Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

The séance, dubbed "Dikbatov's Miracle," was not the girl's true intention. On stage, the young medium, forced by circumstances and pushed around by society, sang with a voice that wasn't her own and performed a psychic act with distorted movements. The audience went wild, but no one saw the empty eyes behind the curtain.

The lingering echo of the bells completely dissipated, and Eliza's fingertips slipped from the healer's lips, only to be gently enveloped in a warm hand mid-air.

Gazing at her trembling eyelashes under the moonlight, Charlotte remained silent for a long time. Her mission as a healer was over. She had fulfilled the wicked woman's orders and, as a puppet, dutifully stepped into the next stage. With Elena's help, she was able to gain a foothold in Florence and set a benchmark for her future path.

She has retired gracefully and no longer needs to be flamboyant or defiant. She can now respond to the emotions of others and truly transform beautiful stories into chapters in the mouths of poets.

"Doctor, are you hesitating? Are you thinking about it?"

There was no urging, nor any seeking of answers, yet the subtle trembling in her palms still spoke of Eliza's nervousness and timidity.

She summoned all her courage and tried to influence a doctor who had always pursued fairness and dedicated his kindness to everyone, attempting to use herself to coerce him into responding.

She was always reserved and dignified, upholding the dignity and elegance befitting a noblewoman. But in front of Isabella, she knew she couldn't keep her lips pursed. She had to be passionate, genuine, and use her eyes, her gestures, and everything else to tear down the barriers and make those compassionate eyes fall solely on her.

“On stage, I have performed countless kinds of love, but I have never felt what it is really like.” She paused for a moment, then forced a smile. “Until you told me that my tears don’t have to be for the plot, but can be for myself.”

"Yes, people's hearts are small, and so am I, but you, Doctor, have a heart that cares for all under heaven. I can't expect it to close just for me, so I can only suppress my ugly jealousy and selfishness and make my heart more tolerant and forgiving."

The black-haired girl guided Charlotte's hand and placed it on her slightly heaving chest, savoring the warm and soft touch.

"You can't bring yourself to say 'fragmented,' you don't need to hesitate over a quarter, and even half is too much to ask, it would be blasphemous. So why not just send a whole one?"

"I'm giving you a whole, unadulterated heart."

The woman's fingertips curled slightly, and she could feel the rapid heartbeat beneath the fabric, like a caged bird flapping its wings. Charlotte inadvertently recalled that night—the first time she met this stage sprite tormented by hysteria and out of control during a theatrical performance.

She pleaded with herself, her eyes begging, to silence the doctor and keep the matter quiet.

At that time, I may have been attracted by her beauty and temperament, and with a leisurely interest, I played the role of a doctor-patient with her, which was neither too close nor too distant, but full of concern.

From beginning to end, Isabella did not provide any real treatment. She even deliberately waited for the butterfly to break its wings and suffer alone before stepping forward. She simply told the other party the truth, opened a door for it, and reaped the sweetest fruit.

This almost made Charlotte feel ashamed, both then and now.

"Eliza, I'm not what you think..."

The words abruptly stopped, the words about to leave her lips were cut short once more, but this time it wasn't a fingertip, but a kiss. The girl's lips pressed against hers, carrying a subtle sweetness and bitterness, like biting into an unripe apricot. Moonlight streamed between their intertwined eyelashes, and the distant sound of a factory whistle startled a flock of nightingales.

“You don’t need to answer me right away, Doctor.” Eliza gently traced the lines on the doctor’s palm. “I know what you’re thinking—the doctor-patient relationship, professional ethics, and the responsibilities you bear.”

She tilted her head slightly, the moonlight casting a soft arc on her delicate collarbone. "But tonight, please forget about your identity as a doctor for now, okay? Just consider it... a friend's request."

"I don't expect a response to worldly views, rumors, and gossip, nor do I want to embarrass you. I just want to tell you—I can give you everything you need, whether it's an unfulfilled ideal or a conscience to help the world."

The night wind swirls beech berries past my feet, how humble, how pitiful, it makes one feel so awkward.

“I gradually lost everything, but I saw my true self in your eyes. Therefore, my love is only for you.”

"This is my way of repaying you, my one and only love."

The tears in her eyes finally welled up and turned into the most tender things, two lines of clear tears that flowed down from the corners of her eyes.

Charlotte felt the dampness seeping through her fingers. Those tears trickled down her palm lines, like Eliza's shattered pride. She suddenly realized that this girl, so radiant on stage, was now clutching her last shred of sincerity, awaiting judgment.

Should I respond? Should I nod?

Given the conflict between her roles as a doctor and a friend, Charlotte would have cruelly refused in the past, watching his heart shatter in despair in her arms.

But now, facing this person who owes her nothing, she finally wavered a little. It wasn't a choice between yes or no, but how she would view this blue morpho butterfly in the future—as a mere tool, or as a so-called lover?

Another sob interrupted my thoughts.

"Please forgive me, doctor, I cannot suppress it, I truly cannot..."

Having received no reply for a long time, the dark blue eyeshadow had become soaked with water. The stage sprite felt guilty and regretful, yet she was unwilling to let go of this fragile embrace.

"Perhaps this is my incurable condition, but if that's the case, doctor, would you still be willing to... save me as before?"

His fingertips dug deep into Eliza's hair, the black silk-like strands entwining her fingers like a final lament, or a silent plea.

Silence fell, broken only by the rustling night wind. Finally, the doctor spoke softly, uttering only two words.

“Prescription…” Her thumb brushed across the girl’s moist lower lip, gently pulling it towards herself. “If this is your ailment, I will stay with you forever, until you are cured, or perhaps, I will take my own life first.”

Yes, she ultimately chose to agree.

Eliza was lucky; unlike flocks of birds vying for attention, she gave everything to the devil, exchanging her pure heart for a moment's pity. Yet Eliza was also unlucky, for the healer was merely a mask for the devil. As she gradually lost interest in the sweetness of day and night, and was no longer needed, abandonment became inevitable.

Of course, that time was still a very long way off. Her talent and wit, her beauty and charm, destined her to remain interested for a long time. Therefore, Charlotte had the patience to do it—

One is a doctor who makes an exception for the former and is no longer perfect; the other is eventually moved and stays with him, becoming a perfect lover.

Even so, this was a betrayal of Zelena, who had once been a friend and even a lover.

The beautiful woman's fingertips landed on the hollow of the girl's lower lip, where the salty taste of tears still lingered. As the girl's eyelashes drooped like startled butterfly wings, she took the initiative to cover those lips, which were slightly bitter like apricots.

No longer backing down, the other person being kissed initially felt a little timid and incredulous, like a fledgling bird's beak gently knocking on the door of their heart. However, when they felt the doctor leaning in, they were suddenly filled with a burning passion that made them want to burn their bridges.

The long-suppressed emotions burst forth at this moment, transforming into an irresistible force that completely enveloped them. Eliza buried her body even deeper into the healer's embrace, as if trying to meld herself into his very bones. When her nose brushed against Charlotte's neck, the fragrance of Xiangyu intertwined with the faint herbal scent emanating from the healer, weaving a tight, impenetrable net.

The lights blurred into a shimmering firefly in the distance, only the breaths so close at hand were crystal clear. The black-haired girl trembled slightly during the embrace, like a leaf caught in a whirlwind, yet she held back with all her might, as if it were the last piece of driftwood a drowning person was grasping.

"Don't call me doctor anymore, call me by my name, Eliza..."

In a brief moment of respite, she called out softly, the doctor's voice hoarse and unlike her own. She watched as those eyes were moistened by the misty steam, and the slightly closed eyelashes slowly narrowed, anticipating more and more.

“Bella, Isabella…” Eliza finally uttered the name, her voice choked with relief. She had murmured this name during countless sleepless nights, and now, finally, she could breathe it out in the other’s arms, her breath warm against her skin. She had never imagined she would cherish even a single syllable of it so much.

Charlotte still didn't reply, but sealed her lips with another kiss.

This time, she was no longer fervent, but rather with an almost pious tenderness.

“I promise you, Eliza.”

Her heart pounded like a drum. The spotlight on the stage had never made the girl feel her own existence so real. She was no longer 'Salome', no longer the medium on the stage, but just Eliza, a girl who was being responded to by her lover.

My thoughts seem to have drifted back to much, much earlier times.

At that time, her mother and father carried her to the church, pleading with the patriarch to baptize her and sweep away the curse of that generation.

That day, the church was filled with people, mostly lost souls seeking answers to their questions from the goddess. The statue of the goddess stood silently at the back of the church, overlooking the masses. She tried to clasp her hands in prayer. But perhaps she was not sincere, nor did she possess faith; the goddess did not respond, and simply stood there.

Religion is not as magical as it seems.

Eliza thought to herself that it was no different in essence from those operas and dances. She might be a god on the stage, standing in the center, with many people praising her, extolling her, and worshipping her devoutly.

Yes, how can gods be a source of spiritual sustenance? My own wishes and desires can only be known by asking them directly, right?

Besides... I now have a faith more devout than that of the goddess.

All of this flashed through her mind in an instant. Then, she stood up and slowly walked out of the church.

Looking back at the church entrance, the statue was still gazing at her, unchanged.

The questions I had asked before resurfaced in my mind—

What exactly is love? What exactly is affection?

Emotions, such a complex thing.

The world is vast, and even in Florence, there are millions of people. They may never know each other in their entire lives, or they may only meet once. But in such a world, is it enough to have one person who is the only one in each other's hearts?

Silence fell between them, the answer perhaps still unclear. So after their kiss, they simply leaned against each other, silently gazing at the sky, the chirping of insects filling the air.

At least tonight, this is their world, a world that belongs only to them, an unforgettable anniversary.

This tranquility is invaluable.

And for this peaceful companionship, the spirits of the stage are willing to do anything.

Chapter 190 Investigation

The wind subsided, and dusk settled. The gray-brown buildings of the arbitration tribunal headquarters gleamed with a damp sheen after the rain, like a lurking behemoth.

Zelena stood before the floor-to-ceiling window in her office, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the tassels of the curtains. Raindrops still clung to the glass, fragmenting the view outside into distorted pieces.

She gazed at the blonde figure on the shooting range—Charlotte was holding a gun, aiming at the wooden target, and conducting her routine shooting practice.

In just over a month, her movements from shooting to disassembly became as precise as a machine, and hitting the bullseye every time became almost her exclusive skill.

“One month…” the black-haired beauty murmured to herself, a hint of worry flashing in her gray eyes. She turned and walked to the oak desk, taking out a file with a gold-embossed cover from the depths of the drawer.

Turning to the first page, Charlotte O'Shaw's ID photo lies quietly in the upper right corner, her emerald green eyes seemingly piercing through the paper, conveying a serene and elegant quality between her brows and eyes.

Knock knock,

The knocking interrupted her thoughts.

"Please come in."

The door opened, and Melvis walked in carrying a thick stack of documents, his blood-red eyes slightly narrowed. "Ms. Z, I've prepared all the necessary documents for the promotion assessment. However..."

A sharp glint appeared in her eyes.

"Do you really think Charlotte has met the standard? I'm certainly not questioning your decision, nor do I doubt that my teammate is lying."

"That girl was a calm and self-aware girl. She was diligent and eager to learn. Although she was taciturn, she always silently supported us with her actions and companionship. She never showed any signs of emotional instability, and her performance when working with her was always above average."

The tone of his voice was abrupt and he gradually fell into praise, which naturally led to a shift in the overall tone.

"Flawless".

Needless to say, the infected vampire girl used only this one word to describe the girl, and in the realm of mysticism, perfection often implies a dormant anomaly.

boom--

The gunfire started again.

The blonde girl's grip on the gun remained impeccable, and every time she pulled the trigger, she hit the bullseye. Tiny beads of sweat slightly dampened her uniform shirt, causing the fabric to cling to her back and accentuate her slender yet beautiful silhouette.

"The seventeenth bullseye. From the moment she picked up the gun, not a single shot missed the bullseye." Melvis had somehow appeared by the window, watching the beautiful figure.

“I investigated her family background. The deceased Mr. Earl Shaw was just a wealthy businessman who resold liquor. He only had a few hunting rifles at home. She mastered the shooting skills that would normally take a normal person three months to achieve in just three days.”

Even after setting aside a pile of documents, the former's mouthpiece continued unabated.

"Over the past twenty years, the tribunal has received twenty-three applications for promotion to Sequence 8. The average processing time was two years, eleven months, and nine days, with the fastest record holder taking five months."

"And that person was me."

It was a rather hoarse voice, like a long, drawn-out sigh.

Without saying a word or explicitly refusing, Ms. Z simply took the paper and wrote down her thoughts on the recommendation letter and self-assessment.

"Speculation and assessment must be based on what one sees and hears, not on past conventions. She said she had almost completely digested it and had not been misled by delusions and madness for a period of time. None of the case files that passed through her hands were overlooked, and the related annotations were extremely meticulous. It is clear that this girl had read a lot of books in the library during her tenure and applied them flexibly in practice."

"With her outstanding learning ability, serious attitude towards herself, and meticulous way of handling things, we have no reason not to emulate such a hardworking girl."

The ink spread across the pristine white Xuan paper with the tip of the brush. Zelena's choice, just like her words, embodies the unity of knowledge and action.

"Whether it's genius, ingenuity, or even just an illusion, it doesn't matter. We are members of the arbitration tribunal, sword-wielders who uphold the teachings of the goddess and pursue fairness and morality. All we need to do is practice the teachings and be devout."

Moreover, in the rain, that utterance of "you" that carried such deep sincerity was heart-wrenching.

"Since Charlotte's talent is outstanding and she has performed well in several missions, she should be recommended for a fair trial. Whether it is commendation or a lenient transfer, the goddess will look upon her loyal believer."

Having said that, the tone for this application had practically been set. Melvis nodded slightly, a complex glint in his blood-red eyes. “I will arrange the testing. However, as you know, some anomalies don’t manifest in daily behavior, while some infected individuals may experience brief periods of loss of control while in a state of normal lucidity.”

That's how I am now, corrupted by my extraordinary characteristics.

“I understand your concerns.” Zelena closed the file. “Therefore, we need a more comprehensive investigation.”

Outside the window, Charlotte had just finished her final round of shooting. She lowered her revolver, removed the earmuff from her ear, and her blonde hair shimmered softly in the setting sun.

As if sensing something, the girl suddenly looked up and stared precisely at Ms. Z inside the high window. Even from such a distance, her emerald green eyes were still surprisingly bright.

Their gazes met briefly in mid-air, transcending the glass and the distance between them.

"She can see this far?" Melvis raised an eyebrow slightly, his tone turning somber. "At this distance, an average person's eyesight should be..."

"It's the intuition of those who are destined to see it." The following explanation was too weak, and it was unclear who it was trying to convince: "The extended ability of precognitive perception."

Their eyes met, and Charlotte bowed slightly downstairs, performing a standard greeting, before turning and walking toward the armory to return the weapons, her back always as straight as a pine tree.

“The evaluation will begin tomorrow.” Turning her gaze away, Zelena elaborated further. “The quality of the clerical work will be assessed by us, and the Grand Council will send suitable personnel to oversee the subsequent evaluation.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Melvis nodded, but added in a low voice as he turned away, “Have you been sleeping poorly lately? The shadows under your eyes are quite heavy.”

Ms. Z touched the corner of her eye and gave a bitter smile. "It's just... I dreamt about some things from the past."

"About Ms. Valenti?"

Silence was the best answer. Melvis didn't press further, but simply closed the door gently.

The office fell silent again. Zelena pulled a thin silver chain from her collar, at the end of which hung a small glass bottle containing dried white flowers.