Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

"Ah."

Without refusing, and unable to refuse, the little parrot carefully fastened the brooch for Watson, then looked him over.

Only now did she realize that her friend was much shorter and thinner than herself, as light as a drifting, rootless cloud.

"All right."

Looking at his current appearance in the full-length mirror, Watson smiled gently, a faint blush spreading across his fair cheeks, as if he were genuinely shy.

"Well then, I look forward to seeing you again."

Waving goodbye, the girl's steps were as light as a breeze, gently giving roses but selfishly leaving no lingering fragrance.

The room returned to silence. Melina watched her friend leave, and couldn't help but reach out her fingertips to open the novel she loved, until she reached the page that had been deliberately folded.

The slightly creased pages were enough to prove how often and how frequently it had been read.

Her extraordinary path led her to become a writer, but this popular and romantic love story was the catalyst for her interest.

This was the first book she came into contact with, absurd stories that a reserved noblewoman should not have read. The little parrot should have flipped through it at will with a disdainful eye.

On the second day after she was able to read it, Melina McCullough, who had just turned fourteen, woke up from her sleep with the unfinished copy of "Julia Andrine's Love Story" still clutched in her arms, her eyes wet with tears.

She dreamt of clouds drifting across the grasslands, of flowers blooming among the pines and cypresses, of red leaves covering the mountainsides and filling the flowing streams. The young girl's heart was stirred by love, like a flower blooming on a rocky cliff.

She followed the path, imitated the sequence, became a writer, published her first work, and wrote a fictional story under the name 'Mistletoe,' yet yearned for the mercy of reality.

Like every innocent young girl, like every stubborn wildflower, she buried her unrealistic expectations deep in her heart, hiding her true feelings in casual conversation. She thought she would keep them hidden forever, but unexpectedly...

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Farewell Before Departure

Amidst the wind and snow, and the chill of the air, the silver-haired girl leaped and bounded along the roadside, stopping just before she was about to fall to regain her balance, much like a nimble rabbit.

"Ma'am, do you need a taxi?"

Upon seeing the well-dressed girl, the coachman reined in the horse and immediately stopped it, humbly moving his lips as he longed for a livelihood.

"Sir, I'm sorry, I'm not far from my destination. If we meet again, I'll have to trouble you to take care of me."

She politely declined, but still smiled brightly, showing that Charlotte was generous with her kindness.

A smile has a magical power, especially on such a dull and cold winter day.

Seeing this, even though he hadn't managed to get any business, the rickshaw driver in the dirty vest still managed to glimmer a spark of life in his dry eyes.

Charlotte could understand that look.

A man with a hard life, dragging his weary body through the streets in the early morning, rarely has time for leisure or social interaction, and is only accompanied by the falling wind and snow.

At such a time, to meet a beautiful girl who doesn't care about poverty or low status and treats people with gentleness is undoubtedly a rare stroke of luck and a delightful surprise.

Therefore, as Watson, she wouldn't mind showing them a kind smile when they met.

After all, there's not much time left for me, and I really enjoy the days and nights I spend surrounded by sparrows, and I love listening to their melodious chirping.

From now on, she can only interact with them in a less intimate way. Although it's just a matter of wearing a mask, Charlotte is a person with obsessive-compulsive disorder.

The scent, the touch, the experience—everyone is different. The good girl Watson is an idealist who sympathizes with the people and cares about humanity; she is an independent and complete character, different from Charlotte.

The sparrows are birds clinging to the branches of Watson, not butterflies lured by the black flowers. She can lightly touch them with her lips, but she will not irresponsibly continue to tease them.

This is a matter of principle. She enjoys the unique beauty of each little bird. If the mask is removed, the empathy and interest will be lost, and it will no longer be delicious or sweet.

She doesn't like it, and she won't do it.

Passing over the lush green duckweed and stepping on the smooth pebble path, as the floral art exhibition draws near, more and more tourists are visiting the central area. Even the continuous snow cannot suppress their leisure to view the exhibition, even if it is only to show off the dignity of the upper class.

My gaze swept across the high-hanging signboard and I happened to see a slender figure rushing about in a panic.

Slightly knotted chestnut hair, a wrinkled top, and delicate, bright green eyebrows and eyes—undoubtedly, that was their own little sparrow, Winnie.

It seems we arrived early just in time for the birds to catch their train.

It's not a short walk from Jongno district to the city center, and with the harsh winter cold and heavy snow, walking for such a long time must have been unpleasant. Was the decision not to take a horse-drawn carriage due to your usual frugality?

Charlotte frowned slightly as she noticed the snowflakes clinging to Winnie's shoulders and hair.

This natural attire did accentuate the girl's petite figure, but it also made her look haggard and vulnerable.

Girls like Winnie would hide their discomfort even when they're not feeling well, thinking they don't want to trouble others, which leads to illness, weakness, and increased timidity.

So, she opened the umbrella and called out softly.

"Winnie."

The soles of the boots sank into the snow, and there was no further sound. Only the sound of breathing approached, and snowflakes fell onto the fabric. The cold wind temporarily subsided.

A black umbrella tilts forward, shielding the person from the wind and snow, bringing warmth and peace of mind.

"Well?"

As the little sparrow murmured a doubtful sound and was about to turn around to look, a pair of hands covered its eyes.

"Guess who I am?"

"It's Miss Watson..."

Without much hesitation, feeling that unique warmth, Winnie couldn't help but smile.

It's a small expression of joy.

"How boring. Can't Winnie pretend to be surprised and delighted?"

Seeing the sparrow's delight, Charlotte withdrew her fingertips with a slight boredom, but instead of closing the umbrella, she still created a peaceful space for them both.

"No, of course it's unexpected, of course it's a pleasant surprise. It's just that Miss Watson's hands are fair and clean, like the most expensive doll in the display case. You can feel it clearly when you get close."

Winnie shook her head and glanced at the girl furtively, as if pondering whether her words were rash and impolite.

To be honest, Watson was a benefactor she would never encounter in her life. His selfless kindness not only gave her a decent and easy job, but also taught her, little by little, the principles of success and being a good person.

Without the help of others, I probably wouldn't have been able to raise money to treat my mother's illness, and I would still be that ugly duckling stuck in the mud.

Her humble origins were always a source of anxiety for Little Sparrow. The vast difference in their social status made her value this kindness more than friendship or love; it was something she kept in her heart and could never forget.

Therefore, setting aside her natural inclinations, Winnie always remained humble when facing Watson because she felt indebted to him but had no ability to repay him.

“You have a keen eye for observation, Winnie. You have a keen eye for discovery.”

Without restraint, Charlotte praised her little bird.

In fact, Winnie is indeed a girl with remarkable talent. She can read colors from words and language, whether it is the ingredient list of a product or the mood of other people's expressions.

This is a talent, but the little sparrow cannot make good use of it.

She can pick up on all sorts of information, but due to her temperament, she often finds herself in a dilemma where "this makes sense, that makes sense."

Overthinking backfired. The wealth of information she read and saw failed to aid her decision-making; instead, it hampered her actions.

Fortunately, in these few short days, Charlotte had the opportunity to develop and train Winnie's thinking and decision-making abilities. Perhaps, after Charlotte's departure, the girl will be able to truly become independent and become the person she once was.

The joy of raising children is not limited to this.

Under the same umbrella, Charlotte brushed the snowflakes off Little Sparrow's shoulder with her finger, then leaned down and said with some affection, "You can save on taxi fare, but you should treat yourself better. At least buy a temporary raincoat."

The two were already very close, and when they moved even closer, they were practically touching.

Despite feeling embarrassed, Winnie didn't shy away; she simply nestled close to her, clinging together like overlapping fallen leaves.

She enjoyed this care and cherished Watson's guidance and teachings, even though they came like a gentle breeze and were fleeting.

"If this is how I can gain Miss Watson's attention, then I will..."

The girl's soft murmur did not escape Charlotte's ears.

She raised her fingertips and stopped at her pale pink lips.

"Shh, Winnie, everyone has to learn to be independent. It's a long and arduous road that you have to walk alone. You can listen to others, like my advice for a moment, but you also have to bear your own burdens in the future."

Her gaze swept across the shop window and landed on a small, exquisite newsboy cap. The girl smiled slightly, handed over the money, and took it out.

Just like Winnie's timid nature, this hat with the little blue bird perfectly complements her temperament and serves as a thoughtful parting gift.

Charlotte smoothed Winnie's messy hair, gently pinned the leather newsboy cap to the little sparrow's head, examined her carefully, made some minor adjustments, and then nodded in satisfaction.

she says:

"Consider this hat my encouragement, a parting gift between friends."

"Winnie, I'm leaving Tingen."

Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Final Help

"leave."

With her thin lips slightly parted, Winnie murmured softly. She clearly hadn't thought about parting, hadn't considered such heavy words.

"Watson, I..."

Pulling down the brim of her newsboy cap, the little sparrow instinctively took Josephine's hand, wanting to say something but unable to utter a sound. Fortunately—

"A temporary departure does not mean a permanent farewell. For me, this is an uncertain journey. If there are people and things worth remembering along the way, Miss Watson will still come back to take a good look."

Without offering much explanation, Charlotte simply tilted the umbrella down, gently stroked the little sparrow's hair, and her eyes seemed to overflow with tenderness.

Even a woman like her would patiently and kindly treat a girl with a pure heart, after all, it takes time for a sparrow to fly away from the branch and into the sky.

"Then, I would be..."

With a stuttering voice, Winnie was about to ask what the words meant when she saw the silver-haired girl raise her finger to her lips, looking troubled and thoughtful.

Then she curled her eyelashes and smiled softly.

“Yes, Winnie.”

With a deliberately drawn-out tone, Charlotte cupped the little bird girl's head and gently stroked her soft cheeks with her fingertips. She then blew a breath that made Winnie's ears turn red before she smiled brightly and said...

"The ugly duckling in the mud is poor, lowly, and cowardly, so it buries its head and shrinks back, but I don't think so."

With a light stroke, the makeup was wiped away, revealing the girl's skin underneath, fair and delicate, like a lotus flower emerging from the water.

"The Ugly Duckling can become a swan because she was a swan to begin with. When she broke free from the mud and blossomed with a beauty that had been tempered by hardship, even the most beautiful peony would look down upon her."

Charlotte gently released the sparrow, smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes, and took the first step, letting the wind and snow pass over the umbrella and chill her face. She then stopped and waited for the girl to follow in a flustered manner.

she says:

"If one day I could see that beauty, even if I were far away, the girl seeking her beauty would prepare a carriage drawn by four fine horses, and visit Tingen at night with candlelight worthy of swans, to stop and reunite."

Just like myself.

Watson's voice lingered in her ears, and Winnie slowly raised her head, which had been bowed low. She saw his short, silver-silk hair draw an arc in the air, and his pale pink lips part slightly, as alluring as butterfly wings, ready to be kissed.

She knew that her past was unremarkable, and she thought that she too could become a swan.

The experience at the tea party resurfaced in her mind. She recalled being shoved to the ground, utterly humiliated, and the brief surge of resentment and longing that had ignited within her. For the first time, the little sparrow found a goal she wanted to strive for in her life—

To get closer to that beautiful figure, so that I can stand beside her with dignity and without appearing clumsy.

Holding the umbrella handle, Winnie murmured to herself as she boldly touched her friend's slender hand.

Even if I'm born an ugly duckling in the mud, as long as I can become a swan soaring into the sky, then...

My thoughts were in turmoil, but my steps never stopped, and the sign I had stepped into many times before came into view again.

Singh's firm.

The wooden doors opened and closed, revealing a familiar layout. It was exactly eight o'clock. A cold breeze entered through the open door, battling against the aroma of steaming food on the coffee table.

“I think I’m not late, Mr. Singh.”

Charlotte folded her umbrella and placed it in a jar to the side. Seeing the old detective holding a spoon and spreading jam on toast, she raised her voice and asked.

"So, is there breakfast for me today?"

It was just a casual question, but I never expected to receive a positive answer.

"Yes, it's a new employee benefit. If you arrive on time in the future, the firm will prepare a snack for you to fill your stomach."

Taking a bite of the sizzling bacon, Singh took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped the traces from the corner of his mouth, then pointed to the food basket placed on the coffee table.

“Of course, I didn’t do it; Miss Sophby did it.”

Although Charlotte often described the other person as an old detective, this middle-aged man actually had a good appearance. His mature temperament and proper attire, coupled with his peaceful and patient manner, and his thin face with a prominent jawline, did have a certain charm.