Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

A black dress covering her ankles, solemn white flowers, and a beautiful-faced person stood before her.

She opened her lips and spoke softly, saying, "Ms. Mossant said:"

"Could I borrow some of your time?"

P.S.: Thanks for reading. Also, a friend recommended this book; the title is below.

"I Only Have One Year Left to Live, So I Must Become a Legendary Racehorse Girl!"

I won't back out, I'll stay with you all...

Chapter 125 Mo Sang's Suspicion

“If it were you, of course I would. Since those patients are willing to open their hearts to you and express their regrets and reluctance to part with you, then I would do the same.”

Looking back at each other, Charlotte still wore a gentle smile, a natural expression of etiquette and habit.

"Thank you. I heard you came from Tingen."

The strong smell of medicine and disinfectant mingled with the groans of pain, drowning out their voices, leaving only the soft thud of their toes hitting the ground.

"It was an ordinary little town, nothing special, not particularly beautiful, but full of the warmth and life of everyday life."

“Ordinary…” Her thoughts seemed to return to the day of the funeral. Ms. Mosang’s gaze remained fixed on those clear and bright eyes.

Yes, to impose one's own feelings for Watson onto others, and to place one's already slim hopes on the former, is nothing short of escapism and blasphemy.

Among the millions of people in the world, spiritual convergence is a rare exception, uncommon but not surprising.

They didn't ask about the child again. They simply walked side by side down the cold-colored corridor, talking about the illness. They didn't hide anything from each other, yet there was a distance between them, a distance that suggested familiarity.

In the past, they were as close as mother and daughter; now, they are like strangers.

Their steps faltered as they stopped in a crowded hospital room. Looking around, they saw people lying haphazardly on a bed covered with dirty rags, and the stench of decay filled the air. Their sallow complexions and thick, sticky breaths came into view.

"Similar to those who died earlier, most of the patients in this ward have developed late-stage symptoms."

The inevitability of death was not mentioned; as if it were commonplace, Ms. Mossang's sigh was devoid of sorrow or joy.

"And all I can do is try to alleviate their suffering."

With a slight nod, Charlotte moved closer to a patient and gently lifted his blankets. Unlike any illness she had ever seen before, the patient's chest was covered with dark red spots, and small areas of his skin had begun to ulcerate.

She had initially thought it was a respiratory illness caused by atmospheric dust and water pollution, similar to tuberculosis in her previous life, but now she had to question her own idea.

“This symptom…I’ve never seen it before. Is it related to some special factor?” she asked in a low voice, her tone tinged with surprise.

Charlotte pulled the covers up, her gaze lingering for a moment on the patient's sallow face. That face was filled with pain and despair, as if the flame of life was slowly being extinguished. A sudden tremor ran through her, and she quickly looked away, turning to walk towards the corner of the ward.

Ms. Mossam remained standing at the door, her eyes expressionless, as if she had long been accustomed to this scene.

"It is a new type of disease. It spreads rapidly, and there are currently no effective treatments."

Having not yet detected any extraordinary spirituality in the former, she naturally did not want such a kind doctor to be drawn into a more dangerous vortex. "Besides, as a medical worker, you need to wear protective measures to prevent possible infection."

Before words of comfort and reminder could even begin, the brown-haired beauty raised her pretty face and gently yet firmly denied it.

"No, although there is only one mask separating them, I think it makes people more distant and trust more fragile. In such an environment, they have already lost hope. How will they feel when they face one sharp face after another?"

Opening the window allowed the last trace of despair to dissipate, and a gentle spring breeze immediately filled the small, enclosed room.

"At the very least, as a doctor, I want them to understand that I stand with them at all times, as one with their shared destiny."

This is the truth.

After all, Isabella's life was not long to begin with, and Charlotte, though lacking in kindness, was willing to give her remaining tenderness unconditionally to these equally fleeting people.

She feigns nobility and revels in receiving countless thanks from others.

"...Your kindness is admirable."

Her gentle voice still lingered in his ears, and her delicate face genuinely revealed her concern for the patient. Looking at her, looking at Isabella, Mozanne couldn't help but feel a little emotional.

Perhaps only a woman like her is worthy of the description of a doctor as an angel in white.

Without another word, they silently left the ward and the lifeless orphanage.

"Ms. Bella, what are your plans for the future?"

As the carriage stopped and Charlotte was about to step inside, Madame Mossant suddenly spoke, her voice tinged with a hint of concern.

“I plan to go to Sull Street, where the number of infected people is much better than in the rest of the city. I need to find out where the difference lies. Only by knowing the source of the disease and the route of transmission can we develop effective treatment and isolation plans.”

In fact, the appearance of Ms. Mossant was not expected by Charlotte. Judging from her expression and conversation just now, she should not have recognized her.

This is naturally a good thing. Although given how much Mo Sang cares about her, even if she confessed to her past deceptions, she might not face severe punishment, but she—

He no longer wanted to hurt such a caring woman.

The two figures parted ways at the end of the road, one walking away alone, the other silently watching them go.

The sound of horses' hooves gradually faded away, and after a long while, Ms. Mosang took out a string of wind chimes. She listened to them moving on their own without any wind, swaying and producing a crisp sound.

It was an ornament that had once been given to Watson, but until the girl's life ended, the melodious sound of the wind chimes never echoed in his ears again. But this time, imbued with the spirit of the person from the past, it responded on its own initiative.

Could this be a coincidence?

No, at higher sequences, no intuition arises out of thin air. Isabella is indeed associated with that lively and unpredictable child.

The wind came and went, and in the blink of an eye, the beautiful woman disappeared from the dimly lit street.

Turning our attention back, Charlotte is now walking along the narrow alley of Street Sue. As the information says, this is an industrial area dominated by breweries and canneries. The streets are not only piled with discarded wooden barrels and bottles, but also filled with an unpleasant sour smell.

Occasionally, mice would dart out from the gaps in the store and leap into the shadows cast by the low building. There were also hidden gazes fixed on my dignified appearance, as if spying on me or coveting me.

Yes, even after arriving in Florence, the gap between the rich and the poor remained unchanged, only clearly defined. The outer city was defined as a self-contained suburb, while only the inner city enjoyed the title of "City of a Thousand Capitals".

She didn't stop there and calmly walked into the nearby tavern.

Her simple attire didn't exude extravagance, but as she slowly walked through the crowd towards the bar, her graceful gait and beautiful appearance, though unassuming, firmly attracted the attention of some patrons.

Charlotte, of course, had not forgotten the purpose of her visit to the city. After completing the handover of the asylum, she naturally wanted to find clues on how to advance to the next extraordinary path.

and so--

"Sir, a cup of Cornflower Backlit."

Chapter 126 Teasing Words?

Cornflower in the Backlight, of course, is not an alcoholic beverage, but rather a code that Charlotte deduced from an advertisement in a newspaper. Similar to the gathering in Tingen at that time, they also used symbols and numbers to construct phrases that only the extraordinary could understand.

Although it was just a guess, since the destination happened to be on the way, she was happy to take the time to test it out. It didn't matter if it was a trap, but it would be great if it was the right answer.

After all, even if it puts Isabella in a difficult situation, it's Isabella's misfortune. It wouldn't be surprising if a doctor with a short life left died anywhere in the city, since it has nothing to do with Charlotte.

The hands of the pocket watch ticked, and the rich aroma of wine and the firelight from the fireplace dispelled the chill of early spring. After hearing the name, the bartender paused in his movements, but quickly concealed his expression, only glancing at the former out of the corner of his eye.

Please wait a moment.

After a moment of silence, he nodded and turned to retrieve a bottle of colorless liquor from the deepest part of the wine cabinet. The bottle had no label, only a thin layer of dust covering it; clearly, no one had ordered this liquor in a long time.

Skillfully pouring the liquor into a specially made shaker, the man then adds a few spoonfuls of blue curaçao syrup, waiting for it to bubble before squeezing a drizzle of lemon zest oil onto the rim of the glass and gently placing a mint leaf on the surface as the final finishing touch.

"This is a drink that requires you to close your eyes and listen. The first sip is like the cold wind of Florence, but as you continue to savor it... you will taste the spring when cornflowers break through the ice."

Charlotte took the glass and gently swirled it, the wine rotating in the glass and releasing a faint, almost imperceptible aroma.

It can subtly evoke spirituality and blur the senses of sight and sound. If I'm not mistaken, this should be the guarantee of concealing one's tracks, thus preventing attendees from knowing the specific location of the event.

Of course, as a stranger, without being able to guarantee one's safety, it takes courage, and even more so, trust—trust that puts the risks aside.

Indeed, kind-hearted people like Mr. Zhenzhi who provide selfless assistance are extremely rare exceptions among extraordinary individuals.

Without much hesitation, she brought the wine to her lips and took a small sip. The moment the wine entered her throat, it dissipated like a thin mist, slowly spreading through her lungs and senses. However, her vast, ocean-like spirituality easily ignored this negligible effect.

Her mind remained clear, and her actions remained swift. Even after drinking the entire cup, her body and mind were unaffected.

well.

"plz follow me."

Seeing the person in front of him drink it all without any hesitation, the bartender seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, then stood up and led the way.

Others might glance at them, but as the dizziness of intoxication rises, they completely indulge, immersing themselves in the bitter taste of the alcohol. Life is hard enough; why bother caring about others, even if they are beautiful and have a good temperament? They are only worth a fleeting glance.

I paused, and before I knew it, the candles around me had all gone out, leaving only the creaking of the wooden planks beneath my feet.

"arrive."

Pushing open the door, the dim light of the fire illuminated the world again. A group of men and women wearing hoods and concealing their faces were sitting around the table on both sides, as if they were waiting for the arrival of the person in charge.

They weren't too surprised to see Charlotte enter; they simply lowered their heads, lost in thought, observing or relaxing, until a tall, dark-faced man closed the door and casually tapped twice on the wall.

"Let's begin, gentlemen. Whether it's a commission, an employment, or a transaction, it's all up to you. Of course, you can also sacrifice some dignity to exchange for what you need from me."

A low, mocking laugh, like a gust of wind, came from a man's voice, unhurried yet with a hint of unbridled arrogance.

Even just sitting with legs crossed and leaning against a stool gives one a sense of being superior.

Through her spiritual vision, Charlotte glimpsed that the man's spirit was even more intense than that of Melvis that day, a deep, dark red, confused and tangled.

Is it a trace of pollution, or chaos resulting from one's own indulgence?

She withdrew her gaze and stopped observing. After listening for a while, she found that the items being traded here were not much different from before. They were still extraordinary materials, potion recipes, and special weapons, only the categories were more numerous and the levels were slightly higher.

"Sigh, the recent plague is getting worse and worse. I don't know who did it. I've even gotten sick, and I can't get cured for a while."

"Idiot, shut up! Do you want to infect everyone here too?"

Two heavy coughs, the dry voice and heavy breathing were proof of the person's serious illness, and there were quite a few attendees with similar symptoms.

Based on the price range, Charlotte could roughly deduce the level of this gathering, which was mostly composed of people from Sequence Nine to Sequence Seven. Naturally, the man in the lead must be an extraordinary person of the middle sequence. Otherwise, how could he have such confidence and ease?

However, since this epidemic can even infect and kill low-sequence extraordinary individuals, it is no ordinary event and must have been amplified and amplified by covert means.

Unprovoked massacres will attract official attention, and doing so serves no purpose other than cynicism and killing large numbers of civilians, unless—

Is this a necessary promotion rite, similar to how I became an arbitrator through trials in the past?

Just as she expected, the leading man slightly clasped his hands together, interrupting the conversation without provoking any dissatisfaction.

"Since I'm in a good mood today, I can give you all some information free of charge. This is the promotion ceremony for the 'Messenger of Calamity.' For the next month, the outer city of Florence will be filled with..."

As if he were assessing numbers, his demeanor and words revealed indifference, and even a hint of sarcasm.

"Approximately 60,000 people, including you all, who may be among the dead."

Pointing to the person who had just coughed heavily, as soon as he finished speaking, panicked and fearful voices echoed across the table. Among them, a woman looked at the man with pleading eyes.

"Mr. K, may we ask for your protection?"

"Of course, but everything comes at a price, whether it's gleaming gold pounds, rare and extraordinary materials, or even the exchange of one's body."

With a soft chuckle, Mr. K glanced at the former's face, deliberately emphasizing the latter part of his words.

Having noted down the name, Charlotte remained silent, observing the crowd. Judging from their reactions, she knew that the former's behavior was not uncommon here, and there had clearly been precedents.

Of course, she had no interest in this; regardless of whether it was influenced by the means, the exchange of benefits should not be carried out in such a passive way.

Unless, of course, she herself is the instigator, and the ones who make the sacrifices are her beloved birds.

After a period of commotion, the atmosphere of the transaction calmed down considerably, but before Charlotte could find anything of interest, trouble came knocking on her door.

"Madam, you must have just joined this party today, right?"

A fleeting glance swept over her, and the creature named Mr. K lowered his gaze, seemingly trying to discern her face through the hood.

When he saw something he was satisfied with, he even slightly raised the corners of his mouth, revealing a hint of mockery.

"But, I don't recall extending an invitation to you?"

P.S.: Sorry for the late update. I'm going to take a nap now.

Chapter 127 Who is the Mole?

The threatening words echoed in his ears, but when he looked around, it seemed that no one had noticed his actions and was only focused on the money transaction at hand.

Is it commonplace, fear and cowardice, or the influence of hallucinations?

Ultimately, it was an obvious tactic, but that was normal. Being blinded by greed and scheming were the norm among extraordinary individuals, and it was an atmosphere she was familiar with.

Charlotte lightly stroked the rim of the glass with her fingertips, glancing up but not speaking again, letting the silence slowly build between them, as if her threatening and teasing tone had no effect whatsoever.