Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

“That foil was given to us by my father before he was arrested and imprisoned. He said it could create a chance for survival in times of crisis, but to this day, we can’t even read the words on it, let alone understand its meaning.”

Seeing the young woman's frankness and hearing the helplessness in her words, Charlotte's dark eyelashes trembled slightly, and she looked somewhat stunned.

Judging from their facial expressions, the former was indeed not lying; those words were equally unfamiliar to this family today.

It's a bit of a surprise. I didn't expect her to have such a high regard for Sufby, to be so trusted that she would tell Sufby everything without any secrets.

In this way, I can change my perception of this peacock, for example, from a vase to a vase that is easy to train.

Once again immersed in the realm of thought, it was clear that no further information could be gleaned from this foil; supplementary knowledge was needed. According to the woman's description, Samuel's disappearance occurred in the blink of an eye.

This suggests that the killer possesses excellent stealth abilities or disguise skills. Based on this, his appearance should not be much different from that of a port area worker, allowing him to confuse the public and approach unnoticed.

Given the short intervals between the serial crimes, barely a week, and considering that the Bertrand family worked in laundry and the return dates for the clothes were unpredictable, Charlotte abandoned the suspicion that the perpetrators had premeditated the crime and were waiting in advance.

The transition from commoner to noble is like a stage in a ritual; since the former has not stopped, it implies that the next victim will still appear.

The port area has poor security, and it's fair to say that everyone is on edge. So, is he the kind of fool who blatantly wanders the streets and strikes immediately after identifying a target?

While his methods were straightforward, they also demonstrated his confidence in his own abilities. If we add an extraordinary assumption, this becomes a case that Miss Watson is currently struggling to handle.

In other words, I probably, or rather, made a boastful claim.

She pursed her lips in anger, feeling a surge of resentment. Her actions were so straightforward, yet there was no way to trace them; it was clearly a mockery of herself.

Perhaps seeing that the girl had been pondering for a long time, Sophie also approached her at this moment and asked cautiously.

"Miss Watson, do you have any leads?"

"of course."

Charlotte lied without hesitation, not out of pride, but because she couldn't bear to see the hope in the red-haired girl's eyes.

I consoled myself by saying I had no ideas, but I actually did have some—it's just that—

"This might require you to be a hostage."

Chapter Fourteen: The Melancholy of Jasmine

"hostage?"

Her bright red eyes widened slightly, and her pale lips parted slightly. Sufby stood there dumbfounded.

Charlotte, sensing the inappropriateness of the situation, remained silent and observed without offering any advice, until the girl realized her lapse in decorum and hurriedly covered her mouth.

“Josephine! Watson, Miss.”

Before he could finish his angry outburst, he belatedly added a humble expression.

Pfft, it seems my previous lecture was quite effective.

Charlotte took out the book "The New Noble of Mossland" again, stroking the crumpled cover with her fingers, unusually adopting a serious demeanor.

"In my view, solving a missing persons case involves only two steps."

She repeated herself word by word, speaking to both the other person and herself.

"Identify the perpetrator and bring the victim back to justice."

—If that girl were still alive.

Unwilling to speak cruelly or discourage Sofby, the girl did indeed hold a pessimistic attitude toward the disappearance.

"A twenty-minute walk can confirm the approximate range of the perpetrator's activities. Based on the commonalities of the previous thirteen cases, the area west of the port district is the most frequently involved area."

“He was quite robust and could easily carry an adult woman on his back. He was dressed like an ordinary laborer and would blend into the crowd without being noticed.”

"The crimes occurred between the afternoon and 10 PM, indicating that his daily routine was relatively regular. The targets of his crimes expanded from commoners to nobles..."

The time, place, and people are explained in an orderly manner, with Charlotte gently turning the pages of the book, which is also a way of sorting out any overlooked details.

The rustling of pages turning is a constant companion, delicate and gentle, making a sound without adding disturbance.

Watching the silver-haired girl lean against the wall, speaking eloquently and calmly, Su Fubi was momentarily captivated, and unconsciously murmured her own thoughts.

“…Amazing.”

"This also suggests that the suspect likely had a secluded temporary residence west of the port area, where he could rest and relocate. Hmm?"

Stopping her throat, Charlotte noticed that the beautiful amber eyes were slightly blurred, and gently shook the book in her hand.

"Sophie".

The girl's call was calm and straightforward, carrying little weight, yet it easily touched the red-haired girl's heartstrings.

"Sorry, I got distracted."

A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes, and Sufby concealed her blush, apologizing repeatedly.

"You were the one who came to me for help first. I don't know what you were looking at. Was it really necessary to be so focused?"

"Alright, although I have a general outline of the suspect based on the established clues, it is still not enough to directly deduce the real culprit."

Charlotte's long, dark eyelashes trembled slightly with each blink, revealing nothing as she meticulously combed through Charlotte's thoughts.

"The reason we need you as a hostage is because Samuel disappeared three days ago, and the interval between his previous crimes is usually about a week. The suspect is unlikely to commit another crime in the near future, and this period is a buffer for you and me."

"Instead of waiting for the next incident to occur, it is better to limit the scope of victims to those within sight, make ourselves the most suitable candidates, and actively uncover the true culprit's identity, that is, to spontaneously create a suitable environment for the other party to commit the crime."

"Is this... a deliberate attempt to induce us?"

With the girl's detailed explanation, Sophie, who was not stupid to begin with, naturally understood and summarized the main points by analogy.

“Yes, given that we are both nobles and young girls, we are both very suitable candidates. However, the most important thing is whether the individuals themselves are willing. After all, even with prior preparation and notification to the police station, there is still a risk involved.”

In the past, the red-haired girl would never have nodded, but upon catching a glimpse of those clear eyes gazing at her, a surge of courage, a courage to prove herself, welled up within her.

"I agree."

“Commendable courage, Sofby. I’m starting to admire you.”

Charlotte gave a round of applause, not holding back her praise, or perhaps it was intentional on her part.

After all, a peacock that she has helped to return to its perch always gives one a faint sense of accomplishment.

"Hmph, who do you take me for? Even if it weren't for Samuel, I wouldn't need your approval!"

As if she had regained her confidence, Sufby raised her snowy neck and lifted her breasts, but she no longer had the arrogance she once had.

"It's good that you have such ambition. Of course, we still need to make some other preparations."

"uh-huh?"

Despite her doubts, she obediently lowered her head, and the red-haired girl unconsciously tightened her legs, pretending to listen attentively.

"The time spent waiting is the cornerstone of success. In these few days, you and I must use our own methods to continuously refine the suspect's image."

"Newspapers, word of mouth, and inquiries from neighbors—considering that written form is not vivid enough and relatively few literate citizens are available, a sketch can often more three-dimensionally restore the actual appearance."

As if casually mentioning painting, Charlotte hadn't forgotten the smell of paint she'd caught on Sophobe earlier.

If this down-on-her-luck heiress's painting skills can meet her expectations, then the vase's status as a decorative object might be expanded to include the word "useful."

For those who are useful, the girl is willing to show some genuine patience and care.

"...Actually, Miss Watson, before leaving Florence, I studied painting for a while, and perhaps I can offer some assistance in this regard."

Having to choose between privacy and family, Sufby took the initiative to speak, which made her blush and her voice stutter.

She had never invited anyone to view her paintings, not even her parents. This was the first time the red-haired girl had ever shared her hobby and achievements with others.

"Then I will humbly accept your offer and allow you to appreciate your exquisite brushwork."

Pushing open the door, I found Sofby's room not far away, just next door. As I opened the partition in the same way, the smell of ink hit me, spreading a pungent odor.

Suppressing her slight discomfort and to avoid letting the former notice, Charlotte then looked around at the interior layout. Compared to the next room, this small room, though equally cramped, was meticulously divided into areas, giving the impression that it was small but perfectly formed.

Aside from the necessary bed frame and low cabinet, the surrounding area was mostly piled-up clothes and dried paper, while a little further away stood a roughly made easel with peeling legs.

Picking up the top sheet of paper, the still-wet oil paint, though rich in color, did not appear cluttered. The changes in light and shadow and the rise and fall of the brushstrokes were also quite delicate, creating a harmonious effect.

"How about it?"

It's an inquiry that seeks approval.

"It's very good, but there are some conflicts in the local effects?"

Charlotte chose a compromise, striking a balance that allowed the former to accept it readily without becoming complacent, thus maintaining that expectation.

"Next, I will give you a description of the suspect, and you will be responsible for sketching out his general outline."

"Ah."

Things that have been agreed upon beforehand will naturally not be met with any objections.

After attaching the lead, Sofby laid out the yellowed drawing paper and slowly began to draw, sketching diagonally, following the girl's voice.

"His clothing was mostly common blouses, and his eyes were relatively gloomy."

"He was tall and slender, and his gaze was likely filled with wariness, constantly watching his surroundings."

Standing quietly behind Sophie, watching her slender, narrow fingers dance as if in a ball, it was undeniably a delightful experience.

However, Charlotte soon discovered the young woman's flaw.

She is indeed extremely talented in painting, whether it is the smoothness of the lines or the relationship between light and shadow, but she has difficulty understanding the cultivation of temperament, is extremely slow to describe herself, and lacks the ability to imagine.

Seeing that the spatial hierarchy remained unchanged despite several reminders, the girl sighed softly, leaned down, and whispered in Sophie's ear.

"The outline here shouldn't be so superficial. With detailed features that can't be definitively identified, the overall feel becomes especially important."

"Press the pen tip down, apply more pressure, pay attention to the sensitive areas..."

Warm, moist breath brushed against her snowy neck, blowing out a warm, melting airflow that carried the girl's body temperature and fragrance.

So close, feeling the delicate caresses between their skin, Sufby's ears immediately flushed red, and her body involuntarily went limp.

Even after growing into a full-blown flower, the red-haired girl had never had such close contact with anyone, and for a moment, she felt a little short of breath.

Perhaps noticing the pause in the pen, Charlotte, at a loss for words, could only kindly extend her fingertips and place them on the former's delicate hand, demonstrating the arrangement of lines and the techniques of rubbing.

Her past professional experience has given her meticulousness in sketching, and her current hand-eye coordination makes her strokes smooth and effortless. As a result, she is also an expert in painting and can personally teach others.

Only when the person in her eyes matched her expectations from earlier, and only when fine beads of sweat appeared on that fair forehead, did the girl withdraw her arm, leaving behind a deep, melancholic jasmine scent.

"Now, this sketch can clearly express the characteristics of the suspect."

"But, but, Josephine, you—"

Before she could finish her sobbing, Charlotte had already packed her clothes, walked to the door, and decisively raised her hand to wave goodbye.

“I will continue to investigate Samuel’s disappearance. The nights in Tingen are not peaceful, and being anxious will only ruin your health. So, in the nights before the time comes, we should both give each other a peaceful sleep.”

What you said is true. No matter how much you care about your family, it is extremely dangerous to go out into the dark alone.

This sentence was not only to comfort Su Fu and help her fall asleep peacefully, but also to remind herself to proceed with caution.

"Tomorrow, at Singer's office, I will be waiting for you as always."

Under that slightly resentful gaze, Charlotte leaned on her cane, leaving only this promise, and without waiting for a reply, walked away into the distance under the flickering candlelight.

Night had fallen, and having satisfied two appetites, she should find a hotel to close her eyes and sleep, and slowly digest her food.

Although this day has been filled with many entanglements and sown some seeds of future trouble, at least Charlotte can now stop thinking about these things.

The young woman was not one to believe that everything would work out in the end, nor did she like to place all her hopes on improvisation. On the contrary, planning, or rather scheming, and rational thinking were the main themes of her life.

But all plans must be based on logic and information. Given Charlotte's current understanding of the world, she can only plan two paths for herself for the time being.

First, continue on the path of detective work, gathering as much information as possible in his spare time to learn about the India Party and Count Cliff. Second, make up for his lack of knowledge about the mysterious through reading and consulting with others, and try to decipher the words on the foil in order to open the door to the extraordinary.

Of course, all of that is for later. Stepping across the hotel threshold and unlocking the room, all she needs to do now is—

Lay down your felt hat, loosen your hair, let the night embrace you, and let other words flow from your lips.

Good night, Charlotte.

Chapter Fifteen: The Obituary

The next morning, as the sun rose slowly over the bay near Tingen harbor, a lone seagull flapped its wings and landed on an old windowsill in the cold wind.

Looking inside, it saw the white feathers reflected in the transparent glass. Not knowing where these other creatures came from, it lowered its beak and gently pecked at them.

Clang, clang, clang.