He ate each bite with great force, his cheeks bulging on both sides, stuffed full of food. He chewed carefully, as if trying to grind up all the bitterness he had endured over the years.

Halfway through eating, tears were already streaming down his face, falling onto the table like large beans.

The Vault and Julian Grant did not disturb him; they simply watched quietly and pulled two tissues from a bag to hand to him.

Justin Hall took them, wiped his face, but couldn’t stop the hot tears from flowing. In the end, he raised his arm and wiped his face hard with his sleeve.

This bun was probably the saltiest and sourest he had eaten in years, and yet it was also the most tasteless.

When he finally finished eating, his shoulders slumped in defeat, and he once again sank into a dazed emptiness.

The Vault began his questioning.

“Why did you get a half-month’s supply of sleeping pills all at once?”

This time, Justin Hall cooperated and answered, starting to shake his head wearily as he spoke: “I can’t sleep. I’ve been taking sleeping pills for a long time, always in large doses, and I’ve developed a serious dependency. The doctor advised me to cut back, but I’m just too tired.”

The Vault asked, “How many people know about this?”

“Probably not many,” said Justin Hall. “But if someone wanted to check, it wouldn’t be hard. I didn’t deliberately hide it from anyone. I go to the hospital every week—if someone followed me, they’d know what I was doing.”

The Vault: “Who was the first person you wanted to protect?”

Justin Hall didn’t answer directly, but instead asked, “Is Sylvia Shaw really the murderer?”

“According to regulations, before the investigation results come out, we can’t tell you the details of the case,” The Vault gathered the files on the table one by one, organizing them as she spoke. “What I’m telling you now is just my own reasoning and findings. I suspect she is, but before the court’s official verdict, it’s only a suspicion.”

Justin Hall asked doubtfully, “Why would she want to kill Thomas Daniels? Thomas Daniels was rich, and Sylvia Shaw was just a housewife. With Thomas Daniels dead, she’s left with nothing.”

“So you’ve looked into Sylvia Shaw. Too bad you don’t know much about Thomas Daniels.” The Vault chuckled lightly, sidestepping the key point and vaguely said, “We’re still investigating the specific reasons. All I know is, anyone who passes through the scene will inevitably leave traces. But I can correct one of your misconceptions. Thomas Daniels wasn’t as rich as you think. He spent a lot, both he and his wife liked to buy luxury goods and collect expensive items, and they were very vain. The factory’s profits were no longer enough to maintain their glamorous appearance, so Thomas Daniels got involved in some shady business and racked up over a hundred million in debt. These are company operation issues—I’m not sure if you can understand.”

Whether Justin Hall understood or not didn’t matter; all he needed to know were the words “over a hundred million” and “debt.”

The Vault said, “Now can you answer my previous question?”

Justin Hall swallowed. “I thought it was... a friend of mine. She’s my colleague, and I’ve told her about my past. You said the killer used my sleeping pills and wore a cleaner’s shoes, so I thought it was her.”

The Vault crossed her hands under her chin, analyzing his emotions as he spoke about this person, then said, “Why did you think it was her? No matter how close you are, ordinary people wouldn’t kill someone to avenge another.”

“She’s different... She doesn’t have much time left, she’s very ill. I don’t have much use for money, so I lent her money for treatment, and she’s always been grateful, wanting to repay me.” Justin Hall’s voice gradually faded, his head lowered, a bitter smile appearing as he recalled something. “She’s like me, all alone. Her son died a long time ago, but she never knew who the killer was. Maybe my emotions affected her. Sometimes, I really needed to talk to her just to get through the day. Later, she said she wanted to avenge me, so I thought she really did it.”

Julian Grant took notes on the side.

Justin Hall then asked, “Who helped Sylvia Shaw commit the murder?”

“If we knew, we wouldn’t be interrogating you now.” The Vault lit up her phone screen, showing it to him. “It’s been less than six hours since the body was found. Because you wouldn’t tell the truth, we’ve spent most of our time on you. You have to give us some time, don’t you think?”

Justin Hall felt she made sense and didn’t press further. Then he heard The Vault lower her voice mysteriously: “But... I have a suspicion that Xavier Daniels was forced to help Sylvia Shaw commit the murder.”

Justin Hall’s pupils contracted, so agitated he could barely speak.

The Vault continued, “Xavier Daniels follows Sylvia Shaw around, looking like he wants to say something but holds back. He claimed he’d never met Thomas Daniels, but when I casually asked, they described the clothes Thomas Daniels changed into right before he died. Besides, in such a short time, Sylvia Shaw couldn’t have found someone else to cooperate with her.”

“Karma, look, this is karma!” Justin Hall burst out laughing. What should have been hearty laughter came out as a hoarse, eerie cackle, tinged with sobs.

“He killed my wife and child, and twelve years later, he was killed by his own wife and son! What kind of retribution is this? How can there be someone like him in this world?”

Justin Hall’s body trembled uncontrollably. The Vault asked, “Why didn’t you just ask your colleague directly? Where is she now?”

Justin Hall stopped laughing and said, “I did ask, but I couldn’t reach her by phone, so I thought she was the killer.”

The Vault: “Name, contact information.”

Justin Hall hesitated, but finally gave her the information.

Julian Grant recorded everything and sent it to his colleagues, telling them that this suspect was also a cleaner and asking them to verify as soon as possible.

The diligent officers contacted the relevant street office, and then, using the phone number, found a hospital. Soon, they replied to the two.

“We found an emergency record. Ruby Donovan, female, 39, collapsed while working in the Chengdong district last night and was taken to the hospital by a passing vehicle. She’s finished emergency treatment but hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

As soon as The Vault heard it was a woman, she knew she was unlikely to be directly involved in Thomas Daniels’s case. The person who moved Thomas Daniels was a man with feet larger than size 43.

Besides, Chengdong district is far from the crime scene. If Ruby Donovan wanted to kill someone, she wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble, which would only increase suspicion on Justin Hall.

Sure enough, the other side added more information.

“We confirmed with the Chengdong street staff that Ruby Donovan attended a free health check organized by the street office yesterday afternoon. Afterward, she had dinner with the staff and took a nap in their break room. She went out to work in the evening and was sent to the hospital not long after. She had no time to commit the crime.”

The Vault and Julian Grant exchanged a glance, completely ruling out suspicion of Justin Hall and his friend.

“She’s at the People’s Hospital now,” said The Vault. “It’s been verified—she had no time to commit the crime.”

Justin Hall breathed a huge sigh of relief.

The Vault stood up and said, “Thank you for your cooperation. Go take care of the paperwork and you can leave.”

She pushed her chair back, a glint of coldness flashing in her eyes again, and said, “But I still hope you can give your friend some advice. Obey the law. Don’t abandon your principles just because your life is coming to an end. Killing someone isn’t that simple.”

Justin Hall stood up and watched the two leave. When The Vault reached the door, he suddenly said, “Thank you.”

The Vault nodded at him and walked out.

·

After the two had walked some distance from the interrogation room, Julian Grant asked, “Was what you said to Justin Hall just now true?”

Their footsteps echoed one after the other, closely following, the rhythm clear.

“Which part?” The Vault looked back with a hint of surprise. “I can’t guarantee what I said was true. I always say, ‘I think.’ Didn’t you notice?”

“The part about suspecting Xavier Daniels.” Julian Grant said. “Do you really suspect Sylvia Shaw forced Xavier Daniels to help with the crime?”

The Vault smiled indifferently. “It was just to lower Justin Hall’s psychological defenses. He probably really wanted to hear that kind of outcome. I bet he never imagined such a dramatic plot.”

Julian Grant didn’t laugh with her. “But the way you said it, I felt you were serious.”

The Vault stopped, turned around, and stood face to face with Julian Grant.

In the empty corridor, the two stared at each other.

The Vault hadn’t expected that one day Julian Grant would so sharply point out that she was lying. Wasn’t he the kind of person who’d believe even the most obvious lies?

The Vault still smiled and asked, “Why do you think so? Everyone would think that was the least believable thing I said, right? Haven’t you been watching me run through the case files? We don’t have any evidence.”

“Just a feeling.” Although Julian Grant said it was a feeling, there was no doubt in his tone. “If you didn’t really think so, you wouldn’t have given Justin Hall that kind of hope for no reason. That’s not like you.”

The Vault’s smile gradually faded. She asked, “What am I like?”