Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

Although it's just a temporary fantasy, having a goal is always more proactive than being lost in confusion.

As for whether the birds will notice something amiss and seek out the former?

The dead coming back to life is a miracle. Hua died under the watchful eyes of the crowd, right before their eyes. Under such immense sorrow, how could they easily harbor any doubts?

After all, even Charlotte herself was surprised by the puppet's self-regeneration. The bullet had clearly pierced the heart, but before long, Watson was like a rag doll that could be mended, stuffed with yarn and restored to life, at the cost of extreme physical weakness.

It's fantastical, but who wouldn't love it? She cherishes Watson as a puppet quite a bit, and being able to reuse him conveniently is far better than painstakingly caring for him.

If the price is too high, and it is too cruel to the birds, then giving up is a viable option, since Charlotte is the most selfish person imaginable.

Sinking into the memories left by his predecessor to repair the puppet was feasible, but quite troublesome. Fresh organs and the flesh and blood of the original body, rather than a secretive and extraordinary method, the O'Shaw family's inheritance was more like an extension of some kind of biotechnology, similar to cloning.

It's a bit strange. In an era where even electrical equipment is not widespread, how could such cutting-edge technology be involved? You know, even in my previous life, in that advanced yet ironic era, only the rich could enjoy the services of consciousness overclocking and external transplantation.

Could it be a legacy of ancient civilizations, or a gift of extraterrestrial technology?

A smile plays on the lips, and the fleeting thoughts vanish in an instant with the slight tremor of the eyelashes. These ideas are often used as backgrounds in movies and operas; they are unrealistic, but they can serve as a source of amusement.

There's no need to worry too much. Life is full of ups and downs, and with time, we can gradually get closer to the answer. She has just that kind of patience.

There are only two things I need to do now: figure out the truth about why I came into this world and climb to the top of the extraordinary path.

Indulging in a state of blissful ignorance was not her style. Throughout her life, she was driven by reason and self-interest. Her ignorance and naivety were akin to the vulnerability of a newborn infant. Charlotte never wanted to admit her weakness, so she could suppress the emotions that moved her and endure the allure of that deep-seated fragrance.

Although losing the company of birds may inevitably make one's life less fun and more dull, causing one to look gloomy and feel restless, flowers will always bloom again after they wither. When spring arrives, it surrounds the green fields, and everywhere is full of beautiful flowers.

Her thoughts were like water, flowing in wisps and threads. This is how Charlotte Brontë comforted herself and deceived her own heart. But unlike what she thought and felt, was she really indifferent?

I'm afraid not.

Clutching the unmailed letter, the blonde woman recalled the day of the funeral: Sofby's silent grief, Melina's increasingly heavy pen, Winnie's tightly clutched clothes, and a strange, inappropriate regret welled up in her heart.

I am the spring breeze blowing through a thousand winds, I am a ray of sunlight on a ripe grain field, something fleeting, someone who rises and falls with the wind. If you knew that it was a lie from beginning to end, would you still choose to forgive me?

You definitely can't do it. You'll definitely harbor resentment, you'll definitely cry and make a scene, you'll definitely question me with that horribly ugly face, right?

Ultimately, one's own convictions cannot overcome the stubborn views formed over the years. This question can no longer be answered. Miss Detective died in the courtyard, died at the art exhibition. She exchanged her death for her return. Now, what awaits Charlotte is a brand new life belonging to Miss Earl.

"Miss, the ball hosted by Dame Fernand is about to begin. Would you like to change your clothes and makeup?"

The young maid bent down and respectfully bowed her head to inquire.

"No need."

Charlotte's confidence stemmed from her dislike of elaborate makeup; her melancholic and somber coloring needed no embellishment.

Poor Miss Earl Shaw, though her parents were murdered by the Bathory, had her former family property redistributed through a thorough investigation by the Empire. The manor where she had lived since childhood was generously given to her by the authorities, along with the mess and desolate gardens.

In the eyes of those so-called noble people, she is now a wronged and rescued tragic figure, a pearl whose dust has been wiped away, to be admired from afar and to be trifled with.

She took a half step back, letting her heels rest on the edge of the rooftop. There was no protection around her, and it seemed that if she lost her balance, she would fall into the abyss. But Charlotte was completely unmoved by the danger.

She listened to the howling wind and the crashing waves. She tiptoed and danced gracefully, her black high heels reflecting a dim luster. Like a princess in a fairy tale, her already tall figure was made even more elegant and beautiful by the high heels.

she says:

"No noise is allowed in this area."

Then the wind stopped, and the rain ceased.

The hidden legacy still shines upon her, the scales of justice still rest in her hands, Watson has revealed extraordinary qualities, and Charlotte still possesses the ability to follow this path.

The former confirms the detective's death, while the latter suggests that what was once a plaything could be transformed into a poison, a drug that allows her to seduce and manipulate, deciding when to lay her pawn.

Raising her snow-white neck, she slowly raised her arm, spreading her five fingers, and also bent one leg backward, forming a slender, alluring curve.

You're beautiful, Charlotte. You're destined to be the center of attention at the ball.

The darkness of the night sky veiled the beauty like a black veil. The graceful beauty of the ballet was breathtaking, and the precariousness of being strangled on the cliff was arousing. It was as if one were witnessing a pure black swan standing alone in the crystal moon lake, drinking its wine before its death.

She called the girls birds, and in reality, Charlotte herself was a sparrow that had been separated from the flock for too long. She had never felt the warmth of human hearts, or perhaps, she could not believe in the care that had once been given.

The scars of the past were too deep; she had long since become a patient, a patient unable to save herself.

she says:

"The weak me of the past is dead."

It was 7 p.m., the stars overhead were dazzling, the night wind made her blonde hair fly wildly, her skirt flutter, and black light spun around her toes as her heels struck the ground repeatedly, like the rapid ringing of silver bells.

Bathory's reputation crumbled overnight. Nobles from all sides transformed into hungry jackals, frantically devouring the fat left behind by whales. Thus, Miss Earl was able to escape punishment and return to the world. From now on, she will abandon the past and regain everything amidst flowers and applause, just as she set her goal back then.

No longer do you need to hide your feelings; just be like Charlotte, a beautiful woman who is elegant, aloof, mysterious, and alluring.

Charlotte reined in the tall horse and cracked the whip, urging the beast forward with all her might. The silver-inlaid ruts rolled across the stone road, and the horse gradually disappeared into the distance amidst the admiring cries of passersby.

Before leaving, she once again pondered a possibility she had previously considered: the direction for creating the second puppet.

After becoming extraordinary, I had a rich spiritual life to dedicate to. However, the inconvenience of sourcing and selecting materials hindered me from escaping that situation at the time. But now, I can naturally make proper plans again.

In the lingering memories of the predecessor, the materials and steps required for the accompanying puppet were extremely complicated. In addition to this refining process from scratch, another method was relatively simple: all that was needed was a well-preserved body with good compatibility, which could be integrated with the blood of the original body and understand its spirit, and then it could be controlled with a slightly obscure method.

Well, Tingen is too small. Although it can be managed meticulously, it still has limitations. Watson's blank identity has brought her too many inconveniences. She needs a good identity and a good job that allows her to gather information in various cities and decide whether to stay or not.

As my thoughts drifted away, the rain gradually subsided, and the curtain of the sky was once again filled with the cool moonlight. The wind whistled through the treetops, causing the wind chimes to tinkle as the doors opened and closed.

Water falls from the sky to the earth, then escapes from the cracks in the soil and returns to the sky, bustling about like a series of extravagant oil paintings before our eyes.

The carriage came to a stop, and the waiter who had been standing there bent down to hold the half-open doorway for the approaching person. Looking inside, the room was brightly lit, and the scents of various perfumes and wines, accompanied by melodious music, spread to every corner. Charlotte saw rows of neatly arranged seats and elegantly dressed guests.

The gentlemanly manners and the ladylike reserve clearly indicated that this was a high-society gathering. The women's attire was roughly divided into two categories: one group wore dresses that were either brightly colored or darkly colored, all bold and revealing, showing large expanses of white skin on their chests and arms; the other group wore clothes in fresh colors that were quite conservative, with even their collarbones only vaguely visible or sometimes covered up.

As Charlotte knew, in the Hastings Empire, this meant the distinction between married and unmarried women. Widows and divorced women could choose between two different styles of dress, but the former would wear darker colors.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a tuft of emerald green feathers and a familiar face that had become much thinner.

It's a little parrot, Melina.

It's not surprising to see the former at such a gathering, but what was unexpected was that the little bird was wearing a black dress, a conservative and tight-fitting outfit that lacked any liveliness. This was the kind of clothing that only a widow would choose. So, who could have caused her such heartbreak?

It could only be that detective.

Charlotte raised the corners of her lips and revealed a gentle smile, a natural expression of her joy.

She stepped forward, took a charred branch from the mistletoe bush she was holding, and gently placed it in the young woman's hair.

Without taking any further action, Charlotte simply softened her voice and said softly:

"On the most dangerous days in Hastings' history, people would wear collars and bracelets made of rowan, which could protect the last chance of life and symbolize survival. As long as you live, there is hope, madam. This is a gift; do not show your sorrow."

Zhu Chi's lips parted slightly, revealing her pearly white teeth. Melina's surprise lasted for a few seconds before she quickly covered her mouth, bowed apologetically for her momentary lapse, and sincerely thanked her.

It was just a polite expression of gratitude between strangers.

As the violin began to play and harmonies arose, Charlotte was about to slip away to the center of the ball when a black silk ribbon fluttered with each step, and a deep purple rose appeared before her.

Jet-black lace trim, jet-black ribbons, poisonous Christmas crape myrtle, a charmingly wicked beauty, and a graceful lady take her hand and invite her out.

Her memories returned; she was Melissant, the woman who had tried to frame Watson.

Their eyes met, their gazes locked, as if they had seen through each other's hearts.

Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, and her smile was as bright as a flower, like the joy of a long-awaited reunion. She was tender and affectionate, her breath soft and gentle, and she said:

"Miss Oushaw, it's been a few days."

Chapter Ninety-One: The Invitation and the Truth of the Enlightenment Society

Haven't seen you for several days?

This is an ambiguous term, not long ago, not recently, leaving it to the questioner's own speculation.

Undoubtedly, as Charlotte Earl, the canary imprisoned in the back garden, she had never met Melissant. Therefore, this greeting could only be a message from behind a mask to the former Watson and to herself in the shadows.

Her heart stirred with emotion, but her expression remained unchanged. She bowed slightly, allowing the distance between them to diminish intimacy and making their interaction feel distant.

“Ms. Melissant, I have heard of your great reputation and beauty, even when you are bound.”

Their eyes met, and the emerald green of the jade and the dark gold of the moon intertwined.

"Miss Oushaw, is that a compliment?"

Covering her crimson lips, before the former could answer, Melissand paused, then smiled faintly and responded.

"But, I like it."

Taking Charlotte's delicate hand in hers, the blue-haired beauty turned to look at the assembled crowd before stepping onto the elevated stage.

Stepping to the perfect rhythm, the heels of her shoes clicked crisply against the marble floor beneath her long, fitted skirt.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what an honor it is that today, as spring approaches, we welcome a true lady, a fine young woman who has escaped hardship and is elegant and proper."

Fine wine, shimmering glass, windows, sofas, curtained booths—all the distinguished guests were looking at Mélisande, at this stunningly beautiful guest. They whispered amongst themselves, discussing who the words were referring to.

Seeing everyone's attention focused on her, the blue-haired beauty smiled and, whether intentionally or not, bent down and gently kissed Charlotte's hand.

By relinquishing her position and presenting herself to those who came before her, Melissant raised her voice with elegance and pride, like a close friend or a dear mother.

"I believe everyone is familiar with her, Charlotte Earl, a tragic figure whose entire family was harmed by Bathory, a pearl covered in dust, a wistful lilac. Fortunately, the color of sorrow could not conceal her beauty, and we are able to see this virtuous woman again in the spring when flowers are in full bloom."

Even though Tingen has lost a knight, there are countless others who can take his place. The status and hierarchy of the new nobility remain insignificant, despised by those pedantic and rigid nobles. Without the praise of the beautiful woman before him, even if he escaped, O'Shaughnessy would still be subjected to those arrogant gazes, let alone dare to offer any leniency.

In a sense, Melissant's presentation of her actions to everyone was indeed beneficial to Charlotte; however, this usually assertive woman was somewhat displeased.

Being passive is not her style, but the lack of information means that the steps to probe need to be carefully considered.

Looking at the radiant beauty beside her, and at the many gazes falling upon her, Charlotte's eyes held an even colder indifference than before.

Since she had long planned to mingle in social circles, and since the stage was right beneath her feet, she accepted Melissant's offer and began the first act of her return.

She pursed her lips and said:

"Spring brings new buds, but the scars remain. She will possess half a haggard, dejected appearance and the other half an upright posture. I am Charlotte Earl, and it is a pleasure to reunite with you all."

Charlotte's azure eyes reflected a series of faces. She straightened her back, not bowing, but simply nodding slightly and frowning slightly.

A strand of light blonde hair fell gracefully to her chin, resting on her collarbone, highlighting her slender figure and exuding a languid and melancholic elegance.

“Oh, how fortunate you are to have emerged from the shadows of the past, Miss O'Shaw. Just hearing about your story brings tears to my eyes.”

"Madam, I once had the pleasure of reading a bard's manuscript, and the 'fragrance' and 'sorrow' he described could not be more fitting here. Your beauty is as if you have stepped out of an immortal poem filled with blossoming flowers and vibrant colors. Am I in Alice's Wonderland?"

......

Adorned in brocade robes and sparkling with jewels, the returning guests, introduced by the former, found their footing. The ladies, each holding a handkerchief, wiped away fake tears, expressing sympathy and pity, while the men, their eyes fixed on them, uttered witty jokes, skillfully closing the distance between them.

A solitary orchid blooming alone, everyone would gladly hold it in their hands.

Incense wafted like mist, accompanied by soothing music. Servants, though different in appearance, walked through the corridor. Several doormen escorted the party's organizer, Ms. Fernner, towards the second floor of the ballroom.

Every spring, as the weather warms up, the nobles of the Hadings Empire hold various banquets, balls, and salons. In an era lacking entertainment, talking about everyday matters and boasting about one's appearance is the norm for the nobility. Many things are finalized during these months. As the years go by, this tradition has gradually acquired a fixed name, which translates to 'the wonderful social season'.

"Thank you all for gracing my manor during this spring season. Today, there is no theme; I only hope that we can chat freely and dance as we please. The social gathering will officially begin at this moment."

Just as the host had said, a waiter wearing white gloves rang a bell. Accompanied by the melodious tinkling, the band, which had been playing continuously, also finished their piece. After a pause, they began to play a completely different piece.

It was so cheerful that it floated down from the second floor, and people consciously cleared the central area of ​​the dance hall, retreating like the tide to different corners around it.

Charlotte also retreated with the crowd. All she had to do today was show herself and announce her return. Having achieved her goal, she was not in a hurry to talk to anyone.

She picked up a grape from the plate with two fingers and brought it to her lips, waiting for the sweet and sour taste to rise in her throat. Then she drank a glass of bright red wine, sending a blush of intoxication onto her face, adding a touch of allure.

As the music's prelude gradually intensified, a courageous couple exchanged a smile, grasped each other's hands, and stepped onto the dance floor in time with the music.

They were the beginning, and many others followed closely behind, stepping onto the stage with their dance steps. Black leather shoes and white high heels created a symphony on the polished floor, black suits and white skirts complemented each other, and they danced gracefully, moving in unison in the same steps, sometimes in rectangles, sometimes in circles. Ladies in dresses danced in the center, twirling their lace-trimmed gowns into colorful flowers.

Social jargon here transforms into graceful gait and tender words of love.

The blonde beauty lowered her eyes, observing quietly, admiring this splendor she hadn't seen in a long time. Charlotte never hesitated to praise the charm of others; she was keen to observe the myriad aspects of human nature, yet she couldn't forget that she herself was also a very charming woman.

Unlike the mysterious and unattainable blue rose, Miss Earl Shaw, now alone and without support, has received invitations from many men who yearn for something to happen with this stunningly beautiful woman—perhaps a one-night stand, or perhaps a passionate romance.

It wasn't that she was annoyed, but the repetitive words still made Charlotte feel frustrated. She did need a dance partner to deal with it, so Charlotte looked at the little parrot and saw her huddled forlornly in the corner. She instinctively wanted to reach out and take her arm, but halfway there, she stopped and froze in place.

Yes, I am no longer Watson, and I have no reason to invite a stranger. If I were to get close to him again, wouldn't that be a betrayal and denial of the past?

Her eyelashes trembled slightly with her dark blue eyes. The sweetness of the past had turned into a lost dream of spring, and for no reason, Charlotte felt a singular and tedious sadness.

Tsk.

She glanced at the blue-haired beauty who was still sitting not far away, looking at her with a half-smile, and couldn't help but snort coldly, placing her hand back into the former's smooth white palm.

"That suits your taste, come on."