Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

The more she wrote words and sentences, composing chapters, the more she longed for the vast and beautiful world that she could freely express through her pen.

Great writer...

With a wry smile to her heart, Melina also raised her hand, looking at the watery kiss marks still visible on the back of her palm.

How romantic, how beautiful! Their acquaintance stemmed from a chance encounter, and their friendship arose from a series of images, whether it was the fall after leaping off the wall, the protective gesture of holding a cane, or the mutual appreciation between the author and the reader.

When coincidences overlap repeatedly, they cease to be mere chance and become inevitable. The little parrot is not a superstitious person, but she believes in the guidance of fate.

Josephine, if you wish my pen to serve you, if you wish me to be by your side, if you are my destiny, even if our acquaintance lasts only four short days, I will still—

It's so sweet.

The morning light filtered down in wisps, illuminating the misty haze, much like the quiet joy in Melina's heart at that moment. She felt a small happiness, a happiness that the person before her had chosen her, giving her destined troubles a purpose and adding color to her life.

Inhaling the delicate fragrance emanating from the girl's hair and listening to her rhythmic, soothing breaths, the little parrot cuddled and embraced her, its thoughts as carefree as blooming flowers, as if a few pink and white petals had blossomed.

But just as she was reluctant to let go, Charlotte pushed her away.

Charlotte did it on purpose, of course.

She manipulated the little parrot's feelings at will, giving it the happiness of being acknowledged, affirmed, and needed, only to quietly withdraw at the moment it enjoyed it most.

Even more outrageous, Charlotte took out some paper, shook her head lightly but firmly, and handed Melina a round-bellied fountain pen as if it were perfectly natural, reminding them that they should not continue to be intimate and should return to the main topic.

"..."

The chestnut-haired girl was a little stunned. She looked at the pen between her fingers—those hands, which had just been wrapped around Watson's slender waist, as if embracing the sun, were now empty.

A sense of loss and disappointment lingered in Melina's heart. She looked at the girl's face, which had regained its composure, her lips moved, but she couldn't utter a single word.

If I were a friend, or a fellow traveler, wouldn't I be able to take the initiative to hug her?

Strange ideas kept popping up, but were constantly being nipped in the bud by reason. Yes, what Watson needed was his own talent, not something more complicated and redundant.

Suppressing its pent-up emotions, the little parrot nodded slightly and said softly, "Josephine, I believe in you, and I am willing to offer my meager strength."

"However, the death of Brett Canning will not change much. Even if we lose this case, as long as those nobles need a mouthpiece, there will still be opportunists to take over. I don't know how to change that situation, just like my current predicament."

Charlotte's fingertips tapped softly on the table, and she could see the sorrow in Melina's eyes.

The limitations of the times made change extremely difficult. The parrot's pursuit of equality was nothing short of a fantasy. Whether wise or foolish, they all seemed too insignificant under the tide of steam and centuries of feudal rule.

Spreading ideas? The remaining time won't allow it. Raising a banner? The people's beliefs are not yet solidified, and they lack a sense of belonging.

Without voicing these concerns, the girl simply raised her voice and shared her innermost thoughts with the little parrot.

“I think we should let the workers choose the people they trust, and let them supervise each other, change the old rules, and establish a new union organization.”

"Only in this way can those suffering people carry out their will in action, firmly believe that their voices and actions are for their own better lives, and no longer be divided or swayed by internal voices. Previously, what I did in the port area was this kind of work."

Gazing at the towering spire of the castle in the distance, those clear eyes grew even sharper.

"As a first step, I pointed out to them who the enemies were and who the allies were. The India Party, the trade union that turned against the nobles, was the most conspicuous traitor, which is why last night's events occurred."

"Then, what can I do for you, Josephine, for those companions?"

It was a pursed-lip tone, but also a sincere inquiry.

"Melina, words are also a kind of subtle power. They are a carrier of knowledge and culture. They can be romantic and unrestrained, full of sweet words, or they can be deafening, revealing the facts, guiding the way, and inspiring people to move forward."

"It can make tyrannical rulers tremble and nobles tremble. It can awaken people's will, cleave through the iron curtain of swords and bullets, and in the brief gap between life and death, water the flowers of thought with shouts and blood, so that hope may live on in the world, as long as it is in the right hands."

As she spoke, she raised her eyebrows and looked directly at the little parrot.

"Mistletoe, your pen name, is somewhat well-known and occasionally becomes a topic of conversation, quietly influencing the general public. If you were to wield the pen, I believe it would become the strongest shaft, unleashing even greater power. Therefore, Melina, your joining me is—"

“Extremely important.”

Charlotte emphasized the word "important" and gently tucked the chestnut-haired girl's right hand between her fingers, lowering her head and stroking it lightly with her chin.

Her pupils constricted, her heart swayed. How beautiful and how directly these words flowed from her lips! Melina was completely captivated. She was impressed by Watson's literary talent and even more so by the power contained within those words.

She did reveal the hardships of people's lives in her writing, but she never imagined that one day she could use her words to change people's lives and change those tragic scenes.

"I will do it, even if it costs me everything..."

She bit her lip, drawing blood with her teeth, and murmured to herself.

In the end, she asked the same question that she had posed to those girls and those refugees.

"But Josephine, why do you speak up for the people?"

Upon hearing this, Charlotte merely raised her eyebrows, as if in a helpless reproach, and tugged at the feathers on the little parrot's wide-brimmed hat.

Okay, I got it.

"Just as you once said, all people should be equal, without distinction of poverty or lowliness. We can call each other comrades from the very beginning."

The address was so affectionate, so sincere, and when Melina caught a glimpse of Watson's upright posture and his composed, measured demeanor, she couldn't help but be mesmerized.

Fortunately, Charlotte flicked the little parrot's smooth forehead, causing her to wince and clutch her head, her eyes widening in annoyance.

That's terrible, I need to glare at them.

"Pfft, alright, now that we're friends and comrades, may I perhaps get to know my dear Melina a little better?"

Taking out the remaining talismans, she held the string of pins and shook them slightly, intentionally drawing out the last syllable.

"For example, starting with this, I happened to learn about some extraordinary people elsewhere. They are called the extraordinary ones. I wonder if my great writer knows anything about this?"

Clearly, although the words were uttered as a question, the statement itself was almost an undeniable truth.

Perhaps the timing wasn't right yet, but Charlotte couldn't wait any longer.

After becoming the arbitrator, she gained more confidence and was able to clarify matters. With the help of their deepening friendship, she was able to obtain the little parrot's assistance more efficiently.

"Josephine, where did you find out?"

The green feathers on the brim of her hat suddenly stood up, just like Melina's flustered and hesitant words at that moment, but of course, there was no wariness or vigilance in them.

Driven by a gradual emotional bond, the little parrot grew accustomed to Charlotte's presence and the occasional little surprises that came with spending time together.

"Naturally, it was that gathering hosted by 'Mr. Truth.' I vaguely remember that there was an unnamed lady wearing a cat mask on the side; she was quite cute."

"Well."

She quickly covered her lips with both hands, a shy blush spreading to her neck, and Melina turned her head away, her gaze darting away.

Although it was just a guess based on body shape and sitting posture, judging from the reaction, I had clearly hit the bullseye.

"Relax, I didn't mean that. Wild extraordinary beings should stick together for warmth, and besides—"

"I hope that, as friends, we can be honest with each other and trust each other."

Charlotte blinked her clear silver eyes a few times, her voice exceptionally earnest, seemingly a genuine expression, yet tinged with loneliness and grievance.

Unable to resist that somewhat pitiful look, Melina struggled with the decision for a while before finally giving up on hiding it.

"By chance, I came across an extraordinary world and became the author of Sequence Nine. Those talismans were perfected by me through trial and error after I collected the ancient books."

"I see, Melina, you just gave me such a precious item back then..."

His voice grew softer and softer, less and less confident, until finally it was almost a buzzing sound.

Feeling ashamed and guilty, the silver-haired girl could no longer remain indifferent and stepped forward to give the little parrot a warm hug.

"Thank you, my best friend."

A faint fragrance wafted over, so suddenly that before Melina could react, Charlotte released her hands.

"..."

Pressing her trembling wrist, listening intently to the address, a murky desire surfaced in Melina's amber eyes.

This fleeting embrace is like a drop of water under the scorching summer sun; it does nothing to quench the thirst in one's throat, but instead makes one yearn for it even more.

"Well then, Melina, it's time for something else. See you at the Connor Bar for our party tonight. I'll be waiting for you."

With a wave of farewell, that slender figure left behind a gentle breeze and a lingering sense of longing.

Are you still feeling down? Has your mood improved?

After being scolded by its father this morning, and then having you stand up for it and offer such tender comfort, expressing your deep concern, the little parrot feels...

"How could things get worse, Josephine..."

She silently gripped the book in her hand; it was a return gift Melina had intended to give to Watson—a first draft of her new book.

It is a story written slowly, based on each other.

After this parting, I wonder if I will ever find a more suitable opportunity to give it to you again.

-

Horse hooves pounded the cold, hard snow-covered road, accompanied by a few neighs, as the wooden carriage left ruts and sped along the main road leading to the flower-lined corridor.

Wiping the snowflakes off her hat brim and carefully cleaning the dampness with a handkerchief, Charlotte glanced at her pocket watch to make sure she would arrive at the agency just in time.

Admittedly, she didn't insist on rushing to class, and the old detective even gave himself special privileges. But if the two little birds became worried because of this and asked all sorts of questions, that would be troublesome... It wasn't that she was afraid they would worry; on the contrary, she was afraid they would become suspicious, which would be troublesome to explain later.

After searching her polyester clothes and confirming that no parrot feathers remained, Charlotte leaned back against the soft seat and drifted into thought.

This trip to see Melina was a convenient way to settle a pre-existing matter. From now on, I won't need to pay for the talismans anymore. I can just play the victim and act pitiful, and I should be able to get them easily.

On the contrary, what she really needed to care about was the impact of what happened last night. Even if she destroyed the traces of the wound with a dagger and dispelled the spirits left behind by Bright and the others with the Arbitrator's decree, if a higher-order extraordinary being came, they might uncover some clues.

This is both a bad thing and a good thing.

A girl with an unknown identity, navigating the center of a vortex, would naturally attract the attention of Count Bathory. He might not take her seriously, but he would certainly send some people to probe and nip any potential danger in the bud.

In their files, Josephine Watson should have been just an ordinary person, or a newly promoted Sequence Nine, not posing much of a threat. But in reality, the girl found a trick when wielding the Law.

Perhaps this isn't really a trick; it's just that the closer her behavior was to the arbitrator during the trial, and the more onlookers there were, the stronger the spirituality and legal binding force she unleashed became.

Moreover, through the experience of drinking the potion, Charlotte could feel that her spirituality was incredibly vast, unlike that of an ordinary person who had just stepped into the extraordinary realm, but more like a deep abyss buried beneath an island.

It could be that she swallowed no fewer than a dozen demonic insects, or it could be due to the bloodline connection of her predecessor.

The girl wasn't quite sure why she had succeeded; her understanding of extraordinary individuals was still limited. However, she preferred to attribute it to her own exceptional talent rather than the reasons mentioned above.

Last night, with only fifty or sixty pairs of eyes watching, she easily overwhelmed Bright's resistance, depriving him of the authority to use his extraordinary abilities.

This phenomenon gave Charlotte a hypothesis that if the number of onlookers could reach tens of thousands or even more, she could perhaps further unearth the buried spirituality and bind the extraordinary beings of higher sequences, such as Sequence Seven and Sequence Six.

If that's the case, then Countess Bathory is not invincible; all she lacks is a stage, a grand stage where thousands can stand and watch, where thunderous applause can be heard.

Fortunately, the upcoming "Floral Blossoms" art exhibition perfectly met these conditions. It was open to all, regardless of social status, inviting people from all walks of life to witness the magnificent scenes of masters painting for the empire.

Therefore, the opera's final act is perfectly timed there, and the escape and death are decided in that bustling courtyard.

In the near future, she will lead the hearts of the masses, along with countless suffering people, to raise a powerful voice against those jazz, to denounce them, to demand justice through bloodshed, to set the scales of justice in judgment, and to determine the boundary between good and evil.

Of course, the brevity of her time meant she could not rally the will of the people, and the lack of knowledge and the enslaved mentality meant that the people would find it difficult to muster the courage to rebel against those in power or to echo their own accusations.

Unless, a fuse is ignited, and an important person is killed by those high-ranking knights.

The sighting of blood and the passing of life can eventually stimulate people's dulled minds, making them understand that compromise will not bring fairness, and that only bloodshed and revolution can change their predicament.

As for how the fuse was ignited and how the lives lost were chosen?

What a coincidence! The girl who led the workers, offered help, and acted as a mentor, the kind and gentle girl who had compassion for the people and was named Watson, wasn't she the best sacrifice?

The Earl Shaw family could not be called nobles; they were merely the wronged souls who died at the hands of Sir John Bathory, defined as unscrupulous merchants who sought exorbitant profits by any means necessary. As capitalists, they certainly did not deserve sympathy, but a simple vindication, like comparing market prices before and after, would suffice, and everything would be self-evident.

When the truth came to light, Miss Charlotte, who had been wrongly accused, lost her parents, was imprisoned by the villain, and was all alone and helpless, could stand up and leave the imprisoned palace without even needing to refute the truth with words, and was met with pitying gazes.

No need to worry about right or wrong, success or failure; live freely and unrestrained, and die spectacularly, exchanging the death of the puppet for her rebirth.

What a magnificent rebirth this was!

Chapter Sixty-Six: The Enlightenment Society and the Opening of the Stage (4.5k)

On the outskirts of the city center stands a spacious, elegant, and imposing European-style villa.

"Sir Cliff, Mr. Canning is dead."

A simple bow is a calm and unassuming way of expressing emotions.

Following the sound, one can see lush greenery and babbling brooks. As the gaze continues along the private path, verdant groves and clusters of blooming flowers dotting the grass come into view, a scene of extravagant luxury.

"Is it an accident or premeditated? Is the church involved?"

The man, dressed in a brocade robe with gold trim and adorned with exquisite jewels, was stroking the mane of a tall horse. Only when he heard the news of the death did he furrow his brows, revealing a hint of displeasure.

"The murderer in the disappearance case, Vaughn, was killed by the Goddess's Sword. Apart from that, there is no trace of the Church's involvement in the incident. According to the informant, Brett Canning died in the Fisherman's Bar, seemingly beaten to death by a mob of dockworkers."