Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

“Very good.” Sylva stood up and steadily helped the unconscious Zelena up with one hand. “The support from the Mechanical Heart and the Cultivators will arrive soon, and they will take over the handling of this matter. You, come with me to escort Zelena back to the Sanctuary immediately for treatment by a high-ranking apothecary.”

"Her injuries cannot be delayed."

He didn't press for further details about the fate connection, but the deep-seated doubts didn't dissipate; they were merely temporarily suppressed by more pressing duties—treating his seriously wounded colleagues, tracking down the traitors and vampires, and dealing with the heinous attack that shook the Tingen diocese.

The rain had stopped completely sometime ago, but the dark clouds had not dissipated. Only the church bells rang heavily over Tingen, one after another, mourning the departed.

Chapter 216 Farewell

The smell of disinfectant stubbornly filled my nostrils, mixed with the bitter aftertaste of herbs, while a ray of morning light shone through the high window, casting dappled patterns on the pristine white sheets.

Zelena's consciousness slowly rose, each struggle pulling at her soul with a dull ache. She struggled to open her eyelids, and in her blurred vision, she saw the familiar yet cold stone dome of the Sanctuary's medical room.

Fragments of memory surged back: the deceased colleagues, the shattered Gate of Rest, Valentia's sarcasm, Melvis's departure, Charlotte's desperate act of standing up... The scene finally settled on Silva's clear, spring-like eyes.

Melvis.

That name stabbed me in the heart.

Guilt, worry, a sting of betrayal, and a deep sense of powerlessness intertwined within her; in the end, she couldn't stop the girl from falling into the abyss.

Valentia paid the price, and she was taken away with her. The black-haired girl's last words—"Someone here tried to hand me a rope as I fell into the abyss"—still echoed in my ears, yet seemed even more ironic.

The rope snapped, and the inevitable fall seemed irreversible.

With difficulty, she turned her neck and her gaze fell on the bed next to hers. Seeing the same person she knew, she slowly breathed a sigh of relief.

Yes, Pedeline was sleeping peacefully, her pale face almost translucent in the sunlight, her breathing weak but steady. Her right arm was wrapped tightly, and the nearly broken harp was carefully placed on the low cabinet beside the bed, its broken strings like withered vines.

Zelena reached out, her fingertips trembling, and touched the back of the Conch Girl's hand, which was exposed outside the blanket; it was icy cold.

An indescribable grief and self-blame overwhelmed her.

Sander collapsed dead on the dock in the rain, Nia went missing and was in grave danger, Pederin almost lost her violin playing hand... The entire branch of the arbitration tribunal in Tingen suffered a near-devastating blow under her leadership.

She failed in her duties as a senior and a leader, as well as the trust and expectations of her colleagues.

This woman, nearing thirty, a strong woman who had never shown weakness, couldn't contain her emotions for the first time.

Tears fell silently, soaking her temples and the pillow.

"Ms. Z, you're awake?"

A cool female voice whispered in her ear, but it carried a warmth and weariness that was more pronounced than before. Charlotte had been waiting by the bedside for over a night.

She looked somewhat haggard, with faint bluish shadows under her emerald eyes, but her expression remained calm, and she held a clean towel in her hand.

"Charlotte, are you... are you alright?"

A dry voice squeezed out from her throat. Upon hearing the voice and recognizing the person, Zelena reached out with difficulty, wanting to grasp the former's knuckles.

"What you need now is rest. Although the curse left by the Crimson Kiss has been removed, the day and night toil and excessive blood loss have left your body extremely weak, and you need time to recover. I am fine, but my spiritual energy was overexerted. After a night of rest, I am back to normal."

Sensing the difficulty of the former's words and actions, Charlotte remained silent, but personally moistened the beauty's lips with warm water using a cotton swab, with focused and meticulous attention.

A ray of morning light shone down, bathing half of the girl's pretty face in a pale white light, creating a dreamlike and ethereal scene, like a harmonious and beautiful setting in an oil painting.

"Thank you..."

In a daze, Zelena seemed to recall the past. Whenever she went on a mission and was injured in the line of duty, Bella would wait between her bed and seat, carefully treating her wounds and having long conversations with her.

A sigh lingered on her lips. Perhaps the two's conversation startled the girl beside her. Pederin opened her eyes in a daze and slowly woke up.

"Silly girl, did you sleep well?"

"Ms. Z, you, you!"

Upon hearing the familiar female voice, Pedeline excitedly tried to get up, but was stopped by a sharp pain in her right arm. She gasped, her face contorted in pain, and looked down at her hand, which was held in place by a splint, then glanced at the harp on the low cabinet. Her eyes dimmed instantly, as if the last spark of life had been extinguished.

"The zither..."

“Don’t worry, Pedeline.” Closing the book she had been using to pass the time, Charlotte spoke up. “The master craftsmen of the Mechanical Heart have already examined it. They said the main structure of the violin case can be repaired, and the strings can be replaced. It just takes time, and—”

"Waiting for you to recover."

Charlotte's gaze swept over the red-haired girl's arm, her intentions clear.

“Nassandra, Nia, and everyone else…”

Recalling the last scene before she fell into a coma, Pedeline's eyes quickly reddened.

Charlotte nodded silently, gently wiping the cold sweat from the girl's forehead with a towel, her movements as gentle as ever.

“Sander has returned to the goddess’s embrace, Nia is missing, and it is preliminarily determined that she disappeared before the operation at the dock, and all the remaining members have perished. Therefore, you must live on in their place.”

The cruel reality struck like a hammer blow, and Pedeline's tears flowed freely, not because of the physical pain, but because of her lost companions and the heavy sense of survival.

Wipe away your tears, and the clouds will eventually part.

As if talking to herself, Charlotte silently waited, only when the crying subsided did she hand a glass of warm water to Charlotte's lips and whisper, "Drink some water."

Just then, the door to the ward was pushed open again. Silva walked in. His silver hair was perfectly styled, and his face remained cold and stern, but when he looked at the two people on the bed, a very faint ripple flashed across his icy eyes.

“Zelena, Pederina, and Charlotte.” She nodded in acknowledgment. “The Cardinal Order has issued its preliminary recommendations.”

Zelena had already sat up, leaning against the soft pillows. Her face was pale, but her eyes had regained their usual calmness, though they still held a lingering weariness and sorrow.

She looked at Silva, awaiting the verdict.

"I. In view of the significant losses suffered by the Tingen Arbitration Tribunal branch, the severe loss of personnel, and the incomplete organizational structure, in order to ensure the safety of the remaining personnel and facilitate subsequent investigation and integration, the Cardinal Order has decided that all surviving members of the original branch shall be transferred to the Church Headquarters immediately and incorporated into the relevant sequence, under unified command and placement. The supervisory responsibility for the extraordinary affairs of Tingen shall be temporarily taken over by the Mechanical Heart and the Cultivator."

Silva's voice was flat and monotone, as if he were reciting an objective fact.

"Second, Ms. Zelena Z. shall bear primary management responsibility for the attack on and loss of the branch. After recovering from her injuries, she shall report to His Excellency the 'Judge' in person and undergo a one-year period of behavioral observation, during which all independent command authority shall be suspended."

"Third, Charlotte and Pederina, as key witnesses, need to cooperate with headquarters in a thorough investigation of the incident. After Pederina recovers from her injuries, she will need to undergo a psychological evaluation and a spiritual stability test, which will determine whether she can continue to work on the front lines."

"Fourth, Patriarch Felton happened to be on a pilgrimage after the attack, his whereabouts are a mystery, and he is highly suspected. He has been wanted by the Cardinal Order. Valentia and Melvis defected with the sealed artifact 'Crimson Kiss'. These two incidents have been taken over by the headquarters' 'white gloves' and listed as the highest priority for pursuit."

The transfer order was concise and ruthless, like a winter's chill wind that extinguished the last vestiges of life in this small town. Its wording was official and cold, offering no mention of accountability or any attempt at reassurance.

This seemingly protective relocation actually brought these "disappointed" and "troublesome" individuals under its nose for easier management and monitoring, effectively rendering the Tingen branch a mere shell of its former self.

Zelena closed her eyes, remaining silent for a long time. Outside the window was the familiar street scene of Tingen, the place she had built and poured her heart and soul into over the years.

The tribunal's spire, though dilapidated, still retains its outline. It once held the warmth of a fireplace, Dale's mutterings about retiring, Pedeline's lively piano playing, Melvis's silent but earnest profile, and Charlotte's steady and reliable figure... But now, all of that is gone.

Pedeline bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. She instinctively reached for the piano wheels on the low cabinet and plucked a low, melancholic note.

"Headquarters... will be very different, right?" she asked softly, with a hint of fear of the unknown and reluctance to leave her hometown.

Zelena forced a smile and gently patted Pederina's hand with her left hand: "Yes, things will be different, but we're still here."

Having finished her business, the white-haired beauty's gaze lingered on Charlotte. The sense of destiny she felt that day in the arbitration court, drawn by an invisible force, and Charlotte's calmness and intuition in the face of adversity, far surpassing that of a Sequence 8, remained in her mind.

then--

“Charlotte,” Silva began again, her voice lower than before, “the headquarters investigation team will have more detailed questions about your performance in this incident, as well as certain details.”

"I hope you can tell the truth and not take any chances."

“I understand, Ms. Silva.” Charlotte nodded slightly, her posture still impeccable.

"I will cooperate fully."

Chapter 217 Pride

The notes of parting sorrow lingered in the music.

After several weeks of recuperation, Ms. Z's condition finally stabilized under the care of the Holy Temple Pharmacist. Although the curse was mostly removed, its complete eradication would still require time and opportunity. Pederina's right arm had most of its cast removed, and although her movements were still stiff, at least the hope of playing the violin remained.

On the day they left, a light rain began to fall early in the morning, just like the night they arrived at the port, only the atmosphere was more somber and solemn.

There was no grand farewell ceremony. The head of the Mechanical Heart branch and the captain of the Cultivator Squad, Is, came on behalf of the local official organization to see them off, expressing their regret and best wishes. Sylva stood a little further away, like a silver-haired, frost-covered statue, silently fulfilling his duty of guarding and protecting this wounded team.

No one knows who died on that rainy night. Only the stone tablets standing in the cemetery and the list of honors recorded the names of the deceased. Only a few people who rushed to pay their respects before leaving after their injuries had healed a little still remembered the faces of their former colleagues.

There is no greater separation than that between the living and the dead.

A simple black trench coat draped over Ms. Z's waist, making her appear even thinner than before her injury. She sat by the window, taking one last look at the former arbitration tribunal site, which looked particularly desolate in the rain—the spire tower was now nothing but ruins, like a huge, silent wound.

Her companions, her dereliction of duty, and... the girl she couldn't bring back are buried there.

Pedeline hugged her violin case, head bowed, trying hard not to let her tears fall.

The carriage slowly set off, rolling over the wet cobblestone streets. The streets and buildings of Tingen gradually blurred and receded in the rain.

The carriage was silent except for the rolling wheels and the patter of raindrops on the roof.

After an unknown amount of time, Pedeline suddenly began to hum a melody. There were no lyrics; the tune was broken and intermittent, carrying the weakness of her injuries and a lingering sorrow. It was an old sea song from her hometown, originally sung by sailors on long voyages as they prayed for a safe return.

The hum she made at that moment sounded more like a silent elegy, dedicated to her departed companions, to the time in Tingen that could never be returned, and to the unknown road ahead.

Charlotte tilted her head slightly, her gaze piercing through the rain, looking south—the direction Melvis was currently in. Through the pull of the strings of fate, she could clearly observe every girl she influenced.

She remained taciturn and composed, only a faint, elusive glint flashed in the depths of her emerald eyes.

She followed the lady's gaze, watching the farewell in the rain, as if admiring a faded old painting. No one knew what she was thinking at that moment.

Was she relieved that her identity hadn't been exposed? Was she plotting how to continue her 'fun' in the more complex situation in Florence? Or perhaps... she was observing this game, which she had entered into and which involved so many people, with a touch of amusement?

woo-

The long whistle of the ship signaled the moment of farewell.

A tiny sparrow, holding a heavy book, stands quietly on the road where the carriage must pass, waiting for someone, or perhaps just a glance.

She waited for Charlotte's gaze, and for that gentle smile, tinged with surprise and delight, that streamed in from the window.

Look, the little bird that once belonged to Watson has now blossomed into its own glory. The girl named Winnie, whose name is so ordinary, is now leading the members of the Mechanical Heart branch, watching the departing vehicle with her eyes. She doesn't speak, but it's as if she's saying that she will soon go to Florence to catch up with him.

The stubborn and strong-willed bird sheds the dust bestowed upon it by the heavens, just to prove itself to one person, to confide its grievances to one person, and to question the truth.

How vivid, how exciting! Happiness is always built on the suffering of others, and Charlotte is no exception. She likes to use the misfortunes of others to highlight her own happiness, and then use the pain and struggles of others as the driving force for her to move forward.

From a moral standpoint, this should be a behavior worthy of criticism, but she didn't care. She felt that someone like herself, who was loyal to her desires, was already quite proud to be able to enjoy herself in her heart rather than actively seek out pleasure.

Yes, Charlotte has always been proud of herself.

Florence, the headquarters of the Holy See, the scrutiny of the Cardinal Order... these are merely changes of stage. What truly piqued her interest was that tiny sparrow from just moments ago, holding a heavy tome, her gaze piercing through the rain.

The burning resentment, the search for confirmation, and the silent declaration of war in her eyes stirred Charlotte's heartstrings far more powerfully than any flowery words.

Questioning sincerity? Proving value?

She whispered to herself, a barely suppressed pleasure brushing against her heart like a feather.

The feeling of being gazed upon, pursued, and treated as some kind of 'target' is itself a sophisticated pleasure. Watching Winnie, this little bird covered in dust, clumsily yet persistently preening her feathers within the framework of a mechanical heart, trying to fly toward what she believes to be the truth, and steadfastly moving forward, seeking her affirmation or denial.

Yes, only what you discover with your own hands and witness with your own eyes is the most unquestionable and irrefutable truth.

Winnie, I did look down on you, but your keen insight and intuition have touched this mask and revealed the true nature of the wicked. So, how will you repay this debt of gratitude?

The wheels rolled on, traversing the long road, from the neighing of the old horse to the roar of the train.

The view outside the window gradually transitioned from damp fields and hills to a more open plain, with the occasional outline of a factory appearing and disappearing in the fog, belching black smoke.

The salty, briny air of the harbor was replaced by a cacophony of soot, steam, engine oil, and some indescribable, bustling atmosphere of a vast metropolis.

Florence is getting closer.

As the arched roof, riveted together from steel, came into view, the rain temporarily subsided. The leaden clouds cracked open, sparingly casting down a few rays of light, but unable to dispel the perennial haze that shrouded this metropolis.

As the carriage pulled into the platform, a wave of noise instantly washed over us.

The piercing whistles of steam engines, the shouts of porters, the hissing of steam valves releasing pressure, the hawkers' cries, and conversations in different dialects... all converged into a deafening torrent.

Beneath the rough dome, steel tracks extend in all directions like blood vessels, swallowing and spitting out steel carriages of various shapes. Well-dressed gentlemen and ladies and workers covered in oil rub shoulders and hurry along.

At that very moment, a slender yet graceful figure approached the carriage. She glanced around, as if searching for someone returning home.

"Dr. Bella, what brings you here!"

Among the crowd, many ordinary people who knew and admired him expressed their respect through their words and actions.

Upon hearing the address of an old friend, Ms. Z, who had been looking down, slightly raised her head, and her gaze met that of the person in front of her.

Time seemed to stretch out at that moment.

The doctor paused, wanting to step forward, but seemed hesitant. She spoke stiffly, as if she had to keep her distance.

“Zelena…”

The environment, the atmosphere, the expressions—everything seemed to have changed, yet nothing seemed to have changed at all.