Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

The girl, dressed in a plain white hospital gown, her black hair loosely draped over her shoulders, looked even paler and thinner than three days ago. When the glaring gaslight shone on her face, Charlotte saw her instinctively raise her hand to shield it—a gesture that revealed the bruises on her wrists.

These are marks left by the restraints.

“How pitiful, how regrettable are the many misfortunes she suffered from hysteria.” Pritt waved his arms exaggeratedly. “As you all know, mental illness is eating away at our country—to the point that suicide has become a trend.”

"Tragedies continue to unfold, and our respected opera star is also suffering inhuman pain!"

"Fortunately, medical advancements will once again save us from the abyss. As I said, electrotherapy is the most advanced technology available today."

“According to my research, hysteria stems from a disruption of electrical signals in the brain.” He then tapped the anatomical diagram behind him; charcoal lines divided the cerebral cortex into several regions. “Through precise electrical stimulation…”

The obscure theoretical knowledge failed to attract all the guests; the citizens of Florence, driven more by curiosity than by a thirst for knowledge, preferred the 'misfortunes' part of the story.

"Eliza, the youngest daughter of the Dickbatov family?"

"Oh, that's no surprise—this treatment was a godsend for her!"

Grand social topics flowed through the undisguised conversations of the crowd.

"Just think about the kind of people the Dikbatov family were... Her mother once pierced her husband's temple with a curtain needle, and the maids present were also caught in the crossfire..."

"Oh, yes, no one in their family has ever lived past forty. It's like they're cursed. Her poor eldest sister had a hysterical episode and jumped off a high building. And now, she's destined to suffer the same fate."

The gentleman beat his chest in regret.

"I saw it."

"You mean, you saw her...?"

"Yes, I saw her having a hysterical episode at the spring banquet a few days ago. She had just started to sing, but before she could utter more than a few sounds, she suddenly started trembling. She was sobbing and scratching her cheeks with both hands, hissing like a mad cat that had fallen into the water."

Another man joined the conversation; his gaze was dark, his eyes like pebbles covered in silt beneath a riverbank.

"Could Eliza be following in her mother's footsteps? Unlike the less-than-refined Icarina, she is so gentle, beautiful, and poised with grace and politeness; her acting skills and character are admirable. Hopefully, our science can save her from this illness..."

"Holy crap! This whole family is insane! Her new play has been canceled just like that? I've been looking forward to it for a whole quarter, just for this new show!"

"I hope you can have more compassion; this innate curse is far too cruel for her."

The accusations from the female companion were as gentle as velvet and did not pose a real threat.

“Alas, I sincerely hope that Isolde can get rid of those painful nightmares... She is the most talented opera singer in Florence, just like her mother was back then.”

Yes, people surround her; yes, important figures always watch her intently; yes, she always receives an endless stream of flowers; yes, offstage, enthusiastic fans even faint from excessive excitement.

“You mean, Icarina? Thank God, I’m only grateful to that crazy woman for leaving Eliza for Florence. She’s always in a coma, in a panic, screaming and even losing control of her bladder, it’s really indecent.”

Perfection is always something to aspire to. When the stage is over, when the experience has been tasted, people will no longer be satisfied with the pure but dusty old person. They will always yearn for a clean and beautiful face.

"She definitely will. She hasn't started fainting yet, so she's unlikely to completely fall into a trance or go insane. She just vomits and feels dizzy from time to time..."

The compassionate lady opened her down fan to hide her tear-streaked cheeks.

"Even after experiencing the tragedy of her childhood, she remained incredibly gentle with her servants, and she treated everyone who was difficult or critical with the utmost courtesy."

She murmured to herself, the gazes of others adorning her forehead and neck like jewels.

"She practices singing hundreds of times every day, rehearsing each move countless times backstage, wearing out even her soft dance shoes. She's a genius, but also incredibly hardworking..."

The lady's fan fluttered, and as the previously unknown details were revealed, people held their breath in amazement.

“I never... heard these details. Well, I was being too harsh on her.”

The gentleman who had been questioning her earlier took out a silk handkerchief and wiped his moist eyelids, appropriately showing enough affection.

"Ah, talent and hysteria always go hand in hand. Is it because, as Maester Pritt said, they both originate from the brain?"

The speaker naturally noticed these inappropriate and irrelevant remarks.

He cleared his throat and reiterated the immediate nature of the treatment, then gestured to his assistant to put the electrode helmet on Eliza.

"Please be quiet, everyone! The consultation will begin immediately."

The girl's neck appeared unusually slender within the metal rings, reminiscent of a flower stem bound by iron hoops.

Without responding, Eliza silently accepted her assistant's restraint, only glancing down at the crowd with her wrists bound to the chair, like a lone fledgling searching for its way home.

Clearly, she was searching for Charlotte, seeking solace within herself.

Unfortunately, despite her deliberate attempts to dress up, Dr. Bella is now just an ordinary spectator among the crowd.

After a fruitless search, those clear blue eyes slowly lost their color, leaving only a trembling unease.

“The first set of electrodes will be applied to the temples.” Without pausing, Pritt paced around the chair, introducing the product like an auctioneer displaying merchandise. “The second set will be connected to the spine, using appropriate electrical stimulation to calibrate the disordered nerve plexuses.”

Obviously, this argument has no scientific basis, but it cleverly takes advantage of people's awe and curiosity about the emerging field of electricity.

Amidst the murmurs, an elderly man with white hair frowned and stood up: "Wouldn't the dosage of the electrical stimulation be—"

“Absolutely safe,” the man assured, patting his chest. “I’ve personally conducted experiments on death row inmates.”

Leaving no room for argument, he bluntly questioned, "Are you ready, Miss Dikbatov?"

"Yes, it is......"

The cold electrodes were applied to her temples. Even with the best acting skills, when she was treated as an exhibit and placed under countless gazes, Eliza's legs still tightened uncontrollably, yet she forced herself to calm down.

"I'm ready, thank you—"

Before the words were even finished, the regulating switch had already been flipped, and in an instant, blue and white sparks burst forth between the electrodes.

The girl's body suddenly stiffened, and Charlotte saw her slender fingers frantically opening and closing, trying to grasp something, but because of the bindings, she could find no support and could only hang limply.

Gasps erupted from the audience. Some stood up, some covered their mouths, and many more craned their necks to see this horrifying yet thrilling scene, to see what expression was on that beautiful face.

"Ugh, ah..."

It was a suppressed and restrained murmur, with the smell of burnt hair from electric current emanating from it.

“This is a normal reaction!” Pritt explained loudly, his voice distorted with excitement. “Look! The disordered nerves are reorganizing!”

A second surge of current followed, and an ominous hum echoed within the device.

This time, Eliza's limbs began to spasm, and the straps left deep marks on her wrists. Her lips moved as if she were calling out a name, but she could only utter broken syllables.

"Dr. Bella..."

The faint call was drowned out by the clamor of the audience, but with extraordinary senses, Charlotte was rightfully able to hear the barely audible cry for help.

But should she step forward to stop it at this moment?

The answer is no. The current evidence is not conclusive enough to define this treatment as intentional harm. Moreover, he had no intention of stopping the girl before the incident occurred.

If she had wanted to, she could have used the church's name to stop this clinic from taking place.

Don't blame me for being heartless, and don't blame me for being indifferent. Only when you truly fall into the abyss and realize the fragility of fading hope can you completely rely on me, like a weak blue morpho butterfly, entrusting your body and soul to my fingertips.

A clean break, a decisive resolution—that's the way she prefers.

"Ugh, ugh, I..."

As the voltage gradually increased, Eliza could no longer suppress the physical pain. Her breathing became rapid and shallow, and her throat was filled with sobs.

“Madam, calm down, hang in there, okay?” Pritt was engrossed in his performance as he approached and said bluntly, “This treatment will be effective. Perseverance is a virtue. I don’t think the electric shocks are as painful as you’re making them out to be. Don’t let the imagined fears overwhelm you.”

"Okay... Haha..."

The man's lack of patience made him unwilling to listen to the words, so he pressed the guillotine down to its lowest setting.

A blinding arc of electricity exploded between the electrodes, and Eliza's body tensed like a fully drawn bow before slumping heavily back into the chair. Her pupils gradually dilated, and tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks, leaving damp stains on her plain white hospital gown.

"The current intensity has exceeded the safety threshold," Adeline's mechanical voice echoed in his mind. "Continuing will lead to irreversible nerve damage."

At the examination table, Pritt was excitedly adjusting the dashboard. His forehead was glistening with sweat as he announced in a high-pitched voice, "The third round of stimulation will act on the brain's central nervous system! This will completely cure the pathological neural circuits!"

"enough."

A clear, cool female voice pierced through the noise, replacing the crackling of electricity, like a scalpel cutting through rotten flesh, speaking not only to the crowd but also to herself.

The entire room fell silent, and all eyes turned to the source of the sound—the brown-haired woman in the back row who was slowly rising.

Charlotte removed her veil, letting her hair cascade down like a waterfall. She strode towards the central aisle, her heels tapping a cold rhythm on the marble floor. As she approached, several nobles in the front row unconsciously leaned back, as if recalling their humiliating ordeal a few days earlier.

Just as I had imagined.

"Madam, please do not disturb us—"

Pritt stopped abruptly as he recognized the doctor, Isabella Valenti, who had recently gained fame throughout Florence.

"Sir, may I ask, have you ever experimented with the safe voltage range for the human body? Have you ever used theory and examples to prove your hypothesis?"

She ripped the electrode off Eliza's face. Sparks flew as the metal connector detached. The girl was already in a semi-conscious state, tiny tears clinging to her eyelashes. Her lips twitched constantly from the electric current, as if she were still trying to speak.

“I demand an immediate end to this farce and that the Medical Association investigate all of Pritt’s ‘research findings’.”

The moment the ribbons were torn, Eliza, like a bird with broken wings, fell into the former's arms.

She was so thin, like a feather, and cold sweat clung to her pale cheeks, accentuating her fragile yet radiant beauty.

Feeling the warmth before her, the girl's unfocused pupils slowly focused, and upon seeing that familiar figure, her dull eyes regained their light.

"I knew you would come, but—"

Moist lips moved closer, pressing against Charlotte's neck, not with a dependent kiss, but with a gentle bite.

"It's been so long, so very long..."

It is condemnation.

P.S.: Thank you all so much for reading all this time. I'll always love you all, my dear reader.

Chapter 181 The True Colors of a Healer

Charlotte felt a slight stinging pain on her neck, a force less like punishment and more like a kitten's gentle nibble. This faint protest made her heart skip a beat, and she involuntarily tightened her arms around her.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” She whispered against Eliza’s sweaty temple, her voice so soft that only the two of them could hear. “Close your eyes and sleep, my dear girl. This will all be over soon, and I will not leave.”

The promise finally relaxed the girl's tense body. She buried her face in the doctor's shoulder, her breath trembling with the aftereffects of the electric shock. Charlotte could feel warm tears soaking her collar, flowing silently like melting snow.

The auditorium was now in an uproar. Pritt, finally recovering from his shock, rushed forward, his face flushed. "Ms. Isabella! You're sabotaging a medical experiment! I'm going to complain to the association—"

"A complaint?" Qinghe's voice suddenly rose, but Charlotte just stared at him, not looking away for a moment. "The electroconvulsive therapy you demonstrated is severely lacking in humanitarianism. In my opinion, such therapy only increases the patient's suffering and does nothing of substance to help."

"If your goal is to increase the patient's physical pain to distract them from their mental anguish—then disregard what I said."

"You cannot stop the progress of medicine with mere words! My treatment plan is supported by ample theory and literature, and has been approved and sponsored by the medical association—it is reasonable and legal."

Waving the papers containing the ingredients in his hand, the man pretended to be aggrieved and complained.

Unable to attack the former based on his status, he could only resort to such sophistry as accusation.

Isabella's sacrifice was so selfless; she threw herself into the situation, disregarding authority, all to save millions of people. Meanwhile, the pain Eliza showed during this treatment was still vivid in everyone's mind. In comparison, it's clear to anyone which side is on the moral high ground.

Moreover, in terms of academic knowledge and medical certification, he was not as qualified as the other party.

Without speaking, Charlotte gently lifted Eliza's wrist, showing everyone the bruises left by the straps. The purplish-red marks stood out starkly against her pale skin, like silent accusations.

"Is this what you call 'treatment'?" Her words stirred up whispers like a pebble thrown into still water. "Torturing a girl who is already suffering from mental anguish with electric shocks?"

Pritt's facial muscles began to twitch unnaturally, and he subconsciously touched the scar on the back of his neck: "What do you know! Hysterical patients need strong stimulation to—"

"Medicine is not so lofty as to be immeasurable. It is only when supreme authority blinds your senses, or when you suffer from hysteria, causing you to be blind and deaf, that you can ignore the suffering of patients and abandon empathy and humanity."

Without giving the man any room to argue, Charlotte simply raised her voice, took a stack of documents from her suitcase, and dumped them in front of him.

“Take a look. These are the medical records of seventeen patients who have received your ‘treatment’ over the past four years. Five of them suffered permanent nerve damage, two committed suicide, and one—” The paper drew a sharp arc in the air, “Mrs. Marian Dross, died of cardiac arrest after the third electric shock.”

Gasps rose and fell from the audience. A woman wearing a pearl necklace suddenly stood up: "That's my sister! She just had postpartum depression, but this liar..."

Pritt's face turned from red to pale, and the veins on his forehead throbbed: "Absurd! These are all coincidences—"

“A coincidence?” Charlotte remained noncommittal, simply emptying a few small glass bottles from the file folder. “Then what about the belladonna extract mixed in the electrode gel? It can induce hallucinations, making your ‘treatment’ appear to have immediate effects.”

The irrefutable accusations exploded like a bomb, the interconnected evidence and the logical momentum made it seem like a carefully crafted coincidence. Yet, the man in front of her was unable to refute them.

This statement struck like a hammer blow, utterly crushing Pritt. His lips trembled, his gaze shifting between the documents and the audience, finally settling on the side door of the auditorium—where stood several gloomy-faced nobles, clearly his former backers.

“No…” He staggered backward, knocking over the instrument he was so proud of. The glass electrode tubes shattered, revealing the rough internal structure. Just as Adeline had said, it was nothing more than a deceptive prop cobbled together from some poorly made parts.

An angry roar erupted from the audience. Some shouted "Liar!", some called for the military police, and many more lowered their heads in shame—they had just been praising this cruel performance as a medical miracle.

"You, how do you know?"

“Because I visited every ‘recovered’ patient.” Charlotte leaned back, only the slight curve of her chin revealing her delighted mood. “And I checked the medical school’s funding records. You should really use your talent for falsifying experimental data for something good, Mr. Pritt.”

When all hope is lost, there is no shortage of opportunists who will kick someone when they're down. A man wearing round-framed glasses stood up from the corner.