Mom handed the holographic image of the restored paper receipt to the forensics team, rubbing her sore neck as she sighed to Dad, "I hope we can find something from this receipt. Did you remind Tia to activate the home defense system?" Dad nodded grimly, then hesitated before speaking. "Honey, Nova has been offline this whole time and hasn't replied to Leo. Do you think something really happened? Should we use the 'God's Eye' system to track her location?" Mom interrupted him irritably. "Oh, come on, don't you know her? She's just hiding in some basement that shields signals, waiting for us to go look for her. It's not like this is the first time she's played this game." "She just doesn't want to attend Tia's celebration. By tomorrow at the latest, she'll definitely call crying to apologize." The last time I went "missing," it was during summer break. Tia tricked me into going to an abandoned server room and locked the electronic door. There was no signal, no food, and no matter how I tried to hack the lock, it was useless. I used every ounce of my strength to dismantle the fan in the vent to escape. Covered in oil and scratches, dragging a short-circuited leg, I limped all the way home. Yet, what greeted me was not comfort, but a slap from Dad and a scolding from Mom. "Tia said she saw you going to the Red Light District with an illegal modifier? How did I give birth to such a shameless daughter!" I couldn't defend myself and could only watch Tia snickering in the corner. Brother Leo comforted me while repairing my prosthetic limb. "Mom and Dad don't hate you; they just don't know how to get along with you." But I knew in my heart that in this house, love and attention were never distributed equally; the scales always tipped toward the one they favored. If I were still alive, right now I would be at home writing code, preparing to optimize the police firewall for them since they couldn't come home due to overtime. But this time, I was destined not to appear and apologize as they expected. After all, the current me is just a pile of cold scrap metal and rotting flesh. The results from forensics came back quickly. The slip of paper was a receipt from an "Old Era Antique Shop." It was what the killer had stuffed down my throat, forcing me to swallow it. "Bought this for your parents? They'd just throw you away like trash anyway." Dad frowned. "What is this place?" Miller hesitated. "I checked. It's a shop in the Old District that sells vintage items from the 21st century." When my parents and the other officers walked into the shop filled with nostalgic atmosphere, the proprietress was startled. She took the image of the receipt, glanced at the serial number in the corner, and opened a physical ledger. "A young girl came to buy something a while ago. She said her parents worked very hard and often had headaches, so she wanted to buy them an antique music box. She heard that kind of pure mechanical sound could relieve neural stress." "But she never came to pick it up. I called her, but no one answered." The proprietress took out two exquisite mechanical music boxes and said softly, "These items symbolize peace and tranquility." Dad took the music box, listening to the crisp mechanical melody, and sighed. "Is the surveillance footage from the shop still available?" The owner nodded. "That little girl was very quiet. Although her cybernetics were old, she was very polite. She spent a long time choosing the two gifts that would best suit her parents. She left a strong impression on me." When the holographic surveillance footage began to play, all the officers fell into silence. Mom swallowed with difficulty, staring fixedly at the screen. "This girl... why does she look so much like Nova?" Hearing this, the proprietress interjected, "Nova? The name left on the receipt was Nova!" Dad’s face instantly darkened. He forced himself to remain calm. "It's probably just someone with the same name. Nova is likely hiding somewhere laughing at us right now." "Owner, are you in cahoots with her? Do you think you can mock the Special Service like this?" Suddenly, Mom’s communicator rang. She answered it with trembling hands. "Hello, Dr. Chen?" Dr. Chen from the Genetic Identification Center spoke in a rushed tone. "Sarah, the DNA comparison results for the deceased are back."