Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

"No, no! I'm not lying to you... I really am not. Bright is at the Fisherman's Bar, and so are those monsters!"

The girl paused for a moment, then released the trigger, holstered the revolver, and walked out of the alley without looking back. The clues were there, the matter was settled; now, only the inevitable fate of discarding the useful tool was left. Of course, the kind-hearted Miss Watson wouldn't act without reason, unless—

"Get out of here, and don't let me see you again."

"Th...thank you!"

He had been obedient at first, but his fierce expression rekindled the moment he turned around. He gritted his teeth and uttered a guttural sound. He had never suffered such humiliation before. As the leader of a gang, he had been forced to this point by a young girl with blond hair.

With arms outstretched, the man stomped his foot on the ground, channeling his strength from his fascia, and pounced forward like a giant bear, seeking revenge for the humiliation he had endured.

If you have someone to blame, blame yourself for being too merciful; blame yourself for putting away your weapons.

A strong wind rose, but in an instant, gunshots rang out again.

Six bullets struck his ankles, shoulder blades, neck, and brow, all hitting his bullseye. Instantly, he lay on his back like a dehydrated fish, spitting blood and whimpering incessantly.

A hoarse, raspy sound escaped from his mouth and nose as his throat ruptured. In the last moment of his vision, the man only saw that graceful figure, swift as lightning, draw her gun amidst the crashing waves, her face half-revealed indifferent, as six streaks of fire shot from the barrel.

My thoughts gradually drifted away, but my confusion remained—how could someone draw their gun and retaliate so quickly?

"call."

It wasn't as calm as she had imagined. Charlotte reloaded the gun, fired several more shots into the former's forehead, and then released the hammer, letting out a soft breath.

She didn't like the feeling of ending someone's life with her own hands, but in a moment of crisis, her body's instincts drove her to pull the trigger and fire the bullet.

Putting aside the slight sense of guilt, once the matter is settled and the information is obtained, regardless of the outcome, the root of the problem must be eliminated. At most, one should only take action after being mentally prepared. This is an unavoidable fact.

One month was the countdown to the end of her life, a number that prompted her to make up her mind. Now, it's just a matter of getting used to it in advance.

Then she bent down, put on white gauze gloves, and removed the bullets one by one from the bloodied and mangled body, before using the former's dagger to destroy the original shape of the wounds.

After doing all this, Charlotte removed her disguise, put her felt hat back on, took out her cane, and tapped it twice with the same poise as always.

Da da.

Compared to the past, the sound was slightly deeper, as if it contained the shame hidden beneath the girl's act, as if she was sharp-tongued but felt something in her heart and could not be honest.

She opened and closed her lips, but did not utter a single word. She only bowed and clasped her hands together, closing her eyes in a rare prayer, expressing her sincerity and apology.

"From now on, I will still be the kind-hearted Miss Watson, and sir, thank you for the information you so kindly shared, and thank you for remaining silent and keeping the secret. Finally—"

"It's late at night, a good girl shouldn't be wandering around outside."

"Ladies first, so this time, I'll go first."

P.S.: Happy National Day! Mua to you all~

Please give more responses and more votes. *crying* ┭┮﹏┭┮

Chapter Ten: Pride and Sincerity

Brett Canning, Fisherman's Bar, Monster.

Listing out the key clues one by one, Charlotte leaned lightly against the back of the hard seat, her five fingers outstretched, dancing and leaping with the movement of the last train, like plucking a violin.

After obtaining the above information, she did not rashly go to the bar to meet the leader of the India Party and inquire about the matter of her predecessor.

Firstly, it was too late; good girls should go to bed early. Secondly, being alone meant lacking the power to make a final decision.

Indeed, with her swift archery skills, the girl could subdue a few scattered enemies, but when faced with multiple skilled opponents and comparable firearms, no matter how agile she was, she could not avoid the flying arrows.

Injured, bleeding, declining condition, off-target shooting, and then, life slipped away.

Just like tigers and leopards in the mountains, who will retreat when threatened by their prey, Charlotte would not presume to claim that she is an assassin in white robes capable of taking down a thousand soldiers without knowing the number of people and their weapons. Besides, the soldier even mentioned the word "monster."

While there are many ghost stories from the Victorian era, they are all based on fact and depict the truth of the world, whether it is the tales of Dorian Gray, Frankenstein, or Van Helsing.

When life is threatened and a gun is pointed at one's face, few people can remain calm and deliberately lie. In other words, in appearance and methods, the person or beast called a monster must have something almost inhuman.

The eeriness of the steam age cannot be ignored, nor can the existence of supernatural abilities be ruled out. The overlap between the Fisherman's Bar and the port docks further fuels Charlotte's suspicions, sounding an alarm bell in her heart and warning her of the looming crisis.

Intuition is a mysterious and elusive thing, often quite elusive, which is why most rational people don't include it in their thinking. They tend to ignore these unfounded thoughts and instead speculate on the reasons that led to them.

But the fact is that intuition does exist, and it can be quite effective at times. In particular, intuition formed through long-term experience can often transcend the level of logic and make judgments almost instinctively.

Charlotte trusted her intuition and her sense of danger. She sensed from those words an insurmountable, untouchable, distant and immense terror.

It seems, unfortunately, that Miss Watson is not yet able to handle them.

Of course, a moment doesn't mean forever. The goal has been set, and if there's even the slightest opportunity, she will seize it and seek further progress. There's always a way.

With her legs crossed, the soft flesh on the inside of her thighs was pressed into shallow indentations, and with the slight swaying of the carriage, her alluring white skin even trembled slightly.

"We've arrived in the Mahé district."

The accompanying flight attendant announced the nearby stations, and Charlotte took out her pocket watch to check the time.

At 10 p.m., exactly as predicted.

"The timing is perfect. Is the night reminding me that I can indulge my desires and enjoy the fruits of my labor?"

As she murmured this, the girl raised the corners of her lips and smiled dreamily.

The day's experiences were so rich and dramatic, like a somewhat unreal drama, yet her professional habits always made her immerse herself in the role, unable to extricate herself.

Alright, young lady, don't think so much. Go to a restaurant and have some sweets, then find a nice hotel to sleep in. That's the image a lady should have.

The hoarse whistle echoed in the corner of the platform, and the monstrous steam locomotive dragged several carriages, slowly leaving marks of metal fatigue on the tracks.

With the car door wide open, Charlotte pulled her hat down low to avoid the malice of pickpockets along the way, clutching her suitcase, and stepped briskly into the streets of the Marais district.

In reality, this puppet's physiological needs are not strong, and its senses of hunger and thirst are relatively weak. On the contrary, it is quite sensitive to bodily feedback. The previous fight at the alley entrance only consumed a small amount of its physical energy.

However, due to her ingrained eating habits and her lingering interest in pleasure, she still wanted to satisfy her cravings.

After all, spending money on food is a normal expense, so how can it be called extravagance!

It was precisely because her purpose was so pure that the girl left the remote port, ignoring the pancakes and long loaves sold by street vendors, and chose a beautifully decorated restaurant in the Marais district before pushing open the door and entering.

Just as old Singh said, this is indeed a relatively clean area, with less sewage and mud. Even though the turmeric-colored smog stubbornly lingers, you can still see the clear stars and moon overhead.

Looking around, one could see many gentlemen and ladies in suits and long skirts sitting on the inner side, drinking tea and chatting quietly, dining politely; vulgar language was not heard there. Of course, they were at most middle-class people with some spare money, while Charlotte's simple yet elegant polyester clothes were clearly not something ordinary people could afford.

"Welcome! Madam, what would you like to eat?"

Long, bright red hair cascaded down to her waist, and a few freckles dotted her cheeks, highlighting her sallow complexion. The person's voice was earnest, yet tinged with a hint of unexpected stumble.

It must be said that the waiter's appearance was very much in line with the image expected of the times. However, Charlotte noticed something amiss. Unlike his sallow complexion, the skin below his neck was quite fair and smooth. Apart from the dryness and wrinkles on his hands, there were no signs of hard work. Also, his blood-red eyes seemed somewhat familiar.

Was it a deliberate attempt to look ugly?

Through careful observation, she suddenly seemed to recall a proud and fiery young woman she had met before, and she asked the same question.

"Sophie Bertrand?"

As soon as the words were spoken, the red-haired girl froze on the spot, her knuckles, which were gripping the pen tightly as she wrote the words, stopped on the paper, leaving a blot of ink.

It seems that by sheer chance, she actually guessed the answer correctly, which added a lot of fun to the otherwise mundane dinner.

The fact that the daughter of a fallen nobleman was willing to lower herself to work at this restaurant and take on the menial tasks she usually looked down upon was quite a contrast to her initial impression of arrogance. It must be because her family was now in dire straits and could no longer afford to have income that only came in and no money out.

"Any recommendations?"

Without pressing the issue further, just seeing the former's tightly pursed lips and blushing ears, and witnessing his desire to question but forced to suppress it due to his status, Charlotte's appetite was greatly satisfied.

"...Our diced meat and potato fries are very popular here. We use the best ingredients, but they may not be considered high-end."

His speech was halting and his voice lacked strength.

She tried her best to treat people with a normal attitude, but Sufby was also afraid that the other party would reveal their identity and expose their disguise, causing her to lose face and be ridiculed by everyone.

After all, their first encounter was not amicable, and could even be described as hostile. Even if she felt that the former was not petty, she was just afraid of the worst-case scenario.

Feeling anxious and at a loss, in her panic, the young woman didn't even notice that she had actually circled the table once.

Unlike Sophoby's panic, Charlotte paid no attention to the former's behavior, simply taking the menu and carefully examining the details.

Baked beef, sturgeon fries, blanched asparagus, and a host of other dishes that sound delicious just from their names come into view. Because of its proximity to the bay, there is even a whole list of local specialties related to the catch.

Hmm, I want to eat them all.

Thinking this to herself, the girl quickly deflated after glancing at the prices listed, abandoning her impulsive decision.

She always cultivated an image of a noble lady, almost forgetting just how much her wallet actually held.

Of course, knowing oneself in one's heart and bowing one's head in public are not the same thing.

Charlotte closed the menu and placed it to one side, lowering her eyelashes, pursing her lips and sighing softly, appearing completely uninterested.

"As expected, there are no surprises here. Just the diced meat and fries you ordered, and a plum pudding. I hope it won't disappoint me."

Seeing the girl so calm and unconcerned, Sufby breathed a sigh of relief, but also felt a little annoyed.

I'm so worried, but am I not even worth a second glance in her eyes? Am I not even as good as these dishes listed in black and white?

"Understood, it will be served to you right away."

Clenching her knuckles, she turned away unsteadily. The red-haired girl didn't question her further. Before long, she returned to the former's table with a plate of perfectly cooked diced meat.

To be honest, judging from appearance alone, the diced meat coated in flour and fried until golden brown is indeed very appetizing, especially after Charlotte took a small bite, she found it quite delicious.

Surprisingly, the catering industry in this era hasn't changed too much.

She slowly savored her late dinner, but after finishing the fries and scooping up half a spoonful of pudding, the girl couldn't help but stop.

It wasn't that she was restless; it was just that the gazes so intense were so intense, and those bright, pearly red eyes were impossible to ignore.

She glanced discreetly at the dessert on the plate and the subtle plea in the former's eyes, and quickly understood the reason.

Has the fallen noblewoman become so poor that even desserts are a luxury?

Well, although Ms. Watson disliked bright colors from the beginning, she still had some sympathy for a girl in a similar situation with an empty wallet.

"This plum pudding is too greasy, it's really a downer."

With disgust, Charlotte put down her spoon, pushed the tray away, pulled out a napkin, gently wiped her mouth, and then gracefully straightened her back and propped herself up.

Without reminding the greedy scarlet ibis or asking anyone else to pay the bill, she casually left a ten-pence tip on the table, and like a true lady, raised her snowy neck and left the restaurant with grace.

Despite his outwardly calm and composed demeanor, the sound of the red-haired girl's delighted moans and rustling chewing behind him fueled an uncontrollable surge of vanity within him.

I've changed my tune. Actually, peacocks are quite cute, especially when it comes to making people happy.

As night deepened and the wind whistled in her ears, before Charlotte could go far, a familiar sound of footsteps hurriedly approached from afar, growing louder and louder.

"Josephine Watson, what do you mean! I don't need—"

Do you need a tissue to wipe the crumbs from your mouth?

The unassuming concern choked the word "pity." Even though the silver-haired girl didn't even turn her head, Sophie instinctively covered her lips, hurriedly checking whether the facts were as the former had said.

Seeing that she had wiped her face clean, she instinctively uttered a rebuttal, but then regretted it.

"You lied to me!"

"Pfft, that plum pudding is quite sweet, isn't it?"

Her face flushed red at those words, and her ears burned. The red-haired girl nervously clutched her skirt, not daring to look up at the former again.

"Alright, actually, I never like to poke fun at people's weaknesses. So tell me, Miss Sophie, why did you leave the restaurant to find me? Is there something you can't say?"

Sensing that the other person had something important to say, Charlotte stopped in her tracks and glanced at those uneasy, absent-minded yet resolute red eyes, almost meeting hers.

"me......"

Stumbling and hesitating, as if facing a difficult choice, Sufby bit her lip until blood seeped out, but in the end she lowered her pretty face, her arrogance faded, and she tore off the mask of pretense.

"I would like to ask you for a favor, as an ordinary citizen who has lost family members."

Chapter Eleven: Free Redemption

"Appreciate further details."

Charlotte couldn't help but feel a bit intrigued; she was indeed curious about the children of a palace count. However, the subsequent narration made her pause slightly.

"...Some time ago, my sister disappeared while working as a laundry worker in the port area."

The arrogance on her face crumbled little by little, like the beginning of countless stories. Sufby clenched her five fingers, placed them in her palm, and pressed them so hard that they could pierce her skin.

“My mother and I have been looking for her for a long time, but we still can’t find her. We can’t even find anyone who knows anything about her. The other workers from the same shift won’t even utter a word.”

There was no concealment whatsoever, and they no longer regarded their shabby job as a disgrace.