Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

"Sir and Madam, may you both sleep peacefully today, just as you always have."

Pressing down on the brim of her felt hat, Charlotte bent down and offered a humble salute to the silent cemetery and the ever-standing pines.

"From now on, I may not come often, or I may never come again. I hope you can convey my message to Ms. Mosang..."

"Feel sorry."

Her brows were slightly lowered, as if she were harboring remorse, yet also resolute. Just then, a sharp, cold wind blew, causing the flower branches to tremble and her silver-gray hair to dance and flutter.

Is this a genuine expression of emotion?

No one answered; even the girl seemed unsure.

The high-top leather boots traversed the lush woods without trampling a single flower or blade of grass; only the soft tinkling of bells and a murmur that seemed to be a self-questioning sound could be heard.

“Use this ability where it is needed, Ms. Mossan, you would be proud of me, wouldn’t you?”

......

As the clock struck eight, Charlotte followed the sound of a ship's horn and entered the office's lobby as promised.

Not a minute more, not a second less, accompanied by the hoarse sound of the glass door being pushed open, she walked with the sunlight to the left and right of the little sparrows, and the noise of the outside world, the sound of horses' hooves, and the calls rushed in.

The sounds were loud, but the girl remained quiet.

Leaping and fluttering, the girl was followed in by the slight chill of winter, carried in by the gentle breeze.

"Ms. Watson, your punctuality is unforgettable."

Taking a sip of hot coffee, the old detective didn't look up, but simply pointed to the hour hand, which was perfectly aligned with eight o'clock.

"I like this kind of praise, after all, punctuality is a good virtue for a lady."

As if oblivious to Singh's teasing, Charlotte took off her trench coat and casually sat down in the center of the sofa, separating the timid little bird from the breathless peacock.

"Well."

With a chirp, Winnie's timid little head peeked out from under her scarf and newspaper. When she saw Charlotte, a look of surprise immediately appeared on her face.

"Miss Watson, you seem to be in a good mood?"

It was a timid greeting.

Surprised that her emotions had been read by the former, Charlotte remained calm and simply praised her two little sparrows.

"How delightful it is to see you all at the first light of sunrise."

Small details in life often add to someone's goodwill. Sometimes, a little bit of skillful conversation can turn the tables and stir someone's heart.

A blush easily touched Winnie's cheek. She looked at the girl somewhat helplessly, and after much deliberation, simply said respectfully—

"Thank you."

They're so easily startled and so meticulous; they're absolutely adorable.

This amused Charlotte. In reality, it wasn't that her mood had actually improved, but rather that her plans for the future were becoming clearer, and she would no longer face the same difficulties as before.

"Between friends, there's no need for too many polite words, nor should you say thank you all the time. Winnie, now that you've been appointed as an assistant, you should gradually adapt, for example, starting with the most basic interpersonal interactions."

"...I will try my best."

"I look forward to your growth."

Nodding vigorously, her face tensed up. Despite her shy nature, Winnie was determined not to disappoint the girl in front of her.

Without falling silent, Charlotte took out the books she had bought on the street, unfolded them to the marked page, and handed them to the little bird to examine closely.

"Miss Watson, what is this?"

"The books written by an ordinary friend of mine may help you understand the world and yourself more clearly."

The emphasis on the word 'ordinary' is significant, as the text states: while Melina's novel lacks a clear theme, its description of the background is indeed vivid, sharp, and specific.

Unlike the other two little sparrows who started out a bit higher, she had very low expectations of Winnie. All she needed was for her to be a little pet that she could manipulate and that would make her happy. After all, once the opera was over, this too would become an unattainable luxury.

Of course, the lack of attention is relative. A blank sheet of paper that one can freely write on will always make her interested in adding color, it's just a matter of degree.

The little parrot is lively and straightforward, and the little peacock is stubborn and persistent. In contrast, Winnie is timid and shy, and seems to have no outstanding qualities. This may be partly due to her nature, but more so due to the marks left by life and the influence of her past environment.

In reality, it's not difficult to mold this girl into the shape you desire. Just tell her who caused her current situation, tell her that the root of her cowardice is not her background, and then provide gentle guidance and heartfelt emotional support.

As long as one's abilities continue to improve and one's knowledge and vision broaden, one will eventually gain confidence. Of course, such growth is too slow, and Charlotte prefers to use a tragedy to nurture new growth, a deeply memorable farewell.

Turn the page, go to the paragraph containing the first line, and then look down—

As the steam engine began to roar, resources were once again integrated and allocated.

Watching the rising white smoke, those in high positions stirred with excitement. They saw expansion, acceleration, and a flood of money. What a wonderful and bright world it seemed; as long as they could ride the iron steeds of steam engines, they could gallop freely and be invincible.

But who will look at those who run on their feet? The value of labor is devoured by machines; souls are tethered to emotionless iron; they exchange their lives for collateral, working long hours for ever-decreasing wages...

As she murmured to herself, Winnie's eyes slowly widened. These words were so novel, so real, like the sun breaking through the clouds, dispelling the confusion in her heart.

The more she read, the softer the chirping of the little birds became. In the end, she was completely immersed in the world of words, captivated by the atmosphere of reading, and even her former timidity had faded away considerably.

Unlike the flustered girl at that time, she was more like an apprentice seeking knowledge and solutions.

Seeing this, Charlotte slightly raised the corners of her lips, and loosened her grip, letting the thin book fall completely into Winnie's palm.

She softened her tone, like every patient mentor, offering both reassurance and criticism, clarifying and encouraging the former's gains and losses.

"After being read, a book will always be a little thicker than when it was brand new... Perhaps, these extra gaps are the traces of growth, the pastures of thought. I give you this sentence, and I also give you this book, Winnie."

"I......"

Instinctively, I wanted to refuse, but these words were like Eve's apple. After tasting the sweetness that flowed into my throat, how could a poor and confused girl bear to give them up?

Each bird has its own desires, and a skilled bird can manipulate them with ease, grasping their needs and weaknesses, thus stirring their emotions and captivating their hearts.

"Thank you, thank you..."

Even though Watson said there was no need to thank her, Winnie still couldn't suppress the guilt in her heart and instinctively wanted to do something to repay him.

In that single glance, she noticed the snow stains and dust on Charlotte's collar.

"Um, Miss Watson, your collar."

“Excellent observation skills. I just said it and you did it. Winnie, that’s great.”

Charlotte didn't hold back her praise, even though she knew the little bird wasn't really interested in it, she still showered it with compliments.

Visibly, the girl's fair earlobes began to turn red.

She stroked the hem of her skirt, lingering and pondering. Finally, she found the courage out of nowhere, reached out, and straightened the girl's slightly disheveled clothes.

"Winnie, what's wrong?"

With her thin lips slightly parted, Charlotte knew Winnie as she was a girl who, though obedient, was not very courageous. Just moments ago she had been so nervous that she couldn't even speak properly, yet now she was taking the initiative to do something that was considered rather intimate.

"Yes, it's because Watson just said that we need to start by getting used to interpersonal relationships. Although I don't know how to talk to people, my sisters and I often help each other comb and tidy up our hair. We always feel relaxed after that, so I guess that makes people happy?"

She looked away, not daring to look at Charlotte much. It was obvious that although most of what she said was true, it also contained some of her own selfish motives.

Materially, she could hardly repay Watson's kindness and favor, so although it was somewhat shameless, making her friend comfortable was a kind of repayment.

Of course, Charlotte didn't mind. How could anyone be tired of being waited on and surrounded by beautiful birds?

"Family and friends are different, but of course I don't mind. Winnie considers me family too."

A blush of embarrassment flashed across Charlotte's face. She tugged at a strand of hair by her ear, twisting it into a circle, as if ashamed of the progress in their relationship.

"cough."

With a light cough, Sufby, who had been watching from the sidelines, could no longer suppress her agitation and rage.

She was annoyed and angry. She grabbed Charlotte's hand and placed the things she had prepared beforehand into Charlotte's palm.

"Pancakes, sandwiches, I made them. You probably haven't had breakfast yet."

It was a statement made as if she were talking to herself, her pretty face turned away.

"uh-huh?"

Charlotte pressed her fingertips against her chin, creating a slight indentation in the soft flesh, and let out a soft hum.

Yes, although she arranged her time very well, she certainly didn't consider her own needs in the way most people do.

This is indeed a major oversight in the performance, but since things have come to this, let's eat first.

I took a bite of the sandwich made by Sofby. Although there wasn't much filling, the taste was still pretty good, and the appearance was relatively exquisite. You could feel the care put into it by the maker.

Well, with everything done for her, she's almost reluctant to give up this comfortable life.

Of course, only a tiny bit.

"It took quite a while?"

It was a casual yet thoughtful inquiry.

"Not much, just for a little while."

It is a denial with an angry, closed mouth.

As Sophoby answered her questions, Charlotte found it increasingly amusing to see her awkward attempts to convey that she didn't care much while simultaneously trying to catch her eye.

Ever since bringing Samuel back, the little peacock has been almost completely devoted to her, feeling indebted to her. His heart has softened, but he always stubbornly refuses to admit it.

Well, a bit of arrogance is fine too; it can be considered a cute trait, even if it's not exactly endearing. But it's still fun to discipline someone's character. Anyway, in the end, it won't be you who regrets it.

"Ladies, snap out of it. Today, we have a case that's not small that we need to handle, or perhaps, a distinguished guest is about to visit us."

He laid his pipe flat, shook off the ash from the jar, and waited for the three to finish their conversation before speaking up to remind them of the current situation.

"It seems you already know the inside story?"

With a gentle pat on her cheek, Charlotte, no longer appearing nonchalant, inquired with focused attention.

"I can't say what the inside story is, but the case is almost settled. Both the traces at the scene and the testimonies of others point to the only suspect."

"If that's the case, then sir, why did you accept this commission that you clearly couldn't handle?"

Unmoved by the girl's question, Singh chuckled and answered in a teasing tone.

"Perhaps it was because of your help that a case that seemed impossible to solve had a chance of progress?"

Seeing the girl immediately raise her eyes, the old detective quickly changed his tune and said seriously:

"Of course, don't take it seriously. Humility and pride are both contrary to the facts. No matter how complicated the case is, people can always find an explanation. Unfortunately, in my opinion, this explanation lacks crucial evidence."

"Like those popular detective novels these days, according to them, anyone could be a suspect, and even the murderer and I could be the same person—because we didn't appear at the same time."

It was a joke to lighten the mood.

Despite having previously denied knowing the inside story, he deliberately made veiled references here, revealing his skillful rhetoric and a hint of smugness in his voice.

"No need to keep me in suspense, sir. Please go straight to the details of the case."

"it is good."

Upon hearing this, the old detective was about to speak up to explain when he heard the door open and close, and the light, rhythmic sound of high heels hitting the ground approaching from afar.

It's obvious that the main character has arrived.

“Mr. Singer Stanton, I have long admired your reputation.”

Before anyone arrives, the sound comes first.

A languid, slightly deep voice drifted away from the cold wind, drowning out the ticking of the clock. Long, dark blue hair cascaded down to her waist, and a deep black gauze dress swayed with each step, accentuating her curves.

Whether it's the cleavage of her chest or the curve of her buttocks, it's impossible to look away. Despite wearing a restrained color scheme, she exudes allure at all times.

Wow, her breasts are huge.

Charlotte murmured to herself.

It's not that she overthinks things; food and sex are basic human needs, and desire is, after all, a driving force for humanity. A beauty with both elegance and figure is rare, let alone one with such striking beauty. This must be the most stunning woman she's ever seen, like a blooming black rose.

“Ms. Melissant, thank you for coming in person. This is my assistant, Josephine Watson.”

Rising and bowing respectfully, Singh introduced Charlotte to the beautiful woman, also giving a knowing look to the three people present.

The client in the case just now was this Ms. Melissand.

With a slight nod, neither disrespectful nor arrogant, as if she had heard some interesting thoughts, the blue-haired beauty raised the corners of her lips, forming a faint arc.

What a pleasant surprise!

Without uttering a word, he leaped forward, embraced the silver-haired girl, and buried her face in his breasts. She said: