Julian Grant's mind was filled with a jumble of chaotic thoughts. His fingers hovered above the keyboard, but every time he tried to type, it felt wrong, so he hit undo, repeating the process several times without making any progress.
He tried to calm himself, but a certain figure kept appearing in his mind, leaving him restless and uneasy. His gaze kept drifting toward a certain icon in the corner.
In the end, he couldn't resist and quietly opened the surveillance feed for the living room.
Julian Grant told himself he would just take a quick look. If The Vault wasn't in the living room, he wouldn't bother checking the other rooms' cameras.
As luck would have it, The Vault was really there. She was actually... cleaning the cabinets.
On a quiet afternoon with no one else around, she was diligently tidying up the room.
Julian Grant: "......"
Suddenly, Susan Scott's languid voice sounded right behind his ear.
"You actually locked someone up at home to be your little housemaid? Boss, you have no shame!"
Julian Grant was startled, shivering as he took a deep breath and turned to glare fiercely at him.
Susan Scott stretched out his arm and, with lightning speed, tapped a key on his keyboard. Julian Grant saw it happen but couldn't stop him, blurting out, "Damn!"
Susan Scott: "Shh—"
"Hmm?"
The person on the screen heard the noise, looked up in confusion, and searched for the source of the sound.
Julian Grant hooked his arm around Susan Scott's neck and pressed him down onto the desk. Susan Scott shouted, "The Vault jie, our boss has something to discuss with you!"
This time, The Vault finally heard where the sound was coming from. She walked straight up to the camera, her delicate face growing larger on the screen until it settled at just the right spot. She asked, "What's up?"
Susan Scott, well-versed in stealing the spotlight, quickly answered, "Nothing, we just missed you—"
Julian Grant hurriedly covered his mouth.
The Vault laughed, "So that's why you're watching the home surveillance behind my back?"
Julian Grant's grip instantly tightened, nearly making Susan Scott's face go numb from being pressed down. He struggled hard and finally broke free. The commotion on their end was obvious, but The Vault pretended not to notice, quietly waiting for the person on the other side to speak.
"Ahem—" Julian Grant's ears turned red as he awkwardly said, "No, it's not like that."
A sudden idea struck him, and his words began to flow smoothly as he quickly said, "I mainly wanted to let you know that Trident just released an announcement—a preview about the closed beta instance. Everyone online is talking about you now. I'm worried you might be in danger, so I wanted to remind you to be careful. Unless it's necessary, don't leave the neighborhood alone."
"That's all?" The Vault chuckled softly. "It's fine, I'm used to it."
Julian Grant: "Used to what?"
The Vault said, "There are some people in this world who are just born to attract weirdos. So misfortune keeps circling around them. Close friends, lovers, even strangers passing by—all could be potential psychos lurking nearby. These people gather around them without them even noticing. Of course, it has nothing to do with their own character; maybe it's their aura, or maybe... fate."
"You..." Julian Grant asked suspiciously, "Are you serious?"
"Yes. That's just how it is. But you can also think of it as a rare coincidence—a low-probability event." The Vault shrugged. "Anyway, I've met plenty of people like that. A few more won't make a difference."
Julian Grant said dryly, "Still, you should be careful."
"Okay." The Vault smiled. "Thank you for your concern."
"Mhm." Julian Grant said with his head down, "I'll get back to work now."
The Vault nodded and smiled gently, "Alright, I'll wait for you to come back for dinner."
Because of her words, Julian Grant's mood became light and airy, unsure if he was happy or embarrassed. He quickly ended the conversation and let out a long sigh.
·
In the hallway, crisp footsteps approached from afar and finally stopped in front of a door.
Henry Harris smoothed the stray hair at her forehead, knocked three times at the door, and walked into the office with some documents in hand.
Inside, a man with graying hair was waiting for her.
When the elderly man saw her enter, he gave a faint smile, the dignified lines of his face creasing with age.
"I just finished reading your team's character profiles and case analysis. It's impressive to have grasped these clues in such a short time. But you need to keep pushing—don't slack off. We don't have much time."
Henry Harris stood straight and said, "These are thanks to the friendly assistance of concerned citizens."
The man gestured, "Have a seat first."
Henry Harris replied, "I'll stand, since I'll have to get up again soon anyway."
The old man immediately became alert, his expression darkening as a sharp glint appeared in his eyes. With great reluctance, he asked, "What are you planning to do?"
"I'd like..." Henry Harris said, "to invite a concerned citizen to join the investigation."
The papers in the old man's hand were crumpled from his grip. He opened his mouth, clinging to a last hope, "Who? A professor? An expert? Or someone from a company or institution?"
Henry Harris enunciated clearly, "The Vault."
Chapter 83: Application
The man opened his mouth, wanting to firmly tell Henry Harris "No," and the word was halfway out when he remembered her stubborn personality and quickly swallowed it back.
When dealing with subordinates, one should be patient and reason with them.
No need to argue—it's pointless.
The old man asked, "What about Captain Lambert? He's your team leader. Why haven't I seen him in a while?"
Henry Harris said, "He supports my decision."
"Then he should be the one reporting to me. Where is he?" The old man grumbled as he reached for his phone, intending to call him over. "Honestly, leaving everything for you to handle—what's the point of having a team leader like that? Ridiculous! I'll have him come over right now."
Henry Harris stared at him, expressionless, and said, "He supports me in spirit, but follows your orders in action. All instructions are up to you."
The man across from her laughed—how could someone be so optimistic?
"Coward."
Henry Harris said, "Please approve."
The old man's expression grew serious, the tension at the corners of his mouth making him look even more severe. He shook his head, "Impossible."
Henry Harris: "Why not?"
"We shouldn't involve unrelated people in the case, especially one that's so dangerous and requires confidentiality."
The police chief, already advanced in years and no longer wishing to dance on the edge of danger, swallowed his bitterness and said earnestly, "I've already taken a lot of pressure for you all. If something really goes wrong, who will take responsibility?"
Henry Harris calmly countered, "I think, when making a decision, the most important thing to consider isn't who will ultimately bear the responsibility, or who is able to bear it. It's whether it's necessary, feasible, and needed. That's what you taught me before. Your faith in justice and your dedication to the truth have always inspired me."
"Don't try to flatter me. I'm being serious with you. I can give you three reasons." Director Campbell gestured with his hand. "First, The Vault doesn't hold any position—she's currently unemployed. Her area of expertise doesn't offer much help to our investigation. If we need assistance, there are plenty of better consultants. The bureau maintains good relationships with many professionals—why add The Vault? Is it necessary?"
Henry Harris nodded.
"Second. She's Harry Forrest's teacher, so we should at least avoid any appearance of bias. Her motives and stance are too partial, and her analysis could easily mislead us." The old man said, "I know you all lean toward believing Harry Forrest is innocent, but there's no evidence to prove that yet. Legally, he's still a suspect. We should investigate as neutrally as possible, without too many preconceived notions."
"Third!"
The old man's voice suddenly grew louder as he slammed the table, his face etched with the weight of years, his inner frustration barely concealed.
"Haven't you been scolded enough? If you bring The Vault in now, what will the families of the victims think? What about the families of previous victims? This is making a public statement. Public opinion is a sharp blade—once you swing it, someone will get hurt. I can already imagine how the media will spin this. Who will write the reports? Who will attend the review meetings? What if another Logan Carter incident happens? We have to consider the social impact!"
Henry Harris: "I think..."
"And another thing!" Director Campbell said, "The Vault was once a suspect of ours. What did her analysis say? University professor. She used to be a lecturer at a university—not a professor, but close enough. If you bring her in, will your team even agree?"
Henry Harris nodded and said, "I can also give you three reasons."
The man gestured for her to continue.
Henry Harris began, "First, The Vault is very smart—not just ordinarily smart. The case analysis you have in your hand was written by her."
Director Campbell instinctively glanced down at the report, loosened his grip, and quietly set it aside.