him, then swung his backpack and left.

Julian Grant felt at ease and went back upstairs.

As he turned onto the stairs, he saw The Vault had changed clothes and shoes, standing at the door with a devout expression, quietly waiting.

Julian Grant nearly bumped into her and was startled, thinking she’d overheard something, but on closer look, her expression didn’t match.

“What are you doing?”

The Vault took out her phone to show the time and said solemnly, “It’s six o’clock. Time to eat.”

Julian Grant pursed his lips in exasperation. This person really is something.

He was about to step inside, and as he passed The Vault, a thought popped into his head that made him feel flattered. Julian Grant suddenly turned around and asked, “Are you inviting me to dinner?”

“Of course, I need to,” The Vault said with a smile. “After all, I’ll be relying on you a lot from now on, and you’ve helped me so much this time. Even for allies, I should show some sincerity.”

Julian Grant’s body tensed, and he walked into the house, trying to keep his composure. “Alright, I’ll go change. Wait a moment!”

Ten minutes later, the two of them sat in Trident’s spacious lounge.

Julian Grant rested his head in one hand and let out a weary sigh.

This whole thing proved one thing: The Vault’s sincerity isn’t worth much.

He should have known better—wishful thinking never pays off.

The Vault was very satisfied.

Originally, she’d wanted to move in with Julian Grant to show she had no contact with Harry Forrest. But after moving in, she suddenly realized that living so close to Trident meant she could enjoy a winner’s life for free from now on.

Worth it.

The Vault tapped the end of her chopsticks on the table to straighten them, and seeing the other person sitting there in a daze, she cheerfully asked, “What’s wrong? Is the food here not good?”

Julian Grant took a deep breath and forced himself to say, “Nothing, it’s especially good. After dinner, I’ll go submit a beta application.”

“Alright,” The Vault praised, “You really are a dedicated person.”