So, Camille preferred wearing sunglasses and avoided crowds. With sunglasses on, she only sees a black-and-white world, and by staying away from crowds, she doesn't have to know the countdown of each vibrant life. What she dislikes is her own powerlessness – even though she knows that their lives have entered the countdown, she is powerless to change it.
However, wearing sunglasses for an extended period, Camille can still discern the varying shades of number colors; it is simply a form of self-deception. At the station, when Camille collided with the young boy and his family, the numbers above their heads all turned into black digits, indicating 30 days. It means that this entire family will pass away within the next month. The exact date of death is unknown, but when the day of death arrives, the numbers will directly turn to 0.
But what can she do? She is powerless to change the fate of others.
"Emma, please take Miss Camille to rest, and instruct the kitchen to prepare a sumptuous dinner to entertain our esteemed guests," says the mistress. Those esteemed guests have come to attend the mistress's funeral. They have rushed during the Christmas season, carrying heavy hearts and mourning spirits.
The maids lead Camille to a luxurious room, where in the center are two black leather suitcases. It is evident they are filled with cash. "I prefer checks or transfers," Camille states.
The two maids exchange a glance and then carry the suitcases filled with cash out of the room, preparing to report this matter to the mistress.
After the maids leave, a lady with golden hair suddenly appears at the door. She wears heavy makeup, and even the red lipstick can't conceal her youthful essence. Leaning against the door, she smokes, seemingly indifferent even in the indoor setting. Her gaze is hazy yet sharp, as if trying to see through Camille amid the smoke.
Camille completely ignores her presence, walking straight to the floor-to-ceiling window. She picks up a blanket from the nearby chair, drapes it over herself, and then grabs a book to start reading. Inside, the heating is on, while outside, white snowflakes float down. Servants in the courtyard are busy decorating the Christmas tree, and Christmas decorations are scattered all over the yard.
The blonde woman finishes an entire cigarette, carelessly tossing the butt onto the carpet and extinguishing it with her foot. The burning heat creates a hole in the rug. She enters the room, exhaling the last puff of smoke, and walks up to Camille, who continues to ignore her. The woman stands above, looking down at Camille.
"Word has it that you have clairvoyant abilities. How much to have you take a look for me?" the woman asks, leaning in.
Seeing Camille not responding and casually turning a page in her book, completely ignoring her, the blonde woman became agitated. "500,000 euros? 1 million euros? I don't have much money, but I can offer up to 2 million euros," she said impatiently.
Camille's hand paused mid-page-turn, and at that moment, she looked directly at the blonde woman. Above her head was a green number, indicating she still has 76 years of life ahead. Given her current appearance, it can be inferred that she is just 18 years old. Such a promising fate—it would be a shame if something unexpected happened. Camille shakes her head gently but doesn't respond to the young girl's question.
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At that moment, two maids enter from outside, carrying nicely scented candles and coffee. The other maids are kneeling by the door, trying to salvage the carpet that has been damaged by the cigarette butt.
Observing Camille's nonchalant attitude and hearing the noise of the maids cleaning the carpet at the door, the blonde girl becomes even more agitated. She yells at the two maids about to leave, "Close the door! Stupid fools."
While speaking, she impatiently touches the lighter and cigarette on her body. At the moment the door is about to close, the flame from the lighter is less than a centimeter away from the cigarette in her mouth. The head maid by the door speaks softly, trying to stop Chloé from smoking indoors before closing the door, "Miss Chloé! Miss Camille is an honored guest in our manor. Please, Miss Chloé…"
The blonde girl hears the head maid respectfully standing at the door, saying things that irritate her. However, her peripheral vision catches a glimpse of Camille, sitting on the sofa, leisurely sipping coffee. "Shit!" she retorts. She crushes the unlit cigarette between her fingers. The maids, recognizing the situation, close the door. Miss Chloé is known for her temper.
The blonde girl, still somewhat agitated, walks to the liquor cabinet in the room, opens a bottle, and pours herself a drink in one fluid motion. Alcohol has a calming effect on her. After two drinks, she becomes considerably calmer. Looking at the beautiful snow outside, the entire world seems pristine. She chuckles and then, in an eerily calm tone, says, "I'm pregnant."
Although Camille doesn't look at her, her hand turning the page noticeably hesitates. The blonde girl continues, "I've made an appointment with the doctor. I'll have an abortion tomorrow." She sets down the glass. "My family doesn't know."
She then walks up to Camille. "They all say you have strong clairvoyant abilities. I want you to help me see whose child it is," she says.
After speaking, she takes out a checkbook from her bag, which she casually throws on the floor. Then, looking intently into Camille's eyes, she continues, "My boyfriend broke up with me a month ago, lured away by a bitch. But two months ago, on the same night I slept with my boyfriend, I also accidentally ended up in bed with my sister's husband."
While Camille appears to be engrossed in her book, she is attentively listening. The sister's husband? The man who rushed to the bedside when the mistress was lying in bed? Everyone is deceived by his image as a loving husband.
She then takes out a pen, followed by a cigarette, but she merely holds the unlit cigarette in her mouth. "So, I don't know who the father of this child is," she says.
"But it doesn't matter. Both of them are worthless. Victor only listens to his mother, acting like a baby at the age of 20. Even if we didn't break up, I wouldn't marry such a useless guy. It was just for fun. As for Mathieu, forget about it—a man without money or power, just seeking a sense of existence from women. I think my sister and he are probably close to divorce. I heard my sister has already found a divorce lawyer. I think their divorce proceedings should start soon, but probably after the end of Christmas," she continues, still holding the unlit cigarette in her mouth.
After speaking, she also signs the check in her hand. She places the check on the table, stands up, walks to the window, opens a small window, and instantly, cold wind and swirling snow pour into the room. "Sorry, I just really need a smoke," she says.
Camille remains silent, merely tightening the blanket around her, tacitly consenting to her smoking in the room.
Standing by the window, she takes a deep drag of her cigarette, letting the cold wind tousle her hair. "But I still want to know who the father of the child is. Regardless of which of the two men it is, I can squeeze a hefty sum out of them, then go to the country I've been yearning for to continue my studies."
With that, she takes another deep drag of her cigarette and exhales slowly. "I excel in my studies, I'm intelligent. I believe I'll achieve great things in the future. I can surpass my sister and anyone else in the family. In the future... I want to pursue a career in the financial industry, but given my personality, there's a good chance I might end up on the path of financial crime."
At this point, she can't help but laugh a little. Finally finishing the last drag of her cigarette, she quickly closes the window. Then, she walks over to Camille, takes the book from her hands, and tosses it aside, forcing Camille to meet her gaze.
"I'm not like others, whether it's love, marriage, or the happiness, peace, and health of a family. I just want to become strong and wealthy, to trample everyone underfoot." Camille, smelling the strong scent of smoke on her and witnessing the rough handling of the book thrown to the ground, furrows her brow slightly. She stands up, gently pushes aside the blonde girl, and picks up the book from the floor.