Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

The applause was thunderous.

As the opera ended, the beautiful woman with dark hair lay quietly on the stage, listening to the thunderous applause. Her body temperature grew colder and colder. For Farlinger, those gazes and lights should have been like fireflies in the daytime. But when the pain of hysteria stirred her organs and caused her to lose her reason, those shadowy figures were like magnifying glasses, clearly exposing her to the dancing fireflies, allowing them to glimpse her, to see her loss of composure and her disheveled state.

Ta, ta, ta...

The heavy footsteps drowned out the applause in the distance, and stopped when they were close by. She knew who had come.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hall.”

That was the troupe leader, who was also his former mentor. Now he had come to hold him accountable for the ugly behavior he had displayed on stage.

“No, Farlinger, you shouldn’t apologize to me. The Dickbadov name shouldn’t be lost in its gait; it’s too undignified.”

He shook his head, and his shiny black hair swayed like silk behind his head.

"Like a cake, it always starts to rot from one corner. Most of it is sweet, but a small part is no longer perfect and becomes nauseating. Your noble mother is like that—"

Before the words of condemnation were even finished, a beautiful figure drew back the curtains and approached the two men, bathed in the lingering moonlight.

It's Isabella.

He is a doctor.

P.S.: Please leave a comment on this post.

Chapter 117 Best Friend and Taking It a Step Further (4k words)

“Sir, I think you shouldn’t be too harsh on a young lady, especially one who has caught a cold and is performing in the early spring wind.”

Listening to the rustling of the wind and rain outside the courtyard, Charlotte timely pulled back the curtain, forcing the well-dressed man to shut up.

As he himself stated, as an upper-class person, maintaining a respectable appearance in front of others is a matter of course, and he even presumptuously claimed that he was a member of the aristocracy.

Suppressing his displeasure at being interrupted, Hall looked up at the approaching beauty, noticing her perfectly positioned between him and Faringer, and admiring her delicate features and dignified manners.

"you are?"

A person's temperament cannot be concealed; their elegant speech and manners are already revealed in their words. Naturally, they should adopt different attitudes when facing commoners and nobles.

“Isabella, well, perhaps you could also add Valenti’s surname.”

If you're interested in mentioning this surname, Valenti may not be a prestigious one, but the title of a family of doctors still carries some prestige.

"Of course, none of that matters. I stepped onto the stage as a doctor, and that is also why I raised objections during the opera just now."

Her slender fingers were covered by brown cloth gloves, which rested on her cheeks. She smiled gently and modestly.

“I hope that the incident at that time did not disturb the troupe’s performance. As an outsider, I should not comment on your script and arrangements, but as a doctor, I cannot sit idly by and watch a young woman who is ill and almost loses her composure and falls on stage.”

“A cold is no small matter. Miss Falinger was momentarily dazed during the first act of the opera. Although it was very subtle, it didn’t fool my eyes. That wasn’t part of the script, was it, sir?”

Knowing it wasn't a cold, Charlotte said so because she was intentionally looking after the pale-faced beauty beside her.

Farlinger seems very reluctant to let others tell the truth. During the performance, she pleaded with herself with her eyes, and she still does so now.

"Well, ma'am, your observation is very keen. The change in the narration was also a last-minute modification and remedy I made."

Removing his black silk felt hat, Hall bowed slightly, giving Charlotte a standard gentleman's salute. His movements were elegant and composed, as if the earlier unpleasantness had never occurred.

"I think you may have misunderstood my intentions."

Lowering his voice, with an undeniable air of authority, he said in a deep voice:

“I’m not being harsh on Miss Farlinger, but I have extremely high standards for the perfection of a performance. Just like you, as the head of the troupe, I must ensure that every performance meets the audience’s expectations. After all, for me and for Farlinger, people’s enthusiasm is not only an honor, but also a responsibility.”

Upon hearing this, Charlotte raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of disapproval flashing in her eyes.

She gently raised her hand, signaling Hall to calm down, then turned to look at Farlinger and said softly, "Miss Farlinger, you need a good night's sleep. Also, I can prepare some medicine to relieve your cold, which may make you feel better."

Her concern for outsiders was insignificant and unnecessary, but Charlotte was keen to enhance Isabella's image as a puppet. Besides, she always had a kind and tolerant heart towards beautiful girls.

The renowned Kingdom Theatre Company of Hastings, with its adored 'Salome', naturally didn't want to be unknown and aimlessly searching for a path to advancement like a headless fly when she went to Florence. The factors just listed were one of her reasons.

The association of the Dickbadov family, a lineage of opera performers, with such a beautiful young woman seems too prestigious and irrational. Especially considering the former's performances, including his séances and extraordinary abilities, how could a famous actress like Farlinger, in the Florence church community, have remained unnoticed until now?

Even the girl herself seemed to be unaware of this, and apart from intentional indulgence, she couldn't think of any other possibility.

Charlotte's spiritual gaze swept over the middle-aged man beside her, but she found no hidden aura in him, proving that he was just an ordinary person.

This naturally harbors danger, but it is also very interesting. Rationally, the doctor of the masterpiece Isabella should not get involved in this obviously abnormal matter, but for the sake of pleasure, with the puppet by her side, her mentality has returned to the carefree enjoyment of the world in the past.

Helping an ignorant girl is a rewarding thing. Besides, the puppet's lifespan is very short, so it would be a waste not to do something meaningful with it.

As her thoughts faded, she saw Faringer shake her head, her smile as gentle and polite as before, yet somewhat forced.

"Thank you for your concern, Miss Valenti, I'm fine..."

Her melodious voice grew weaker and weaker, and the beautiful woman's face remained pale, with fine beads of sweat still seeping from her forehead.

She was putting on a brave face.

The petals that had covered the ground had not yet been cleaned up, and the red stain, whether paint or blood, still slowly dripped from that dress, spreading a vivid iridescent color on the template beneath her feet.

Seeing this, Charlotte looked at the middle-aged man again, her tone unusually firm and unyielding.

“Sir, even though I, Miss Farling, have no personal relationship with you, as a doctor, I cannot turn a blind eye to a patient’s suffering. No matter how strict you are with the performance or what your personal needs may be, the health of the performer should be the primary consideration. This young lady needs rest.”

Hall was silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Isabella and Faringer. Finally, he sighed softly and nodded.

“I have indeed been too demanding of you during this time, but Faringer, you must remember that you bear the name of ‘Salome,’ you are her daughter, the child of the greatest opera singer in Florence’s history, and you are irreplaceable.”

He said nothing more, his shoe soles gripping the floor, the former never leaving. He simply watched the slender figure exit the stage, listening to the slow opening and closing of the door.

In this world, especially on the stage where art and commerce intertwine, personal emotions are often overshadowed by interests, and generations of opera stars and the children of celebrities are naturally more likely to receive attention.

Even if there were no flaws in her words, Charlotte, with her spiritual insight, could see Hall's emotional fluctuations and his concern for Farlinger. It wasn't the kind of concern that one has for family and friends or teachers and students, but rather a morbid obsession.

As Isabella, it was only right that she left after this brief acquaintance, hoping to meet Faringer again in Florence in the future. After all, even though her words were still humble, her interruption had indeed displeased the person in charge of the troupe.

For an arrogant nobleman who considers pearls his private property, if not for courtesy, verbal abuse would probably be the worst possible response. Fortunately, a kind doctor has even more reason to approach the sickly girl who walks backstage, even if it seems somewhat impolite as an outsider.

Without seeking Hall's opinion again, Charlotte walked past him and followed Farling into the actors' dressing room.

Almost the instant the doors slammed shut, a furious roar echoed across the entire stage. Gone was the gentle and refined demeanor he had shown when facing Farlinger. Towards the late-arriving support staff, as if venting his pent-up frustration, the middle-aged man launched into a tirade of angry curses.

In the last part of her gaze, Charlotte saw the man raise his finger to his nose, scolding incessantly. Coupled with his slightly plump figure and the cane he was waving, he looked just like a red-faced, fire-breathing lizard.

This was probably because I had touched a nerve with him, and my words were so flawless that he was angry but had nowhere to vent his frustration, so he could only take it out on these poor working people.

How pitiful.

With a touch of pity, Charlotte blinked her eyes, and when she looked at Faringer again, only gentle tears remained in her eyes.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed your rest, Miss Faringer, but what I just said actually concealed part of the truth. There are some things I have to say, and I hope you won't blame me for coming on my own."

Leaning against the down sofa, the black-haired beauty did not get angry upon hearing this; she simply lowered her eyes and sighed softly.

"No, thank you for your understanding in keeping these things from me. Mr. Hall's last wish is to hear the word 'illness,' because my mother is..."

She wasn't as fragile as her slender appearance suggested, but the sorrow in her words was undeniable.

"There's no need to dwell on heartbreak; let it come with the spring tide and go with the summer heat, like a cold. Isabella Valenti, my name, doctor, my profession—let's rediscover each other."

Removing her brown gloves to reveal her long, slender, and fair fingers, Charlotte stood up slightly and leaned forward to offer her hand—a gesture that was not quite in accordance with proper greeting etiquette. However, the smile on her face was as gentle as a breeze, neither obsequious nor eager to inquire.

“Eliza von Falinger Dikbadov, Ms. Bella, you don’t need to address me by my surname; Eliza is just right compared to cumbersome prefixes.”

Grasping that hand in return, Farlinger gave the same answer she had given Watson in the past.

Friendships between girls are always easier to build, especially when faced with such a gentle doctor, receiving kindness expressed by her on her own initiative.

"Alright, Eliza, I hope you can forgive my intrusion. You should know that it's not a cold."

"Um......"

It was a low, muffled response.

"This isn't a public consultation; it's just a discussion between friends who've just met. At least, that's how I see it, Eliza. So, there's no need to be nervous."

friend?

Looking up at the beautiful woman in front of her, Farlinger was not short of 'friends'. Countless people had associated with her for fame and beauty, the difference being whether they were sincere or not.

Even among those accustomed to elegant ladies and graceful dancers, Isabella stands out as an absolute beauty, her gentle and serene demeanor instantly bringing a sense of peace.

Faringer's gaze lingered on Isabella's face, as if searching for something. A hint of hesitation was visible in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by her usual elegance.

“Ms. Bella, your kindness warms my heart.” The woman’s voice was tinged with weariness as she said softly, “I do feel a little unwell, just as you said, it’s not a cold.”

Without further words, it was clear that as a new acquaintance, she couldn't completely lower the opera star's guard; today's conversation could only go so far.

However, there will be many more meetings in the future. With the tour coming to an end, the Kingdom Theatre Company will soon return to Florence. Before that, Charlotte doesn't mind creating another image for herself.

such as--

"Dizziness, sweating, and disorientation were the first things I observed. There are many pathologies that can cause these symptoms. Some malnutrition, insufficient rest, psychological factors, and accumulated stress are not difficult to resolve."

Without the slightest hint of displeasure at being politely refused, the brown-haired beauty continued to smile, as if the other person's wariness was perfectly normal. She gently withdrew her hand and took out a small glass bottle from her medicine box. The bottle contained a pale golden liquid that gleamed warmly in the candlelight.

"Everyone has their own secrets and pain. As a doctor, I've seen too many stories hidden behind smiles. If you'd like, I can be your listener."

"This is a calming potion I concocted. The main ingredients are lavender and chamomile, which can help relieve tension and anxiety." Isabella gently placed the bottle on the coffee table next to Faringer, her voice as gentle as if she were coaxing a child to sleep.

Faringer's gaze fell on the glass bottle, her fingertips unconsciously tracing its surface, as if savoring its cool touch. Her expression still held a hint of aloofness, but the wariness in her eyes had lessened somewhat.

"Why are you so concerned about me?" she suddenly asked. "We've only just met, and you're not even part of the theater troupe."

Charlotte paused for a moment, then smiled and spoke. Her smile was like a gentle breeze on a lake in spring, soft and warm.

"Perhaps it's because I see my past self in you, burdened by the expectations of my family, striving to play the perfect role in the eyes of others. Doctors are like that, and so are their children."

The black-haired beauty remained silent for a long time, seemingly digesting these words and trying to understand the person in front of her. Before she could finish speaking, the graceful figure lightly lifted her skirt and stood up.

“I’m leaving, Eliza. The Kingdom Theatre’s tour is over. If you’d like, I can walk around this land with you. Spring in Tingen isn’t beautiful, but it’s very real.”

The door closed gently, the echo fading with each step, but the concern in the words remained.

she says:

"Don't tighten the corset too much, as that will put pressure on your lungs and make your heart feel depressed."

After a long silence, Farlinger's gaze fell once again on the glass bottle on the coffee table. She reached out and picked it up, gently shaking it. The pale golden liquid swirled within the bottle, as if possessing some kind of magic.

I opened the bottle and took a deep sniff; the aroma of lavender instantly filled the air, carrying a comforting scent.

Outside the window, the wind and rain continued, but the atmosphere inside the room seemed less oppressive. Faringer leaned back on the sofa, closed her eyes, and let the fragrant aroma gradually envelop her.

Perhaps, she can have a best friend who is no longer after fame, fortune, or beauty.

P.S.: Updates have resumed normally... Thank you everyone.

Chapter 118 A Night of Passion and Promise (4k words)

As dusk fell and the night was still lingering, the blonde beauty bent her knuckles and gently knocked on someone else's door.

When she arrived, she had already cleared away countless pursuing eyes and made sure that no one had noticed her whereabouts.

As if heeding the greeting, a melodious wind chime slowly rang out, but no servants came out to greet the guest.

"Please forgive my lack of etiquette."

Charlotte pushed open the wooden door without hesitation; this was the address Melissant had given her for the meeting.

Since you've decided to do this out of good intentions, reminding the woman she betrayed, you should adjust your posture and behavior so that she won't suspect anything.

As my toes landed on the cool-toned floor, in an instant, the ordinary scene before my eyes transformed, as if a magnificent painting had unfolded before me. The walls, ceiling, and chandeliers, rendered with large, gorgeous blocks of color, combined to create a strange landscape, turning what was originally an ordinary room into a grand work of art.

The fantastical monsters, resembling paper cutouts, are depicted on the murals along the walls. The complex and diverse distribution of color blocks allows for a completely different view from every angle. Even the categorized furniture becomes part of the scenery itself, making one feel as if they are inside a painting.

It wasn't that she was walking into the house, but rather that the building was embracing her.

The unique realistic scenes in the style of Coraci are reassembled with absurd techniques, blurring the original size, distance, reality and illusion, but without any dullness or darkness, but more in line with the identity of the extraordinary, which makes Charlotte marvel.

The mysterious sense of alienation between reality and illusion is like an invisible bridge, bringing a misplaced spiritual enjoyment.

Walking through such a giant artwork makes one feel increasingly small.

The not-so-straight lines, with their precisely calculated curves, create a sense of disorientation, making the narrow space bright and open. If one were to tread too deep into it, one might lose their way and find it difficult to escape.

Pushing open each door, Charlotte could almost feel herself passing through layer after layer of barriers, as if she had entered a witch's dream.

The scene was more mysterious than I had imagined. The layout of the room and everything around me seemed uncivilized, more like a concrete manifestation of the word "mystery."

The pursuit of knowledge and truth is the very meaning of Enlightenment's existence. It is different from the ordinary view from the outside. Only by truly stepping inside can one feel this atmosphere.