North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws

Camille was half-surprised, half-pleased: "So this is what you look like! That mask from last time really scared me. By the way, Mr. Dean, how did you end up here? Don't tell me..."

She seemed to realize something was wrong and instinctively took a step back.

Dean pulled out his badge, deadpan: "I'm a detective from the precinct. I'm here to see Yang Di. Are you her classmate?"

Upon seeing the badge,

and hearing Yang Di's name,

Camille finally breathed a sigh of relief: "Yeah, I'm Yang Di's roommate. She's... not in a good state right now, so I came to check on her."

She had thought Dean had followed her here.

But now it looked like it was because of that nasty thing that happened to Yang Di.

She opened the door.

Camille pointed to the inner room: "Yang Di's parents are at work and don't get home until after nine at night. Yang Di just fell asleep. If it's possible, Detective Dean, could you let her sleep a bit longer?"

"I'm not in a hurry." Dean glanced around the apartment, his gaze lingering for a moment on a pile of metal cages in the corner, then said offhandedly, "Camille, I used to think you were a high schooler. Didn't expect you to be Yang Di's classmate. Speaking of which, that school's reputation isn't exactly stellar."

"Not much I can do. I don't like studying, and my family doesn't have money, so all I could do was get a college diploma." Camille was pretty chill about it. "Besides, pharmacology's kind of interesting. I'm thinking about getting a master's and switching to veterinary science."

As she spoke,

her eyes flashed slyly at Dean: "By the way, you just said I looked like a high schooler, and on the phone you even called me sweet and cute. You wouldn't happen to like girls who are fifteen or sixteen, would you? That's a pretty dangerous thing, you know."

Even though marriage is legal in some states in the United States,

Los Angeles isn't one of them.

The current law in California: If an adult male has sexual relations with a minor aged fourteen to seventeen, it's illegal even if both sides consent.

Either jail time, or you pay up.

One accusation, and you're done for sure.

Plenty of men who can't keep it in their pants get blackmailed by little bad girls chasing the opportunity.

"Camille, that's slander against a young and outstanding detective." Dean rolled his eyes. "And I'm not exactly lacking in dates."

"But you just told me earlier you were going to confess to the goddess you've been in love with for years." Camille looked indignant.

"That was me teaching my kid brother how to pick up girls."

Dean shut down the topic: "Since your classmate's sleeping, would you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Camille plopped onto the sofa and crossed her legs, showing off her long legs in thick white cashmere stockings. "Ask away. I'm very close with Yang Di, know plenty about that disgusting incident too. I should be able to help you."

Dean took a moment to organize his words, then spoke: "Because Yang Di doesn't have the best reputation at school, I wanted to learn a bit about what she's like as a person."

"They're talking shit!" Camille's face twisted with disgust. "Must be that old bastard Ato Mani. The guy's ancient, but he doesn't care about his family, keeps this shady thing going on with Sophie the bitch, and now he's out to smear Yang Di."

"Ato Mani? Is that the professor who threatened Yang Di?"

"That's him. I saw Sophie in Ato Mani's car once, giving him a blowjob!" Camille paused, then added:

"Oh, and Sophie was the one who invited Yang Di to the Silver orgy party.

I wasn't there at the time. Yang Di hardly interacts with people—doesn't really know about that kind of stuff. She got mocked by those degenerate bitches, so she just went along with them.

By the time I got back to the dorm, it was already too late,

but luckily that bitch Sophie went missing.

Honestly, I hope she died out there!"

She clearly couldn't stand Sophie. Even in front of a detective, Camille came right out and said she wished Sophie was dead somewhere outside.

Dean averted his gaze from Camille's expressions and posture: "Did Sophie pull this trick on a lot of girls?"

"Pretty much, yeah. I've talked to Yang Di about this before.

But she's too timid, didn't dare offend anyone. Plus, it was daytime and there were tons of girls around, so she thought it would be fine.

She didn't realize those bitches had been through this before, too. It's just that they chose to become depraved—hell, they even hope others will suffer the same shit as them.

It's like, as long as everyone else becomes as miserable as they are, they don't have to worry about people looking at them funny anymore."

The more Camille talked, the angrier she got, her fists clenched and her baby face flushing like she was drunk.

Dean's eyes, on the other hand, narrowed slightly.

Camille was dodging and avoiding his question!

Dean stood up, and under Camille's startled gaze, leaned right in close, his eyes drilling into her panicked, flickering ones, repeating: "Did Sophie pull this trick on a lot of girls?"

Camille tried to retreat.

But behind her was only the sofa backrest.

Camille had nowhere to go. She could only shut her eyes, trembling in fear: "Don't do this, you're scaring me."

They were way too close now.

The sweet, sticky scent unique to teenage girls brushed right up against Dean's face, carrying a hint of heat and, paired with the girl's frightened, eyes-shut look, was downright tempting.

But Dean's eyes were still icy cold:

"Since coming in here, you've used no fewer than three rounds of psychological suggestion on me, tried to tempt and test me twice, and every time you answer, you use montage-style storytelling.

My patience is running thin.

Tell me now—what's your real relationship with Sophie!"

Every word Camille had said after learning Dean was a detective had a hidden agenda:

The first psychological suggestion: implying she and Yang Di were super close.