Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

"Ok!"

Even with a little peacock sitting right next to her, Winnie didn't flinch. Like a little flower of desire blooming in her heart, or like fallen leaves piled up on a stone path, they swayed and rocked with the bumps of the carriage, enjoying it immensely.

After this conversation and further consideration, the little sparrow asked with some hope.

"That kiss just now..."

"It's a matter of necessity. Of course, if Winnie is interested, I can offer myself again when the mood strikes—"

Just as Charlotte was about to say something more joking, licking her pink lips, the red-haired girl grabbed the soft flesh around her waist.

With her delicate eyebrows furrowed, even without uttering a word, anyone could see the anger Su Fubi was harboring.

Josephine, how could she do this? She was right beside me, she even kissed me and made a promise. What was between them? Was it just a fling? Was I never special, just an ordinary person under her kind heart?

Even with her eyes closed, the girl's image and voice remain vivid and unforgettable, unwilling to be acknowledged.

The unpleasantness of their first encounter, the kindness shown upon their second meeting, the memory of her own loneliness and helplessness after losing her loved ones, the memory of the girl with bloodstained and scarred wounds—for the first time after falling from the branch, Sufby found the light she wanted to follow and the people she wanted to repay in the midst of her life's ups and downs.

But the closer she got, the more elusive she became of the girl before her. She was gentle and considerate when needed, and cunning and spoiled when appropriate, capable of making her heart flutter, and also capable of making her feel discouraged and disappointed.

The icy air was inhaled, and the chill seeped into the whole body little by little through the veins.

If all of this is fake, all a pretense, then Josephine, you are truly a complete... bastard.

She ran her fingertips over her cheek and made a sharp stroke, instantly leaving a red mark on her fair and delicate skin, just like the little peacock's inner turmoil at that moment.

If you dare to just abandon me like this, I will, I definitely will, no matter where you are, I will find you, using everything you gave me, in the name of Sofby Dill.

Turning the focus back, Charlotte, having been pecked by her own little sparrow, lost her teasing mood and explained the reason for leaving.

"Just as Mr. Singh said to Viscount Vancent, the case that Ms. Melissand has entrusted to us is unusual, and she has even kept many things from us. For a detective, truth and conscience should always come first, even in private employment."

After that, there was silence on the bus.

After a long while, the carriage finally came to a stop, but unexpectedly, they did not see the familiar office sign first. A middle-aged man with black hair was pacing back and forth near the wall.

Hearing the sound of horseshoes hitting the road, he immediately looked up at the people coming. When he saw that they were his three daughters, Singh immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

The snow on his shoulders showed that the old detective had been waiting for some time.

"Phew, you're back. How did things go?"

Shaking the snow off his felt hat, Singh strode forward to greet Charlotte and her group.

"It wasn't a smooth deal, and it's possible that this deal might fall through. For that, I apologize to you, Mr. Singh."

Charlotte did indeed sincerely offer her humble words, and she would not hide the truth from him.

She couldn't win against that woman for the time being, so she chose to compromise. The lack of information forced the girl to make up for it in other ways.

"That's alright. For me, for various reasons, even I have failed in my commissions countless times, whether it's about morality, reason, or the employer's demands. I've said before that I'm not such a rigid old man. Besides, I trust your judgment, Watson."

"Thank you for your understanding. The reason I said that is because the eyewitness provided by Ms. Melissand was untrue, and her words lacked authenticity and did not match the original commission. Therefore, I took it upon myself to make this claim."

"Okay, it's cold outside. Let's go into the office. It's warmer inside because we've burned charcoal."

Having heard Charlotte's explanation, the old detective's emotions did not fluctuate much. The nobleman's request involved the other party's face and dignity, and often after much effort, the other party would reject the request instead.

It is precisely because he has experienced it that he can empathize with it.

"No, sir, it's getting late, it's time to say goodbye."

She politely declined, but Singh's words actually warmed her heart. In this chaotic era, it was quite rare to have such an employer. Or perhaps, after learning about her actions towards the working class, he had a different kind of deep thinking.

To be honest, this middle-aged man was quite good-looking. To put it in a more old-fashioned way, he had deep-set eyes, a stubble of beard, and a face so thin that his jawline was clearly visible.

If you add a little bit of the glow from a cigarette, it's enough to create a warm and comforting hearth fire.

"Winnie, see you tomorrow."

"Um......"

With just this one question and answer, Charlotte waved goodbye and placed her five fingers outstretched in front of the little peacock.

Seeing the red-haired girl furrow her lashes and not move an inch, the young woman knew why, but offered no comfort, and strode towards the carriage from which she had come.

However, in just a moment, her knuckles were gripped tightly by another hand.

The soft touch against the back of her hand made Charlotte know who it was without even looking. She could endure the loneliness, but how could Sophie, whom she had personally raised to depend on, bear the disappointment and watch her leave?

There was no verbal exchange, only silent sitting together. The little peacock watched the fleeting street scene outside the window, while Charlotte watched her intently.

"Are you still angry?"

Upon hearing this, Sophie immediately understood that Watson was doing this despite knowing her own emotional state.

She opened her beautiful eyes wide, slowly clenched her hands, feeling both indignant and aggrieved.

She was restless because of the feelings in her heart, and even thought about repaying them and proving them to her, but the girl's indifferent attitude made her feel depressed that her determination had been trampled on.

I was indeed very angry, angry for no reason, angry for no reason.

"No, I have nothing to say to you. I'm tired, so let's call it a day..."

It's a stubbornness that doesn't match what you say.

"But I won't let you go back."

Charlotte then embraced the little peacock's slender waist, her eyes gently glancing at him.

"You can't stop me!"

Sophie puffed out her cheeks and angrily refused.

Looking at the hamster-like little face and feeling the stubbornness of the little pet, Charlotte smiled slightly and gently pulled the weak Sophby into her arms.

Silver and red hair, one curled up on the soft seat, the other sitting and lying in the girl's arms, bobbing up and down with the swaying of the carriage.

"Don't be angry, Sophie. You're my best friend. I'll give you as many formal kisses as you want, as long as they make you happy."

He cupped her pretty face in his hands, letting their foreheads slowly touch, close together, their eyes so close that they could see each other's reflections.

"Who cares? You're a liar who keeps lying."

Somewhat flustered, she tried to get up but couldn't break free. Sophie could only let those hands tighten around her waist, and those lips parted slightly like butterfly wings.

"If I were a liar, wouldn't you be even less than a fool to be fooled like this? Alright, even the most capable people have their exceptions. Ms. Melissant is an extraordinary person. After you entered that mansion, she was influenced by the incense and led to do some irrational things. If we hadn't stopped Winnie then and created an irrefutable scenario, we would have been labeled suspects. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

“That’s the difference between playing along and being genuine. You’re different from Winnie. We can talk about anything, from family situations to extraordinary secrets. You’ve shown me everything, and I’m happy to share everything with you. That’s the difference between a friend and a best friend.”

Without speaking again, Charlotte pressed her cheek against Sophomore's head, the soft rustling of the little peacock's hair drifting to the tip of her pen and into her nostrils. The girl then exhaled, making the little peacock's ears turn red, before asking with a light laugh.

"Now you can finally rest assured."

"Um......"

Sophie nodded slightly, considering that she was burying her face in Charlotte's shoulder, the gesture was more like a puppy rubbing against her.

The two embraced in silence.

The bitterness in her heart gradually faded, and only then did the little peacock realize that, without her noticing, the melancholy in the air had transformed into a warm, ambiguous pink atmosphere.

No longer attempting to get up, Sufby was more concerned with removing the bitter burden that had been weighing on her heart than with a momentary intoxication. She asked:

"Watson, how exactly do you see me? Or, how do you want me to interact with you in the future?"

To cast aside any pretense of restraint is an extremely bold inquiry; it is almost a question of how you wish to deal with me.

"Ok?"

Charlotte looked at the red-haired girl with some surprise. In fact, she hadn't figured out this question yet.

Miss Watson is just a puppet, a name, a name that can be discarded at any time. If she really admits it, the little peacock might really be infatuated with her.

When the time comes, she will be gone, and our relationship will be over... Oh well, I'm just a kind-hearted person. To ease the slight guilt in my heart, I'll use tactful words to reject her, words that are neither clear nor ambiguous.

"We can be completely open with each other, have long talks day and night in a romantic candlelight dinner, on a soft and comfortable bed, or in a bathtub filled with flower petals and incense, and decide on the future, going beyond just being friends. Perhaps it won't meet your expectations right now, but we have a long future together. Yes, the future is promising!"

Charlotte had intended to say "good friends," since she genuinely only wanted to be good friends with the other person, but she held back the words.

Sufby is still somewhat useful to her, but it's too early to say for sure, so let's wait and see.

The carriage stopped once again, and those familiar yet suffering faces came into view. The sea breeze from the port area brushed against my forehead as usual, bringing with it a pungent, salty smell.

"It seems our chatter has come to an end, Sophby."

Gently releasing the little peacock and smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes, Charlotte stepped over the footboard, casually waving her hand to brush aside the silver-rimmed hair that hung down to her gray eyes. Her silky short hair fluttered in the wind, eventually falling to her ear where it should have been.

Place the drawing board, give it a pencil, and as Sofby wields his brush, the soft rustling of paper and color complementing each other fills the air.

Following yesterday's incident, many more refugees have arrived at this safe haven tonight. They chat about trivial matters, debate the state of the country, and express their feelings about biotechnology families.

The dissolution of the India Party allowed the workers to voice their opinions, relieved their anxieties, and gave them hope for a better life.

"Miss Watson, you've arrived!"

"No, don't give me the bread this time. Give it to the young comrade over there. He's so young, yet he's already busy with family matters."

No longer were they overwhelmed with gratitude as always. Gradually, some people showed humility to the disadvantaged, while others shared with close acquaintances. The scattered hearts of the people gradually gathered together, and the banner of unity slowly rose.

Watching all this unfold, Sufby felt something in her heart, but her fingertips never stopped moving.

One painting after another was laid out, one portrait after another was completed, but in the end, it also carried a little bit of the little peacock's selfishness.

She quietly observed the girl, then drew her likeness on the paper—not the imposing presence of someone leading a crowd, but rather the harmonious and contented image of her leaning against the red-haired girl.

Under the moonlight and surrounded by stars, two beautiful young women leaned against each other, one with her hand raised and the other with her forehead bowed, one standing tall and the other holding an umbrella.

"It's a great drawing. Would you mind if I added a comment? Consider it a supplement to the answer you just gave."

It is a young girl's praise written from the perspective of an observer.

"Um......"

Although she was somewhat shy about Watson's approaching praise, the little peacock had gotten used to it after so many times. Besides, she really wanted to know the unfinished answer.

Grasping the pencil, the girl leaped and wrote two lines in the vast starry sky with a few strokes—

I once said that I was a comet from outer space.

Therefore, when that cycle, which lasts only a few days, is over, it will return to the embrace of the night sky once more.

P.S.: First, I'd like to recommend a friend's book. Feel free to check it out if you're interested, but don't forget me! (I'll cry for you guys!) Book title below:

The Corpse Collector, Professional Physical Salvation

Then, regarding the reason for the late updates, firstly, I'm a terrible writer; crafting words and describing scenes is incredibly slow. Secondly, while writing, seeing the critical comments made me very insecure. I kept overthinking, worrying about whether my writing was appropriate, fearing that different approaches wouldn't work. The more I revised, the more dissatisfied I became, leading to even more hesitation, more depression, and further slowing down. Plus, my health has been terrible lately…

I won't back out; I hope we can all reach the end together.

Chapter 72 The Sacrifice of the Idealist

The ferry's whistle blows, the waves of the vast sea rise and fall, and sometimes, the creaking of horse-drawn carriages over the road becomes a habit that is not so bothersome after a while.

Wearing a half-mask veiled in black, Charlotte repeatedly prepared the information at hand, stretching out her fingers to receive a sliver of dusky light from outside the window.

Her plans were on track, and she had gained a certain reputation among the people of Tingen. It was time for her to act as a kind-hearted and idealistic Miss Watson to strive for more fairness for both sides and to dedicate herself to the utmost for the common good of the future.

There are still four days left until the opening of the Blooming Flowers Art Exhibition. This time is not abundant, but for an idealist who is willing to dedicate himself, it is time to transform into a butterfly and plunge into the sea of ​​fire, so as to awaken the dull hearts of the world and redeem O'Shaw's name.

Ms. Mossam, please don't blame me for deceiving you. I really wanted to tell you everything clearly so that I could get more direct assistance. But if this was a lie and a deception from the beginning, no matter how gentle you are, you would still be angry and refuse. So please allow me to take this desperate measure and try to use my own light to alleviate the suffering of the people.

Don't blame anyone. Blame yourself for turning your back on me and personally destroying your most beloved little pony. Fate is always like this; once gone, it can never return.

As for you little sparrows, I have bestowed my grace upon you by painstakingly sharing my knowledge and warmth, so there is no need to repeat this apology to you.

Of course, this does not mean giving up contact with you. However, at that time, I will have a long talk with the sorrowful look of someone who has been through it all, sometimes mentioning Watson's kindness, sometimes asking about the debts I owe you, so that you can't forget me even if you want to, and can't cry even if you want to. You can only feel more ashamed and regretful, and show a wonderful, beautiful, and captivating expression.

It's truly captivating. As for revenge and exposing him?

Miss Watson will experience various physiological reactions due to the severity of her injuries, such as bleeding and weakness. In the end, when she draws back the extracted spirit, it will be no different from death. Who can see through this disguise and see Charlotte laughing behind the mask?

Of course, although the puppet may be damaged to the point of being unable to function, it can be restored as long as the materials are gathered.

If she were to restart this living puppet after faking her death, she would probably travel across the ocean to the Kingdom of Plantagenet on the other side of the sea.

Not only to further understand the world, but also to avoid the sight and urgent pursuit of the little sparrows.

The grand opera is about to begin, just waiting for the curtain to rise. Let me tidy myself up and add a touch of humanity to this blood-soaked opera.

This might seem a bit arrogant, but that's how much the girl trusted herself. In her life of wielding blades, she was Minerva's top agent and the Central Security Bureau's ace. She was proficient in all kinds of skills, from physics and chemistry to human communication. She was also well-trained in personal combat, whether it was shameful endurance or cold-blooded infighting.

Hand-to-hand combat, deception, firearms shooting, verbal manipulation, explosives preparation...

With her craftsmanship and deceptive appearance, she navigated various battles and romantic relationships, leaving behind a trail of bloodshed and countless atrocities, earning her the reputation of a sharp-eyed owl among CIA executives.