Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

"The atmosphere is quite lively; is this a welcoming gift for me?"

She bent down and took a silhouette of a small figure from the wall, watching it struggle in her fingers with a look of panic on its face.

“Take me to your master.”

Her voice was gentle and soothing, like the melodious song of a nightingale. She did not exert pressure, but simply stated her position calmly.

Slowly releasing her fingers, the silhouette of the little figure slid from the beauty's palm, but instead of falling to the ground, it hovered in mid-air, trembling slightly.

Its body twisted for a moment, then transformed into a slender shadow, like a ribbon with black edges, slowly drifting forward.

Without hesitation, Charlotte followed the shadow, her steps light as she passed through one fantastical hall after another.

Behind each door, the scenery is completely different. Sometimes it is a star-studded sky with soft grass underfoot; sometimes it is an upside-down castle with water flowing from the ground to the sky; sometimes it is an endless corridor of mirrors, where the reflection of herself is doing completely opposite actions to her.

With unwavering gaze and a spiritual perspective, these little figures along the wall possess lifeless souls, like the dead residing in invisible shadows. As the light and shadow shift, the entire corridor rotates and rearranges like a Rubik's Cube, and a door slowly emerges, opening itself to her.

The room behind the door was small, yet filled with a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere. In the center, there was a glass tea table, where a graceful blue-haired woman sat or reclined.

"Don't frighten these poor spirits, Charlotte."

The jet-black lace trim, the glossy black gauze hand silk, the snow-white neck, the full breasts, separated from the light, black and white intermingled, just as beautiful as I had seen before.

Leaning against a chair woven from vines, her thin gauze skirt, slightly flared at the hem, tapered down to her waist, accentuating the shallow curve of her hips. She spread her fingers and pressed them against her chest, partially revealing the deep cleavage above, so alluring that one couldn't look away.

As she sipped the warm tea, her voice held a hint of languor, and the figure before her could only be Melissand.

Unmoved by her alluring figure, Charlotte's steps remained light and brisk, as if she had not been affected at all. She walked to the coffee table, sat down gracefully, and faced the former.

“You’re still the same, Melissant.” Her voice was calm, yet carried a hint of detachment and indifference. “You always like to use these insignificant little tricks to test people’s hearts.”

Melissant chuckled softly, put down her tea set, and lightly traced the rim of the cup with her fingertips, producing a crisp tinkling sound.

Her gaze, through her long eyelashes, met the person before her: "Even so, it's only for you. The abilities of the extraordinary are enough to create miracles and subtly change the course of the story. Confidence is a good thing, but ignorance and blindness are taboo. Look, they are all souls that have been sleeping in my hands in the past."

Charlotte nodded slightly, her gaze sweeping across every corner of the room. The flowing colors and twisting lines seemed to be silently telling some hidden language.

She knew this was the other party demonstrating their power, but—

“I know, but I don’t think you’re going to set any deadly traps for me, at least not now.”

Looking directly into the eyes of the person before her, Charlotte neither flinched nor avoided the gaze, but simply pursed her lips and spoke leisurely.

Before her words had even faded, she was interrupted by a gentle laugh. Melissant covered her lips with her hand and said meaningfully, "That's a very pleasing thing to say, and I do like you quite a bit, but Charlotte, if there were no reason, you wouldn't have come here out of caution. Although, I really hope you've only come to catch up with me."

"It is certainly pleasant to reminisce, but I have come to remind you that recently, it seems that the whole of Tingen is searching for information about the Enlightenment Society. I am not sure if this will affect your safety, but out of concern for a friend, I do not want you to suffer."

With her eyelashes lowered, Charlotte seemed genuinely worried for the other person, as if she were completely unaware that this so-called safety was caused by her own words.

"Ha, they're just short-sighted people who use high-sounding rhetoric and heretical reasons to purge their followers and consolidate their power. They pose no threat to me. On the contrary, Charlotte, you seem to be visiting the church of the Primordial Goddess quite often lately."

Leaning down and whispering in Charlotte's ear, she gently exhaled a breath of warm, moist air.

"As far as I know, you are not a believer in the goddess. So, not only did you refuse my invitation, but you also turned to those who are ignorant and decadent?"

With deliberately emphasizing her tone, Melissand pinched the former's smooth chin, applied slight force, and twisted the beautiful face until soft flesh appeared and red marks were left.

"I'm not a forgiving good person, so who gave you the courage?"

The dark golden pupils tore open, and in the flickering candlelight, the reflected figure resembled a man-eating serpent. She watched as her usually calm and beautiful face grew paler and weaker until the former showed the first sign of emotion, furrowing her brows and revealing a hint of pain before finally letting go.

She felt distressed.

"Cough, it's you."

She coughed twice to ease the pain of suffocation, but Charlotte still didn't avoid the other person's gaze.

Whether one is proactive or passive is not determined by others. She had prepared herself for suffering when she arrived. How could someone like Melissant not see through her? For this, paying a small price is nothing.

“You said that what the Enlightenment Society needs is not rigid loyalty, but a warm harbor. If I get tired or weary from playing, I can always go home. That door will always be open for me.”

“You said this is an invitation that will never go out of style, just for me.”

Melissant's gaze sharpened slightly, the coldness in her eyes gradually fading, replaced by a complex emotion. Her fingertips slid down Charlotte's chin, gently tracing her cheek, as if confirming some fact.

"You still remember those words." Her voice was low, with a hint of barely perceptible softness. "I thought a homeless bird like you would have long forgotten them."

Charlotte tilted her head slightly, like a haughty cat, avoiding her touch, but her tone remained calm as always.

"I have never forgotten the debt of gratitude I owe, and I need to repay it. I cannot suppress the guilt in my heart."

This was, of course, a lie. She had always been someone who was used to being loved, and in her view, it was all perfectly natural.

The blue-haired beauty subtly adjusted her skirt and sat back down in the wicker chair, but her gaze remained fixed on it.

Her fingertips tapped lightly on the armrest of the chair, making a rhythmic sound: "So, you've come back now because you're 'tired of playing'? Or has it that you've finally realized that only here can you truly find a sense of belonging?"

Melissant possessed such confidence, unlike those ignorant birds; she truly saw through the mask, recognizing the wickedness of this black flower and discerning her willfulness and inner bewilderment.

She was captivated by this unique flower and was willing to embrace and wait for it with all her heart.

"No, I would never be so weak as to beg for shelter, whether it be the church or any other name. I just... because of my debt to you, I can't get used to this overly close distance."

This is the truth. In both her past and present lives, no one has ever truly entered her heart. In fact, even Charlotte herself has not realized that after experiencing these no longer deceitful relationships, she has also developed a weakness that she herself has been prejudiced against.

"Not for the Enlightenment Society, but for myself..."

As she murmured those words, Melissand slowly curled her lips into a faint smile.

she says:

"I believe it."

The disordered lines and the colors of the oil painting faded from the edges of the wall, and the foyer returned to its simplicity. The solid wood floor, the fragrant furniture, and the almost ordinary tranquility blossomed between the two of them.

“I will listen to your story, according to my own heart, just like those fugitives driven out of the Orthodox Church, hastily leaving Tingen, leaving behind a mess, leaving behind what you need.”

Handing over the tea set like a close friend, Melissand took out a pre-baked dessert and said with a light laugh.

"Are you satisfied with this dessert? I've been preparing it for a long time."

"grateful......"

Like Madame Moissan's kindness, even knowing the person before her harbored ill intentions, her acquiescence was indeed helping her. She had never demanded or harmed anyone, which truly made Charlotte feel somewhat ashamed.

Just a little bit.

"A word of thanks is enough at the end, but remember, every effort comes at a price. Miss O'Shaw of Tingen has joined the goddess's ranks, but what about little Hua Sheng, who has gone across the ocean?"

"In the war-torn land of the Golden Plant, a single Sequence Nine is not enough to gain a foothold or stir up any waves. The end of the Arbitrator is also shrouded in a hazy mist."

Melissant lifted the frosting that had solidified on the strawberry tart, then used her knife and fork to pierce the crust, letting the purplish-red juice spread like bloodstains on the porcelain plate.

"I don't understand your purpose, but hide-and-seek is clearly not the final answer. Do you need my help? Not the Enlightenment Society, but me?"

"What do I have to give?"

"Tonight."

As she put the crispy tart crust into her mouth, savoring the sweet aroma that filled her mouth, the blue-haired beauty repeated herself, her tone subtly mocking.

she says:

"Spend this night with me."

There was no response. Charlotte simply watched her silently. The air in the room gradually thinned, and even breathing seemed to become softer. The night outside the window was still deep, but moonlight shone through the window frame onto the floor, casting their intertwined shadows.

Yes, each person's own thoughts make it impossible to trust each other, but who can truly understand and accept themselves through the mask?

Regardless of true feelings, there are only those in front of her, so Charlotte cannot refuse such a price.

"Um......"

It was a whispered promise.

No further words were spoken, and so the long, silent night faded with the dawn, its veil lifted, with the occasional song of a nightingale drifting out of the house, lingering on the dew-kissed branches.

Melissant left, and Charlotte returned to the small building. The humble maid did not ask where she had been the night before, but simply bent down to help her change her clothes and do her makeup.

Last night there was no wind or rain, and nothing happened. Melissant simply took out a book and asked her to play a lullaby for her. They stayed together and talked for a long time.

One person reads, the other listens; intimate yet unfamiliar.

It was not difficult for her, and it was hard for her to feel tired. Since gaining the ability to live like a 'monster', Charlotte had rarely felt any soreness in her body.

“Marais District, Road 3, under the arch bridge.”

This was the message Melissant told her on the eve of their parting; it was a discarded pawn, and also the clue that would later be presented to the arbitration tribunal.

As she pushed open the door, intending to take a stroll in the morning light, she saw a familiar girl outside.

With brown hair and emerald eyes, she was pure and lovely, petite, and dressed in a simple yet clean checkered long dress. She stood in front of the door, hesitating and wondering whether she should push it open.

I felt a mix of trepidation and anticipation.

What I was thinking was such an unrealistic thing, but if I didn't ask, how could I verify the only remaining possibility?

Just thinking about it made her head unconsciously bump against a small tree next door, causing tears to well up in her eyes, making her look extremely pitiful. Fortunately—

Charlotte pushed open the door, freeing her little sparrow, Winnie, from this painful choice.

P.S.: The update is late; this is a 4K update to catch up on yesterday's.

I hope you all won't forget me... I said yesterday that I would resume daily updates, and I won't break my promise.

Chapter 119: The Beginning of the Story (4k)

Charlotte anticipated that Winnie would come looking for her.

After all, having lost someone you cherish, and being trapped in a dark cloud, unable to find them no matter how hard you try, you can only hold onto a sliver of hope, even if it's only the slightest possibility, and you'll do everything in your power to hold on tight.

This was a plan she had in mind long ago. Although the little sparrow wasn't someone very important to her, her encouragement of Winnie through Watson's words was just a whim, not something she actually had a strong desire for.

Perhaps, someday when she has some free time and is bored, Charlotte might bring up the detective to savor the delicious taste of the person in front of her immersed in sorrow, but in these past few days with one thing after another, she really hasn't thought of this inconspicuous bird.

"Young lady, are you here to see me?"

Ben was still pacing in front of the door, hesitating about how to begin, when he heard the question. Winnie shifted her feet slightly, her hands unconsciously rubbing together in front of her, and she looked up...

Even though she was still hesitant, she made up her mind and nodded emphatically, two adorable dimples blooming on her cheeks.

she says:

“Yes, Ms. Earl Shaw, I would like to know more about her.”

“I thought you were reporting to me as an employee about the progress of the task.”

The early spring morning was still a bit chilly, and the girl couldn't help but shrink her neck, burying half of her fair face under her scarf.

Although her lips were covered, her warm, moist breath seeped through the gaps in the linen, forming a thin mist.

"...I'm sorry, Mr. Singh and I have not been able to find Sofby's whereabouts. We only heard that she took a train and left the city."

With her eyes darting away, the little sparrow tapped her fingertip, not daring to look at Charlotte again.

She was not good at dealing with people, especially since she needed their help. If the lady in front of her was busy, she could come another day, as long as the lady didn't dislike her and deny her little hope.

"What a coincidence."

Whether she was lamenting the departure of the little peacock or discussing the inappropriateness of today's meeting, Charlotte didn't remind Winnie. She simply pushed open the door and walked straight back to her own living room.

The sound of the wind outside gradually subsided, but Winnie remained standing there, stunned, unable to process whether it was a rejection or tacit consent, until—

"come in."

Turning his head back, his indifferent voice once again came from his lips. Hearing this nod of approval, the little sparrow hurriedly followed, both flustered and somewhat delighted.

With a thought, she dismissed all the servants and, with a thought, the arbitrator's decree was already shielded from the sight and hearing of others. Even without wind or rain, only the two of them could enjoy it alone.

"sit."

It was a calm yet unquestionable tone.

Charlotte swept a spotless area on the sofa, patted the cushion, and gestured for Winnie to sit beside her.

“Oh, Ms. Earl Shaw, no, no need to be so formal, I just came here—”

"Which is more important, subjective opinion or objective truth? It goes without saying. I don't think the people and things I'm about to discuss will lead to a light and pleasant conversation. Does Miss Watson not seem important to you?"

Charlotte deliberately emphasized her words; she was always so wicked. She loved to see others show their sadness and was happy to deliberately stir up their sensitivities, taking advantage of their personality flaws to see them panic and become flustered.

Just as expected, a hint of panic flashed in Winnie's eyes. Her hands clenched tightly, her fingertips turning slightly white, but her kiss became unusually firm.

"No, that's not it. I can never repay Watson's kindness in my lifetime, so even if there's only a sliver of hope, I want to..."

"To deny the facts confirmed by your own eyes, to confirm a wish you don't even believe yourself—do you naively believe that Watson is not dead?"