Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

He couldn't help but straighten his chest. The elegance of her clothes and demeanor made him subconsciously regard Charlotte as a noblewoman, so much so that he became cautious and even his words and actions became proper.

To be honest, it was indeed refreshing, especially given the uncertainty of my current situation.

Flipping through the menu on the next table, one sees croissants, nut pies, butter shortbread, and a variety of light and luxurious desserts arranged in order, each accompanied by a corresponding colorful illustration, waiting for guests to taste.

However, Charlotte had no interest in enjoying them, because there were already delicious things in front of her, waiting for her to admire and play with them.

It's a little bird whose soul has been captivated.

Holding the knife intently, yet never letting it fall, the chestnut-haired girl was only slightly moved when Charlotte mentioned the Sachertorte, and a murmur escaped her lips.

Her voice was soft and intermittent, like a faint sob.

“...Miss Watson, I am still working for Mr. Singer. He is a very patient and kind man who not only teaches me how to solve cases in detail, but also explains the key details one by one.”

“During this time, I’ve learned a lot—from books, from newspapers, from the faces of other people. I’ve listened to and followed everything you said and reminded me of, except—”

The knife tip landed on the rich chocolate, making a shallow cut on the dark brown apricot jam, just like tearing a crack in her heart.

Winnie raised her head slightly, looking at the branches swaying in the wind outside the window and listening to the rustling conversation inside. The world remained the same; the unbearable winter was fading, and the long-awaited spring tide was arriving, but the people she cherished were no longer there.

"After you left, the office became so quiet. The little flowers by the window withered, and the umbrella basket was missing an umbrella. Everyone stopped talking much."

"Mr. Singh often looked through the files and newspapers from those days, and occasionally he would leave alone to quietly smoke by the second-floor window."

"Sophie remained silent, her eyes red and swollen from crying. In the end, she resigned from the job without saying anything, and I couldn't do anything to stop her."

With her long, slender eyelashes drooping, the chestnut-haired girl felt guilty for her cowardice and incompetence.

Yes, if the people of the past are gone, will all the waiting and the promises made in the past still have any meaning?

The little sparrow didn't know, but she had a faint thought: Watson was such a powerful person, like the sun in the sky, he couldn't possibly fall so easily.

When the gunshot rang out, when the bullet pierced her chest, did Watson foresee this? Would she, as before, smile slyly and say that this was just a temporary retreat, a deliberate joke, and that she would soon return as a loved one, taking his hand and offering comforting words?

......

But how could that be possible? A wishful thought is a wishful thought precisely because it is unrealistic, as fleeting as a bubble. That life, as light as a feather, drifted down into her arms with a cluster of blood, so real.

Lost in thought, Winnie had intended to bring the Sachertorte, which held special meaning for her, but then the waiter brought over a bowl and plate, adding another delicate pastry for her.

"I didn't order this, did they serve the wrong thing?"

"No, this was specially added for you by Ms. Shufang over there."

The waiter bowed respectfully and extended his arm, pointing to Charlotte on one side; his humility was undisguised.

"Ugh."

Following the former's guidance, Winnie looked up and glanced, and then, as expected, she saw a pair of azure eyes, a visually classical and beautiful sight.

Her light-colored hair fell to her collarbone, styled with a touch of languidness. Her straight waist resembled a slender willow. As she sat down on the bamboo chair, her hair, from top to bottom, formed a pleasant, shallow arc.

It possessed a dignified and noble air unlike that of Watson; it was a somber peony.

"Honorable lady, are you...?"

Unconsciously lowering its voice, the little sparrow timidly inquired about the situation.

She didn't know Charlotte, so it was difficult for her to have the same courage she had when facing Watson or her friends.

"How could that be, young lady? I heard some cute little noises and saw you holding a knife, hesitating. After thinking it over, I decided to add another portion for you so that you can try making everything you want to try."

Indeed, with her keen senses, Charlotte listened intently to the little sparrow's faint, almost inaudible murmur, its self-pitying and helpless sorrow, and thus her smile grew even brighter, as radiant as a morning flower.

It was so beautiful to see others so heartbroken and unable to pull themselves out of their grief. It was for this moment that she decided to give Watson a grand funeral.

"Thank you so much, but that's too much trouble, especially since it's your money. I'm so sorry..."

"No, wealth is not important to me. You can take it as a stranger's kindness. Or, I'd like to see if you plan to cut it vertically or horizontally?"

Charlotte picked up her knife and fork, twirling them gently between her fingers, not to tease the little bird in front of her.

But even when she's away from them, she feels lonely and helpless. That feeling makes her want to get close to the birds, to see them, and to hear them.

To some extent, this was a two-way torment for Charlotte as well.

"If you cut it vertically, it will compress the cake and lose its dense texture. If you cut it horizontally, you won't be able to enjoy the exquisite apricot jam layer. Would you agree with that?"

"How...how did you know, madam!"

She was momentarily speechless, as if she had found a kindred spirit, or as if she were seeing the past again. Winnie asked excitedly.

"It was a little secret a friend told me. She said she had a little bird that was always hesitant and would think things over and over before making decisions. It was cute and funny."

With her eyes wide open, the chestnut-haired girl seemed to have made a connection to something, and quickly got up from the corner table and ran to Charlotte's side.

"Could it be that you...you know Watson, Miss Watson!"

"If you're referring to that young woman from the Kingdom of Plantagenets, then you're right. She's been my pen pal for a long time, and she's told me a lot about her travels, including about you. Hmm, she said you are—"

Charlotte drew out the last syllable, but without raising her voice, and slightly curled the corners of her lips.

"A shy and adorable little sparrow."

Chapter 103 'Exposed'

"Little sparrow?"

With her pink and white lips slightly parted, Winnie stared blankly at Charlotte, seemingly puzzled by the description she had just heard.

This is not surprising. In the bird's heart, the detective had always treated her with gentleness and patience, never showing arrogance or being deliberate, so naturally she would not have created a bad image.

However, this lie will now be exposed by Charlotte herself.

"Yes, that's how she described you in the letter: a chirping, timid, ordinary little sparrow, the kind you can see many of at a glance on the branches overhead."

"Yeah......"

She murmured softly, the humility that had faded away resurfacing. Winnie lowered her head, her face already showing signs of paleness.

“Watson is right. I am just an ordinary girl, no different from any sparrow you can see anywhere.”

"This is not a good description; comparing a person to a sparrow is also impolite."

Put down your knife and fork, divide the Sachertorte into two pieces, push one forward, and keep the other for yourself.

"Here you go. Actually, you don't need to overthink things. It's a big no-no to focus on one thing and lose sight of the other. Simply cut it in half, and you'll retain the desired creaminess and half of the apricot jam."

Charlotte scooped up a spoonful of chocolate, savoring its rich flavor on her tongue, and squinted her eyes in enjoyment.

"Thank you for making the choice for me."

It was a simple thank you.

"It's clear you have special feelings for that Miss Watson. May I use that word?"

"No, no, I'm not worthy..."

The head wearing the newsboy cap swayed slightly, Winnie clutched the hem of her clothes, and her voice grew increasingly soft.

Charlotte was so moved by the girl's pitiful and vulnerable appearance that she hesitated to speak, and instead gently touched the girl's wounds.

Of course, such pity is only a tiny, insignificant amount.

"Although it was just a chance encounter, fate is always a wonderful thing. Just like how we were strangers, but we came together here because of one person."

"On the eve of the official opening of the Blooming Flowers Art Exhibition, Watson left me many letters, hoping that I could send them to the corresponding people in the future. However, at that time, I was in an inconvenient situation and did not have time to ask. I lost the right to speak forever."

Her eyelashes drooped as her dark blue eyes lowered, and her slender, jade-like fingers stirred the tea in her cup, making it churn and turn, just like their inner feelings.

"Her passing also fills me with regret and sorrow."

Indeed, Watson's departure deprived Charlotte of the joy of fooling the birds, which inevitably left her somewhat disappointed.

After all, life alone is too boring. In addition to advancing in rank, one's leisure time also needs the adjustment of customs.

"The person is gone, but now every time I see similar things or hear familiar sounds, it evokes memories of her."

Like other victims who suffered because of the kindness of a young girl, Charlotte smiled, but her expression was sad and helpless, as if the words she had written were already gone and settled.

"At that time, I listened to her talk about the vastness of the sea, the leisurely atmosphere of the port city, and the inland scenery. All the things I experienced during my travels were recorded in the letters she sent me. Although I was confined to this small town, she showed me the richness of the world."

Driven by emotions and evoking sorrow, she lowered her voice, so that only those who were close could hear her.

She said softly:

"Although sparrows are small, they can survive tenaciously no matter what branch they land on. Perhaps Watson's description is not meant to be disrespectful to you."

"She talked a lot in her letter, about your inferiority and timidity, about how she guided you, she said you were silly but not stupid, she said your past narrowed your horizons, but your talent for reading would allow you to learn quickly, so she spent several hours browsing in the bookstore before picking out that easy-to-understand book about worldly affairs and society."

My fingertips lightly touched the cold windowpane. A light drizzle fell on the streets of Tingen. It was clear that there had been a beautiful sunset yesterday, but as dusk approached, the weather refused to cooperate.

"She complained a lot, complaining about the humidity in Tingen, complaining about the poor conditions of the hotel where she was staying, saying that she was not as perfect as she appeared on the outside, she was picky about this and that, like an immature little girl."

It is the unvarnished truth.

Seeing Winnie's increasingly dazed and lifeless eyes, Charlotte deliberately feigned surprise and spoke up.

"Judging from your expression, did she never tell you any of this?"

jingle.

It was the crisp sound of a wooden spoon hitting a bowl or plate.

With its hands clasped together in front of its chest, the little sparrow sat there blankly, its heart pounding incessantly.

Watson wasn't perfect; she was just like any other girl, complaining and being picky. But why was it that, in front of them, that figure never flaunted or revealed these qualities? She was like the most perfect person, like the unattainable sun, something to be longed for but never reached.

If you're feeling down, just share it with them. Why are you unwilling to show any vulnerability? Even she could have tried to comfort Watson...

Lost in thought, Charlotte added her own words at the opportune moment, breaking through his defenses.

"She's not someone who cares about saving face. Perhaps it's because she cares about you all too much that she doesn't want to show you her bad side."

"It's really quite remarkable. We've been pen pals for so long, yet you've only ever shared your thoughts on paper, becoming listeners to your worries. To be honest, I'm a little envious of you."

Her clear, gentle voice was neither dry nor irritable, neither hurried nor slow, yet when it reached the bird's ears, it made her eyes slightly red.

Immediately afterwards, her pupils became moist, covering her emerald green eyes with a shimmering film of water, adding a touch of sparkling color under the glow of the sunset.

A voice inside her wanted to choke out, but she didn't want the beautiful woman who knew Watson to see her inferior and cowardly appearance, so she endured it and pursed her lips.

“I… envy you more, madam. At least, Watson was willing to drop her pretense and confide in you the anxieties and troubles she had never told us before. At least, she didn’t hide anything from you.”

"Is it good that there's no concealment? What if she's inherently wicked and not like you imagine? What if she really just sees you as a sparrow kept on a branch?"

With a malicious intent, Charlotte uttered a cold voice, like a poison that lulls people into a deep sleep in a fairy tale.

"If that's the case, if this is the price, then I will—"

Biting her lip, the chestnut-haired girl was not only overwhelmed with emotion, but also deeply saddened and heartbroken, to the point that two clear tears streamed down her face. Yet, she resolutely denied it and spoke out firmly.

"It's so sweet."

“From the very beginning, I have been indebted to Watson, and even now, I still feel indebted to her. So what if I was deceived, so what if I was treated like a little bird? I would call her a bastard, but I will never forget what she looks like.”

"Whether she's a pet or a friend, I... have no choice. If she wants me to, I'll be a good bird, sheltered under her wings, gradually helping her with my small talents. If she doesn't want me to, then I'll be a casual friend, silently watching her brilliance from below the stage."

With my eyes closed, those silvery-white hairs still seem to gleam in the darkness, unforgettable.

Struggling and sobbing, her pale lips were bitten raw by her teeth, drawing bright red blood.

She said she questioned:

"Whether it's true or not is meaningless now. If we choose, will that liar come back?"

They will come back.

It was a whisper that no one could hear.

Listening to the little bird's cries and seeing its haggard, tearful face, she couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions.

Winnie didn't care whether he made fun of her; she just wanted to be a good little bird, staying under Watson's wings, even if she knew it was a deception.

Her instruction seemed to have achieved its goal; a few fabricated lies were enough to make the little sparrow reveal its pain and struggle.

However, Charlotte was not as pleased as she had imagined.

She took the letter out of her bag, loosened her fingers, and let the thin sheet of paper fall freely in front of Winnie.

The light envelope swayed on the table in the breeze, seemingly about to be blown away at any moment.

However, Charlotte didn't care. She suddenly felt a little bored, as if she had gotten what she wanted so easily. So, she parted her crimson lips, turned and walked away without looking back, just like before.

"This is a letter that Watson left for you. He originally intended to mail it to your address, but since we've met today, I'll pass it on to you. Farewell."