"You call this a funeral?" Scarlett snorted.

"People pretending to care, arrogantly discussing and commenting on someone's death..."

"Mouthing shallow life philosophies, empty words and pretentious understanding of the deceased..."

"Every exclamation contains words that elevate oneself and belittle others."

"These people are like a bunch of rotten fish and shrimp. Without the hierarchical titles for their speeches, they wouldn't even know how to talk."

"A person who acts like a detached, innocent white lotus in public, but only speaks when someone puts a pipe to her mouth."

"Now they're talking about seemingly high-level but actually meaningless and useless nonsense."

"Fulfilling their ugly, distorted vanity, like blood feeding the mosquitoes, making it impossible for others to understand their convoluted conversations."

"Even the death of such an innocent girl can't shut these guys up."

"A group of scoundrels, despicable people, worthless wastrels!" Scarlett gritted her teeth fiercely, but her facial expression quickly relaxed.

Scarlett still maintained her nonchalant and indifferent attitude, as if nothing had changed.

"But what does it have to do with me? I'm just here to watch the show." Scarlett crossed her hands behind her head and leaned back on the chair casually.

"You're not here to watch the show, Scarlett." Diana glanced at the children in the seats behind, and they nodded in agreement. "We're here for a meeting."

Scarlett chuckled and shook her head, mouthing towards the front, "Here comes the joke."

Diana looked ahead.

"Cough, hm." The bearded old emcee, dressed as a monk, solemnly took two letters handed to him by a woman. After scrutinizing them repeatedly, the emcee opened one of the letters in front of everyone.

"This is a letter sent by Mr. Oedipus, who is still in the city of Lachesis. It contains some words he wanted to say to Mr. Koshiba."

"Next, let me read it on behalf of the elderly."

Before the emcee started reading, Scarlett burst into laughter, causing a few guests nearby to look at her.

"Let's go, Diana." Scarlett tapped Diana's shoulder and said, "Let's discuss your battle plan in detail."

After finishing her words, Scarlett walked out from the side aisle, and five or six people in the back area followed her.

Following Scarlett, they walked out of the church door openly and boldly.

"Ah... I was planning to discuss the plan later," Diana hesitated for a moment, sighed, and then walked out with Scarlett.

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"Lord, my Lord?"

Impossible... impossible...

The more Bijie listened to the emcee read the letter, the more she felt something was wrong. A chilling coldness started from the soles of her feet and swept up to Bijie's neck.

The letter was filled with kind mercy and gentle comfort.

That woman shouldn't be like this. That woman...

Since returning from the meeting at Lachesis, Bijie had been feeling listless all day, as if she had forgotten something important, losing motivation for everything.

It shouldn't be like this... My motivation... My motivation...

"Lord, Lord!"

What was my motivation again?

Right, it's Elizabeth, Elizabeth.

But Elizabeth... she's already dead.

Why did she die?

"Lord!" A female official rudely tapped a letter on Beiji's head.

The casual attitude of the official not only showed their friendship, but also revealed that Beiji was a leader without airs, calm and peaceful.

"Oh, it's you." Beiji looked at the woman in front of her, sorted out her emotions, and took the letter handed to her. She carefully looked at it, only to find the address, without a name. "Hmm? Is this also sent by Lachesis?"

"Yes, this letter was sent together with a letter to Marquis Huguo."

"Although it doesn't have a name... look," Beiji followed the direction pointed by the official and found a small line of text, "To my kind and short-lived dear friend."

"I heard that during her time at the convent, the only person Miss considers a dear friend is probably Lord Turing of Altria's house."

"Do you want to see it? Although it doesn't specify who it's for, I guess the contents are not suitable for public reading." The official's gaze wandered towards the burial place of Elizabeth and her ancestors, lost in thought.

"The Altria family..." Beiji felt bitter in her mouth whenever she thought about everything related to the Altria family.

"I don't want any more contact with the Altria family. Please take it away for me." Beiji gently placed her hand on the letter held by the official. She seemed to want to push the letter away, but her weak wrist swayed twice and dropped.

Beiji seemed to have finally run out of oil and withered away. After being ruthlessly exposed to the scorching sun and consumed by the relentless candle fire throughout the night, she felt like a dry twig deprived of water and a waxless candlewick. As soon as the final flame arrived, her withered body and mind would be reduced to ashes.

Struggle, torment, sacrifice, all meaningless.

The ultimate idealist's fate is destruction.

If the ending is so tragic, what's the use of a heroic process?

"Then I'll just read a few lines, quickly." In the puzzled gaze of Beiji, the official directly opened the letter.

"Sorry, Lord, but I have already opened and read a little bit of the letter." The letter in the official's hand wrinkled slightly due to her force.

She bit her lip, her trembling eyes sparkling with teardrops, "I still feel that this letter shouldn't be missed so easily by you."

"You Will Return Like Early Spring"

You rejoice when you see spring, and you feel sad when you encounter winter.

With a cheerful temperament and a simple character, you are like the vast and delicate earth, large yet small, exposed and easily affected.

Your beak is short, your eyes are thin, but you eat everything and handle everything.

No matter who offends you, you stubbornly fight back, even if it's just in name, even if it's symbolic, regardless of your narrow wingspan and frail bones.

So you're telling me that you're a crippled nightingale.

Unable to build a nest, unable to catch food, and your chest is stained with blood, a sinister red.

You're telling me that you're destined to have a short life.

Without the good fortune of a night-blooming flower, but still experiencing its fate, only to be noticed when you're dead.

The harsh reality is that everything you say is true.

While a nightingale may not have the sharp beak of an eagle or the powerful wings of a wild goose.

But you haven't noticed, she is beautiful.

Of course, beauty doesn't come without the heavy burden of starvation.

But whether one lives in famine, leads an ordinary life, or lives luxuriously.

The only thing you can truly pursue is beauty.

Life is meant for indulgence, for indulgence in what, though?

When you're indulging, whether you collapse on a sofa or on the cement floor, it's all the same.

The secret to indulgence may lie in the materialistic debauchery of a world of wine and revelry,

but it is no less present in the song of the nightingale's dawn chorus.