Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

"Observation does not equate to interference; we respect every courageous seeker of truth."

"So, what is the price of protection?" Charlotte's voice remained calm, without rushing to express agreement.

Ultimately, this conversation was about expressing a desire for cooperation.

The old man exchanged approving glances with his colleagues: "You are indeed as calm as the report said, which is the best character trait for a scholar."

He took out a gold-embossed contract from his pocket and stated, "It's not a 'price,' but a 'request.' You only need to assist the church in treating certain special cases when necessary."

The contract was written in liquid metal, and when Charlotte gazed at it, the words would automatically rearrange themselves into something she could understand:

[Article 1: It is prohibited to use extraordinary abilities to endanger public health]

[Clause Two: Assist in research on plague prevention when needed by the church]

[Clause 3: Serving as mentors to cultivate relevant medical professionals]

These conditions were unbelievably lenient, so the beautiful woman looked up at the former. "That's all?"

"that's it."

As Charlotte finished speaking and tried to put the book away, she noticed that new words had been copied onto the corner of the title page.

[Special Permission: Those who see this list are free to consult all church medical texts, including all confidential knowledge.]

It wasn't the script commonly used in the Hastings Empire, but a script that Charlotte should have known well and could never forget—the English alphabet.

Even though she managed to suppress her emotions for a fleeting moment upon seeing it, her expression still changed slightly.

“This is the Archbishop’s special instruction, from our superior, and your reaction seems to confirm her suspicions.”

Even though he was uttering words that sounded like a trap, the old man's tone was not coercive or pressure-inducing; he was simply asking sincerely.

What are your thoughts?

"..."

Unlike the devotion to the Primordial Goddess, Charlotte's first impression of the Church of Steam Supremacy was one of sincerity and respect.

Whether it was the renowned Howard or the others who accompanied him, their attitude towards knowledge and learned individuals was exceptionally sincere, a courtesy that should be shown among scholars.

Isabella is merely a puppet to be wasted, and she doesn't mind joining this sect. Just as the contract describes, she will thoroughly explore the entire library, for what she lacks now is a complete and thorough understanding of this world.

After a moment of silence, Charlotte placed her fingertip on the gold-embossed paper, signifying the establishment of the contract.

Subtly, a kind of faint constraint was also placed upon them.

But is such preferential treatment really appropriate for a complete stranger?

Perhaps the brief silence had prompted the old man, for Howard smiled slightly and pointed to the sky. Everyone looked up and saw a mechanical carrier pigeon circling overhead, its metallic wings reflecting the morning light.

"The Eye of Steam witnessed everything, including those untold sacrifices."

With that, he led the craftsmen away, leaving behind his final words: "Three days later, the cathedral will hold an awarding ceremony, and our archbishop looks forward to discussing this with you—"

"What is rationality and progress?"

Chapter 170 Tomorrow

In the early morning, the air was still damp, and the light rain from last night had just stopped, leaving a few dewdrops playfully on the branches of the trees.

Charlotte woke up, or perhaps she never closed her eyes, but was simply immersed in playing different roles.

Stepping out the door, one could see a red-haired girl already standing quietly waiting on the stone-paved street of Kuanfang.

Gazing at the beautiful figure before her, the little peacock gathered her stray hairs that were ruffling in the breeze, pursed her lips, and finally couldn't help but ask, "Dr. Bella, are you really going to join them?"

Upon hearing this, Charlotte took out the gift she had received yesterday; the brass pocket watch gleamed warmly in the morning light.

She glanced at the girl, a slight smile playing on her lips: "What, are you worried that I, a commoner with little knowledge of the extraordinary, will be deceived by them?"

“No!” Sufby raised her voice, explaining quite seriously, “It’s just… although the Steam Church outwardly advocates reason and progress, its internal factions are complex. Who knows what their true purpose is?”

Charlotte chuckled softly, raised her hand and gently ruffled the top of her head, her movements as gentle as if she were soothing a ruffled kitten.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. We need to see with our own eyes and hear with our own ears to judge right and wrong. We can't make arbitrary judgments about good and evil based on our own stereotypes."

Her gaze passed over the walls of the orphanage and looked toward the city gradually awakening in the distance.

Florence mornings are always shrouded in gloomy fog, but after the plague, early-rising vendors push their wooden carts along the streets, their crisp, rhythmic grinding sounds signaling the passing of the disaster.

“Besides—” Charlotte paused intentionally, her voice becoming even softer, “instead of worrying about me, my dear girl, you should think about yourself.”

“Me?” Sophie was clearly stunned for a long time.

"If you dare to follow unlicensed doctors out of sheer courage, even if you have made significant contributions to this matter, it is not in accordance with the rules and regulations, and you will easily be criticized and harassed."

Upon hearing this, the little peacock frowned, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the hem of her clothes.

"Rules and regulations..."

Charlotte gazed at her, her eyes gentle yet unwavering. "You know exactly what I'm saying, don't you? Even with good intentions, even if you're dedicated to eliminating evil, reckless actions will still provoke discontent."

"Sailing off the prescribed course and yet receiving rewards is bound to arouse the envy of others, especially colleagues."

The red-haired girl's shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly. The cries of newsboys drifted from afar, making the silence all the more heavy.

"I'm not a child, I don't need that kind of advice!"

Sufby wanted to stubbornly argue back, but looking at those melancholy eyes, her tone immediately became subdued.

"If red tape were useful, my father wouldn't have been unjustly led to the guillotine. Rather than slowly waiting for my fate, I'd rather—"

A lone white dove landed on a nearby lamppost, tilting its head to sized up the two of them. Charlotte took a few grains of oatmeal from her pocket, opened her palm, and waited for it to return.

“Look,” she said, watching the birds cautiously approach, “even the freest creatures have to bow their heads for food. What I want to say is that I remember your concern, but you need to consider the circumstances before making your choices. This is both a thank you and a reminder.”

“This is different!” Sophie clenched her fist, startling the white dove that was about to peck at the food. “I only offered my help to take advantage of you; I didn’t have any ulterior motives.”

"Pfft." Unable to suppress a smile, Charlotte saw the little peacock's face turn red and quickly said, "I will, of course I will help you, Luna. In Florence, you are the only good girl who doesn't care about power and stands by my side."

"You didn't need to come looking for me anymore, but out of the deepest longing in your heart, you waited patiently until dawn..."

The morning mist had completely dissipated, and patients began to enter and exit the almshouse. An elderly woman coughing gave them a grateful look, a reminder that the two were still standing in broad daylight.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and the nurses carrying laundry tubs nearly bumped into each other.

"Goddess, please!" the young girl exclaimed as she steadied the swaying basin. When she noticed who was standing in front of her, her initial dissatisfaction instantly turned into admiration.

"Dr. Bella, thank you for taking care of Ryan. After that medication, his temperature came down and the redness faded."

Yes, the girl in front of her was the nurse Charlotte had first met. She had willingly worked in this cold and indifferent hospital to take care of her sick brother.

"However, after his fever broke this morning, he kept talking nonsense and said he wanted to eat candy..."

Charlotte immediately dropped her joking expression and quickly followed the nun inside. Sophie paused for a moment, then jogged to catch up.

In the ward, a boy of about seven or eight years old was squirming on a brand-new iron-framed bed, his little face flushed red. But when the kind doctor sat down on the edge of the bed, the boy suddenly grabbed her sleeve and mumbled something.

"Dr. Bella, those boiled medicines are so bitter, I can't swallow them."

"So, Ryan, do you want some candy?"

"Hehe, besides wanting to eat candy, I also want to see you again, Sister Bella."

After his thoughts were seen through, the boy no longer hid his smile.

"You naughty child, don't get cavities from eating this."

As the laughter faded, Sophie stood by the door, listening intently to the boy's slow, calm breathing. When Charlotte bent down to examine the boy's pupils, his short chestnut hair fell naturally to his shoulders, the ends still dusted with dandelion fluff that had drifted in from outside the window.

Like a dream, like a natural painting.

“Go to the pharmacy and get some valerian root,” Charlotte said to the nurse, then winked at Sofby. “Should we also teach our little assistant how to prepare the medication? She needs to learn the proper procedures.”

This is clearly a deliberate joke.

Moving on, the pharmacy was still filled with the lingering scent of dried herbs. As the little peacock tiptoed down the brown medicine jar from the top shelf, she overheard the nurse muttering, "...Dr. Bella doesn't seem to follow the orphanage's prescriptions. Last time she halved the menthol dosage, and the result..."

"So you ended up saving that old craftsman who was allergic to mint?" Sophie blurted out, and seeing the former's surprised expression, she quickly added, "I, I guessed."

The young nurse shook her head, smiled, and handed over the mortar and pestle, only sighing, "You clever girls..."

When they returned with the prepared medicine, Charlotte was writing a medical record by the window. Sunlight streamed through her pen, casting dancing spots of light on the paper. The boy was asleep, and on the bedside table sat a simple wooden bird—clearly freshly carved with a fruit knife.

“Rules,” Charlotte suddenly spoke, her pen still twirling, “like the format of a medical record—”

"As a professional and a protective force, you have shown the extraordinary how to survive. Now, I am willing to tell you how ordinary people conduct themselves."

The sound of a steam carriage braking came from outside the window. The brown-haired beauty closed her medical record, and the hem of her pure white coat brushed against the wooden bird carving on the headboard, making a rustling sound.

"More than a simple mutual assistance relationship, Luna, I would like to become a close 'friend' with you."

She got up and helped Sophie brush the medicine powder that had somehow gotten on her shoulder. They strolled down the corridor, which was no longer filled with sorrow but with hope. The morning light cast long shadows of the two of them.

Suddenly, the little peacock realized that the beautiful figure in front of her would always slow down her pace without making a sound, waiting for her to catch up—so that she could see her whenever she turned around, and never miss her.

Chapter 171 Farewell Kiss

Unbuttoning her coat, Charlotte swept aside the stray hairs that fell in front of her ear with one hand and loosened the hair tie with the other, styling the marks of her hard work into a neat single ponytail.

It was nearing dusk, and the little peacock had long since spread its wings and left the flock. Having received a separate award from the Public Security Bureau, it no longer helped with the operation.

Strolling along the canal-lined avenue, she would always encounter people who greeted her and expressed their gratitude. They were full of praise and thanks, and Dr. Bella was happy to greet them with a smile, earning her a reputation and admiration.

Until she caught a glimpse of a dandelion in the flowerbed on the steps, a dandelion that was growing tenaciously in the cracks of the rocks.

How resilient, how pitiful, that in such a numb city, a pure and innocent little flower can still bloom.

She bent down and plucked the dandelion, like a childlike heart stirring within her. She held the flower stalk in her hands, blew gently, and the white fluffy seeds scattered, flying towards the dim twilight.

It resembles the most girlish setting in countless comics.

Just as Charlotte was enjoying this moment of leisure, a pair of slender hands wrapped around her waist from behind, the force very light and gentle, as if afraid of hurting her.

With her jet-black hair and simple white shirt, she breathed softly, expressing her reluctance to part after such a long separation.

Ms. Z is a close friend of Dr. Bella, someone she can share a bed with.

Charlotte paused for a moment, then relaxed, letting the person behind her rest their chin on her shoulder.

The familiar scent of jasmine lingers at the tip of my nose, carrying a hint of fresh grass and earth—the scent of a weary traveler.

"When did you get back?" she asked softly, her fingertips still twirling a wisp of dandelion fluff.

“Just now,” Ms. Z’s voice was muffled, carrying the weariness of a long journey, “I heard that my Dr. Bella developed a drug that ended the epidemic and became a highly sought-after figure. Even the Steam Supremacy Church is rushing to snatch her up.”

The pale, golden light of the setting sun sank completely, the last rays filtering through Ms. Z's hair and casting dappled patterns of light on her friend's shoulder. The dandelion fluff still drifted in the air, like a miniature snowfall.

“A great man?” Charlotte chuckled, her fingertips unconsciously twirling a strand of Zelena’s forward-leaning black hair. “He just did what he was supposed to do.”

Ms. Z tightened her arms, her nose brushing against the still-fading pale red lines on the side of her neck: "These injuries... are also 'things that should be done'?"

The clock tower in the distance chimed the hour, startling a flock of sparrows returning to their nests. Charlotte turned around and finally saw her best friend clearly—she was much thinner than when they last met, and there were tired dark circles under her eyes, but her clear pupils were still full of affection.

“You should get some rest.” Charlotte brushed the dust from her hair with her finger. “How is Tingen doing? Is it still peaceful? Has Melvis’s condition not improved?”

“Hmm.” Zelena shook her head and sighed.

“It doesn’t matter to me whether I rest or not. Compared to that, as I said,” the dark-haired beauty tightened her arms around her waist, pressing her cheek against the back of her neck, “try not to touch those things—”

“Dangerous knowledge,” Charlotte replied, turning to touch her forehead to hers. Soft flaxen covered her dark blue hair, flowing like a gentle stream.

"That man used the plague as a weapon and selfishness as a pretext, but I cannot simply stand by and watch countless innocent people die..."

That's a different interpretation.

But Ms. Z didn't let Charlotte continue. She pressed her thumb to her friend's lips, her eyes seemingly swirling with unspoken emotions: "So, you swallowed the characteristics of the plague messenger, in the body of a mere mortal."

It's not a question, but a statement.

The bells rang, and the dinner bells of the almshouse echoed through the streets, seemingly reflecting the silence between the two.

To be honest, if Charlotte hadn't been in Tingen's sights, she would never have imagined that a morning newspaper article about her would prompt Ms. Z to travel for several days to finally meet her current doctor.

The bond between them seemed to be deeper and more difficult to sever than they had imagined.

Perhaps it was because the silence had lasted too long, or perhaps because their gazes had met without fading, Zelena finally refrained from questioning her, and simply took Charlotte's hand, pulling her into a dark alley by the roadside.

The moment shadows fell, warm lips pressed against mine. The kiss carried the salty taste of travel weariness and long-suppressed longing.

"Fifteen days, two weeks." As they parted, Ms. Z pressed her forehead against hers, panting. The moisture from her breath still lingered on her skin, causing itching.

"You left without saying goodbye, leaving only a scroll of letters. Did you do this knowingly because you knew I would worry?"