Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

Among those women, whether glamorous or simple, she was a true paragon of the unconventional. She never followed the crowd in conformity, but remained true to herself, flaunting a small sense of freedom and avarice—like drinking coffee without seeking the bitterness of a dark roast, but instead opting for the tart and fruity aroma of a light roast.

This radiant face, somewhere between a girl and a woman, is one of the few points of interest in Charlotte's otherwise monotonous life.

and so--

“Since it’s neither the former nor the latter…” Her clear gray eyes narrowed slightly, like a harbinger of a lynx’s hunt. “Then why did you remind me of the sea’s coldness? A qualified servant should learn to remain silent at the appropriate time.”

As she finished speaking, the girl kicked the water, sending spray flying that soaked her skirt and splashed those in front of her. But she giggled, as if the thick fog was a curtain set up just for her.

Lively yet mischievous.

Ansuna's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, but her eyes remained unwavering. "Because the master's fingers have already begun to turn white," she said softly, "and you are to host the Admiralty's banquet tomorrow."

"What a thoughtful consideration," the soft voice said, not so gentle, but like poison laced with honey, "Should I reward your thoughtfulness, or punish your overstepping?"

The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, swept across the dock, ruffling Ansuna's hair even more. She lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes casting a fan-shaped shadow on her cheek. "It's all up to your lord's preference."

"All according to my preference?" Charlotte slowly rose, then leaned down, tracing the former's neck with her cool fingertips. "What if I like to see you panic?"

Ansuna's breathing quickened noticeably, yet she maintained her slightly bent-knee posture. "I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint the master."

She raised her eyes, a sly glint in her blood-red pupils. "I spent three days in the rebels' torture chamber, and suffered hunger and cold. Compared to that, your joke is as tender as the ambiguity between lovers."

Watson's fingers paused, and the mist swirled around her, giving her gray hair a pale sheen.

A moment later, she burst into a clear laugh that echoed across the empty dock, startling the seagulls that were resting not far away.

“Listen, Ansuna, this is why I keep you by my side.” Charlotte withdrew her fingertips, her contempt undisguised. “Those mediocre people never know what their masters need. They either fawn like wild dogs or blindly follow like rabbits. I even have to take care of their little darlings. And you…”

She turned her head and gave a meaningful smile, "You know how to please me."

“It is my pleasure to please you, sir.” Ansuna straightened up, the damp hem of his suit swaying gently in the sea breeze.

She deftly wiped the seawater splashed on her face, her movements elegant and flirtatious. "I just wonder, sir, which way of pleasing you is preferred?"

Without replying, Charlotte merely scoffed and walked away. Her bare feet left a trail of graceful footprints on the damp wooden planks.

"You'll catch a cold," Ansuna said softly, her gaze falling on the former's ankle. That fair skin had been reddened by the seawater, like a rose in early winter.

"You're always like this?" Charlotte's voice held a hint of amusement without turning around. "Nonsense like an old nanny?"

"I only act this way in front of people who are worthy of it," the girl replied succinctly.

At the end of the harbor was a steep sea cliff, jagged and shrouded in mist. The gray-haired girl leaped onto the rocks like a nimble lynx, her skirt billowing in the sea breeze, revealing her slender legs.

"Come up," she commanded from her superior position, her tone as concise as a blade slicing through silk.

Ansuna glanced at her leather boots, then at the slippery rocks. Without hesitation, she took off her shoes and socks, placed them aside, and climbed the rock face barefoot.

The sharp edges of the stone cut into the soles of her feet, causing mottled blood to seep out, but she didn't even flinch.

"Ah, it's bleeding." Charlotte crouched on the edge of the rock, looking with interest at the cut on the girl's foot. "Does it hurt?"

“Compared to living, this pain is insignificant.” Ansuna finally climbed onto the rock and stood beside the girl. From this height, the entire bay was shrouded in a milky white mist, with the occasional cry of a seabird breaking the silence.

Instead of going along with it, Charlotte stretched out her fingertip, touched the bloodstains remaining on the rock peak, and then, under the former's gaze, put the red-stained fingertip to her lips and savored it.

“Citrus flavor,” she commented. “Just like you, sweet, bitter, and astringent.”

Ansuna's breath hitched slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. "The master's taste has always been unique."

Charlotte stood up, her skirt fluttering in the sea breeze. She walked to the very edge of the cliff, her toes almost dangling in the air. "What would you do if I jumped?"

"I'll jump down after her." The girl's voice was utterly unwavering.

"Why?" This time, Charlotte was genuinely curious. "To save me? Or to prove your loyalty and worth?"

“Neither.” Ansuna stepped forward, standing very close behind the girl. “Because you wouldn’t do anything pointless. If you jump, there must be something worth seeing down there.”

A worldly-wise woman is used to flattery and empty words, but if they are pleasant enough, they can win her a little favor. So, this wicked person decided to expose the hidden scar.

"I want to hear your story."

"As you wish, sir."

She had no right to resist.

Why are oranges bitter? Is it because they are picked before they are ripe, because they were originally grown in the south but were frozen during transportation, or because they rotted due to improper storage over time?

Both are correct.

Ansuna was born into a poor family, and like many others whose fates were destined to be unfortunate, the burdens of life were already on her back when she was still unaware of the ways of the world.

Her parents had deeply lined faces, like a solid wall, behind which lay the devout life of a farmer.

Her unfortunate birth and remote location meant that all outsiders were destined to discriminate against such a short and lowly girl, with no exceptions.

She lived a life of mere survival, just like those parasites and homeless people in the city. She wandered around alleyways, desperately seeking and even begging for a job when all her efforts were in vain.

Who would hire a useless little girl? She has no knowledge, no talent, she is utterly useless.

Amidst the chaos of war, the clash of swords and the devastation of the city walls by gunfire, hunger and poverty plagued every household, eroding reason and driving people to cannibalism.

Ansu didn't understand those lofty ideals, nor the sacrifice of risking one's life, but she wanted to live, even if it meant living a miserable life. Just then, a pair of hands cupped her cheeks, and a rubble shielded her from the smoke of battle.

She was a delicate-looking silver-haired girl.

She was dressed in a magnificent gown, her steps stained with blood. Beside her stood a dignified and beautiful woman. At the time, Ansuna thought she was Watson's mother, but later she learned that she was Melissand, the leader of the Enlightenment Society. Calling her Watson's mother wouldn't be entirely wrong—Melissand was nominally the girl's foster mother, and she herself was treated like a princess within the Enlightenment Society.

The princess's lace-trimmed skirt swayed before her eyes, and her spotless ankle boots reflected her face like a mirror. Her cheeks were thin from malnutrition.

The princess took her in.

She was just like many other desperate people from the lower class who, in extreme poverty and hunger, randomly took a job to fill their stomachs.

Is it a gang? A cult? Or some kind of terrorist organization? Those are questions you only think about after you've survived.

That is why she felt extremely grateful and fortunate to have Watson take her in.

This has shaped Ansuna into who she is today: seductive, alluring, and dangerous. To outsiders, she is a thorny red rose, a favored and lucky one who has escaped her past embarrassment and developed a proud nature. But in her own heart, and in front of the other party, she is still just an insignificant mosquito bloodstain on the wall.

She was unaware of the sect's goals and had never accessed esoteric knowledge; she was labeled and defined as a mediocre person without talent.

Feelings of inferiority, longing, gratitude, envy, and yearning... like red wine, these emotions grow richer and more fragrant with each passing day and night.

Money, fine wine, feathers, more feathers, a mother's love and a father's attention, a master's favor and the approval of others—Ansuna had always been a greedy girl. She had never had it all, which was why she craved everything.

But she knew that she had not yet gotten what she wanted most.

"What do you want, Ansuna?" As the conversation faded, intrigued by the topic, the silver-haired girl lifted the delicate chin of the woman before her, her glossy lips curving upwards slightly. "Tell me. Is it freedom? Is it dignity? Or—"

“I want you, sir.”

The last notes faded into the sea breeze, and suddenly the distant whistle of a ship's horn mingled with the flapping of seagulls, causing Charlotte to pause slightly in surprise.

That cloyingly sweet voice didn't stop.

“I can be your knife, your hunting dog, and the source of your laughter at dinner.” She tiptoed slightly, bringing her lips close to Watson’s, her intoxicating, wine-like eyes taking in the girl.

How greedy, how oblivious to their own limitations.

......

This entry in the chronicle marks the beginning of Ansuna's story.

The king's head fell, the banner of ideals collapsed, new ideas intertwined, royal power was constrained by the constitution, and laws were passed around in the voice of parliament. Its transformation was not thorough, but it allowed the people to glimpse a ray of light from their ignorance.

Chasing the trend of freedom, ships came from overseas, bringing their own 'specialty'—gangs, like moss after rain, bloomed all over the fields of broom flowers.

Chaos was the theme of this era; the lines between black and white were blurred, and the sound of gunfire never ceased. Some came for wealth, some for fame, but most simply wanted to survive. Everyone wandered through this country, trying to find their place.

A feather from a remote island drifted across the vast ocean and landed here.

She stretched herself out, with her family members behind her.

Above, the eaves swayed precariously.

And she will hold up a corner of the sky.

Image: "Ansuna", Location: "Images/1748227119-100417737-113399385.jpg"

P.S.: I'm recommending a friend's book, which is an Arknights fanfiction, specifically a Tachibana-style story.

The story begins with the protagonist being transported to an Ark and embarking on a survival journey.

What? You said my cheat code gets stronger when I'm killed?

As long as you die in front of a special character and cause their emotions to fluctuate, you will gain stronger skills and power after resurrection. Feeling the daily life of swords and guns, Filotia said: Isn't this simple?

then--

"I want you to kill me a thousand times, and it won't be enough!"

Standing in front of Lappland and facing the assassin of Syracuse, Philodia roared.

"If your plan must kill someone, why not someone like me, someone without ideals?"

He stood in front of Texas and questioned.

"If the gods really can't win, then they'll have to step over my dead body first!"

Facing the Wolf Lord, who was called a god, Filotia remained undaunted.

But gradually, things seemed to be going wrong.

Lappland: "Are you trying to keep me in line this way, or do you also think the game needs more fun?... I can't guess. No wonder I like your trust in me!"

Texas: "I once thought about escaping, but this time, I want to protect you more."

He denounced: "How many acts of violence are disguised as order? I am willing to spend the rest of my life protecting you."

The book title is as follows:

"I am on the Ark. I will become stronger after death. I am ready to die."

Don't forget me when you get there, *crying emoji* ┭┮﹏┭┮

Chapter 188 Tonight the Stars Are Shining Brightly

A small newsboy cap covered her bangs, and she wore an indigo coat over a pure white shirt. Her outfit was simple and clean, yet it also subtly accentuated her playful charm.

With brown hair and emerald eyes, she was pure and beautiful. Especially when her slightly chubby face was half-covered by a plaid scarf, her large, bright eyes, which held a scholarly air and sometimes showed focus and sometimes curiosity, made the girl even more adorable.

With a gentle knock on the door, the identity of the guest came to light.

It's Winnie.

With a barely perceptible twitch of its eyebrows, it's only been half a month since their unpleasant parting, and this little sparrow has already flown back?

In fact, Charlotte had not expected that the other party would come looking for her again.

Or to put it more ruthlessly, after her plea and attempt to distance herself that day, she no longer cared about Winnie.

After all, driven by her own perverse sense of humor, she used the words in the letter to cruelly expose Watson's true nature, leaving the girl with no reason to seek her own identity.

She didn't have a strong desire for the little sparrow. Perhaps one day when she had some free time and was bored, she would indulge her interest and take the initiative to tease Winnie. But in the past few weeks, with various things happening one after another, she had almost forgotten about this inconspicuous girl.

Unless, of course, the girl still wants to play some nice game of making friends.

Charlotte put down her round-bellied fountain pen, the silk gloves making a soft thud against the solid wood tabletop. She gazed at the doorway, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Today was a rare day off for her, and the fact that the other party was able to visit at this exact time clearly showed that they paid close attention to her.

"Please come in."

As the light footsteps drew near, the girl standing at the door was completely different from the one who had fled in panic half a month ago. Even though her features were the same and her figure was slender, her straight back and slightly raised chin seemed to indicate that the timid little sparrow of the past was gone.

“Good morning, Miss Charlotte.” Winnie’s voice was soft but no longer timid. “I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”

She stood straight in the entryway, her posture like a small poplar tree, even the raindrops on her eyelashes exuding a stubbornness.

“Not at all, a visit on a rainy day is always a delightful surprise.” Charlotte gestured to the maid to take the dripping umbrella from the other woman. “Would you like a cup of Ceylon tea? A couple of drops of brandy would warm you up.”

Winnie shook her head, her eyes shining brightly beneath her hat brim. "I'd like to ask you to look at something."

She took out a stack of neatly bound documents from the brown paper bag she was carrying; the edges of the papers still smelled of ink, a characteristic of the printing factory.

—Draft Articles of the Tingen Workers' Mutual Aid Association

The title on the title page made Charlotte's eyelashes flutter slightly. As she took the document, her silk gloves briefly touched the other person's red, frostbitten fingertips.

Winnie's hands were icy cold, yet remarkably steady.

"The entire 32 pages of lead type were typed using an old-fashioned movable type printing press."

The girl parted her lips slightly, her voice like raindrops falling on glass, “Every letter was hand-picked by me and the typesetters, just like you said—you have to turn the pages yourself.”