Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

It wasn't some ingenious skill, but rather that this body was truly extraordinary, processing information at a speed almost inhuman, allowing the girl to complete several readings in an instant, bypassing the steps of connecting words and understanding meaning, and forming solid short-term memories in her mind.

That's why Charlotte was taken aback by the wording in the report; the critical language was so sharp, constantly satirizing the police's incompetence.

[The case of the missing girls has resulted in 13 victims to date, yet Inspector Redtire has made no progress.]

[After a two-week effort by the police department, the number of victims in this case has increased from 7 to 13, and there's no sign of it stopping. With St. Peter's Day approaching and the art exhibition just around the corner, facing public anxiety, our detective openly stated that the police have done their utmost. Is this a helpless realization of their predicament, or an excuse to shirk responsibility? It's truly perplexing.]

"These reporters' reports seem to mock the police quite a bit, almost as if they are nothing but good-for-nothings who do nothing."

Already taken aback by the girl's reaction, Singh's expression turned strange upon hearing her honest assessment.

"Logically speaking, I have a certain acquaintance with Inspector Redtire. He is indeed a diligent and good policeman, always conscientious and responsible. He was under a lot of pressure after the suicide, and he couldn't even sleep well. For this to happen at such an important time as St. John's Feast, well, I can only say I sympathize with him. But—"

The old detective frowned slightly as he changed the subject.

"Sympathy aside, the police did not take this case seriously enough, or rather, they did a terrible job. They only started a formal investigation after the seventh victim came forward, treating it as a normal population outflow before that—even though it was obvious to everyone that the girls' disappearances were very suspicious, they did it anyway."

Charlotte didn't interrupt Singer's statement. She could understand the police department's thinking. On one hand, it was the most important time of year for the city and even the empire. On the other hand, it was a cold case that could cause great panic. Whether they chose to publicly raise public help or to slowly push forward the progress in private, it was actually quite bad. It was best to prepare for both possibilities.

However, judging from the results, it seems that Mr. Redtire messed up every single one of them.

"From what I just looked through, the professions of these victims don't seem to overlap at all on the surface."

She put forward her own point of view: there are too many gaps in this case. Not only can the method of the crime be confirmed, but even a complete chain of clues cannot be formed. This made the girl think of a certain possibility, namely, supernatural power.

"Indeed, maids, spinners, tailors, students... based on my investigation, I found virtually no common ground in their professions or workplaces. But without exception, they were all girls under the age of eighteen, except for the last one, Ms. Ksia Lowell, the Viscount's daughter, who was the only victim over eighteen years old."

"The emergence of variables often signifies a phase of change or the end of a series of cases. I suppose that's why Mr. Singh invited us to the tea party, isn't it?"

Introducing your insights at the right moment to make the conversation flow more smoothly is also a conversational skill.

“Your understanding of the incident is truly insightful, and it is indeed the case. It’s like a ritual has been completed. Since then, there haven’t been any new victims for a week, whereas before, there would often be reports of updates every two days. Of course, one cannot take chances. Tingen will not allow a criminal to go unpunished on the surface. Moreover, I still owe the client who commissioned this case a great favor.”

He picked up his pipe but didn't light the spice. Now that Singh was no longer alone, he naturally had to consider the feelings of the lady beside him. However, the next moment, his eyes widened at Miss Watson's words.

"Since you can't find any clues using conventional methods, why don't you consider the mysterious forces that are supposedly present in bestselling novels?"

Using a joking tone to subtly probe, Charlotte hinted that due to the lack of entertainment options, books in this world were exceptionally popular, especially novels with dramatic plots and coherent narratives. This lighthearted remark was merely Charlotte's superficial test.

After all, Mr. Singh is no ordinary person, capable of maintaining his energy and focusing on observation and reasoning at all times.

His lips twitched as if recalling a memory, and the old detective almost spoke, but in the end, he lowered his voice and denied it as if to comfort himself.

"It is wrong to confuse the unknown with the mysterious. People should not get bogged down in the evidence for explaining the facts, but should use theoretical evidence to gradually uncover the truth."

"You're right, but on my first day at work, sir, shouldn't you give me a little something extra so that I, a young woman, can relax and gradually adapt to the work rhythm?"

The implication was to deal with the former and put an end to this deadlock that couldn't be resolved for the time being. But in reality, Charlotte was secretly refuting the old detective's words.

—If you eliminate all impossible conclusions, then the rest, no matter how bizarre or unbelievable, must be irrefutable facts.

"I was too hasty. Let's stop here for today. I look forward to your performance in the future, Ms. Watson."

With a smile and a nod, the girl's lighthearted and timely banter not only enlivened the gloomy atmosphere of the agency but also relieved Singh of his fatigue from dealing with idle people, giving him a sense of genuine relaxation.

He glanced at the grandfather clock beside him and knew it was getting late, so he took his coat off the hanger and put on a black felt hat.

He had intended to leave, but looking at the silver-haired girl's slender figure and remembering the unsolved disappearance cases, the old detective became somewhat uneasy.

After weighing the pros and cons and considering the necessity, he finally steeled himself and took out a silver-plated revolver from the inner pocket of his clothes. After turning it over in his fingertips a few times, he reluctantly placed it on the table and pushed it into the sight of the other man.

"The Lemat revolver is a single-action revolver that can hold nine rounds when fully loaded, making it more ferocious than the six-round revolvers of the same period. The secondary barrel on the central axis can be loaded with a single shot. The hammer can be adjusted, and the barrel can be switched by pushing forward the lever."

"Mr. Singh, what do you mean by this?"

Charlotte's clear eyes widened slightly, her thin lips parted slightly, and even the brim of her hat tilted to her ear, yet she remained dazed and unaware of her own state.

Perhaps the old detective felt a little sorry for her before, but seeing the usually calm girl show surprise for the first time, he felt quite satisfied.

"As my assistant, you should have a suitable self-defense weapon to deal with various situations. This new Lemat revolver, with its slender barrel and exquisite design, should catch your eye, right?"

Singh’s words were full of pride, but at this moment, the girl’s attention was focused entirely on the silver-plated revolver in his eyes.

With palm flat, slowly press the butt of the gun firmly against the trigger. As the slender knuckles flick the hammer, the barrel glides over the empty bullet, and the revolver emits a captivating cocking sound.

Click——

The silver sculpture is decorated with roses and is quite heavy, but it complements the white background perfectly.

Is this the weapon for me?

Charlotte murmured in disbelief as she raised the revolver above her head, catching a ray of light from the window.

It's no wonder the young woman was stunned; living in peacetime, she had never personally touched such a vintage firearm.

I love it, I love it so much.

Despite her heart blooming with joy and her ears turning red, she gave a soft hum in response to the old detective's deliberate questioning. She took out a handkerchief from her breast pocket and wiped the gun barrel clean, one by one, after the former had wiped it.

Then, with a hint of disgust, she threw it far away, then turned the revolver with her finger, placed it on her waist after she was satisfied, straightened her body, and proudly and contentedly raised her snow-white neck.

"Now, it's definitely pleasing to the eye."

Chapter Six: Test Fire

Ignoring her hypocritical actions, the old detective raised his thick lips, concealing his smile, and quietly watched the girl turn the hammer and tighten the chamber.

His expression was full of joy, and the leaps of his fingertips were light and graceful, without giving anyone the feeling of being humiliated. On the contrary, it was extremely pleasing to the eye.

"It's obvious you really like it."

He spoke more than words, but in reality, he was secretly observing this enigmatic girl.

There were no signs of long-term labor, and the wiping was quite clumsy, suggesting that Ms. Watson had never touched a firearm.

Furthermore, she is well-mannered, knows how to behave appropriately, dresses like a mature man, and is poised and confident in interpersonal interactions, behaving in a way that seems out of place for her age.

Aristocratic daughters wouldn't lower themselves so casually, and commoner children rarely act with such composure. Could it be...?

“Mr. Singh, hasn’t anyone reminded you that staring at a lady for too long is very impolite?”

Before he could get any closer, a silver-plated gun barrel was raised at a downward angle and aimed at his forehead. Then, her pink lips parted slightly, she pulled the trigger, and uttered a few words.

"biu~"

The barrel spun, the hammer fired, and the sound reached my ears—fortunately—

That was just an empty bullet.

To be honest, Singh did break out in a cold sweat. It wasn't that he was startled by the young woman's deliberate attempt to frighten him, but rather that, distracted by her conversation, she had easily noticed his observations out of the corner of his eye.

Suppressing his surprise, as if nothing had happened, the old detective rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache, and said:

"It was indeed my oversight, but when someone has too many shining qualities, anyone will find it hard to look away."

Well, Charlotte had to admit that her employer was quite adept at the charm of language, or at least quite good at coaxing people. Despite not referring to anyone in particular, he melted away Charlotte's pent-up dissatisfaction with just a few words.

For the sake of this good weapon, I'll forgive you for forcibly issuing me this roster.

No longer bothered by the praise, the kind-hearted Ms. Watson put away her revolver and carefully selected a place to insert it on her waist.

"Do you need my help to choose a holster? Neither ladies nor gentlemen should let their lower body bulge in public."

"Is this considered an employee benefit? Sir, you can't deduct it from my weekly wage."

With her brows furrowed and a pitiful expression on her face, Charlotte drew out the last syllable of her voice.

Once again, Singh was both amused and exasperated by the girl's abrupt words. He then realized that Ms. Watson was not as plain and well-behaved as she appeared; at least, she could be quite childish at times.

Of course, he doesn't dislike smart people who can prioritize. Life is life, and work is work. Only by balancing the two can one be more motivated when busy and more enjoyable when having fun.

Often, working together is about compatibility rather than simply a matter of ability.

"This is part of the firm's 'accessories.' I'll take you to pick it up in a bit."

Instead of refusing the employer's "kindness," she said she was accepting it, but in reality, she left the office, turned a corner, and stopped in front of a store on another street.

"Saturu Shooting Club"

Reading the words of the ornate, gilded signboard aloud, and recalling their previous conversation, Charlotte immediately confirmed that the old detective must have been practicing his shooting here that morning.

"Good shooters are made by being fed bullets. Want to go in and experience it for the first month as a perk?"

Knowing that the girl knew nothing about firearms, and out of concern for her safety as well as a fatherly affection, Singh was not too bothered by the loss of a little money.

“…Thank you for your generosity.”

Concealing her slight surprise, Charlotte, unusually, choked up, remained silent for a moment, then bowed deeply to express her heartfelt gratitude to the person before her.

Her need for power is now extremely urgent, and without access to supernatural abilities, firearms and marksmanship are undoubtedly the best ways to improve.

Playing around has its limits, acting has its limits, and speaking the truth is key. Even though Singh made many strict demands and occasionally added jokes in conversation, these reminders and banter helped her adapt to the times more quickly.

No matter how indulgent one may be, one should still know how to be grateful.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the spacious reception room. The receptionist immediately put down her pen and paper, glanced at Singh, and gave him a familiar and polite smile.

"Oh, it's Mr. Stanton. May I ask which firing range you would like to use this time?"

"Same as always, range number six. But also, please register this lady for a membership for the next month and prepare a suitable holster. The cost will be deducted from my account."

Upon hearing this, the man looked at Charlotte with some surprise, but after seeing her exquisite face, he nodded in understanding, as if he had grasped something.

However, a deep voice spoke slowly and deliberately at that moment.

“Mr. Restai, I can tell you with certainty that Ms. Watson is my capable assistant at work, and in some aspects, she can even do better than me.”

There was no direct explanation, but these words immediately made the former drop his disdain and show Charlotte more respect and humility.

“My eyesight is failing me, Ms. Watson. This is your membership armband. Shooting Range Six is ​​currently unused. Please come in.”

With their arms outstretched, they pointed out the specific location, and soon they arrived at a small, enclosed shooting range.

In interpersonal interactions, having a guide to establish an initial impression often makes conversations more fair and easier, and this is the greatest help Charlotte gained from the old detective.

"As a beginner, start with the 10-meter target. It is important to note that revolvers are not easy to load. In a real dangerous situation, you often only have one chance to fire, so the remaining bullets are very important."

Singh took out an exquisitely designed pistol from the holster under his arm, bent his arm in a ready position, and began to explain the essentials of shooting to the girl step by step.

"As a nine-round Lemat revolver, it does offer more room for error and opportunities than other firearms of the same period. However, shooting is often a very short process. You must visualize the environment in your mind, make sufficient preparations, and then pull the trigger in a balanced and calm manner, just like this."

Gripping the gun handles with both hands, the old detective raised his shoulders, aimed at the tip of the gun, focused his gaze, and then—

boom!

The bullet hit the wooden target and landed on the eight-ring.

"Remember the force of the bullet leaving the barrel, gradually adapt to it with your shoulder, and then pull the trigger again with a similar posture. Of course, the environment in actual combat is different, so just do these steps as much as possible."

With the gun muzzle lowered, the demonstration was complete. Singh then turned his gaze to the girl, indicating that she should try it herself.

Without hesitation, Charlotte followed the former's neat posture, raised her arm, and calmly pulled the trigger, firing three times in succession.

The spent cartridge case hit the ground with a crisp sound, but there were no holes or marks on the wooden target. To be precise, none of her shots landed inside the target.

Seeing this, the old detective chuckled, wrapped his coat tighter, and waved as he walked out of the club.

“Ms. Watson, it’s not something you can master overnight. Let’s call it a day. I have to accompany Viscount Vancent to the horse races later. Ever since I started mingling in Tingen’s high society, I’ve been doing these silly social engagements almost non-stop.”

The man's footsteps grew ever more distant until the only sound on the shooting range was the rise and fall of his breath. Only then did Charlotte grip the butt of her rifle again and look at the distant target.

It wasn't a ten-meter close target; from a distance, the distance between the person and the target was close to the revolver's firing range limit of fifty meters.

No longer using the safe shooting posture with both hands, she simply raised her right hand, straightened the muzzle, forming a straight line, and also revealing her gray eyes that were half-hidden by the felt hat.

The sharpness in his eyes almost materialized, and six gunshots rang out without pause.

When the smoke cleared, only a single hole in the middle of the bullseye remained on the target. This was not a case of missing the mark, but rather that all six bullets landed on the same spot.

Indeed, Charlotte had never systematically studied shooting, whether in her past or present life. However, her exceptional senses allowed her to mimic the posture of her shoulders and arms during her first shooting session, adapt to the feeling of bullets leaving the barrel, and even ignore the effects of recoil thanks to the adjustment ability of her tendons, emptying the magazine as quickly as possible.

A skilled person can indeed master it in a day.

She removed her felt hat, placed the remaining bullet casings into it one by one, then took down the test target. The girl left the small room with light steps, leaving behind a scene without a trace.

Caution is a wise strategy; it always keeps us away from potential dangers and traps, and the greatest advantage is that no one knows.

Chapter Seven: My Heart's Desire

As the sun sets, the twilight glow spills across the eaves and windows of Baker Street.

Because of its proximity to Piazza Turin, even as dusk falls, the area remains bustling with traffic. People move about like schools of fish, and most of the shops on the side thrive as a result. Only one exquisite shop with a gilded sign is sparsely visited.

Few people went in, but some did come out.