Scandal Erupts

Two hours passed, and the sold items were mostly inexpensive household items; most buyers were local residents. It was better than Dalia expected, with no riots, just people browsing like at a grocery stall, whispering. Some requested discounts, making the banner with "Charity Sale" seem comical, but Dalia instructed the helpers to accept some bargaining. Larger artworks garnered no interest, and light rain prompted covering them with canvas.

Dalia knew some were there not to buy but to watch her. She felt those cautious glances, trying to capture a couple of eyes to understand the emotions behind them, yet she failed. Raindrops on her neck felt like icy touches, hoping for a moment of chill without leaving a bloodstain.

She pondered the last time she sold things - over twenty years ago. Time slips away unnoticed, using "over twenty years" to reflect on life. Anything over ten years ago becomes blurry. Maybe it was twenty-three or twenty-four; Dalia heard that as people age, they precisely recall events from forty or fifty years ago. Regardless of the actual number, Dalia set the span at over twenty years and thought about her fish-selling days.

It started with a bet with friends. She dressed in dirty clothes, wrapped her hair in a greasy headscarf, and smeared mud on her face. However, she didn't realize that just placing the fish basket in front of her wouldn't work. Learning to gut fish was necessary, but she couldn't. Someone recognized her, informed her family, and her father sent someone to bring her back, locking her in confinement for three days. The first night, lying in bed, she sniffed her hands but found no fishy smell; only a fragrance of high-quality perfume. After the three days, her father introduced her to a tall, gray-haired man -

Dalia dared not recall more. Wide-eyed, hand on her chest, she stopped herself. She wished those years were a blank. She wanted to tear them up like tattered curtains, crush them like a snail shell, and connect the fractured memory to the time when she met the two most important men in her life years later. If given a choice, she'd sever that part of her childhood to adolescence. More raindrops fell; Daisy asked if they should end the sale, but it took Dalia several seconds to respond.

"Alright," she said. "Let's go back."

"Madam, are you alright?"

"Go and pack up the things on that table."

Once she finished, while rolling up a carpet, she suddenly heard, "Madam Dalia."

Turning, she faced a well-dressed lady with a servant holding an umbrella.

"Hello... May I ask who you are?" Dalia said.

"Oh, you don't recognize me."

"Sorry."

"Look at you, the rain almost washed away your lipstick."

The lady reached for Dalia's face, but Dalia blocked with the back of her right hand.

"Aren't you the one who taught noble etiquette? Quite rude. What if I were a guest looking to buy this rug? Do you still intend to treat me this way?"

"Who are you?"

The lady identified herself as the Duchess of Remington, the wife of the earl who proposed to Dalia before she went to Nightfall Town.

"Oh... He got married."

"Our wedding was last month. Haven't you heard? Our convoy behind us spanned three streets."

"You see, we're already packing up. If you're not buying anything, please leave."

"Ah, I came specifically to see you. I wanted to bring my husband, but he made excuses. It seems you've hurt him deeply."

"I'm sorry to say, but that's only his perspective."

"His perspective? So, you see yourself as the victim?"

"Victim? No, certainly not. Madam, truth be told, I think you're here to cause trouble. If you believe I delayed the Duke of Remington's proposal and harbor revenge and suspicion, you're mistaken. As I said, the Duke's proposal was entirely one-sided. You won't get anything from me, and I neither want nor will be involved with your husband. The only thing I can offer is my sincere wish for your marriage's happiness. Now, I'll say it again: if you're not buying anything, please leave."

"Unbelievable! We were in love for four years, and he has such terrible taste to fall for a woman like you!"

"Terrible taste? Perhaps. After all, he ultimately chose you."

Dalia didn't want to continue the confrontation, but she still said it. The Duchess's reaction was expected. Dalia was ready to endure another round of verbal attacks, thinking it's more important to pack up, and the lady would leave if her insults became dull. But she was wrong.

"Dalia, I just wanted to understand you, considering your once high reputation. But you're so sarcastic, so fond of insulting people. Charity sale? This sweet term can't hide your true colors. Let me tear off this layer of disguise for you."

"What do you want?" Dalia became wary.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please stay!" The Duchess turned to the remaining people in the venue. "You all know the Duke of Remington, a noble devoted to charity. Perhaps no noble has shown as much concern for charitable causes, investing immeasurable effort. As his wholehearted supporter and faithful envoy, I must announce something: Mrs. Dalia in front of you is lying. This is not a charity sale. Every copper coin she took from your hands will end up in her pocket, not helping those in need. This has been confirmed - Mrs. Dalia's so-called charity organization is already an empty shell."

"You're lying," Daisy said. She looked at Dalia, but Dalia remained silent.

"Lying? No. Citizens, the items you acquired at exorbitant prices all come from Mrs. Dalia's residence. When has an honest, kind-hearted lady resorted to selling her property, labeled as a so-called 'charity sale'? Isn't this the most obvious evidence? I can't be sure what Dalia will do with this money, but I can assure you that what you just participated in is a dirty transaction!"

"Cut the nonsense," a middle-aged man said. "We paid, got what we wanted. It's none of your business."

"Yes," the Duchess raised her voice, "but think about it. Where will your hard-earned money end up, and what purpose will it serve? I'm sure: Mrs. Dalia is planning an escape, and you're helping her. Don't forget, she's a woman expelled by Military Intelligence Seven, and you're putting money in her pockets. Besides, as I mentioned earlier, the prices for these items are actually terrifyingly high."

Bringing up Military Intelligence Seven had a stronger effect than the previous content. Some people who were about to leave stopped.

Dalia continued stuffing things into the boxes, seemingly not hearing anything. Daisy grabbed her mistress's right hand, looking at her, but Dalia said, "Pack up quickly, don't mind anything else."

"But..."

"Obey, Daisy."

"What do you think we should do?" someone asked the Duchess.

"Leave the things, get back your hard-earned money, and extricate yourselves from this dirty transaction. Of course, I highly doubt Mrs. Dalia would allow you to do so. Alternatively, you can choose to make your money worth more... I know you all have a strong sense of justice, but such an admirable sense of morality, in front of a woman who doesn't even know the basics of decency..."

Daisy slapped the Duchess's face. "Shut up," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "I won't let you slander the lady."

The Duchess seemed to be waiting for this to happen. She held Daisy's wrist tightly, preventing her from breaking free, then raised her voice:

"Look, she hit me! Dalia's servant hit me! I was prepared to endure insults to speak the truth, but I never expected such rudeness. Obviously, this woman has completely abandoned shame, and all of this is happening in front of the Sanctuary Abbey! Citizens, now it's not just me being insulted; it includes all of you. Are you still planning to remain indifferent?"

"Let me go," Daisy cried hard, her grip loosening. Dalia stepped forward, opened the Duchess's hand, and pulled Daisy to her side. She had anticipated that the situation might spiral out of control but didn't intervene or couldn't intervene. Since the beginning of the charity sale, she avoided speaking, hoping to keep her distance from all the townspeople. Trying to refute the Duchess would only backfire, so she could only hope the Duchess's speech didn't have the expected effect, and all of this would pass. But when she heard a townsman say, "She's right," she understood: things were evidently heading irreversibly in the wrong direction.

The first person put the bought oil lamp back on the table, demanding a refund. Before this demand was met, another person rushed past, took the lamp, and ran toward the edge of the lawn. Then more people started trying to snatch things. More and more. Some began assaulting the employees guarding the money box.

In a very short period, Dalia heard countless sounds. Rain. Chaotic footsteps. Banners torn down. Crying. Shouting. Indistinct loud talking. Indistinct whispers. Laughter. Grass being uprooted. Glass shattering. Shoving. Collapsing. Canvas being lifted. The sound of the wind. Fists hitting flesh. Mud splashing. She heard everything but saw nothing. She half-opened her eyes, only able to see Daisy cowering beside her. Apart from that, there were only some gray shadows moving in a chaotic manner. There was a moment when she thought she saw Jozene, but it was an illusion. Next, she heard a gunshot.