Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

The elderly waiter with white hair bowed his head, extremely humble.

"absurd."

With a sneer, Cliff stroked his black beard, released the reins, and let the horse gallop away into the depths of the green fields.

“I provided him with the potion, not so that a bunch of ungrateful bastards would gang up on him. They’re so incompetent that they can’t even do this small thing right, and they’ve even caused some delays in the subsequent process.”

He straightened his scarf, and even though his words were not very friendly, the man's demeanor exuded elegance and composure.

“Father, why are you so angry? It’s just that someone is dead. There are so many fools in the port area who are desperate to climb the ladder. We only need to wave our hand and they will gladly obey.”

Unlike her arrogant demeanor at the tea party, the light blonde girl wore leather boots and a jacket-style riding outfit, and her words were full of concern for her father, appearing obedient and compliant.

However, Cliff only glanced at the former before looking away, as if he were looking down at dust.

It was obvious that he didn't care about his daughter at all, treating her no differently than any other commoner.

Seeing this, sweat beaded on the girl's forehead, and her eyes widened in panic. Fortunately—

"Little Leona, people can die, but the preciousness of time cannot be brought back by a few tragic lives."

The hem of her skirt, brushing against the soil, brushed past the flowers and grass, and echoed with the soft sound of high heels stepping on the stone path.

Da, da...

Neither a waiter nor a jazz musician, but with that languid, slightly deep voice, a beautiful figure slowly stepped into view, only to stop abruptly on the sun-drenched soil.

Jet black lace trim, jet-black ribbons, glossy black gauze hand silk, snow-white neck, smooth white legs, milky white full breasts, separated from the light, black and white interspersed, black and white distinct.

She was a graceful lady, her thin gauze dress seemingly concealing her figure, yet tapering downwards at the waist to accentuate the subtle curves of her hips and legs. Upon raising her eyes, one could see the black gauze binding her body, leaving a white space at her chest, partially revealing the deep cleavage above, so alluring that one could not look away.

Her deep blue hair cascaded down, smoothly clinging to her waist, swaying gently in the breeze. She looked at everyone, and everyone was looking at her.

"Ms. Melissant, your beauty is truly breathtaking."

With a slight bow, Cliff stepped forward, took the beautiful woman's slender hand in his, and gently touched it with his hand, his fingers trembling slightly.

"Is this Hastings's way of speaking?"

Her dark gold eyes gleamed in the shadows, and Melissand raised the corners of her lips, as if pleased by it, or perhaps disgusted and sarcastic.

"Yes, we never hesitate to praise beautiful things. If it weren't for the customs of the Kingdom of Plantagenet, I would rather call you my angel."

Such a warm welcome fell upon her ears, but the blue-haired beauty did not appreciate it, only responding with a cold tone.

"Thank you for your praise, but unfortunately, praise cannot change what has already happened, Sir Bathory. Due to your negligence, the Enlightenment's plans have been delayed."

"If those churches of true gods discover the truth and react, I think not only will our cooperation come to an end, but your title should also be chained. Perhaps, the next time we meet, we won't be in this bright and beautiful courtyard."

With a light clap of her hands, Melissand offered a rhythmic round of applause, and then spoke again with a half-smile.

"Of course, if this is fate, such an ending is not bad for me, but for Mr. Cliff, it must be the last thing he wants to face, right?"

"You have painstakingly managed everything in Tingen, spreading panic through the series of cases, manipulating the India Party to intensify exploitation, intending to create chaos so that you can use it as a pretext to eliminate the old and new nobles who have benefited from the situation, abandon those pawns, and stand on the moral high ground to judge good and evil and consolidate your rule. If you do this, I'm afraid you will not only fail to complete the ceremony and advance in rank under the pretext of quelling the riot, but you will also face the constraints and detention of a number of churches. Perhaps even His Majesty will have to consider the impact and make a choice."

"Thinking about it this way, it seems that the future is indeed bleak, and cooperating with you seems rather unwise."

Brushing aside the strands of hair beside her ear, upon closer inspection, the hair ornament wrapped around her hair had pierced through her skin and penetrated deep into her skull, oozing out strands of thick, black blood.

“This was indeed my oversight. I never imagined that Tingen would have an extraordinary individual outside the statistics, capable of killing Bright and his group. Ms. Melissand, can you confirm that there are no mid-to-high-sequence extraordinary individuals in this sea city?”

Without the slightest anger or weakness, Cliff simply handed the reins to the attendant beside him and stated the facts of the situation.

"Mozambique was led astray by fate, and the attention of the Church of the Primordial Goddess was also drawn to the events in Florence. The road ahead should have been smooth, but a ripple appeared in it."

With a slight rise in her voice, Melissand seemed to have found a new interest in it, and her ample bosom swayed gently with each step she took.

"Perhaps, a beautiful black flower has bloomed in your backyard. Would you be interested in taking me to see it?"

It was a lighthearted suggestion, seemingly true yet false, a lie yet a fact.

“Ms. Melisandre, jokes won’t improve the situation. Your ascension and call to power also require my help, don’t they? The mutually beneficial relationship remains unchanged. I will reorganize the port area, fill the void left by the loss of power of the India Party, and keep the plan going.”

Having rejected this seemingly sarcastic remark, Cliff's voice was exceptionally firm at that moment.

"That's a real pity. You were so eager before, and your sweet words made my heart pound. It's astonishing how quickly you turned on me."

With a short sigh, the blue-haired beauty seemed genuinely to feel regret.

"Of course, with the Flower Exhibition approaching, Sir Bathory, I would prefer that you facilitate the terms as soon as possible. Besides, your henchmen know too little about what happened last night."

The black veil fluttered, and with a snap of the fingers, a deep black shadow appeared out of nowhere in the sunlight, contrasting with the shadow and creating a black and white photograph.

She was a young girl with no specific facial features, but her silver hair cascaded down to her neck, and although she was slender, her waist was straight and upright, like an ancient pine tree.

Do you remember this pretty young girl?

"No, if I had ever encountered that kind of temperament, I would never forget it."

"So go find her. Call your informants, call those gang fangs and gold-hunting hounds. She's definitely involved in what happened last night."

With a slight nod, Cliff, understanding the unspoken message, summoned the butler, as if whispering something in his ear.

After speaking, he cleared his throat again and asked the man in front of him:

"If we are to stir up chaos, what should we do with the Goddess's Sword that has come to obey our orders?"

The implication is that he is admitting defeat and that he is unable to compete with the beautiful woman in the story.

“There are countless ways to lure, distract, or divert attention, but this time, let me deign to stop Ms. Sylva. After all, a long-standing reputation is not as good as a personal meeting.”

That's all for now. Next time, I hope to hear good news from you, instead of the usual annoying and boring stuff.

With a gust of cold wind, that beautiful figure turned into black dust, scattering across the world before our eyes, leaving only a drop of black blood, which turbidly turned the grass and soil, blooming into a thorny blue rose.

"Ah."

After watching Melissant leave, Cliff's face instantly turned gloomy, as if his previous submission and eagerness were just a pretense.

"This self-righteous woman has only gotten lucky enough to receive extraordinary favor, yet she dares to treat me with such disrespect. Since you wish to tour my back garden, I will naturally invite you at the appropriate time, as a prisoner."

It was a silent expression of his innermost feelings.

After all, the arbitrator is always just a disguised means. I am the schemer, so I have no need for judgment or command. Stealing and deception are the necessities of the ritual. Melissand, your ascended spirituality and awakened consciousness are the best nourishment.

From beginning to end, this was a deceptive scheme designed to lure people in. How could I possibly betray the imperial party and succumb to the heretical Enlightenment Society? All I had to do was clarify the facts, declare in the name of eradicating cults, and shift the blame for the evil deeds onto the past. Even if some lowly people died, what reason would the three major churches have to detain and restrain me?

I helped them eliminate one—

A major threat.

As I silently pondered this, a cold wind rose again, causing the dying rose to sway incessantly, as if piercing through my heart and hearing everything.

......

Marais District, an inexpensive coffee shop.

A thin layer of mist lingered on the glass of the windows. The square-shaped shop was simple and narrow, yet its decor was exceptionally down-to-earth.

The rising sun pierced through the thin mist, bringing a touch of haziness to the still-sparsely populated streets, and allowing Charlotte to see the people who had been waiting for her.

“Mr. Camp, it’s been a few days.”

As the name suggests, the other party was the homeless man who was the first to receive help from the girl and left a deep impression on her.

"Ahem, ma'am, thank you for your generosity."

Still wearing that tattered jacket, the man with graying hair and beard was still disheveled, but the decadence between his brows was completely gone, and his face was no longer so pale and frightening.

"No need for thanks, after all, I'm the one who needs your help this time."

She didn't rush to the office; she had already planned her time for the day. On the day she shot Vaughn, Charlotte hired this gentleman to gather information for her in her spare time, searching for all sorts of things in the port area.

Perhaps the former is just an ordinary person, but ordinariness is the best disguise. They can often overhear words that are only circulated among ordinary people, and it is also convenient to understand the realities at the grassroots level of society.

"Has anything happened in the port area lately?"

Charlotte bent down to sit, and the slightly hard wooden stool made her frown slightly. Fortunately, the waiter soon brought her a warm coffee.

"As before, the port area remains unchanged. However, Bright is dead, and the India Party has disbanded. Oh, should I cheer for this?"

He didn't actually laugh out loud, but judging from the curve of his eyebrows, Kemp was indeed quite happy.

"Of course, I've heard that someone is re-establishing a labor union, and that the dockworkers are voting to elect the new leaders."

"Yes, I also cast a vote, which is really encouraging."

When Charlotte considered bringing up the matter and saw the joy on the man's face, she slightly puffed out her chest, displaying her modest pride.

Be happy, I made it.

He was filled with joy, but at first glance, his heart appeared quite ordinary.

“By the way.” Kemp looked at the girl with some difficulty, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke up, “This morning, quite a few gang members and bounty hunters were looking for a lady.”

Seeing her expression, Charlotte roughly knew the answer, but instead of speaking, she took a sip of the cheap coffee in her cup—even though it was inexpensive, its rich and slightly bitter taste was irresistible.

"Who is it?"

The rising intonation at the end of the sentence gives it a slightly humorous tone.

"Short silver-gray hair, not very tall, just like you, madam."

Sure enough, the killing of Bright and his group yesterday in pursuit of promotion and to establish a reputation still left indelible marks, even after several attempts to remedy the situation.

So, who is investigating me? Without much thought, it should be Sir Báthory, who is behind the scenes and in charge of the India Party.

"Afterwards, could you please find out for me who posted this bounty and what the specific price is?"

She then grasped the cup by the handle, took a sip, and decided that she would finish the coffee before the conversation ended.

Even three pence is money. If she saves a little today and a little tomorrow, she can add more to her wallet.

Those who are not in charge of the household have no idea how expensive firewood and rice are. Although she had some money, after experiencing the extraordinary world, Charlotte realized once again that she was still that poor, weak little girl.

"no problem."

Kemp didn't think there was anything wrong with Charlotte's concern; how could he not be troubled by something that involved him personally?

After the man finished recounting his other experiences, Charlotte handed over the rest to him, and according to the training she had received in her previous life, she taught him some basic conversation techniques and how to handle emergencies in certain situations.

"I should go to work in the port area now. Thank you for your guidance, madam. You have made my wonderful life possible."

Listening attentively, after he finished speaking, Camp picked up the soft hat that had been placed there, sincerely thanked him, and then gradually disappeared from sight.

Is a good life... just about struggling to survive?

This is simply the most basic need of a human being.

Feeling the complex emotions within her, Charlotte felt a genuine pity. She didn't speak, but simply finished the rest of her coffee, letting it rise and fall in her throat, gulping it down cleanly.

The addictive caffeine flows from the tip of the tongue into the throat, making it taste exceptionally sweet.

In a state of trance, yet also in a state of true feeling, a hazy passion intoxicated the body and mind, causing the cheeks to flush red.

The sound of horses' hooves echoed on the gravel road as always, and the girl's thoughts drifted and ebbed in countless threads.

Time was running out, and the crisis was drawing ever closer. The girl who had made Josephine famous was also approaching the end of her life... Since everyone had expectations of her, she would naturally be swayed by her deep-seated kindness and willingly transform into a blazing red lotus that cared for each other.

The kind-hearted Miss Watson loved to grant people's wishes, even at the cost of her own. After all, this was not outside her plan; it was simply to add a tremolo at the end of the opera to enhance the tragic atmosphere.

This may be a bit cruel, but when the mood strikes, there's no point in arguing. Charlotte never cares about others, and what do others have to do with me?

As the teacher of the little nightingale, the benefactor of the little peacock, the loyal reader of the little parrot, the leader of the masses, and the kindling that ignites the first fire.

I will naturally give you a good ending, even if it's not what you expect, it will definitely be better than the past...

But when that time comes, I want you to shed tears, one drop, one tear, one pool, flowing uncontrollably, until your hearts are filled with nothing but regret and reluctance.

Heh, I want you to live forever in the afterglow of guilt and self-blame. I want you to never forget that figure. If anyone else bears even the slightest resemblance, they will panic because of it.

From now on, I will stand aside, watching those tearful eyes, listening to those soft sobs, and then—

Have fun.

Chapter Sixty-Seven: I Want Her (4K)

Wiping away the dust from the tombstones and clearing away the weeds around the cabbages, the silver-haired girl tirelessly went back and forth to every corner of the Lavis Cemetery.

That was something Charlotte had promised, a commitment she made to Madame Moissan, to take care of these departed souls while she was away.

Wiping the fine sweat from her brow, she watched the sun rise in the east, casting its gradually brightening rays. The young girl knew that eight o'clock was approaching, and that someone from the past was waiting for her arrival in the distance.

and so--