Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

“But Winnie, I remember very clearly, you really needed this job, so I asked Mr. Singh for it.”

The bird girl froze for a moment. She looked at the man driving in the distance, then at the gentle-looking girl. Her gratitude deepened, but so did her guilt.

"I have already received too much kindness from you, Miss Watson, and I cannot accept myself failing to repay it in any way."

She fell silent for a moment, and looking at that face that was both timid and stubborn, Charlotte's mind raced. She softened her tone and slowly tightened her grip on her fingers.

"Just because you can't pay it back now doesn't mean you won't be able to pay it back in the future. For example, how about starting by doing a good job on the tasks I assign you?"

If this were in later generations, it would be considered a typical example of verbal manipulation in the workplace. However, just listening to it made the silly girl's eyes redden.

It was clear that she had taken it as genuine encouragement.

"Thank you, thank you..."

With her eyes glistening with tears and her hands tightly clutching the hem of her clothes, Winnie finally revealed the expression the young girl had longed to see, and could only softly stammer out a thank you.

There was no further conversation, only the sound of the horses' hooves slowing down, and the red-haired girl pausing her gaze, looking at Charlotte with increasingly complicated emotions.

I didn't have to wait long. After squinting for a moment, I could see the office's sign through the window sill.

Straighten the reins to gradually slow the carriage down until it came to a stop on the side of the road. Singh tidied up his belongings while calling to the girl inside.

"Girls, we've arrived."

Without making excuses, Charlotte picked up her cane and jumped down first with light steps.

After settling into place, he didn't forget to bow and politely extend his hand to those inside the carriage, offering his support as a gentleman.

"Ladies, please."

"Ugh, Miss Watson, this is too..."

Upon seeing this, Winnie immediately blushed, so shy that she didn't even know where to put her hands. In contrast, Sophie was quite straightforward, simply stepping over the step as if no one was there.

Walking inside, there was still a neat front hall and clean floors, except that when they went there they were nobles, but when they came back they were employees of the firm.

Perhaps because she had seen so many beautiful girls around her, Charlotte found the simple, cool decor much more pleasing to the eye than before.

“Ms. Watson, I would like to have a more detailed discussion with you about Miss Kercia.”

Without taking a break, the old detective took out paper and pen as soon as he arrived at his desk, intending to ask the girl more questions.

Charlotte and Singh were equally eager to solve this series of disappearances, without holding back their words.

Thus, the detailed conversation and the sorting of priorities, accompanied by the rustling of pen tips on oiled paper, filled the front hall, creating an unusual harmony.

"Yes, it's not just about lifestyle habits, but also interpersonal relationships. You did a very good job in this test."

It wasn't just verbal praise; Singh took out his wallet, doubled the original payment, and handed the corresponding banknotes to each girl one by one.

Thirty sulphurs.

As Charlotte took the banknote engraved with the emperor's portrait and gently stroked it, she once again felt a sense of abundant abundance.

Alright, delicious food! I can finally visit you again!

Unlike Charlotte, both Winnie and Sophby held onto their wages tightly. The former looked at the girl with gratitude, while the latter silently bit her lower lip, seemingly unwilling.

"Alright, girls, that's all for today's work. Now that you've officially joined the firm, you need to follow the rules here. I hope to see you all tomorrow at eight o'clock."

Having put on his overcoat and felt hat, and having obtained a crucial clue, the old detective, unable to suppress his desire for the truth, immediately pushed open the door and went out, leaving the three of them looking at each other in bewilderment.

The first to say goodbye was the bird girl. As dusk approached, the cheapest public train would soon stop running, so after repeatedly expressing her gratitude, the girl staggered out of the office, as if lost in a beautiful dream, unable to believe it.

"I want to go back."

Without any preamble, once they were alone together, Sufby abandoned her indifference and stated her position frankly.

That voice, though seemingly calm, clearly conveyed anger and dissatisfaction to anyone.

"It is indeed very late, and the good girl should go home."

Looking out at the deepening dusk, Charlotte didn't respond to the former's emotions, but curled up in a corner of the sofa, swinging her legs casually.

Seeing this, the red-haired girl's eyes dimmed considerably, and a wave of disappointment washed over her as she lowered her head.

"But I won't let you leave."

Sophie looked up in surprise, her heart leaping with inexplicable joy, until she noticed Charlotte looking at her with her long, narrow, silver-gray eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Right? We still have an unfinished agreement. Take your drawing board and paper, finish the piece, and then go back."

Upon hearing this, the little peacock knew perfectly well that the girl had been deliberately being cold towards him.

Feeling wronged and somewhat angry, Sufby clenched her knuckles, wanting to turn around and leave.

After all, when you feel neglected or angry, it's natural to feel resentment and anger at being treated unfairly; no one is an exception.

"I don't need it anymore, this amount of payment is far from enough—"

Before she could finish speaking, his slender hand grasped her wrist and then gently rubbed it in his palm.

The itch is a faint itch, just like my current state of mind.

"I did wrong."

It was a sincere apology.

Leaning close, he whispered in her ear, letting her hair fall over his own, the silvery-gray strands flowing down the orange-red fabric.

“Sophie, I admit that I have neglected you.”

Charlotte wrapped her arms around the little peacock's arm and swayed gently, speaking in an almost coquettish tone:

"Please forgive me, okay? After all, how can I show affection for you in front of so many people? I would blush and feel shy."

Of course, it's all fake, blatantly fake.

Sophie initially wanted to leave and let Watson experience the feeling of being ignored, but when she remembered the phrase "love me, love my dog" and saw the lifelike pleading, she softened.

When he came to his senses, he wanted to take his anger out on the girl, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He couldn't get angry, and wanted to pretend to be annoyed, but as soon as he glanced to the side, he caught a glimpse of the concern in Charlotte's eyes, and all his complicated emotions turned into a blossoming of joy in his heart.

The cold wind was biting, but my heart was warm.

She took off the umbrella and pushed open the heavy door. Without saying a word, she simply opened the umbrella as she had done yesterday and waited for the other person to arrive.

Although it was done quietly, it perfectly showcased the girl's true nature.

Seeing this, Charlotte covered her lips, suppressing a slight smile, but she couldn't hide the smugness in her heart.

It's a piece of cake.

The train rumbled on, just like the night before. They once again traversed the streets and alleys, arriving at the port area, where they encountered countless impoverished people.

The easel was laid out, the paper laid out, and the ink-black pencil lead then painted the faces of the toiling people. They were still dejected and disheveled, but they had a more radiant appearance than yesterday.

No longer so resistant, no longer indifferent, these ragged, huddled people turned their gazes toward them, their eyes filled with a glimmer of hope.

Yesterday, it was this young girl who sheltered them through the snowy night and gave them the will to live.

Charlotte took the umbrella from the little peacock, brushed away the scattered snowflakes, bought several newspapers from the newsboy, didn't look at them carefully, just put them in the nearest bucket, then lit a match, burning them into a warmth in the winter, into a ray of sunshine that gently comforted each other.

Bread, butter, cheese—not many pennies, not even a single-digit number—these things can give a poor man hope for life.

Gradually, displaced people stopped and joined in. Gradually, confused and distressed people stopped and flocked to the vicinity of the fire, gathering around the girl.

Without speaking, without telling stories, and without posing as a noble angel, Charlotte knew the time was not yet ripe. She simply moved between sheltered corners and open shops, sharing the same earth with those who suffered, even if it was a dirty earth.

As she pressed down on the pen, watching everything unfold, Sufby's fingertips grew heavier. The people on the scroll no longer all wore sorrowful faces; a girl gradually appeared between the black and white lines, moving from far to near, from darkness to light.

The longing in my heart gradually settled with each stroke of the pen, until—

Hey.

Strange footsteps approached, and wet clothes brushed across the muddy road, leaving a narrow trail of water.

The person's face was obscured, but he was tall and strong, with his lower limbs completely covered, not a single inch of skin exposed.

This was not surprising, but Charlotte's extraordinary senses allowed her to smell a faint fishy odor from under the robe, like rotting sea fish, or perhaps the scent emanating from the robe itself.

Admittedly, this is a corner of the port area, but it is still several streets away from the nearest sea. It is hard to imagine someone dragging their soaking wet clothes along the way.

Following the traces left by the former, she also stopped a passerby and asked apologetically.

"Sir, do you know which way that direction leads?"

His body trembled slightly as he forced out the words through clenched teeth.

Fisherman's Bar.

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Art of Killing

Life is a tangled mess, pale and mundane, but unusual phenomena are like a dark red thread running through it all.

Having become aware of the existence of extraordinary abilities, Charlotte would not ignore any unusual situations, because they could very well become the thread that tugs at the heart of the future.

Distance, the smell of fish, the fisherman's bar, the Indiya Party...

Connecting clues, establishing hypotheses, observing and waiting should be the professional habits of a detective, but the urgency of time forces the girl to put aside some concerns and make a decisive decision based on the facts.

It may seem dangerous for an ordinary person to take risks, but it is actually not safe at all. However, as Ms. Mossang once said, low-sequence extraordinary individuals are only superior to ordinary people in some aspects, but in terms of physical strength, they are mostly no match for firearms, let alone artillery. If they are hit in a vital spot, they will not escape the fate of death.

And coincidentally, Charlotte not only has the courage to walk on the edge of a knife and dance, but the special nature of her puppet also gives her the confidence and strength to wield it freely and overcome the strong with the weak.

Given the choice between a life of complacency and a life of mediocrity, and the spirit of overcoming obstacles, a young girl will always choose the latter.

After distributing the purchased food and bedding to the homeless people around her, Charlotte walked back to her little sparrow, patted her shoulder gently, and whispered something.

"Thank you for your hard work, Sophie. That's enough for today. Please keep the finished paintings safe for me."

He paused, adding the final stroke to the unfinished sketch. On the drawing, a simply dressed, silver-haired girl was extending an arm to the crowd, as if protecting them from their suffering.

Despite his slender figure, he appeared incredibly tall at that moment.

"...Josephine, aren't you planning to go back?"

It was a murmur of confusion.

Seeing Sophoby's confused look, Charlotte raised her eyebrows slightly and put her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture.

"It's a secret. A lady is beautiful because of a secret, and a secret makes a lady even more charming."

Seeing Charlotte's ambiguous smile, Sophby felt annoyed and was about to speak when the girl spoke first, as if she had expected it.

"Don't worry, Sufby, there's still a long way to go. I'll tell you at the right time."

She fastened the clasp, handed the umbrella back to the former, and then walked briskly into the distance, leaving the red-haired girl lost in thought.

If we successfully break through this impasse in the future, then taking these little birds that rely on us to reach the extraordinary would be an effective investment and boost, but not now.

Without abundant wealth and unique items, even attending the gathering of extraordinary individuals will not lead to any significant advancement. The essence of a transaction is the exchange of value, and she will always need a bargaining chip to tip the scales.

Crackling sound, crackling sound.

The public train lurched and lurched, and Sofby, clutching her brand-new easel and numerous paintings, leaned against a bench, her eyes fixed on the receding figures outside the window.

She had so much to say to Watson, but every time it reached her throat, she lost her strength. He claimed to treat her as a friend, yet he always left so casually and indifferently. They were just strangers who had known each other for only two days, yet he always took care of her just right, leaving her feeling a push and pull that was neither too close nor too distant.

If that help wasn't out of kindness and goodwill, then what price should I pay?

The frequent ups and downs ignited her inner fire, making the girl restless and uneasy.

As Charlotte said, mystery is the charm of a lady, and when one's heart is full of the desire to explore, then the final surrender is not far away.

Having left the sheltered alleyway, Charlotte intended to follow the damp trail left by the man, but one of the laborers who had received her kindness dissuaded her:

"Madam, don't go that way. That direction is controlled by the India Party. They are vicious and completely unreasonable."

The India Party? Isn't that the party clearly linked to the Earl Shore family's downfall? They not only shut down the liquor business but also instigated small-scale strikes, targeting the original owner's parents.

"But isn't the India Party a trade union for workers in the port area?"

It was a deliberate attempt to steer the conversation in the direction of the topic.

“That was a long time ago. At first, they did speak up for us and plead for us, but gradually they changed. They became strangers and arrogant.”

"They put on airs, sometimes frequenting lavish places, sometimes speaking in incomprehensible language, like... mouthpieces for those gentlemen."

"Then why don't you try to unite the dissent and dissolve the India Party, which has turned its back on the workers?"

With her doubts in mind, Charlotte carefully chose her words before asking.

"...If they can't do it, they'll always bribe some of the leaders, and most of the foremen who benefit will obey. Madam, you should know that it's already difficult for us just to make a living."