Part 126
Julian Grant shook his head. “No, no, that’s not necessary.”
The Vault said, “You don’t have to be so polite.”
Julian Grant’s patience was always trampled by her. “Go check the kitchen for me now!”
The Vault fell silent.
Julian Grant took a deep breath, regaining his gentlemanly demeanor, and said, “You should rest for a bit. The doctor will come by later. If you’re hungry, have some fruit first. I’ll order takeout.”
The Vault thought about how Julian Grant’s happiness had just vanished, and apologized sincerely again, “I’m sorry.”
Julian Grant: “It’s fine.”
He calmly called the doctor, ordered takeout, then rolled up his sleeves to clean up the mess in the kitchen.
The chicken stained with The Vault’s blood was still lying across the cutting board, its bones separated to the side. The whole scene was both bloody and comical. Julian Grant didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
He wiped the entire cutting board clean with a towel, and when he returned to the living room, he found that The Vault had already fallen asleep.
She was lying on the sofa, her brows tightly furrowed, her body curled up, looking quite uncomfortable. There were faint dark circles under her eyes, and even in sleep she didn’t seem to rest well.
Julian Grant squatted in front of her for a while, making sure she was truly asleep, then took a blanket to cover her, gently pulled her hand out so it wouldn’t get pressed, turned off the TV, and tiptoed to the study.
·
The Vault only had one hand she could move, which wasn’t enough for her to fidget, seriously affecting her mood. After sitting on the sofa for just a while, she already felt tired and wanted to close her eyes for a nap, but unexpectedly, her consciousness quickly faded.
Perhaps influenced by Xavier Daniels, her dreams became bizarre and surreal, and she began to look back on her own life.
Those fragmented memories pieced together into a complete picture, replaying in her mind.
There wasn’t much worth reminiscing about in her past—at least, nothing happy. There were even fewer things she could talk about with a smile. She searched her memories but couldn’t find a single amusing story to share.
Leaving her family, changing her name, starting over. These three phrases summed up her childhood completely.
Looking back from where she stood now, those days didn’t seem so bad. The difficulties weren’t insurmountable, life wasn’t destitute, no one bullied her, and she hadn’t experienced the dark society described in the news. Quite a few people even tried to help her, but she refused them all.
The state solved most of her problems, allowing her to grow up smoothly, enter the workforce, and become someone who could take responsibility for herself.
However, for her younger self, growing up came with unbearable pain. Every day she woke up, facing the unknown with clear eyes, forcing herself to accept reality with time.
She was too small, too young, even her way of acting out was childish.
Changing her name was her act of defiance, a way to punish her mother and sever ties with her forever.
Kevin Quinn.
She hadn’t thought of that name in a long time. Just like she hadn’t expected to remember so clearly the old house she once lived in.
In her memory, her room was always dim, rain always falling outside the window, forming the backdrop for most of her time with Kevin Quinn.
Kevin Quinn was not a good mother—in fact, she was quite irresponsible. After her husband died, she forgot how to care for her child, often leaving The Vault home alone.
Afraid that The Vault would run around, she locked the doors and windows. Afraid others would see, she kept the curtains tightly drawn. Afraid The Vault would ask questions she couldn’t answer, she resorted to cold indifference.
Her mental state was unstable. When angry, she would scream at her hysterically. When sad, she would hug her tightly and sob. When happy, she’d promise to be a good mother, but that promise never lasted a day.
She had countless bad habits—these were the only accusations The Vault could recall against her.
The Vault stared at the wooden floor in front of her. Under her gaze, dark red blood slowly seeped out onto the floor. She watched her frail self gasping in the darkness, calling out to that person in a daze.
If all those faults could be forgiven, what she could never forgive was that after beating her, Kevin Quinn disappeared completely.
Death is the most irresponsible thing of all.
At that time, The Vault still remembered a half-heard story about Aladdin’s lamp. In her half-conscious state, she silently wished that if Kevin Quinn could come back, she would make a great sacrifice and forgive all past wrongs.
But it never happened.
She listened to footsteps echoing in the hallway, coming and going, but none ever stopped at her door.
The sky darkened, the furniture in the room doubled in her vision, and blood loss made her hallucinate. Not until the next morning, when Kevin Quinn’s body was found, did someone come to her home and find her.
Yet, she still hoped that beautiful woman would suddenly appear and take her home. Or that after she ran home, she’d open the door and see that familiar figure.
Every day, she would squat by the door, waiting for her to return.
Even so, Kevin Quinn never appeared again.
That’s why she called herself The Vault.
The sky is vast and high; it needs no one’s company.
·
The Vault felt like a cocoon, her body unbearably heavy, her limbs bound by silk, unable to move.
She struggled desperately, only to be met with even harsher resistance.
Then, Julian Grant’s distinctive voice pulled her out of her endless dream.
“She’s having a cramp!”
The Vault’s consciousness snapped back instantly.
Another unfamiliar male voice said, “Let her go, she’s overheated!”
Julian Grant reluctantly replied, “Oh.”
He let go, and The Vault stopped struggling, opening her eyes.
“She’s awake.”
Julian Grant bent down, his surprised face enlarging before her eyes. He placed the back of his hand on her forehead, checking her temperature.
“How do you feel? Anywhere else uncomfortable?”
The Vault’s throat was dry. She swallowed hard, feeling tears slide from the corners of her eyes.
Julian Grant lowered his gaze, half-squatting to meet her eyes. His handsome face was still tense as he gently wiped away her tears with his fingertip, comforting her, “It’s okay now.”
The doctor, holding a syringe, bent down, wanting to greet The Vault and let her know he was about to start, but when he opened his mouth, he realized he didn’t know how to address her.
“Sister-in-law…”
Julian Grant reflexively kicked him.
The doctor staggered, nearly falling, quickly moving the syringe upward and steadying himself on the chair. Julian Grant watched, heart pounding, eyes wide as he glared at him.
The doctor scolded, “What are you doing! If I stabbed her face, would you kill me or would I have to kill myself out of guilt?!”
Julian Grant: “…Why are you so dramatic? Who told you to talk nonsense?”
The doctor snorted, “I think you’re secretly pleased.”
Julian Grant shouted, “That’s enough out of you!”
The Vault thought to herself, how can they be so noisy?
The doctor rudely pushed Julian Grant aside, taking his place, and said to The Vault, “I’m giving you an injection. The fever’s pretty bad, but it’s nothing serious. Just get some good sleep later. Don’t worry.”
Julian Grant said, “Do you think she can understand all that? She’s been out of it.”
The Vault rasped, “My brain isn’t fried.”
The doctor laughed, “Even if it was, you’d still be smarter than him. Don’t worry.”
Julian Grant’s foot twitched beside him, itching to kick the other’s butt. The doctor raised the syringe in warning, so he could only grit his teeth and hold back.
The Vault only remembered what happened before she slept. She looked out the window and asked, “What time is it?”
Julian Grant: “It’s eight o’clock.”
The Vault said in surprise, “It’s not dark yet?”
“…It’s eight in the morning!” Julian Grant said speechlessly. “You have no idea how long you’ve been out.”
The Vault murmured, “I really slept a long time.”
The doctor interjected, “You sure did. It’s a shame I didn’t get to see Old He kneel and sing ‘Conquer’ for you.”
Julian Grant’s face darkened. He glanced at The Vault and denied, “Who are you talking about? Stop joking.”
The doctor: “Tsk tsk, the opportunity’s right in front of you and you don’t know how to chase a girl. No wonder you’re single.”
The medicine was slowly injected.
After finishing, the doctor stood up and said, “Go eat something. Make sure to get plenty of rest these days.”
The Vault said, “Thank you.”
He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Alright, I’m off. You two can keep hugging and crying.”
Julian Grant said coldly, “Goodbye.”
The doctor chuckled, closed the door, and left.
The room was quiet again, just the two of them.
The Vault propped herself up on her elbow, and Julian Grant helped her sit up, then sat down beside her.
The Vault’s mind was still foggy, not quite back to herself.
She turned to look at Julian Grant and asked, “Did I cry in my sleep?”
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