Julian Grant entered the office and, before he could say a word, received a system warning.

　　【Due to excessive reports, timely verification is not possible. Please, Overseer, restrain your own behavior. If violations are confirmed, criticism will follow.】

　　Julian Grant was momentarily stunned—this was by far the most unjust warning he had ever received, and it was surely the handiwork of Susan Scott and others.

　　He reflected carefully and concluded that the worst thing he had done so far was simply showing up alive.

　　This site message, clearly meant to stir up trouble, combined with the fact that only The Vault was in front of him... Julian Grant quickly put two and two together and had a good idea of what was going on.

　　The Vault rested both hands on the table, nudged her notebook forward a bit, and kept her gaze fixed on it. After waiting a while without hearing Julian Grant speak, she made a questioning sound.

　　A pair of hands reached up to her ears, carefully tucking the stray strands of hair behind them, then straightened her collar, smoothing out even the smallest wrinkles.

　　His movements were slow, as if deliberately drawing out the moment. The livestream camera lingered on Julian Grant's slender, well-defined hands, capturing even the subtle brush of his fingers against The Vault's cheek in clear detail, making the scene feel especially intimate.

　　Most importantly, The Vault didn’t pull away.

　　The comment section, which had been full of banter, froze for a split second before erupting into chaos.

　　Netizens all shouted in unison. Exclamation marks and wild emojis flooded the chat like a waterfall.

　　“Damn you, old villain! How dare you insult my father!”

　　“I knew it! I knew it!! I’m done for!”

　　“Is San Yao still recruiting? The Overseer type. I can work for free. [smile]”

　　“Why didn’t you crush his dog head? Huh? Dad, you’ve changed!”

　　“No—no!!”

　　At times like this, the backstage complaints really did come pouring in like snowflakes. Susan Scott and the others were scrambling, swallowing their blood and tears, nearly ready to kneel to Julian Grant.

　　What a disaster!

　　Julian Grant received a tearful, pleading emoji from the backend and finally withdrew his hand, smiling at The Vault. He pulled out a notebook and got down to business.

　　“Around 9:30 p.m. on September 21st, the victim, Liu, female, was murdered in the back alley of HY Community. She was stabbed three times in the chest, all deep wounds. One of them pierced her liver and was fatal.

　　“The murder weapon hasn’t been found yet, but according to the forensic report, it was likely a sharpened fruit knife—very sharp at the tip, with a smooth blade. Part of the blade broke off and was left in the victim’s body. All signs point to this being a premeditated murder.

　　“At 5:30 the next morning, an early-rising resident discovered the body and called the police. By the time officers arrived, the scene had already been heavily disturbed.”

　　Julian Grant laid out a row of photos in front of her.

　　The photos documented the crime scene from various angles.

　　It had rained the night before, leaving the ground muddy. The traces from the previous night had been washed away, while fresh footprints from the morning remained.

　　There were many messy footprints around the body, and from their depth, it was clear they were left after the body was found. The local residents didn’t know how to preserve a crime scene, making evidence collection difficult.

　　The Vault flipped through the photos one by one, finally pausing on the victim.

　　The woman’s eyes were tightly shut, her face swollen from the rain, her whole body a bluish-white.

　　The Vault asked, “Were there any signs of a struggle on the victim?”

　　“No.”

　　“Did anyone nearby hear cries for help?”

　　“No. It was pouring last night, and most people had their doors and windows shut. Plus, the murder site is close to the road, and most residents nearby are elderly. We canvassed the area, and everyone said they didn’t hear anything.”

　　Julian Grant demonstrated with his hands: “The stab wounds entered from the front, and the victim didn’t resist. That means the killer struck suddenly, and the victim was completely unprepared—the perpetrator was likely someone she knew. One of the wounds was lower and angled upward, so at the time of the crime, one person was probably standing on a step and the other below. After the first stab, the killer quickly pinned the victim down, covered her mouth, and delivered two more stabs to ensure her death, then fled in a panic.”

　　Julian Grant took out a map and marked it with a red pen: “The escape route was probably like this. Two witnesses happened to see the suspect leaving.”

　　The distance between the two witness points was considerable, and the route was a bit winding if connected by a red line.

　　The Vault looked at the map, unconsciously rubbing her chin with her left hand.

　　“Based on the witnesses’ statements, we reconstructed what the suspect was wearing that day and used that as a basis for our investigation. We quickly found another witness—a shop owner near HY Community who’s been there for over a decade. He gave us the name of a suspect.”

　　Julian Grant placed the final photo on the table.

　　“Nancy Dawson. Sixteen years old, currently a first-year high school student.”

　　※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※

　　Happy Qixi Festival~

　　Victim: Zoe Collins—alias Laura Lowell

　　Suspect: Harry Forrest—alias Nancy Dawson

Extra: Harry Forrest 02

　　The person in the photo still had a hint of youthful innocence in his features, with a rebellious glint in his eyes as he stared straight at the camera.

　　The model didn’t really resemble the real Harry Forrest, but the spirit was strikingly accurate.

　　The Vault stared at the photo for several seconds before finally looking away.

　　At that moment, another young man knocked and entered, stopping at the door to say, “Captain, Nancy Dawson is here.”

　　·

　　Harry Forrest sat motionless in the closed interrogation room, staring at the table, his whole body radiating anxiety. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, his muscles were still tightly tensed.

　　The Vault took one look and could see the suppressed resistance in his expression.

　　Julian Grant walked in first, pulled out the chairs on both sides, and sat down with The Vault. After confirming the camera was on, he opened the laptop in front of him, ready to take notes.

　　Harry Forrest heard the commotion and looked up slightly. Meeting The Vault’s gaze, some of his prickly defensiveness faded, and he exhaled deeply, waiting for their questions.

　　The Vault asked, “Where were you last night?”

　　“HY Community.” Harry Forrest’s voice was flat, repeating what he’d probably said countless times. “To be precise, I wasn’t originally going to Garden Community, but it was pouring last night, and the person who wanted to meet me took shelter in HY Community. I’m familiar with the area, so I agreed to meet her under the rain shelter.”

　　The crisp, rapid clacking of the keyboard echoed, the high-speed typing seeming to set the pace for the conversation.

　　The Vault: “And then?”

　　Harry Forrest: “Then I went to buy a second-hand camera.”

　　“Where did you get the money?”

　　“I earned it.”

　　“How?”

　　“By attending classes.”

　　“You can make money by attending classes?” The Vault gave a humorless smile. “Don’t give me perfunctory answers.”

　　Their conversation was fast-paced, even a bit confrontational, which surprised the livestream viewers.

　　They had expected The Vault to gently guide her student with patience. But sitting here, she seemed like a different person.

　　Harry Forrest still kept his head down, letting his bangs obscure his eyes. After a pause, he continued, “Laura Lowell asked me to attend classes for her, take notes, and investigate the students in the class. Twelve classes, seven thousand yuan.”

　　“Whose classes? Where? Why? Didn’t you find it suspicious?” The Vault fired off several questions, her intense gaze seeming to bore a hole through him. “What was so special about the students in that class?”

　　“Nothing. I don’t know. I just saw the money and didn’t think much about it.” Harry Forrest shook his head. “They were a few social psychology classes. She asked me to attend, so I did. She said it was fine if I didn’t get anything out of it, just hand over the recordings. I thought it was normal, since it was a public lecture at a well-known university.”

　　The Vault raised an eyebrow. “Just like that, seven thousand yuan?” There was a clear hint of a smile in her tone, but it wasn’t friendly at all.

　　Harry Forrest lowered his voice. “Yes.”

　　The Vault shifted her posture, resting one hand on the table, fingers spinning a pen up and down.

　　Harry Forrest knew this meant she was thinking—or rather, doubting him.

　　He also knew his explanation wasn’t very convincing, maybe even absurd, but being questioned and scrutinized again still sent a chill from his feet slowly creeping upward.

　　He didn’t know how much time passed before The Vault finally looked away. For the first time, she opened the file on the table, flipping through the pages with her slender fingers.