The nightmare still lingered in her mind. The girl who had been cherished in her dreams overlapped with the reality of Charlotte, evoking memories of those dark and oppressive plotlines.
Margaret didn't lay all the blame on the protagonist's shoulders. But she couldn't bring herself to like her either. The love story depicted in the book seemed false and bizarre. Now, facing Charlotte in person, Margaret couldn't help but feel a sense of absurdity.
The liquid in the crucible suddenly swelled, turning into a large amount of dark foam, hissing as it flowed out. Test tubes and distillers exploded one after another, fragments brushing against her cheeks, leaving behind a faint stinging sensation.
Margaret touched her cheekbone, her fingertips stained with a bit of blood. Another failure.
She calmly gathered her manuscripts and headed home. Along the way, she encountered acquaintances, still able to smile and greet them.
