The gunfight had thrown the Commerce Tower into chaos, a state that persisted until the police arrived.

Fortunately, Harry and the building's security team managed to prevent any stampedes. As patrol officers began arriving, the people in the tower started to evacuate in an orderly fashion.

Dean was unsure if the miniature model killer had blended into the crowd to escape, so he had to quickly interrogate the unconscious spicy girl.

When it came to interrogations, Dean wasn't afraid of tough talkers or liars; his greatest challenge was interrogating someone on the brink of death. Individuals so close to death were often immune to common threats. It was hard to know how much pressure to apply, and psychological tactics were usually ineffective.

However, these weren't insurmountable difficulties for Dean, who possessed the Level 3 'Mind Reading Technique'.

Dean had Cheston En guard the door while he took a syringe of morphine from his waist pack and injected it directly into the spicy girl's carotid artery.

This method of injection was dangerous but highly efficient. After about ten seconds, the spicy girl, who had passed out from shock, let out a painful moan and opened her eyes.

She blinked groggily, and it took three or four seconds for her memory of recent events to return. Her first instinct was to reach for her gun, but her limbs felt like disconnected machinery. She could feel them, but couldn't control them; she was paralyzed, barely able to move her eyes.

Dean sat before the spicy girl and pinched her cheek. "I've given you some basic first aid, but you've lost a lot of blood. If you don't get to a hospital soon, even if you survive, you'll end up a quadriplegic!"

"You want to know who the Architect is from me?"

"The Architect?" A flicker of understanding crossed Dean's eyes. "Is that the nickname for the miniature model killer?"

The spicy girl smiled painfully. "Do you think I'll tell you?"

"Yes!" Dean stood up, flicking his fingernails. "Why sacrifice yourself for an outsider? I know you're upset about your cover being blown. I'll give you a chance for revenge. Just tell me where the Architect is, and you can get medical treatment right now. Whether you survive after that is up to you!"

The spicy girl didn't immediately refuse to talk. Despite her slim chances of escape earlier, she had resisted and hadn't possessed any means of suicide, suggesting a confident nature. People like her rarely considered suicide; as long as a sliver of hope remained, they would fight for survival. This was the leverage Dean needed to make her talk.

However, the process would still require some psychological maneuvering. Dean guessed the spicy girl would try to bargain. True enough, after hearing his offer, she shook her head with difficulty. "It's pointless! Your shots were too severe. Even if my wounds are treated, I won't be able to fight normally in the future. I might as well be dead." With that, she closed her eyes.

Seeing this, Dean feigned disappointment and sighed. "Alright, I'll take a step back. Cheston En, there's something I need to discuss with you!"

CREAK.

The door opened. A man, his sleeve still stained with blood, walked in. He glared coldly at the spicy girl on the floor before saying to Dean in a harsh tone, "Detective Dean, stop wasting time on this woman. Our priority now is to check everyone in the building and find the miniature model killer!"

"If you're willing to help arrange a clean identity for her, I believe we can get what we want," Dean said. He then looked down at the spicy girl. "Make your decision quickly. The longer you delay, the worse your recovery will be. You're racing against time, and so are we."

The spicy girl looked towards Cheston En. Cheston En looked hesitant but nodded with some difficulty. "I can provide her with a clean informant file to cover up her involvement in this operation, but without a precinct supervisor to enter it into the system, I'm not sure how long such a file would remain valid."

This apparent reluctance, however, made the spicy girl on the floor breathe a small sigh of relief. Who would choose death if they could live?

Under the gaze of the two men, the spicy girl exhaled a breath heavy with the coppery scent of blood, licked her dry lips, and then spoke slowly, "I hope you keep your word. The Architect is my mission target. His real name is Park Budong, he's of Korean descent, and an employee of Mrs. Kim's Department Store Foreign Trade Company."

Upon hearing this, Dean and Cheston En exchanged a look. Damn it! Dean cursed inwardly. Seriously?! They never expected it to come full circle like this. The guy was actually an employee of that Mrs. Kim's Department Store Foreign Trade Company!

Truth and lies, lies and truth. Even Dean hadn't anticipated that the man's actions in the surveillance footage were all a smokescreen, a classic case of hiding in plain sight. If the spicy girl hadn't volunteered the information, there was a high probability they would have let the man escape!

This guy must have read *The Art of War by Sun Tzu*! Dean thought, frustrated, as he rushed out of the room, hoping to intercept Park Budong.

After Dean left, the spicy girl on the floor looked at Cheston En, the FBI agent. "I've given you my bargaining chip. Live or die, just make it quick!"

Cheston En shrugged. "I never lie to women. I'll make a call." With that, he reached into his jacket.

The spicy girl finally let out a sigh of complete relief. I'm alive! Wonderful... my ass!

But her relief lasted less than a second. Her eyes flew wide open, her previously dry and weak mouth contorting into an 'FK' shape as she looked ready to curse Cheston En and his entire lineage.

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