Arknights: The Scarlet Devil of Terra — Chapter 101

Chapter 101: The Entrepreneur on the Lamp Post

Deep within the suffocating gloom of the factory workshop, the air hung heavy with the metallic stench of blood and industrial grease. Several workers, their clothes torn and bodies battered with numerous lacerations, stood huddled in the furthest corner. Their rough, calloused hands were tightly clamped around the neck and arms of their boss, a wealthy man who was currently trembling so violently he had completely wet his tailored trousers.

The private security guards who had escalated the violence were already gone, dragged out of the building by Lungmen Guard Department Operators and rushed to the nearest hospital for emergency trauma treatment.

Taking in the grim standoff, Hoshiguma unstrapped her massive triangular shield, handed it off to a nearby Operator, and strode over to the L.G.D. hostage negotiator.

The negotiator was sweating profusely, still painstakingly trying to talk the desperate workers into releasing their captive.

“They just want their rightful wages,” the negotiator muttered, wiping his brow. “You’re a strange one, sir. Instead of making the boss pay back the money he owes, you insist on them letting him go first. If they release him and don’t get paid, are you going to pay them out of your own pocket on his behalf?”

“Actually, Flandre is even more dangerous!” a cheerful, melodic voice chimed in.

Flandre Scarlet, who had materialized beside the negotiator at some unknown point, left the expert momentarily speechless. He stared down at the petite, blonde girl in her eccentric red dress, completely derailed by her sudden appearance.

Hoshiguma gave the negotiator a cold, sidelong glance before turning her full attention to the cornered workers.

“Holding him like this isn’t a long-term solution,” Hoshiguma said, her voice projecting calm authority across the workshop. “I know you just want your wages. But if you strangle the person who signs the checks, where is that money going to come from?”

The workers tightened their grip, their eyes darting nervously, but they listened.

“How about this,” Hoshiguma continued, taking a slow step forward. “I’ll leave a mobile phone with you. You have the boss immediately contact his finance department to transfer every last cent of your wages to your accounts right now. But once you receive the notification that the money has cleared, I require you to release him. Do you think this is feasible?”

The workers exchanged hesitant glances. After a few moments of hurried, hushed discussion, the makeshift leader gave a stiff nod of agreement.

Hoshiguma pulled out a standard-issue L.G.D. phone and started walking over. She barely took three steps before a worker suddenly shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

“Stop! Let that little girl bring it to us!”

The man pointed a trembling, bloodstained finger straight at Flandre Scarlet.

“I know she’s dangerous,” the young worker stammered, swallowing hard. “But I only recognize her… She was on the television broadcasts. She’s definitely more reliable than the rest of you!”

Hearing the worker’s desperate reasoning, Flandre blinked, her crimson eyes widening in genuine surprise.

“You say Flandre is reliable?”

The young man nodded nervously, his grip on a metal pipe tightening.

A bright, beaming smile broke across Flandre’s face.

“Flandre likes that description! So Flandre has decided to help you.” She turned and held her small hand out. “Big Sis Hoshiguma, give Flandre the phone!”

Hoshiguma hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes scanning the volatile room. “Be careful.”

She placed the device into Flandre’s waiting palm.

Humming a light tune, Flandre skipped up to the barricaded workers and pointed a finger at the disheveled, weeping boss they had pinned to the concrete floor.

“How about Flandre helps make the call!”

The workers nodded silently, parting just enough to make a narrow path for her.

Flandre stepped up to the unkempt man. She leaned down, her shadow falling over his tear-streaked face. As she looked into his panicked eyes, a terrifying, unnatural crimson light flared deep within her pupils.

“Come on, Mr. Villain,” Flandre whispered, her voice dripping with an eerie, hypnotic sweetness. “Tell Flandre the number for finance.”

A heavy, blank confusion washed over the boss’s face. His jaw went slack, and he immediately recited a string of numbers in a hollow monotone.

Flandre dialed. The call connected almost instantly.

Under the crushing weight of Flandre’s unseen pressure, the boss spoke into the speakerphone, ordering the person on the other end, word for word, to immediately transfer all the back wages owed to the workers directly into their respective accounts.

The accountant on the other end, clearly aware of the violent hostage situation unfolding at the factory, frantically stated they were already logged into the bank’s portal and could execute the transfer at any moment.

The line remained open. The agonizing wait lasted less than ten minutes before the accountant’s shaky voice announced that the payments had been fully settled, begging the workers to check their balances.

Several workers hastily pulled out their own cracked phones, dialing their families. Shortly after, tearful voices on the other end confirmed the news—the overdue wages had finally arrived.

The fight drained out of the men instantly. One by one, the workers dropped their makeshift weapons, collapsing onto the cold concrete floor. They buried their faces in their grease-stained hands and began to wail, the sound echoing with months of starved desperation.

Seeing the workers surrender, several L.G.D. Operators rushed forward, pulling out their restraints to secure the suspects.

Hoshiguma threw her arm out, blocking their path.

“They are all just people with hard lives,” Hoshiguma ordered softly. “Put the cuffs away. Everyone, gently help them into the police cars.”

The Operators paused, exchanging looks, before slowing their aggressive movements. They approached quietly, supporting the exhausted, weeping workers by the shoulders and guiding them out of the factory.

“Clearly that guy had plenty of money, so why wasn’t he willing to pay their wages?” Flandre asked, tilting her head as she watched the last of the workers being led away.

“Greed,” Hoshiguma sighed, crossing her arms. “And he thought the workers wouldn’t dare to burn their bridges with him.”

Hoshiguma looked around the empty, blood-spattered workshop. She had seen this exact tragedy play out countless times in Lungmen. Most company bosses didn’t actually lack the funds to pay their people. They simply took advantage of the fact that the lower class needed a job to put food on the table, using that desperation to constantly oppress them. It started with heavier workloads, devolved into lower pay, and ended with bosses like this one withholding wages for months on end.

It was all for the sake of squeezing out the absolute maximum profit.

“What a huge villain!” Flandre cursed, puffing out her cheeks in anger. “What will happen to the workers in the end?”

“If the surveillance footage can prove that the conflict was started by those security guards, and the workers only fought back out of absolute necessity, then they will likely be prosecuted for intentional injury rather than murder,” Hoshiguma explained, her tone heavy. “But considering several people died in the brawl, they’ll probably still be sentenced to ten to twenty years in prison. The same goes for those security guards. After all, blood was spilled on both sides.”

“What about this villain boss?” Flandre asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Let’s look at the surveillance first. We’ll know exactly what happened after we see it.”

Hoshiguma didn’t answer directly. Instead, she led Flandre out of the workshop and over to the nearby information department to retrieve the factory’s internal security footage.

After watching the brutal recording play out on the monitors, Hoshiguma let out a long breath of relief.

“It’s clear from the footage that the security guards were the ones who threw the first punches, and it was their barbaric behavior that led to the rapid escalation,” Hoshiguma stated, her jaw tight. “And the reason those guards attacked was directly on the boss’s orders. So he is the primary person responsible for this entire case.”

She turned to Flandre, offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Because his direct actions led to such a heinous brawl resulting in multiple deaths, that guy will have to spend at least twenty years in a Yan prison.”

Despite her relief, anger simmered beneath Hoshiguma’s words. This was a tragedy that could have been completely avoided. Yet, because of one man’s bottomless greed, it had resulted in ruined lives and corpses. The negative impact this incident brought to Lungmen was massive; Chief Wei Yenwu would definitely not go easy on this particular entrepreneur.

Hearing Hoshiguma’s explanation, Flandre breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

‘Flandre was planning to trigger the mental suggestion planted in his brain to make him commit suicide if he escaped punishment,’Flandre thought to herself, a cheerful yet deadly hum vibrating in her throat.’But since he’s going to be punished anyway, Flandre will just change the suggestion. Now he will confess to every single bad thing he has ever done in court!’

“I didn’t expect you little one to be quite this useful!” Hoshiguma laughed as they climbed into the L.G.D. cruiser for the return trip, reaching over to affectionately poke Flandre’s soft cheek.

Upon returning to the Special Inspection Unit headquarters, Flandre skipped over to Ch’en Hui-chieh, who was buried behind a mountain of paperwork at her desk, and recounted the entire factory incident.

Ch’en didn’t look up from her files, her pen scratching rhythmically across the page. “It’s resolved for now, but in the month leading up to the New Year, this kind of thing happens almost once or twice every single day.”

“So why not severely punish those black-hearted bosses?” Flandre asked, leaning over the edge of the desk, genuinely not understanding.

“Punish?” Ch’en finally stopped writing, looking up with a cynical, exhausted smile. “Every year, a whole batch of these people are kicked out of Lungmen or thrown behind bars. But so what? The newcomers who replace them are exactly the same. These insatiable fellows are more numerous than locusts; you can’t catch them all.”

Ch’en shrugged helplessly, leaning back in her chair. The L.G.D. had arrested hundreds of men just like that factory owner, but it never cured the disease. The new bosses still withheld wages like they always did. Some even threatened their employees, promising to pay twenty to thirty percent of the wages before the year ended, with a vague promise to pay the rest slowly over the next year.

“If you don’t agree and try to sue them, you won’t get a single cent,” Ch’en explained bitterly. “What do you expect those people to do? They are counting on that money just to afford a ticket home for the New Year.”

Flandre scratched the back of her head, her blonde hair ruffling. There were simply too many villains in this city for her to manage. Oh well. Instead of getting angrier the more she thought about it, she decided she might as well read a book for a while.

Finding an empty desk in the corner, Flandre pulled a heavy tome out of her backpack, hopped into the chair, and began to flip through the pages. Although L.G.D. personnel constantly bustled in and out of the Special Inspection Unit for field duty, everyone tacitly avoided disturbing the terrifying little girl reading in the corner.

The peace lasted until late afternoon, when Ch’en walked over and gently patted Flandre’s shoulder.

“Little Flandre, the matter we need your specific help with has arrived.”

“Ah?” Flandre blinked, a bit confused, but she obediently closed her book and stood up.

“A female corpse was just found in the park woods,” Ch’en said, her expression entirely devoid of warmth as she straightened her uniform collar. “She has some eerie symbols carved all over her body. I remember you mentioning before that your knowledge regarding incantations and magical runes was very high. Want to come to the crime scene with me and take a look?”

“Okay!” Flandre shoved the book back into her bag and followed Ch’en out of the Guard Department.

The flashing lights of police cruisers illuminated the evening gloom by the time the two arrived at the city park. The entire wooded area had already been strictly cordoned off with yellow tape.

Ch’en flashed her police ID at the perimeter guards and led Flandre deep into the trees.

They soon found the deceased resting at the base of an old oak.

The corpse looked absolutely horrifying. There wasn’t a single patch of intact skin left on the woman’s body. complex, jagged symbols had been carefully carved into her flesh, one by one, with a small, sharp blade. The surrounding grass was soaked black with dried blood.

Flandre’s usually cheerful expression vanished, replaced by a cold, clinical solemnity as she stared down at the ruined flesh.

“These scars weren’t carved after death,” Flandre stated flatly.

The L.G.D. Forensic Doctor kneeling nearby looked up and nodded in agreement.

“Correct. According to our preliminary examination, the deceased suffered extremely severe, prolonged torture. These wounds were almost all carved into her while she was still fully conscious. Her official cause of death was systemic shock and organ failure due to massive blood loss.”

Ch’en turned to Flandre, her eyes hard. “Do you recognize these symbols on her body?”

Flandre stepped closer, her crimson eyes tracing the bloody geometry cut into the woman’s arms and chest. After a moment, she nodded.

“Flandre has seen them in books. They are some seemingly mysterious, but completely incorrect magical runes. They are used by a cult. The Cult of Truth.”

“The Cult of Truth…” A terrifying flash of murderous intent crossed Ch’en’s eyes. “Those bastards have come to Lungmen again.”

“Big Sis Ch’en, you know about this organization?” Flandre asked, looking up at the furious officer.

“Of course,” Ch’en hissed, her hand resting instinctively on the hilt of her sword. “About six months before you came to Lungmen, that organization committed several inhuman murders right here in the city. I remember it took extensive, exhausting searches by all parties in Lungmen before we finally caught their trail. However, those guys were extremely cunning. Before we could close the net, several of their leaders had already fled the city limits. In the end, we only managed to catch a few low-level, ordinary members.”

Ch’en pulled out her phone, her thumb aggressively dialing a secure number. She pressed it to her ear, her gaze still locked on the mutilated corpse.

“Uncle Lin? It’s Ch’en Hui-chieh.”

She paused, listening to the gravelly voice on the other end.

“It’s like this. We found traces of Cult of Truth activity again while investigating a homicide today. Flandre Scarlet discovered it; she confirmed that the marks carved into the deceased come directly from that organization. I need your eyes on the streets.”

Ch’en listened for another moment before nodding sharply. “Okay. Then I’ll leave it to you.”

Under any normal circumstances, Ch’en would have been absolutely unwilling to make a call to the underworld. But the last time the Cult of Truth appeared, it was the Rat King’s network that originally found their trail. The Guard Department had simply been a step too slow, coming up empty-handed and allowing the true culprits to escape.

She wasn’t going to let them slip away a second time.