Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

The harsh winter cold and the sudden heavy snow made the weather unsuitable for any activity, but looking around, one could still see workers wrapped in thin blankets bustling about in the factory and working in the streets.

Without saying a word, Charlotte simply pointed to a corner.

Following her gaze, the red-haired girl saw a dirty corner under the eaves where a group of homeless people, men and women, old and young, were huddled together.

Their faces were pale, their bodies numb, and in this cold night, no one could guarantee that those poor people would wake up again.

Just then, the girl spoke softly.

"Sophie, go and draw them. You don't need oil paints, just use the most basic pencil sketches."

Charlotte handed the easels and paper she had bought along the way to the former, then held up a black umbrella and stood quietly behind her, shielding Sophoby from the endless wind and snow.

"why?"

Clearly, the red-haired girl still didn't understand the meaning behind the girl's actions.

"You should know that the Blooming Flowers Art Exhibition is coming soon. Have you ever thought about bringing your paintings into the public eye?"

"Impossible. The paintings displayed in the Blooming Flowers Art Exhibition are all original works by masters. They used the best pigments and had renowned artists as their base. A sketch, a sketch of a poor laborer, would not attract the attention of those powerful and wealthy people at all."

Sufby immediately denied it, and naturally spoke up.

"From officials and nobles to the talents who have made outstanding contributions to Tingen, and even some well-known commoners, they are used to elegant things and pursue the shaping of aesthetics. Even if they do not understand art, no one will cheer for suffering or be captivated by these unseen and insignificant scenes."

Looking up at the white sky, Charlotte smiled slightly.

"Why should we cater to their tastes? The painting exhibition at the Holy Temporal Festival was an event approved by Emperor Rothali after he was converted into an emperor. He hoped that the painters could use paper and pen to depict the prosperity of the empire and to celebrate their own achievements."

"But in reality, this country and this city are not prosperous. They, and you, are all living very difficult and impoverished lives, aren't they?"

After learning about the circumstances surrounding the Earnshaw family's suicide, before even touching the hidden door, she envisioned how to gather the power of the masses to reveal the truth on a relatively equal footing, overturn the established verdict, and clear Miss Earnshaw's name.

The "Blooming Flowers" art exhibition, which gathers social celebrities, attracts powerful elites, is highly valued by the government, and is the grandest exhibition in Tingen, was the destination and stage he had initially envisioned.

Even now that she knows about the existence of extraordinary power, Charlotte's thoughts remain unchanged.

The difficulty in obtaining materials and the stringent requirements of the ritual advancement mean that, if one wishes to embark on the path of the 'Arbitrator,' Brett Canning, the leader of the India Party, and the unsolved culprit in the disappearance case, are all potential subjects for trial.

However, a month is ultimately too short a time. The girl cannot place all her hopes on one place. She will frequently run around in order to advance to the extraordinary level, and she will also get involved among the people and climb mountains.

She could accept doing her best to reach the end, but she would never want to be mired in confusion and die an ordinary death. Even if she failed, she still wanted to live a magnificent life and leave her mark on history.

Books symbolize knowledge and interpret thoughts, while paintings can directly express sorrow. It was for this reason that Charlotte took notice of the peacock after learning of Sophie's talent in painting.

and so--

“We should make them see the decay hidden beneath the prosperity, see the truth of this city, and see what these people, those people, and we look like. Sofby, do you see? These lives, as light as a feather, as fleeting as dust, as things that will disappear tomorrow, so utterly transient…”

She tilted the black silk umbrella down and handed Sofby a sharpened pencil, saying...

"Put pen to paper, I will write for you..."

"Hold up an umbrella."

Chapter Twenty-Four: Love Me, Love My Dog

The pencil lead danced, lines were drawn, slender fingers gripped the nib, outlining the contours on the yellowed paper with a soft, rustling sound.

Listen closely, and you'll hear the distant ship's horn. Look closely, and you'll see the streetlights flickering nearby, occasionally illuminating a red-haired girl with her shoulders lowered, focused on something.

She seemed to be all alone, yet the raging wind and snow did not approach her, only accumulating in layers outside her immediate vicinity.

For some unknown reason, but when I looked up, in the shadow of the low building, a black umbrella was held open against the white snow, and a silver-haired figure stood quietly alone, shielding his friend who was focused on painting from the cold wind, harmonious and natural.

“...Miss Watson, I don’t understand.”

With a pause at the tip of the brush, the image of a person burdened with suffering was left on the paper. As dusk deepened, Sofby's confusion grew stronger with her increasing weariness.

Beside her were several completed sketches, including one of a homeless person lying down, a shirtless, thin man, a hunched old man, and a toddler.

As dusk approached and evening drew near, the pen tip continued to leap and dance. Passersby might have noticed this place, but upon seeing the sketch on yellow paper with black lines, their interest waned, and they returned to their wanderings in the factory area and streets.

Those images of suffering are a reflection of their lives, a reality they want to escape but cannot break free from, and no one wants to face their own ugliness.

"Why do you paint for them, for us, for the insignificant laborers and homeless people? No one will appreciate such an act; they will even resent and be indignant about it."

Her palms were damp with sweat; the long hours of writing had taken their toll on the red-haired girl. Even though the wind and snow had been shielded from her, the winter chill still seeped into her body, making her shiver slightly.

"Sophie, do you remember what I said before?"

Charlotte gently trembled the umbrella, shaking off the accumulated snow, and calmly gazed into the night, as if speaking only to herself.

"I hate the sight of suffering, whether it is my own or that of others."

“But Miss Watson, you are clearly an aristocrat. You can be high above and indifferent to these commoners, just like I used to be.”

Upon hearing this, Sophie could no longer suppress her desire to speak and finally voiced the question that had been buried in her heart for so long.

"noble?"

Charlotte paused for a moment, as if hearing the word for the first time.

Then, she chuckled softly.

First came a suppressed chuckle, then a rude, mocking laugh.

"Is that how you see me, Sofby?"

"Wow, this is such a wonderful, heartfelt compliment! I wish there was more!" Charlotte thought to herself, but her expression remained remarkably calm, focused only on creating the scene.

"Isn't that so? Whether it's dignified politeness or unreserved manners, without good upbringing, it's impossible to have such an attitude."

Hearing the girl's melodious laughter, which clearly carried a hint of mockery, Sueby felt no annoyance at all. She was simply puzzled by Watson's current words and actions.

"While I am pleased to receive this praise, let me ask you, don't nobles also have a nose and two eyes? What is the difference between nobles and them?"

Pointing to the shivering refugees lying in the street, Charlotte finished her explanation, closed her umbrella, and slowly walked towards the weary and weak girl.

Leaning forward and hunching her neck, without any extra movements, she simply extended her index finger, gently lifted the other person's chin, and gently and playfully pursed her thin lips, exhaling a moist breath.

"Could it be, Sufby, that you believe there is a fundamental difference between yourself and them now?"

Her red eyes narrowed sharply, and her heart trembled violently. Sufby could feel a hand with distinct knuckles covering her soft back through her clothes.

"That dress is one of the few old outfits you own, isn't it?"

It was said to be an inquiry, but the fingertips slid slowly down from top to bottom without pausing.

The red-haired girl tried to break free, but the biting cold wind and the long hours of writing had already exhausted her, leaving her weak. In addition, the girl's strength was just right, and the soothing feeling soon overwhelmed her resistance, swaying from the back of her neck.

“You live in the cheapest apartment, suffering from poverty, and you don’t even want to light a coal lamp at night. Your ten fingers are gradually becoming rough, and you only want to wear gloves when you see people.”

The embarrassment of Sofby was exposed without any concealment, and the soothing feeling followed the graceful movement of the fingers, becoming gentler and more itchy as it went down.

The girl's fingertips seemed to possess a magical power, sending a tingling sensation along the winding path throughout the red-haired girl's entire body, even through her clothes.

"You can't deny these facts."

The words faded away, and her fingertips paused. Seeing that the peacock's pupils had become somewhat unfocused, Charlotte raised the corners of her lips and released her index finger that had been lifting the peacock's chin.

Subsequently.

"what--"

She let out a soft moan, and Sufby immediately blushed, realizing just how embarrassing she had been.

Unable to forget the feeling she had just experienced, she turned her head to look at Charlotte, the silver-haired girl leaning against the wall, calmly facing her.

Unable to calm down due to her stifled state of mind and her anger made her even more complicated. When she heard Watson frankly state his predicament, many unspeakable things welled up in her heart at that moment.

So, she still looks down on me now? Was all that selfless help just charity?

Biting her lip and frowning, Sufby clenched her fingers, her eyes welling up with tears, as if all her previous hopes had vanished into thin air.

Perhaps, even she herself didn't realize that the words that followed were already tinged with a deep sense of loss.

"...That's different, Josephine, you're clearly turning black into white. I don't think I'm any more noble than I am now, but I'm talking about you. You and I are different from them."

His courageous attempt to clarify was immediately interrupted by the girl's sarcastic remarks.

"What's the difference? Is it the self-proclaimed innate nobility, the inflexible family precepts and doctrines, or those outdated ancestral stories?"

She chuckled twice, like a rebellious noblewoman, and offered her noncommittal objection.

“I never believed that there was such a thing as something that could have been passed down from hundreds of years ago through generations, ignoring wisdom and stupidity, and simply through bloodline to the present day.”

Even so, your wealth—

The girl, who was usually calm and composed, raised her index finger to her lips at this moment, solemnly silencing herself.

"Shh, shut up, Sofby. I consider you a friend, and friends should be equal."

“Come, repeat after me, regardless of social status or circumstances.”

She obediently opened and closed her lips, complying with the former's request, but halfway through the conversation, Sophie noticed something was amiss.

"Regardless of status—no, Miss Watson, I'm not a child!"

Charlotte looked at the red-haired girl's reproachful face with a half-smile, teased her, and then stopped joking.

"See, aren't you much more clear-headed now? Alright, Sufby, your problem is actually very simple. You and I are friends, and you and those poor people live on the same land."

She put on her felt hat, picked up her cane, raised her voice, and looked at Sufby with utmost seriousness before speaking.

"And there's a saying, 'love me, love my dog,' do you understand?"

Without waiting for a reply, she walked closer to the alley corner where the homeless man was lying, and generously gave the rest of her money—aside from what she needed for a round trip—to these suffering people.

"This is your payment for being human models tonight."

Amidst several astonished gazes and numerous expressions of gratitude, she turned back and placed the cloth umbrella in the red-haired girl's palm.

"It's late at night. As ladies, both you and I should go home."

Leaving behind only these words and this cloth umbrella to shield her from the heavy snow, Charlotte braved the biting wind and stepped alone into the distant darkness.

Love me, love my dog...

No, wait, wait a minute!

Before he could even straighten his thoughts and understand the true meaning of the words, his body was already uncontrollably chasing after that slender figure.

As her breathing deepened and she gradually came to understand, shyness quickly flushed Sufby's snowy neck, face, and even the roots of her ears.

"Josephine!"

She called out her friend's name and grasped the other's hand tightly, unwilling to let go.

A soft touch enveloped her fingers; without turning around, Charlotte knew who it was, and so—

"Wait a minute, what should you call me?"

Sophie lowered her head, not daring to look up, and whispered softly, like the gentle sound of a breeze:

"Watson, Miss Watson, we're still a bit far from the train station, so..."

Having abandoned any semblance of composure, she could no longer calmly face the young girl. She could only suppress her chaotic emotions and deliberately lower the umbrella to shield the figure from the increasingly heavy snow.

"Let's go together under an umbrella."

It's a silence that masks panic and an inability to face reality.

......

Charlotte tried to appear calm and collected, but her eyebrows involuntarily arched.

Well, my charm is indeed unparalleled.

Now that you've broken down the little peacock's defenses and made her willingly give herself to you, where should you go next?

Well, even though I said goodnight to the other person, a lady will always tell a few trivial little lies from time to time.

It was indeed getting late, but that didn't stop an eager junior from seeking advice from a taciturn and lonely beauty.

Perhaps, Ms. Mossant is eagerly awaiting her arrival.

Chapter Twenty-Five Extraordinary Materials

The last train rumbled past, and large snowflakes fell on the glass windows, sliding down in winding trails of water.

With a slightly unfocused gaze, Sophie gripped the back of the seat in front of her, staring blankly out the window at the passing lights and tall buildings.

She was still deeply immersed in those words, unable to pull herself out of it.