Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

Charlotte crouched down and took a glass sampling bottle from her suitcase. The metal tweezers made a crisp clinking sound as they slid across the bottle's opening, startling a greasy-feathered crow that flew away from the shore.

"Upstream smelters are discharging untreated wastewater directly into tributaries. Everyone is drinking water pumped from the Rhine, and even if this epidemic did not originate from it, it will eventually become a source of transmission."

The resounding words froze the air. Even with the attempt to conceal it, guilt still surfaced on their faces, causing the accompanying group to stop in their tracks.

"You're right..."

One of the raven-faced men responded in a low voice, which sounded particularly muffled through his spice-stuffed beak. He reached out and took the sampling bottle Charlotte offered, but then suddenly paused.

Behind his glasses, his gaze was fixed on a certain spot on the river.

Charlotte followed his gaze—in the murky river, half a bloated rat carcass floated slowly by, like a piece of scrap meat, its skin covered with honeycomb-like holes, undulating slightly with the current.

"What is that?" another man with a raven mask asked, his voice tense.

Without answering, the woman quickly took the sampling bottle and precisely grasped the object with tweezers.

The moment it was lifted out of the water, everyone smelled a sweet, rotten odor and saw the red spots on its belly that were exactly the same as those on the patient.

"The first animal sample showed symptoms similar to those in the later stages of the disease."

Charlotte took out paper and pen and began to write without pausing. Her movements were swift and precise, and the sound of ink rustling on the paper was audible. The rat carcass had already been sealed into a glass container, and when she sealed the bottle with wax, there was no sign of trembling in her hands or eyes.

“We need to expand the sampling area.” She stood up, the river breeze lifting her dark brown sideburns and revealing her sharp eyes.

The masked men looked at each other, a hint of hesitation flashing behind their goggles.

“This doesn’t follow procedure…” one of them stammered.

"Procedure?" It wasn't a sneer or sarcasm; Dr. Bella was always a gentle person and would only present everything with the truth. "While the patients' suffering was laid bare before my eyes, those congressmen were still arguing about which font to use to write the report."

The fog on the riverbank suddenly thickened, and the distant factory whistles sounded like the wailing of a dying man. The third masked man suddenly coughed, staggered and grabbed the railing, his breathing beneath the mask becoming extremely heavy.

A cold wind blew, inadvertently lifting the person's sleeve to reveal abnormal skin; the red spots on the patient's body were spreading and proliferating at a visible rate.

The air solidified instantly.

The other two men in raven masks instinctively took a half step back, their leather gloves rustling against their cotton robes. But Charlotte stepped forward, grabbed the man's wrist, and before he could react, she had already removed the veil.

Patches of blisters, like some kind of vicious vine, spread from my wrist all the way to my chest and lungs.

When did the symptoms appear?

Without a care or distraction, her meticulous expression fell into the former's eyes, dispelling the deep-seated panic and giving him immense peace of mind.

Looking at those delicate eyebrows and listening to that calm voice, the man with the raven mask remained silent for a moment before finally dropping his disguise: "Three days ago... I did some free medical work at the orphanage."

The river wind suddenly became biting.

Charlotte gazed toward the spire of the city hall in the distance, the hypocritical smiles of those councilors still vivid in her mind.

She roughly understood Fowler's methods: a single person's framing is too conspicuous and easily arouses controversy, while collective suffering can greatly assimilate people's perceptions and dilute the influence of the individual.

Therefore, there was no medical committee assisting in the investigation, and the so-called colleagues were nothing more than uninformed individuals, pawns to be discarded.

As her vision slowly rose, the ethereal bodies of various colors had already shown her that this epidemic, with its symptoms, was caused by spiritual pollution, the work of extraordinary beings.

The aggravated germs were also eroding her lungs, but were blocked by the barrier created by the 'monster'.

Charlotte released her grip and took a sealed glass tube from the bottom of the suitcase.

"Add this to tonight's drinking water." The pale liquid sloshed slightly in the tube. "Strychnine diluent, it can slow the progression of symptoms."

"You've been sick for a long time..." The crow-faced man's voice trembled.

“I knew all along this wasn’t an ordinary illness.” Charlotte carefully packed the sampling bottles into her suitcase, the click of the metal clasps closing sounding like a kind of verdict.

She pointed to the towering chimneys on the opposite bank of the river, those steel monsters spewing thick, brownish smoke.

“They’re using substandard lead pipes to transport this so-called ‘purified water,’ while mercury-containing wastewater from the smelter is seeping into the tributaries every day. Now, tell me—” Her gaze swept over the three men with grizzly faces, “does the Medical Committee’s ‘standard procedure’ teach you how to cure greed?”

The fog grew thicker, and the Rhine River flowed beneath our feet with a viscous sound, like a pot of poison that had been simmering for too long. Suddenly, the sick, masked man removed his mask, revealing a young face covered in sweat.

“I’ll go upstream with you.” He tore off the armband embroidered with the committee’s emblem. “Perhaps they’ve already considered me dead too.”

The other two exchanged a glance, and their long-beaked masks slowly pressed down as well.

With this, I am no longer alone on my journey.

Chapter 153 Sophie's Interrogation

Thick fog enveloped the river like solidified molten lead. The four men traveled north along the rusty cargo shipping route, the stone slabs beneath their feet now replaced by mud and filth.

As my footsteps grew heavier, the buildings in the industrial zone became increasingly dense, and the towering factory buildings cast shadows that fragmented the already thin morning light.

“The upstream smelter.” Standing before the high wall separating the inside from the outside, Charlotte pointed to the towering chimneys faintly visible in the distance. “That’s the most polluted area, and the place we have to investigate.”

The young doctor who removed his mask—now known as Jacob—was breathing increasingly labored. Strychnine could only delay the onset of symptoms, but could not stop the devastating effects of the accumulated pathogen.

Dark red spots had climbed up his chest and lungs to his neck, causing him to choke and speak in a hoarse voice.

"Well, the sluice gate is just ahead. The smelter's drainage pipes are all concentrated upstream of the gate. But that area is under military police control; you can't get close without a pass."

“That’s why they sent us,” another man with a raven mask said in a low voice, his voice bitter. “Fowle knows we can’t get in. Whether we comply or rebel, we won’t get any evidence that can be put on the table.”

The third masked man finally removed his mask, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman with deep wrinkles around her eyes. "I am Marian, and this is Luke." She gestured to her companion beside her. "We are both low-level researchers on the Medical Council, with no background or connections."

"Even if the hypothetical inferences are presented, without sufficient evidence, these generalized results can still be easily refuted by others, just like what you have experienced."

Yes, the so-called medical committee did not deliberately ignore the urgency of the epidemic, but the changes to the entire water supply structure had a profound impact. Driven by interests, the insignificant lives of the common people were insignificant in the eyes of those in power and were worth putting aside.

Charlotte knew this from the previous convergence of clues, and she understood that even if it was intentional, the authorities would eventually have to give the victims an explanation. As for how to do it, how to say it, and how to appease public opinion and the people's discontent.

Looking behind them at the three people whose symptoms were worsening, the answer was obvious: simply find some scapegoats.

Disrespecting medical duties, delaying investigations, and indirectly causing the deaths of thousands of people—such charges are most suitable for those who are powerless and vulnerable, and can be discarded at any time.

Whether they die mysteriously during their investigations or miraculously survive, the label of sinner will fall on their heads, while those in power can simply sit back and enjoy the reputation of governing the world, laughing at this turmoil.

As for the differences?

That is, the former still needs to appease the lingering anger of the people, while the latter just happens to push these few dying, worthless lives forward.

Fauvel, no, perhaps that fool didn't realize that if they died, he, as the voice of the Earl of Montero and many of his business associates, would be the next lamb to the slaughter.

Tsk tsk.

Suddenly, she felt that dying was quite interesting. Watching those hypocritical people kneel down helplessly and panickedly without hiding their fear was a source of endless amusement for her.

Oh well.

This puppet shouldn't have been destroyed so easily.

"You can go back." Her voice remained calm; she simply said, "I'll go upstream alone."

Jacob coughed violently, spitting out a mouthful of phlegm streaked with blood. "Go back?"

He chuckled dryly, "Going back would be the same as dying anyway, but at least if I stay with you, I can die knowing why."

Marian and Luke exchanged a glance and nodded simultaneously.

"Although it was only a brief encounter in Parliament, Ms. Valenti, your courage to speak the truth and your innovative spirit are admirable, both to us who were sitting on the sidelines and to everyone listening in the audience."

“At this point, we have no other choice.”

With each step she took, as the soles of her boots rolled over the coal dust between the track sleepers, Charlotte paused again, using tweezers to pick up something the size of half a fingernail from the coal ash.

"This is?"

The thin metal sheet was etched with a blurred emblem: a gear entwined with vines.

Luke took a deep breath. "The Plymouth Union Steel logo... they just received the City Hall's Medal of Honor for Hygiene last week."

"The medal is probably made of lead." Charlotte said coldly, about to speak again, when a sudden itch squeezed from her insides into her throat, forming a sweet, dark red streak at the corner of her mouth. The other three rushed over in alarm, but she waved them away. "It's nothing, just an old ailment."

Regardless of the impact of the epidemic, this is indeed an old problem; the body, which has been exposed to drugs, seems to be further decaying in this environment.

Of course, this was not only a natural manifestation of her illness and weakness, but also a display of her vulnerability to others. In fact, through the perspective of the 'beloved,' she had already caught a malicious gaze.

Those latent spiritualities seeped into the lungs with each breath, exacerbating the division and proliferation of germs, and corrupting each other's bodies in a short time. Jacob was like this, as were the other two. As a fellow traveler, she naturally had to adopt a similar morbid state.

Unfortunately, these abandoned members of the hospital committee never touched the extraordinary, nor could they detect the pollution lurking in the shadows. Their demeanor along the way was enough to prove that they were pitiful and pathetic.

It seems that the mastermind behind this epidemic will no longer allow them to explore the truth further.

As the gate drew closer, a cloying, rotten smell began to fill the air. Suddenly, Marianne grabbed Charlotte's wrist, and the Ravenbeak mask turned toward the bushes on the right.

Amidst the grey-green vegetation typical of the steam age, lay five or six bloated corpses, with countless mosquitoes and flies swarming over the exposed pieces of flesh and blood.

"Goddess!"

Luke's hand trembled uncontrollably as he made the sign of the cross. The corpses were like inflated sacks, every inch of their skin covered in dark red markings. Several of them had even burst open, revealing their decaying internal organs. "This is simply..."

“A tributary of hell,” Jacob replied, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

Unmoved by the expressions of others, Charlotte put on rubber gloves and began to examine the corpses. As she pried open the fingers of a woman's body, the metallic glint stung her eyelids—it was a brass name tag engraved with 'Plymouth - Cleanroom - 1147'.

Holding the employee ID badge up to his eyes, the metal edge still bore traces of the deceased's congealed blood, proving that the time of death was approaching. It was all too ironic that a worker in the smelter's purification workshop died at the downstream gate.

"They didn't die of illness."

By examining her eyelids and prying open her lips and tongue, Charlotte was able to confirm, through her hands and eyes, that the cause of death was not the plague, but drug poisoning.

Besides——

Glancing at the fingertips, the thick rubber glove had been corroded by pus and acid, creating a hole. These man-made germs and the filth emitted by the smelter were strangely compatible, combining infectivity and lethality.

It seems that the mastermind has lost patience and no longer intends to let these mediocre people who have only scratched the surface of the truth go any further.

As the metal badge slipped from her fingertips and fell into the bushes where the corpse lay, several rusty crows, as if sensing an ominous sign, frantically flew out from the eaves and branches.

Snapped.

The dull thud of his body falling was like the sudden tolling of an evening bell. Jacob could no longer support himself and slumped down, the multiplying germs spreading all over his body, causing his flesh to rot and his bones to soften. In an instant, he became one of those corpses.

They died like a pile of mud, utterly worthless.

As if triggered by a chain reaction, Marian and Luke almost simultaneously fell to their knees, their breathing becoming rapid and broken, as if their lungs were filled with molten lead.

The former's raven-beak mask slipped off askew, revealing her paper-white face—dark red markings were visibly creeping up her neck, writhing like some kind of dense, living creature.

The latter was worse; his eyes were yellowed, the whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and a gurgling sound came from his throat, as if something was piercing his throat and growing wildly. He struggled to raise his hand, pointing behind Charlotte, his lips trembling, but he could no longer utter a word.

Charlotte did not turn around.

The germs that enter her internal organs with her breath are just like the evolution in these people's bodies, greedily devouring her body and using it as nourishment to feed a feast that the mastermind behind the scenes reaps the rewards.

This was to be expected, whether it was the onset of illness in his companions or his own current condition.

Well, actually, Charlotte was quite surprised as these 'good buddies,' lured by a few words to dedicate themselves to medicine, headed toward their deaths. She had thought that the Medical Council, at the very least, would send some members with extraordinary knowledge to let out some piercing screams before their deaths, to warn the mastermind.

After all, the two are always opposed, but I never expected that they would just be casual victims.

Eh.

She slowly leaned down, like a patient suffering from a serious illness, or a doctor showing compassion to the patients. She stretched out her fingertips and closed the eyelids of the three people one by one, concealing their fearful and uneasy eyes.

They shared the same plight, yet were different from others; they were both weak and noble.

How pitiful and heartbreaking! Let's label them as selfless and dedicated, as a tribute to those who have journeyed with us. Those who have come to their senses should return to the mortal world.

As she sat up, the ugly red spots also climbed up her neck and onto one side of her face.

Ferocity and tranquility coexist; breath is faint, yet brows are sharp and fierce; spine is upright, like the two sides of the human heart.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, Isabella, a kind-hearted doctor and a rebellious, proud individual, will die alongside the investigators in the power struggles, betrayed by others, and before the auspicious signs of the pandemic being brought under control.

This is only natural; the real culprit that caused the epidemic doesn't even need to show its face to sweep away all the clueless and worthless ants that came in before it even entered the door.

But fate has brought us together again, and tomorrow is a bright red, a familiar head of red hair.

Instead of flaunting their brilliance, they conceal their talents and hide their brilliance beneath a mask of mediocrity.

Her favorite bird has arrived.

The threads of fate had already foreshadowed her arrival; in a sense, it was a premeditated plan. It was precisely because Charlotte knew of her impending arrival that she decided to remain calm and play the role of an ordinary person who was completely unaware of the situation.

The only thing to consider is, in terms of spiritual perception, the person behind the scenes should be Sequence Seven. Without seeking to defeat the little peacock who is about to become an extraordinary being, can she protect herself from that person, or even protect herself?

"Lena, are you crazy? That's a mid-sequence Beyonder! We could have gotten away safely simply by reporting the situation to the higher-ups in the security department. Now, it's too late!"

The voice was extremely low, yet trembling with fear, as if it were being squeezed out of the throat.

Charlotte slowly turned her head to the side; red spots had already crept up half of her cheek, making her eyes appear even brighter.

She finally saw clearly, saw the red-haired girl standing in front of her who had fallen from the height—