Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

Just then, Charlotte's eyes widened, and she slammed her hand on the bar, as if she were hearing it for the first time, letting out a gasp of disbelief.

"How could that be? I heard before that it was only thirty-two pence!"

Deliberately making a loud noise to attract attention, or using conscious gestures to express emotions.

Like a musical note coming to a halt, aside from a few burly men who were completely drunk, most people in the tavern focused their attention on the loud and boisterous 'young man'.

Despite being stared at by so many eyes, Charlotte remained completely calm and showed no weakness that would compromise the authenticity of her performance.

She gripped the yellowed coin tightly, her eyes filled with hesitation, like countless ordinary people who yearn for luxury yet are impoverished and struggling. In the end, seemingly distressed by their circumstances, they decide to give up. The girl pursed her lips in compromise and pressed for more information.

"What about ginger wine? And draft beer?"

"Rye beer three pence, North Asian draft beer six pence, or would you like a MacGregor ginger ale?"

The old man looked at the person in front of him with surprise, then looked up and scrutinized her for a while, but never said anything.

However, what was said in jest was taken to heart by the listeners. When the pale-faced 'young man' recited his bewilderment and explained the whole story of his arrival, all the drunkards who heard it couldn't help but wonder if there was a way out of this situation, and if this was one of the reasons why they were so poor and destitute.

A sense of resonance begins to take hold here.

"Oh, Goddess above, what's going on? That guy clearly told me that if I wanted to experience adult pleasure, all I had to do was have a shot of strong liquor. I even asked old Singh, but I didn't expect prices to change so quickly!"

Charlotte took the wooden cup containing the turmeric wine, paused briefly, and secretly observed the changes in everyone's expressions.

As the words faded, some people looked puzzled, some frowned, some suddenly realized, and some slammed their fists on the table in protest.

"Casper, you old bastard, is this your doing? Did you deliberately raise the price of alcohol and cut our hard-earned money?"

Pointing directly at the old man's face, the man with the bulbous nose immediately turned red in the neck, hissed and cursed, and even showed signs of wanting to fight.

"Sir, I'm just a bartender, how could I dare to do such a thing!"

The old man shrugged repeatedly, indicating his innocence, and hurriedly tried to absolve himself of responsibility. However, seeing that the tall, thin drunkard still hadn't backed down, he realized that if he didn't give an explanation, this matter would likely not end well.

"Wait, my employer is the India Party, and this tavern belongs to them. Everything is decided by them, and it has nothing to do with me!"

Realizing it wasn't exactly a secret, he bluntly revealed the employer behind him, then folded his hands, covered his head, and hid behind the bar.

However, this sentence struck a nerve with the drinkers, shaking their previous convictions and plunging the stinking, stinking place into silence.

"How could that be? The India Party is clearly a labor union in the port area. It was they who led our collective strike back then, got back the long-overdue wages, and had that unscrupulous businessman Hareton Earnshaw bound and hanged, giving all the workers a fair chance."

"No way, it's impossible!"

The India Party was a product of the Enlightenment movement that swept through the Western Sea kingdoms a few years ago, especially the Duchy of Plantagenet. Tingen was only a sea away from that duchy, and many of its 'treasonous' theories crossed the ocean and entered Tingen, thus flowing into the vast Hadins Empire.

However, the empire was at its zenith at the time, and Emperor Rothari was a man of great talent and ambition. These rebellious ideas were easily suppressed without causing much of a stir within the country. Only a few nearby sea cities were most deeply affected, where not only were guilds formed, but they also took root there.

Initially, they were indeed organizations created to fight for the rights of workers, but now, several years later, after hearing what was just said, the truth has probably changed a lot.

Perhaps the topic touched on a taboo subject, and the room soon fell silent again, but Charlotte did not want the argument to end there.

The India Party, Hareton Earshaw... Through the riots she had just caused, she gained much information that she wouldn't normally have known, confirming that this party was inextricably linked to her parents' deaths, and for the first time, she had a clear and unambiguous goal.

But that's not enough, far from enough.

Holding the glass by the handle, she brought it to her red lips and sipped the lukewarm draft beer. The bitter and refreshing taste immediately spread across her tongue, causing discomfort to furrow her brows and forcing her senses to obey.

The mellow aftertaste of malt lingers in the throat, while the diluted flavor of water serves as a reminder to the mind. Even though Charlotte has never drunk alcohol, she still forces herself to find the trigger that exacerbates the conflict.

Therefore, she didn't mind working hard, and fortunately, she succeeded.

"Kasper, how much water did you dilute with this wine? It tastes bland!"

Following the example of the former, Charlotte lowered her voice and spoke again in a deep and sharp tone, blending into the drunkards' clamor.

"Hiccup, it's all fake, it's all fake. The court formally tried the unscrupulous merchant, the laborers executed the master above us, and for the first time we were able to shout victory. But then what?"

No longer a deliberate act, the thick smell of alcohol filled her lungs, her fair ears turned red, and under the dim light, her clear eyes became hazy and moist. She was unaware of her own drunkenness.

Just like Miss Watson's extraordinary archery skills, these words hit the bullseye, igniting the gunpowder of contradictions and arousing the rebellion in the hearts of the workers.

"Bullshit! Are you saying our strike and bloodshed a month ago were meaningless? Are you saying our sacrifices brought us nothing? Are you saying those in charge betrayed us from the very beginning?"

A crude rebuttal rang out, followed by the dull thud of a glass being smashed on the ground.

"Who can say for sure? At least, I've never seen them come to this tavern, nor have I seen them in their work clothes, covered in sweat."

"Who knows, in some bright and spacious manor we don't even know about, they're probably drinking and laughing with that damned Earl Cliff, mocking our ridiculousness."

Once the seed of doubt is sown, it will take root and sprout.

When verbal exchanges can no longer satisfy the release of emotions, physical confrontation and the delivery of fists and feet become a further means.

The chandelier was smashed by a stone, extinguishing its light, and the tavern sign teetered on the brink of collapse amidst roars and groans.

Crimson blood, spilled wine, broken tables and chairs—trusters and distrusters, unable to contain their anger, split into two factions, hurling insults and fighting each other. Drunkards lay sprawled on the ground, some fast asleep, others writhing in agony—a strange harmony was formed amidst it all.

Amidst the chaos, Charlotte lowered her hat brim slightly, revealing her upturned lips, and, under the bartender's watchful gaze, staggered a few steps before walking briskly and proudly into the distance.

Like the lead actor in a play, an unnamed instigator.

Chapter Nine: Through the Chest and Shot

The leaden clouds hung low, devoid of light, and the streets and alleys were deserted and empty at night, with only a few blurry figures. When the furnaces ceased their roar, the chill seeped into one's clothes with each step.

There were no streetlights that were always on in the port area. After Charlotte left the tavern and her eyes adjusted to the change in light, the only sounds on the main road were the howling of the sea breeze and the groans of the homeless.

Considering the durability of the machines, even the most unscrupulous factories will generously allow workers some rest, which is praised as being humane.

In this silence, the high-top leather boots touched the solid ground, leaping and fluttering rhythmically, like a small dance.

The information she had gathered at that time gradually took hold in her mind, and the truth of the matter was pieced together from scratch in the girl's brain.

"The wineries under the O'Shaugh family's name have not gone bankrupt; on the contrary, they have all been taken over by the India Party in the port area. The market price of wine has not fallen; in fact, it has a tendency to rise viciously."

"Judging from the tone of those workers, it seems that a month ago, workers in this area launched a large-scale strike movement under the leadership of a political party."

The self-proclaimed cheap parents' business is not solely profit-driven, nor should it incite workers' anger without reason. The India Party's targeting of them came without any warning.

The occurrence of coincidences indicates that one is moving in the right direction. When multiple coincidences occur at the same time, they can no longer be called accidental, but rather something deliberate.

Clearly, her reasoning was close to the truth.

A certain person, a certain force, a certain class, is using the banner of workers' resistance to get rid of O'Shaughnessy, their enemy, so that they can take over the industry, manipulate market prices, and stand aside and watch coldly.

Earl Clift?

When people are in a fit of emotion, they often reveal what they believe to be the truth. While the curses of drunkards may contain some exaggeration and falsehood, we cannot completely ignore the suffixes that were mentioned.

If Charlotte hadn't joined Singer's office in the morning, she, with her limited understanding of interpersonal networks, would probably have been confused about the former's identity. However, the list that the old detective insisted she memorize came in handy at that moment.

Clive Bathory, a typical and ruthless old nobleman, whose family had ruled the coastal region of Tingen for generations before Emperor Rothali ascended the throne, was granted fiefdoms by the old emperor.

But the tides of time and economic changes do not wait for those who stand still. When the whistles of steam trains echoed through the streets, newly wealthy merchants seized the opportunity to transcend class barriers. Ambitious, they used rolls of paper money to pave their way upward, but they touched the established interests of the old aristocracy. The Earl family was no exception.

Disputes were inevitable, and those who stuck to the old ways were bound to fall behind. After repeatedly hitting a wall, Count Cliff had no choice but to seek change and took the lead in the wine industry.

Oh, perhaps, there's no need to elaborate on the subsequent developments. The similarities in industries, the struggles between social classes, the masterful manipulation of power, the merging of multiple clues—the suspect seems to be an undeniable fact.

Unexpectedly, after only one day of personal involvement, he roughly figured out the reasons and details of his predecessor's imprisonment.

He stormed into the bandit's lair, displaying boldness, meticulousness, quick thinking, intelligence, and competence.

Looks like I'm a genius!

Although no one cheered or applauded, Charlotte was generous with her praise and was not disappointed. As long as she was happy, that was all that mattered.

She stopped abruptly, wrapped herself tightly in her thick gray inner lining, and felt the cold wind blowing in from the harbor, which made her outer coat flutter loudly. Perhaps because her stop was too sudden, when the wind subsided, a few scattered and bewildered footsteps appeared among the groans of the refugees.

You've taken the bait, you little shrimp.

Her exceptional hearing had alerted her to the persistent footsteps following behind. Ever since leaving the tavern, those impatient fools had considered themselves to have caught a lamb with some left over, hastily discarding their bottles and staggering after her.

Perhaps it was because her acting was too realistic and her words and actions were too appropriate that all the drunkards thought she was just a sickly young man who was inexperienced in the ways of the world, and that taking her money was a piece of cake.

Driven by her inner greed, Charlotte finally met the person she wanted to see: a dark-skinned, lean, and muscular man.

"You, who are you?"

Looking back at the source of the sound, as if only then realizing that someone was following her, she covered her lower lip, her voice stammering, clearly showing her surprise and panic.

Of course, it was an act, and it was very effective.

“Kid, didn’t your buddy tell you that kids should stay in their shacks and not let their money show in their wallets?”

Rubbing his fists, the burly man, though surprised by his own exposure, instantly raised the corners of his mouth, revealing a carefree and mocking expression.

"What do you think you're doing? This is a residential area, and the police station is just two streets away. If you cause any trouble, you won't be able to escape easily!"

As if forcing herself to be brave, the girl shouted out weakly, but from beginning to end, she kept looking at the armband on the other person's shoulder—a ring encircling a ship, symbolizing the armband of the India Party.

Just when we were worried about the lack of information, a crucial lead was delivered right to our door.

As mentioned at the beginning, although the name of the port district includes the word "port," it doesn't mean that it's only about the port. In fact, a large area of ​​streets, factories, and some residential areas extend outward from the docks and all fall within this area.

At that moment, because of the loud shouts, many people opened their windows and stuck their heads out to look outside.

Frowning, the man's face darkened, and he immediately shouted at the people nearby, "Paying back debts is a matter of course! His father owes us a huge sum of money, and there's still a massive hole in the hole. It's only right that the son should pay back the debts of his father!"

He said this partly to identify himself, explain the situation, and lie to the surrounding residents, indicating that they should mind their own business. On the other hand, he was simply trying to intimidate them. As a member of the Indiya Party, he was someone who had spent years on the streets, dealing in debt collection and extortion. He wouldn't be intimidated by a few words.

Upon hearing this, Charlotte merely raised the corners of her lips slightly, turned her back, and ran into the shadows, seemingly terrified.

It wasn't genuine fear; she laughed because Miss Watson knew that the other party was nothing more than a scoundrel who exploited the people, and that there was no need to worry about principles or a kind heart. She fled because there were too many eyes and ears around, making it difficult to use her own methods.

As the night grew darker and the crowds thinned, the young man, his breath quickening and his steps coming to a halt, clutched his knees and curled up in the dim, narrow alley, panting heavily as if he had completely exhausted his strength.

"Phew, you bastard, you made me waste so much effort, why don't you just run away and find yourself such a glorious place."

Exhaling a breath of stale air, his face slightly flushed, the man took out a dagger from his waist and approached step by step, determined to teach this ignorant brat a lesson.

But for some reason, he suddenly couldn't see any fear or cowardice on the other person's face.

As if sharing the same feeling, her silver-gray hair cascaded down with the sea breeze, clinging to the girl's fair neck and revealing a half-smile of her lips in the shadows.

It's a laugh.

"Yes, this is indeed a good place. It's quiet and deserted, and not cold either, for both of us."

Hey.

The roles of host and guest were reversed. Her inner lining, damp from the waves, clung to the curves of her body, making her figure appear slender and thin. She strolled slowly, letting her leather boots tread on the ground, piercing through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. For a moment, even breathing became silent.

Da, da...

"what do you mean?"

The man suddenly remembered this sound; he had heard it a long, long time ago.

That was in the mountains and forests of his childhood. He saw a hawk owl standing on a tree trunk, looking down at a coiled grass snake. Without the slightest error, the bird of prey emitted a clear call from its sharp beak, signaling... its hunt.

boom--

Smoke filled the air, the sounds echoed in my ears, and then a flash of silver light appeared in my eyes, followed by a warm, burning pain that spread across my face.

He instinctively reached for his ear, only to find a pool of thick, bright red blood, touching empty skin.

"Out of humanitarianism, I will not remove your hands, which you used to earn your own living as a laborer; an ear is the least I can pay for this offense. Now, tell me, who is the leader of your head, the leader of the Indiya Party?"

Charlotte pulled the trigger of the revolver. She had no time or interest in playing word games with this fool. Intimidating him with lies was far more persuasive than direct pain and threats.

She considers herself a player, not caring about the deluge after her death, only indulging in momentary excitement and obsession.

"Well......"

Looking at the beautiful woman in front of him, who was slightly tilting her head and playing with a gun, and seeing her raise her lips and blow away the gunpowder smoke, and seeing her arched eyelashes overflowing with a nonchalant smile, the man realized that he was so wrong.

This is never a lamb, but a falcon waiting for its prey to make a mistake.

“Bright, our boss is Bright Canning… He frequents that Fisherman’s Bar in West Alley…”

Choking back tears and suppressing the pain, this member of the Indiya Party could no longer contain his fear of firearms and the terror of having his life completely under his control.

"Shhh."

The instant he finished speaking, a slender finger touched his lips, and a quiet reminder rang out. Immediately afterward, the sound of the gun barrel turning echoed once more.

Without any hesitation, the second ear, belonging to the former, also turned into blurry fragments.

“The wicked have ten fingers and ten toes, six hundred and thirty-nine muscles, and two hundred and six bones. Interrogation has never been my specialty, but I don’t mind practicing more. Besides, I hate lies and I dislike the deliberate betrayal of rare compassion, treating it as superfluous.”

Charlotte stared indifferently at the other person, her tone unchanged, but her slender fingers then moved towards the third chamber.

Upon seeing this, the man's eyes widened suddenly, and he trembled as he begged for forgiveness. In the end, his stammering voice even sounded like a sob.