Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

"Please sit down, young lady. There's nothing much to offer you here, I hope you won't mind."

"Suffini is a good girl, but she can be temperamental sometimes. I hope you can be more tolerant of her..."

This opened the floodgates of conversation. Perhaps it was Charlotte's expensive attire, but she spared no effort in praising her daughter, seemingly trying to improve Charlotte's impression, or perhaps it was some kind of unconventional sales pitch.

Her thoughts paused; the young girl could no longer see a trace of elegance in this former noblewoman.

Beyond Sufby's transformation was even more complete. Having endured hardship, she was no different from those ordinary women in the city, as if she had completely lost all hope for life and become a wisp of turbid ash under the black smoke.

A lump formed in her throat, and Charlotte clenched her sleeves tightly, trying to make her smile appear more genuine.

"Actually, while being a friend, I was also asked by Sophie to help find her missing sister, who is also your daughter, Madam. If possible, could you please tell me the details?"

Without changing the way she addressed them, and mindful of both sides' feelings, the girl unusually abandoned her haughty demeanor and softened her voice.

However, what awaited her was the same hesitation, and a painful and helpless sigh.

"...We have no money."

The room fell silent for a moment, and even the young girl beside her stood there dumbfounded, stammering without saying a word.

Including Sophie and the missing girl, this impoverished family has a total of four members, which is a heavy burden for a single mother.

Charlotte pursed her lips and sighed inwardly. Unlike her pursuit of unrestrained pleasure, she was damnably weak against suffering.

So, he spoke again.

"Actually, I occasionally do volunteer work, simply to help others, just like the unpaid mutual assistance between friends."

"Volunteer..."

Clutching the soiled clothes, the middle-aged woman still found the word "suffix" hard to believe, but thankfully the young girl patiently repeated it again.

"This commission is free, no, not entirely free. Your eldest daughter, Sufby, will have to repay me well in the future, won't she?"

Like an intimate, cheerful friend, she shifted her gaze to Sofby, drawing out the last syllable as she appraised the former's voluptuous figure with a half-smile.

Of course, this was just a joke, a joke I knew but you didn't. As a lady, a reserved lady, Charlotte didn't need such superficial things. She was just pointing out the deep gratitude between them based on the situation.

However, a lady is still a woman, and women, often, occasionally, unintentionally, tell seemingly untrue lies, like the one mentioned above.

After a moment of silence, the woman raised her wrinkled and swollen hands, worn from long hours of washing, wiped her heavy eye sockets, and whispered her thanks.

“Miss Watson, you are such a kind and good girl. Sophie is very lucky to have met you.”

His knuckles clenched slightly, and indignation and sorrow flashed through his eyes, turning into fragments of memory he no longer wanted to see.

“In the past, those glamorous people unconditionally showed us kindness, but when we really fell into this situation, they changed their tune and, like jackals, took away everything we had. Only then did I understand what true feelings are and what false intentions are.”

Knowing that her eldest daughter couldn't hide anything because of her personality, and not caring about the truth revealed in her words, she had nothing left except her children.

No longer holding her tongue tightly, the woman's voice trembled slightly, as if she were recalling the truth and gathering her emotions.

"...Three days ago, in the afternoon, when the sun was high in the sky, I took Samuel and greeted the factory workers who were with me. We were about to deliver a batch of washed clothes to the factory. The location was a little west of the port residential area. It was about a 20-minute walk from the station, crossing three blocks."

"In my haste to get back to take care of Liz, I chose an alley I rarely take. At that time, I was thinking about which way to go next, and before I knew it, the silly girl following behind me had disappeared."

"After that, I put down my clothes and searched around the neighborhood for an entire afternoon. I thought the child might have stopped somewhere because she was tired, I thought she might have taken the bus back here, I thought she might have been tempted by the snacks sold by the vendors."

The more she spoke, the more agitated the woman became. In the end, she could no longer suppress her emotions and suddenly choked up.

"It's not her fault. She's still young, and it takes time for her to adapt to the changes in her situation. That day, I just wanted her to see how difficult life is, so that she would be less arrogant and more easygoing in the future. After all, these are things that we all have to face eventually."

"But I never imagined she would never come back..."

Having lost her husband, her title, and her wealth, when everything that was once within her grasp was gone, the woman was stripped of her upright spine and could only stoop to make a living, struggling to survive, clinging to any hope or a sliver of solace.

She had once hoped for a mature eldest son, but he, who was always steady, was the first to be unable to accept reality. On a moonless night, he jumped into a ditch and drowned himself.

When the fishermen by the river pulled the bodies out, the police, upon hearing the news, impatiently told her in a cold voice that there was no greater sorrow than a broken heart, and that she only had one reason to live: to take care of these girls as they grew up, to help them shed their arrogance, and to reintegrate into society.

Touched by her mother's words, the girl, who had been silent with her head down since entering the room, also covered her eyes and couldn't help but sob.

"Sister Watson, Samuel will be alright, right?"

"...I will find out the truth."

Without offering a definitive answer, Charlotte slowly calmed herself and gave only the promise she could make.

The whereabouts of every victim in the missing girl case remain unknown. Three days is enough time for countless tragedies to occur, and I cannot bring myself to lie to a mere child.

Based on the information gathered so far, including the time and location, it seems more like a random crime, and Samuel Bertrand doesn't have much in common with previous victims.

If one had to make a comparison, the viscount's daughter, Ksia, was similar to the former, also having noble blood flowing through her veins.

"Could you take me to Miss Samuel's bedroom?"

This seemingly insignificant similarity was not overlooked; things that few people notice are not obstacles, but rather a hidden signal.

Charlotte had a feeling that she was getting closer to the truth.

"follow me."

Following Sufby, she pushed aside the crooked partition and entered an even narrower room. Although she had expected it, the sight of the pile of wet clothes still surprised the girl.

This place is not only where the girls sleep at night, but also their workplace. The dampness permeates the room as always, seeping into their bodies over time.

In addition, a musty odor with a mixture of various smells is also quite noticeable.

Unconsciously twitching her nose, Charlotte, with her keen sense of smell, detected a faint smell of rust.

is blood.

Although the movement was subtle, it was noticed by Sophie, who had been observing the girl. She seemed to want to explain, but then remembered that she no longer needed to pretend in front of the other girl.

So, she turned her face away with a sense of relief, a hint of self-deprecation in her expression.

"You must be feeling unwell, the smell here is unpleasant, isn't it?"

Her words were vague and tinged with disappointment. However, Charlotte simply took out a tissue, blew out a soft whimper, and then denied it in a muffled, slightly naive voice.

"Achoo, I have a cold, I can't smell anything..."

Miss Watson, with her kind heart, never kicks anyone when they're down; she's so understanding and knows how to take care of other people's feelings.

Upon hearing this, the red-haired girl was stunned for a moment, and felt a sense of warmth for no reason.

"May I look through these things?"

"Ah."

The question and answer were concise and clear. The girl bent down and searched for clues between the table and the bedside table, while Sophie opened her beautiful eyes and quietly admired the former's neat and decisive movements as she leaned forward and leaped.

Seconds passed by, until—

What is this book?

After eliminating the less important items one by one, Charlotte found a slightly yellowed book in the crease between the bed frame and the mattress.

The fingerprints on the cover and the nearly worn-out pages reveal the owner's fondness for it.

"The full name is The New Noble of Turquoise, a novel that Samuel loved to read. It tells the story of a lost count who hides overseas, accumulates power, and then returns to the capital to seek revenge. As for the author, it is the rather famous 'Mistletoe'."

As if recalling the scene of sitting around the candlelight in the past, every word of the red-haired girl was filled with remembrance and sorrow.

As the gentle voice spoke, the girl turned the pages one by one and found the source of the bloody smell: a piece of silver foil.

Looking closer, on that bright background, several lines of unfamiliar words were engraved, with corresponding annotations on the right.

The difference between the two handwritings is quite obvious. By observing the pressure of the strokes, it can be seen that the annotations sometimes have broken ink, indicating that the author was hesitant in interpreting the meaning. It is clear that they were written by two completely different authors.

The characters engraved on the left were completely different from the writing system Charlotte knew. They were convoluted and obscure, leaning towards realism, and more like ancient pictographs used in some kind of ritual or sacrifice.

Intrigued, she compared the characters word by word and sentence by sentence, looking for similar radicals and components. She vaguely noticed that the end of each line was a combination of numbers and measure words.

This doesn't seem like a detailed description; it's more like a recipe for some kind of medicine or object.

Furthermore, focusing on the very beginning, and adding the limited annotations, the meaning should be—

Eighty milliliters of pure water, forty milliliters of blue blood, five grams of rosemary, and six drops of water fern juice.

P.S.: I updated late today, but there are still two chapters with 4,000 words each.

I also hope everyone will vote and check in to respond, otherwise I'll feel really lonely. ┭┮﹏┭┮

Chapter Thirteen: Hostages

Blue blood.

Ignoring the rest of the vocabulary, Charlotte focused her attention solely on this particular word.

Judging from the arrangement of the words, it resembles the ingredients of some kind of medicine, and the blue blood in its previous life also had a deeper meaning.

It is not only a description of color, but also a symbol of social status. In the past, people often used blue blood to describe European nobles and people of noble birth.

It is not that they were born noble, but because they were pampered and well-maintained, their skin was fair and delicate, and even their veins were faintly visible, so they looked like blue-purple droplets from the outside.

Charlotte knew very well that it was the result of her lifestyle, but living in this strange world, she always had to have some ideas about the unknown.

For example, touching extraordinary advancement potions, long-standing alchemical formulas, or deeply rooted mystical doctrines?

There are countless similar settings, and the books she has read have honed her ability to accept information.

If it were true, then many illogical things could be explained. This era with fewer entertainment options would bring her more fun, even though the challenges would increase. But she has never been afraid of fear and is always engrossed in silly games.

Her pale fingertips repeatedly turned the pages of the book, her silver-gray eyes gradually brightening. The girl had a strong intuition, like a pilgrim stumbling forward, that she was only one door away from stepping into that sanctuary.

Discarding her fascination and avoiding getting too absorbed, Charlotte stroked the spine of the book and asked casually.

"Sophie, does your sister have a tendency to self-harm?"

"How could that be? Although she is clumsy, she is like a stubborn grass that never bows her head."

She immediately denied it, and the red-haired girl's eyes seemed to gradually become moist.

“She used to sleep with me, and she would often pester me to read her this story of the newly rich in Tundra. Sometimes she wouldn't even close her eyes to sleep after the candle went out. I remember her vowing that she would take me, Liz, and my mother away from Tingen, back to Florence, and reclaim our lost dignity and pride…”

"She was so confident, like a radiant little lion."

Clenching her fingers and clutching the sheets, she tore away her pretense for her family and begged her younger sister. This radiant flower, having completely abandoned her pride, did not become dull or gloomy. Instead, she exuded a fragile and pitiful charm that made people want to pity and deceive her.

However, Charlotte's attention was not on this matter at the moment. Even when she caught a glimpse of the tearful eyes, she simply picked up the silver foil, showed the blood-stained corner to the former, and said in a deep voice.

"But this page does indeed bear her bloodstains."

The questioning just now was a prelude to this move. Charlotte was to pretend to be an uninformed outsider and naturally peel off the foil to test Sophie's reaction.

If there is obvious emotion, it means that the person is aware of the situation and has a connection with the Dill family. Conversely, if the person is confused, it means that the opportunity obtained above is only for Samuel alone.

Rational thinking strips away pity, allowing the girl to see the world with unparalleled clarity.

Oh, don't blame her for being cold and ruthless. She does have pity on the suffering of life, but she also knows what's important and what's not. In a situation where she lacks power, no one can tempt her more than the extraordinary, especially a minor character she doesn't know very well.

"How could that be? That's clearly something Father used to carry around when he was still alive. Shouldn't it be with Mother?"

Sufby's pupils contracted as she stared at the silver foil between the girl's fingers, unable to contain her astonishment, and she murmured in surprise.

It seems the outcome leans towards the former, towards Charlotte's preferred interpretation.

"Can you tell me more about it?"

The question was neither too serious nor too light. Of course, whether or not she got an answer was not important, because through her extraordinary senses, she had already mentally rehearsed the words several times, completing a deep accumulation of memory.

The words spoken now were merely a consideration of her impression on Sophie, whether this was a secret that could not be told to outsiders, and how she should face this fallen noblewoman in the future.

Upon hearing this, the red-haired girl pursed her lips and hesitated for a moment, but when she recalled everything that had happened before, she suppressed her concerns and nodded.

"Um......"

During that interview, he had a falling out with Miss Watson, but when they met again, he was kind to her and not only enjoyed some rare snacks but also received a generous tip.

Sophie still remembers that cheerful volunteer's voice and that gentle smile clearly. In a way, she does owe Charlotte a lot of kindness.

Even if the other person is sometimes willful and arrogant, or sometimes sharp-tongued, the girl will still find solace in them when she is emotionally unbalanced, whether it is a deliberate joke or a deliberate act of feigning ignorance.

Isn't this what it means to say one thing and mean another?

Compared to her former self, and those nobles whose pride was ingrained in their bones, she seemed so special—wealthy, confident, outstanding, and most importantly, kind. This young lady, who should have been cold and rigid, was willing to set aside her pride, venture into the dirty streets, and become friends with her, who was in the mire of depravity.

I wouldn't say I was at a loss, but I was definitely touched. So, if we became friends and then stopped at this unnecessary hesitation, I would feel a tightness in my chest, and I wouldn't be able to let go.

Perhaps my father told me not to tell the truth to others, but now, what could be more important than family?

I made up an excuse for myself: what if this problem really is related to my sister's disappearance?

No longer keeping quiet, she calmed herself and spoke softly.