Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

In the end, even her peers and high-ranking employers dared not underestimate her, nor could they restrain her fangs.

Charlotte didn't take long to go from poverty to wealth. Basically, she accomplished everything she set out to do, and if she didn't want to do something, no one else could either.

Do others oppose you? Of course, but rarely, unless they want their families to be destroyed or to get lost in a vortex of suffering.

It was precisely for this reason that even while imprisoned, the girl felt no sense of urgency about being in imminent danger. Instead, she was eager to flaunt her beauty and charm the people and things around her, just as she had done before. The combined enhancement of information and power allowed her to find a path out of the darkness that permeated Tingen and to pierce through a ray of light.

Charlotte clenched her fist indifferently, her slender fingers crushing the air and twisting it into a powerful shape. The light in Charlotte's eyes gradually faded, and a strange feeling surfaced in her heart.

A slight chill hung in the air. The buildings were low, dilapidated, and the road was uneven and rugged. There were few pedestrians, and the air was unusually quiet, save for the constant hoarse groans of wheels and the continuous clatter of horses' hooves...

This scenery seems somewhat unfamiliar?

Charlotte didn't remember the way from the port to the Marais district. Even she couldn't maintain a high level of concentration all the time; she would only reserve the most energetic part of the day for a half-day of enjoyment and food.

However, this does not mean that she has no impression of the route. Even if she doesn’t have any to remember, several landmark signs are still quite eye-catching. She has been there several times, so she is generally familiar with the scenery along the street.

In fact, in order to conceal her whereabouts, she was cautious in every unavoidable detail. She changed trains multiple times along the way, and her destination was more or less a bit further away. Although the Mareh district was not as clean and beautiful as the center of Tingen, it was still a bustling and lively district with all kinds of shops and businesses on the streets. How could it be so quiet and natural, with even the roads being uneven?

There's a problem...

Her mood grew heavy, her eyelashes trembled slightly, and the girl narrowed her long, narrow eyes.

Her body gradually tensed, and she gripped her cane and suitcase tightly in her hands. With a clear, crisp voice, she asked casually:

"Sir, how much longer until we arrive? I'm starting to feel sleepy."

"About ten minutes."

The coachman in the carriage replied calmly.

"It seems a bit faster than usual."

“I took the shortcut.”

"Ah."

It was a girl's sneer. She said, "A shortcut that takes us further and further away from the Mahei district?"

I stood still for a few seconds. The sea breeze continued, but there was no response. Only the creaking of the wheels kept echoing in my ears.

This repetitive and monotonous sound, like dark clouds pressing down on the city, gave the frigid winter weather an eerie, tepid feel.

Boom, boom.

Her heartbeat grew louder, her breathing became shallow, her slender, willow-like eyebrows furrowed slightly, and her delicate, upright nostrils twitched slightly. Charlotte caught a faint smell of burning in the dry, cold air.

Explosives?

It is a good result of what happened yesterday.

Bang! The car door was kicked open by a leather boot, crashing into the carriage with a piercing scream.

Facing the cold wind rushing towards the carriage, and with her long, silvery-gray hair and disheveled clothes fluttering in the bleak rain and snow, Charlotte first flung her suitcase to the ground, then leaped out of the carriage. In mid-air, she pressed down her felt hat with her hand, positioned herself in a shallow crouch on one knee, and waited for the carriage behind her to explode with a roar, flames erupting, and wood and steel flying everywhere.

With a roar, the horse let out a long, painful neigh. Flames and intense heat, along with the sudden force of the impact, engulfed everything it had just been riding on. It then turned into a fireball, wobbling forward for more than ten meters before collapsing with a crash, remaining there forever.

Looking back, the carriage was burning brightly in the distance, and in the raging flames, the remains of a man and two horses were no longer recognizable.

"That's really professional...the body was destroyed and the evidence was covered up in one go."

The perpetrator was obvious; he was quick and efficient, finding the source in just half a day: Sir John Bathory.

However, this is not a bad thing; what cannot kill her will only make her stronger.

As for using explosives, it could not only cover up hidden traces, but also provide more excuses. After all, low-sequence extraordinary individuals cannot withstand excessive amounts of bullets and gunpowder. Fortunately, Charlotte's sense of smell was keen, and she detected the danger first.

After glancing back several times to make sure no one was following her, Charlotte wiped the slight bloodstains from her cheek with her hand.

Even the smallest scratch or a moment of forced helplessness can easily ignite the anger of others and awaken the rage of the masses.

With her hair slightly disheveled and without wiping away the blood, leaving behind evidence of her suffering, the girl flicked her sleeves and walked alone toward her destination, the Connor Bar.

Bright's unique qualities have yet to be transformed into a golden list, filling her waist and trousers, and thus filling her gaps and shortcomings.

She crossed the long street and passed through the connected buildings, and before that, she saw her own little parrot.

Even with the mask on, Charlotte still recognized the other person at a glance.

The wide robe, the emerald green mask with gold trim, and the wisp of chestnut hair that seemed to hang down but not quite—it was quite charming.

It was obvious that the person leaning against the wall, silent, had been waiting for some time.

What a good little bird! It knows to wait for its owner to arrive; it deserves praise.

"Ta-da! Guess who I am?"

So she gently pushed up her mask, strode closer, and asked in an incredibly light tone.

“Joseph, no, Lady Starlight, you have arrived.”

Upon seeing the bright silver hair, Melina naturally recognized her 'good friend'. She wanted to utter her real name as usual, but when she thought about their identities tonight, she subconsciously changed her words and added what she thought was a code name.

Using starlight to describe me? It seems the little bird has quite aspirations for itself; it's a nice name, I like it.

Thus, she also recalled her own understanding of Melina.

"Miss Parrot, I've missed you dearly since I last saw you a day ago."

"Ahem." The straightforward words stirred a fire in her heart. Perhaps the description was too vivid, because even Melina herself almost nodded in agreement.

Just as she was thinking of what to say, she noticed the lingering blood on Charlotte's cheek.

"Ms. Starlight, you're injured. When did this happen?"

It is an urgent concern and an undisguised care.

"Ah, you mean it? I encountered a little accident on the way here. Because of yesterday's support, I offended some of the leaders."

As if speaking casually, Charlotte raised her fingertips and lightly wiped away the bloodstains on the side of her face, letting them spread into a fading trace.

"Of course, this is not surprising. After all, as an idealist, he had already prepared himself before putting his heart's desires into practice, before seeking justice, and before testifying to his friends' beliefs—"

Her gaze was fixed on Melina, as if the friend the girl had spoken of was the former. She said, she admitted:

"Preparation for sacrifice."

Chapter 73 The Next Sequence of Arbitration

"Josephine..."

Upon hearing the word "sacrifice," Melina could no longer suppress her sorrow and murmured it softly.

Seeing the girl's slender figure, she felt a fleeting sense of fragility for no reason, as if the light she was holding would dissipate in her palm in the blink of an eye.

"Shh, nicknames are only appropriate to use in private when you're being affectionate. Although I don't mind, I'd rather use them in the long, dim light of candlelight at night."

With a smile, Charlotte pursed her pink lips, seemingly indifferent to the minor injuries and the nobleman's questioning.

"No, it's not the same. I would be happy to be in a room with you, Watson, and have a pleasant chat, but was your injury inflicted by that knight? Was it because of what happened yesterday when he led the crowd that he framed you?"

He took Charlotte's slender hand and, even through the mask, the little parrot's anxious and worried expression was evident.

"Yes, so what? When interests sway people's hearts, evil deeds will be unleashed endlessly, and human life is as worthless as grass in their eyes."

"..."

Without saying anything more, Melina simply clenched her fingers, bit her lip, letting her body heat flow through her palms, while also harboring complex thoughts in her heart.

"Why use the word 'sacrifice'? I don't like this word, whether in a novel I'm writing or in real life."

As they walked side by side, they whispered to each other, rubbing their necks together in a voice that could only be heard when they were very close.

If others witnessed or heard this, it would be difficult for them not to regard their relationship as something more than friendship.

"That's not right, Miss Parrot. The word 'sacrifice' is such a noble and great word. To risk one's life for an ideal—aren't all the heroes of the world like that? If it weren't for its finishing touch, ending with a great victory, that opera, that chapter, would be too bland and lack brilliance."

Raising her hand, as if gathering the pent-up light, like every pilgrim seeking the truth, the silver-haired girl with her face covered by a black veil is so dazzling, yet so fragile, as if a gust of evening wind could carry away her beautiful figure.

“But reality is different from opera. At least we have a choice. That jazz awed you so badly, we can…”

The words were on the tip of her tongue, but suddenly stopped. Melina hesitated, wanting to speak of temporary forbearance and concession, but when the whims of the powerful threatened her friend's life, no amount of maneuvering would leave her any room for maneuver.

In the morning, Josephine told her about the revolution she had led the people to kill the traitor the day before, which made her truly understand this like-minded and practical friend.

Extraordinary people, like-minded people, more than friends...

Like countless coincidences in the world, Watson seemed to be a knight destined for her, arriving by her side through a chance encounter, like the opening chapter of a story.

Therefore, driven by her emotions, and fueled by the ostracism and disdain of the nobility, she cherished this hard-won friendship all the more, especially considering their roles as a book friend and mentor. If, if—

"Miss Parrot, are you suggesting we run away? Are you suggesting I abandon the ideals we both pursue and abandon the people?"

A soft murmur reached their ears, sending a warm current through them. By this time, they had already crossed the bar's front hall and casually chosen a window seat to sit down.

"When I made that choice, when I led countless people to unite and put the theory into practice, it meant that I also took on their responsibility. I was the first to speak out. If even I was afraid of danger and remained silent, how could the people who were struggling, suffering and exhausted speak out? Wouldn't I also be an opportunist, a traitor who abandoned their cause?"

The soft clinking of glasses echoed, the gurgling sounds of throats accompanied the gentle slurping, and the slurping sounds of lips moving were like a dream. The aroma of incense and the richness of wine wafted through the air, and just being there made one feel slightly tipsy.

Charlotte's lips moved like a cold, icy rain, so chilling that even the most extravagant and decadent lifestyle lost its flavor, leaving only the harsh reality of a cold winter day.

"At least, we don't have to be so radical. We still have a lot of time to gradually awaken people's minds and bodies, let them slowly realize that their actions can improve their lives, let them gradually have a sense of identity, trust each other's ideas, dare to make demands, truly unite, and raise the banner."

Melina pressed down on the mask covering her face, about to speak again, when she saw the silver-haired girl shake her head slightly, silently refusing.

"Because Josephine Watson was a lonely traveler, a rootless wanderer from her homeland, a rabbit who would hang herself if she felt lonely."

She forced a smile, her face turning a haggard pale, a sense of helplessness washing over her.

"Her value lies in the last rays of her light, which ignite the flame of the new day for those with heavy hearts, even if it burns out or is destroyed."

It's as if it's telling us that even such a spirited and composed young woman is destined to have a vulnerable side, needing comfort and someone to lean on.

Without thinking, Melina reached out her hand. She wanted to say something, and also wanted to hold Charlotte's fleeting fingertips, letting that cascading silver hair fall over her shoulder.

"Why take your life so lightly, Josephine? I can also become..."

Your reliance, even your soulmate.

I can listen to your needs and troubles, your joys and sorrows. We can be friends not only through kisses, but also comrades-in-arms, and even the deep roots that a plant takes root in.

I am willing to be your pen, to wield the ink and write down beautiful poems and paintings, realistic sketches, or even the entanglements of our love.

However, all of this is difficult to export, not even a little bit.

Charlotte was filled with a myriad of emotions, but she noticed and remembered the little parrot's feelings.

she says:

No, you can't be, because you'll never understand me, Melina.

You are more intelligent than the peacock and the sparrow, yet you still cannot see through the true face beneath this mask, that malevolent and dark heart.

Even if my spine is broken and my shoulder blade is pierced, I will never reveal my true feelings.

Unless you smash every single one of my teeth, trample all my dignity and pride, and reduce me to useless dust.

Unless I am truly captivated by the act, momentarily unable to distinguish between reality and illusion, and subjected to hypnosis, forgetting all my past experiences.

However, if you were to actually say it at this moment, Miss Watson might blush, shed tears, lean on your shoulder and pour out her heart, just like any delicate, lonely, and heartbroken girl.

Unfortunately, little parrot, whether it was due to your modesty or some other reason, once you missed it, there will be no next chance.

Because I am a big bad wolf who eats girls, I will only grant one chance to call the hunter.

"Come on, little parrot, the party is about to begin."

With a wave of her hand, Charlotte rose to take her leave with practiced ease, walked past a group of gentlemen and ladies drinking together, and went to the bar, tapping the table lightly with the back of her hand.

"A cup of Sitong ginger wine."

The bartender stopped what he was doing, glanced up at the girl, and, noticing her attire and tone, said in a low voice:

"That gentleman is in the number two card room. Knock three times, count to five silently, and then say hello to enter."

Thank you for your kindness.

Charlotte smiled, took fivepence from her pocket, and casually placed it on the table.

It's a tip.

Then, she took a small sip of ginger wine, letting the bitter taste spread across her lips, and led Melina, whose head was bowed, around the front hall and knocked on the door of the card room.

The same route, the same long, narrow corridor, draped in black robes, led by servants, led them into the living room where only a single candle burned quietly.

At a glance, Charlotte noticed that there were far fewer extraordinary people at this gathering than usual.