Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

His eyes swept over Charlotte's slender figure, his gaze becoming increasingly revealing and burning like fire.

"Finished?"

Unmoved and unfazed, Charlotte was unaffected by the foul language; she didn't have the energy to bother refining every word.

Listening to the explanations of these security guards, it seems unwise to try to persuade them and awaken their former conscience through their mouthpiece.

That makes sense. Having been immersed in a life of extravagance and indulgence, how could one possibly be persuaded with mere words?

...Then let's not rely on words.

The girl's 'kind' gaze began to sweep across the entire room.

Number of people, weapons, possibilities.

There were about a dozen people around, none of them possessing any extraordinary qualities; they were all ordinary people with only their strength. Only the man standing at the head of the group had bulging muscles and a steady gait, suggesting he had some combat experience.

Although some of her arms were holstered on her shoulders and waist, it still took time to react and draw her gun, and those few seconds were enough for her to completely pull down the curtain.

Therefore, rounding up, their threat level is zero.

Slowly tightening her grip on her cane, Charlotte took a step forward without changing her expression, bringing the distance close to the capture range.

"Young lady, I don't know which noble family you come from, but this is the guild's territory, do you understand?"

This deliberate act seemed to anger the head guard, who reached out as if to grab the girl's collar.

However, a beam of light from the staff was faster, causing his neck to tilt immediately and his body to collapse instantly.

"you--!"

A startled scream.

The object struck the flesh with several heavy blows.

A muffled groan, a thud as someone fell to the ground, a painful moan.

And then, the tip of the staff swung, a flash of light breaking through the dull hum of the air.

"It's an attack! Strike!"

Amidst the cacophony of shouts, a chaotic chorus of footsteps fell like raindrops.

Several impacts, several noises, several hoarse sounds of hitting the ground.

The music of firelight rose and fell, and the muffled groans of clashing sticks echoed.

The sound faded, and everyone collapsed.

A painful scream, a sob with tears welling up in his eyes.

Then, in the silence, the blood began to gush out.

Tables and chairs overturned, chandeliers swayed, and a chorus of hoarse voices rose and fell, a passionate chorus of panic and regret.

It is a pleasant sound produced by gently flicking the staff to make it stand upright on the ground.

"Shh-"

Charlotte gently raised her finger to touch those thin lips, exhaling a soft breath as she spoke earnestly.

"Quiet, okay?"

-

As night fell, at the Fisherman's Bar, a well-dressed man crossed his legs, carefully tying his bow tie. Only when he heard the news of the death did he narrow his eyes, staring at his subordinate in front of him. His words were slow but chilling.

"You mean, Vorn and Talon are dead?"

"Yes, boss."

With a stiff expression, even though he was Bright's brother who had gone through thick and thin with him for many years, Huggins was somewhat afraid and apprehensive.

"Ha, Hudgens, do I still need to call you 'boss'? Call me 'sir,' and in a few years, I'll have to call you 'sir.'"

With two yellowed fingers, Bright picked up a cigar, held a wine glass in one hand, downed the contents in one gulp, and inhaled the lingering smoke, exhaling clouds of vapor through his nose. "The Earl Shaw family's wine is truly delicious. It's a pity that Sir Bathory has imprisoned Miss Charlotte. Ah, her type is exactly what I like."

Having thoroughly enjoyed this life of extravagance, the man casually crossed his legs and asked in a slow, deliberate voice:

"Tell me, when did those two people die? How did they die?"

"Yesterday, Vaughn intended to rob Viscount Vancent's goods, but his plan was foiled by a detective halfway there. His attempt backfired spectacularly; he not only lost his position but also ruined his reputation. Near dawn, the Goddess's Sword came knocking and cleaved him in two. As for Talon, he died a few days ago in an accident, shot in the neck and dying instantly..."

Dewey, standing on the other side, straightened up and described the scene with trepidation.

"What a bunch of idiots! They clearly said it was a critical time, yet they still love to cause trouble."

Listening to the maid's shy moans, Bright's tone remained calm, but the corners of his mouth slowly turned up in a smile.

"Well, Talon was already on the verge of losing control. It was all premeditated, just to give those policemen an explanation. But Vaughn's death is a bit suspicious. Sir Bathory should have been in cahoots with Bishop Felton and wouldn't have gotten involved in this trivial matter that cost a few lives."

"Sir, as you know, those priests only know how to spout grand-sounding lies and put on a hypocritical act. Who knows what they're plotting in secret?"

Listen, Huggins quickly offered a few words of explanation to exonerate himself.

"Ha, they won't be smug for long. Once Sir Bathory becomes consul, everything in Tingen will be reshuffled. Although there was a reason for Vaughn's death, to avoid suspicion and prevent those dog-sniffing detectives from sniffing out anything, I want him to be mute, dead and stiff. You know what I mean, Dewey?"

"If you fail to do your job properly, don't blame me for being ruthless. A lot of nameless peasants have died in the Tiber River."

"Yes, sir!"

Raise the volume, and Dewey immediately made a promise.

If judged solely by rank, he wouldn't have needed to be so obsequious, but behind Bright stood Sir Bathory, the highest-ranking nobleman in Tingen.

"Speaking of which, I heard that a kind-hearted lady in the port area has recently been helping those laborers and homeless people."

"Sir, I suspect it's probably just some noble lady who, on a whim, is looking for some grateful glances to satisfy her vanity."

Upon hearing this, the two burst into laughter, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Just then, a polite knock came from the entrance to the lobby.

Da da da.

"Your men?"

Taking a bite of the juicy stewed lamb, Bright raised an eyebrow and asked with a hint of displeasure.

In his view, interrupting his evening meal was already inappropriate.

"That shouldn't be the case. I told them not to bother us at this time."

As he shuffled outside, Huggins muttered complaints under his breath.

"If I find out who's so clueless, I'll skin them alive."

He gripped the solid wood doorknob and tugged gently. He heard the sound of the door hinges striking the bell and saw a slender hand wrapped in leather suddenly pass through the door, bringing a silver gun muzzle to his forehead.

boom.

The first shot rang out from Charlotte.

Bones shattered, consciousness faded.

Red, white, viscous fluids—brain matter, nerves, blood vessels—all splattered together, leaving only a slowly drooping corpse.

As his life was drawing to a close, he realized the glove looked familiar. Through space, he felt it belonged to a former companion, Vaughn Gerald.

One out of three was eliminated, just as expected.

The extraordinary individuals at lower ranks tend to resemble ordinary people; their bodies cannot withstand bullets, and their minds become scattered and dazed, leading to a lack of vigilance due to distraction.

The moment the first person focuses their attention on opening the door is the perfect opportunity for the girl to launch a surprise attack.

The extraordinary glove pierced the door, and the revolver bullet pierced the skull; with just one strike, the threat was instantly halved.

Only then did the two people inside see the outside world clearly.

The chandelier went out, the high-hanging signboard drooped askew, and only the deepening night fell into view, bringing endless mystery.

The ground was a mess, tables and chairs were overturned, and a bunch of strong men lay sprawled on the ground, barely breathing, creating an almost eerie harmony.

In the center of the line of sight, the beautiful young girl's silver hair fell down like moonlight. She bent slightly, one foot on the back of the corpse and the other on the face. Her blood-stained cheeks were pressed against the floor by the pressure of her small leather boots, squeezing out layers of blood and fluid.

Red to the point of being vibrant, white to the point of being transparent, delicate and smooth—it is a stunning beauty built from the weight of death.

"Damn it, how dare you!"

With a kick, he overturned the table, spilling the gold-plated cutlery and remaining wine into his field of vision. Bright swayed and drew his revolver, about to fire, when a bullet beat him to it, instantly shattering his finger holding the gun.

"Good evening, Mr. Bright. I would like to greet all those I meet for the first time, but you are an exception."

Standing in the middle of the wrecked bar, amidst a group of burly men groaning in despair, Charlotte bowed to those who had come before her, her expression stern and cold.

"I imagine you have many questions to ask, but ladies first, let me ask you one first, and please answer honestly, even though you are destined to become one of us on Earth."

"Opium, fine wine, beautiful women, grand halls, wealth, power—where did you get this extravagantly luxurious lifestyle?"

boom!

The second shot rang out from Dewey.

Ignoring the girl's words, the obedient soldier raised his elbow and responded to the inquiry with a loud gunshot.

Steel shot out amidst dazzling fireworks, slicing across her skin, grazing her cheeks, and leaving streaks of blood on Charlotte's body.

Bright red liquid gushed out, uncontrollably flowing from the girl's body, as beautiful and captivating as blooming flowers.

This color, staining the darkness, ignited flames of grief and indignation in the eyes of the accompanying crowd.

“Defection, speculation, you use everything you have taken from me and from us as a pledge of allegiance to those who oppress and exploit us, all for your own selfish desires.”

"You are a thief, a traitor, and a heinous villain whose crimes deserve to be punished."

boom!

The third shot rang out from Bright.

It brushed against her skin, shattered the bottle at the girl's waist, and sent the stored liquid splashing into the air, outlining countless startling and disordered strokes.

That's the solvent, the solvent for the magic potion, and also the background color of the painting.

"Shut up, I've had enough of that kind of life. I just want to make my life better, what's wrong with that? Who doesn't pursue wealth? Who would be content with mediocrity? What right do you have to judge me?"

"Yes, of course there are, but it's not me."

"It's us."

With arms outstretched and space provided, weary figures and faces filled with indignation and sorrow then formed the backdrop of the painting.

They are the victims of this era, the oppressed and exploited people, and they are the most ordinary yet most moving sight.

Her raven eyelashes trembled slightly, her thin lips parted slightly, and a secret ancient word was uttered between her teeth, while a talisman drifted down gracefully.

She said, "Light comes."

In the deep darkness of night, a brilliant sun emerges, replacing the waning moon and illuminating the world with boundless light, inspiring longing in people's hearts.

This cluster of light was beautiful, but fleeting, as brief as a startled swan, as splendid as summer flowers. No one had never seen such a bright and gentle sun, like a giant flower blooming across the sky, illuminating the heart and lighting up hope.

The demonic insects with clear eyes flapped their wings, buzzing and hissing, coming from the near sea following the light, and soaring away.

One, two, three...

It seems endless, as if it were infinite.

They rushed headlong into that light, like moths to a flame, courting their own destruction.

They mingled with the splashed solvent and reflected the spilled blood.

The potion was forged, the ritual completed, and every drop fell back into the prepared vessel. With a sip and a swallow, a spiritual essence far beyond the ordinary converged within one's being.

Amidst the condemnation of the crowd, the flapping of the demonic insects' wings, and the shouts of the audience, Charlotte slowly raised her arm and pointed the revolver at Bright's heart.

she says:

"Lies are forbidden here."

Chapter Sixty-One: The Greatest Anticipation

The potion went down their throats, and cheers resounded.

What kind of feeling is this?

It cannot be described in words; one feels thoughts rising to the heavens while the body sinks into the abyss, only to be called back by calls and pulled back by anchors, thus stabilizing one's existence.