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ArabicArknights: The Scarlet Devil of Terra — Chapter 45
Chapter 45: Studying Makes Me Happy
“So, Flandre made another contribution?” Flandre Scarlet tilted her head, the realization dawning on her a bit late.
Hoshiguma offered a warm, towering presence beside her. “You certainly have. Not just a contribution, but a major one. I heard the Chief Executive is planning a commendation ceremony after this whole mess is fully swept under the rug. I am just not sure if you will be on the official guest list.”
Hoshiguma looked down at the diminutive vampire. Given Flandre’s highly irregular status within the city, it remained entirely up in the air whether Wei Yenwu would formally acknowledge her in public.
“Do not worry about that. I will drag you along with me whether you have an invitation or not.” Swire stood nearby, crossing her arms with absolute certainty. “After all, Flandre is my greatest contributor.”
Ch’en Hui-chieh leaned against the nearby desk, her expression characteristically serious. “Do not think of Chief Executive Wei as being so narrow-minded. Since he made the choice to let Flandre stay and arranged for her to operate out of the L.G.D., he will naturally back her up.”
Ch’en knew Wei Yenwu’s political calculus well enough. Having both the Chief Executive’s office and the L.G.D. publicly endorse Flandre Scarlet in such a high-profile setting would force the populace of Lungmen to recognize and trust her authority much faster. And if anyone still doubted her after a joint endorsement from the city’s highest powers? They had no business living in Lungmen to begin with.
The following days bled into a quiet, peaceful routine. Just as Flandre was beginning to forget about the impending ceremony, Madam Fumizuki paid a sudden, graceful visit to her quarters.
“Little Flandre, how have you been faring lately?”
“Flandre is doing very well. Sister Beatrice is here every single day, and Sister Ch’en and Sister Hoshiguma drop by to visit sometimes.”
To an outside observer, the little vampire seemed to spend her days idling away in comfort. In reality, Flandre had been diligently devouring the recorded history of Terra. She spent her quiet hours weaving this new world’s geopolitical landscape and Originium mechanics into the ancient, chaotic memories she already possessed, refining the raw data into her own personal arsenal of knowledge. Her days were actually quite fulfilling.
Madam Fumizuki offered a gentle, coaxing smile. “It is like this. You remember what happened when you and that Swire girl were out in the field a while ago, correct?”
“Of course Flandre remembers. It was so beautiful out there. Flandre wants to go play there again.”
Fumizuki maintained her elegant composure, holding the girl’s attention. “Back then, you saved Beatrice’s life and ensured she could successfully transmit her message back to Lungmen, which paved the way for everything that followed. This incident has officially concluded, and Chief Executive Wei is organizing a press conference in Lungmen the events for the public. We sincerely hope you can attend as a special Operator of the L.G.D. Would you be willing?”
Flandre blinked, her crimson eyes calculating. “What about Flandre’s salary?”
She had been living here for two or three months now. While she lacked absolutely nothing in terms of luxurious food and comfortable shelter, her pockets were entirely empty.
Madam Fumizuki froze for a fraction of a second before a hearty, elegant laugh escaped her lips. “It seems our dear Wei still has a few blind spots in his administration. Do not worry at all. I will have your official payroll card sorted out the moment I return, and I will personally ensure every single wage from these past months is deposited directly into your account.”
Only with that lucrative promise secured did Flandre reluctantly agree to the request.
Barely any time passed after Madam Fumizuki’s departure before Swire came rushing through the front door, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Flandre, Flandre. I have amazing news. You are officially included in the press conference for the case.”
Flandre simply nodded from her seat. “Flandre already knows.”
Swire stopped in her tracks. “Ah? Did that Sausage Dragon lack basic sportsmanship and secretly call to tell you first?”
The feline operator glared at the sleek smartphone resting on the table—a gift she had personally purchased for the vampire. She raised a brow, looking entirely prepared to storm into the L.G.D. headquarters and settle the score with Ch’en. The device only had three contacts programmed into it: hers, Hoshiguma’s, and Ch’en’s.
“No, it was Madam Fumizuki. She just left a little while ago.”
Swire coughed, her aggressive posture deflating instantly. “Uh, the weather is so incredibly nice today.”
Flandre looked toward the nearest window. Heavy rain was currently lashing against the glass, turning the Lungmen skyline into a dreary gray blur. It was the exact reason she had chosen to stay indoors. Why would Sister Beatrice call this nice weather?
She did not quite grasp the sudden pivot in conversation, but she quietly filed the information away in her mind. ‘Sister Beatrice likes rainy days.’
Even if Flandre herself found the rain terribly boring.
Swire cleared her throat, recovering her usual haughty energy. “Anyway, today is a fantastic day. I have decided we absolutely must have some top-tier food to celebrate. I picked up a thing or two from Madam Fumizuki’s personal chef a while back. Just you wait right here, little Flandre.”
She skipped back out the door, returning a moment later with a pristine thermal box retrieved from her luxury vehicle parked outside.
Flandre leaned forward, her nostrils flaring slightly as a rich, metallic sweetness hit the air. “It is fresh blood.” Her crimson eyes practically glowed.
“Exactly. I specifically had someone from the estate donate a fresh batch. It is not a massive amount, but it is more than enough to bake some exquisite little pastries. And since Flandre loves drinking black tea, I brought a box of the absolute highest premium grade.”
Swire beamed with pride. The wealthy heiress, who practically never set foot in a kitchen under normal circumstances, gathered her ingredients and marched into the culinary battlefield, fully intending to show off her newly acquired skills.
Minutes passed. From the comfort of the living room, Flandre listened to the escalating clatter of metal, the aggressive hiss of steam, and the unmistakable crash of heavy pots hitting the floor.
Concerned for the structural integrity of her home, Flandre padded over and peeked around the doorframe.
Swire had turned completely white.
She was coated in a thick layer of fine baking flour from the tips of her ears to her designer shoes. Water had splashed into the powder, creating a sticky paste that was currently knotting her carefully styled blonde hair into a chaotic mess.
‘Does cooking require making oneself look like a powdered ghost?’Flandre recalled Sakuya’s flawless, elegant movements in the Scarlet Devil Mansion’s kitchen. The head maid never spilled a single drop, let alone coated herself in debris. This was a completely different reality.’Is it because the worlds are different?’
She shook her head, deciding it was better not to interfere with the natural order of things, and returned to the living room sofa.
Half an hour later, a thoroughly defeated and disheveled Swire trudged out of the kitchen. She picked up the phone on the table.
“Hello, Butler? Immediately arrange for two maids who actually know how to cook to come over here. Right this second.”
Swire had chosen the path of surrender. Swire was calling for elite reinforcements.
A short while later, a crisp knock echoed through the apartment. Swire had already fled to the bathroom to shower away her shame, leaving Flandre to answer the door.
“Good afternoon, Miss Flandre. We are the Young Lady’s personal maids, arriving to follow your instructions.”
The two young women standing in the hallway did not look much older than Swire herself, and their faces were perfectly identical. Twins.
“Sister Beatrice went to take a shower. She left the menu and all the ingredients in the kitchen. She said you can just go straight in and start.” Flandre pointed a small finger down the hall.
“Understood.”
The twins bowed in perfect unison and marched toward the disaster zone.
Curious, Flandre peeked into the kitchen once more.
‘Hmm, these two have a tiny bit of Sakuya’s style. But Sister Beatrice made such a massive mess in there, it will probably take them half the day just to dig out the counters.’
Watching the twins immediately deploy cleaning supplies rather than cooking utensils, Flandre fully realized that Swire’s culinary crusade had been a complete and utter catastrophe.
It took Swire over thirty minutes to scrub the hardened flour paste out of her fur and hair. When she finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a fresh towel, she glanced toward the kitchen and frowned.
“Is the food really taking this long to prepare?”
Flandre scratched her cheek. She felt entirely too embarrassed to inform the feline that her elite maids were actually working at terrifying speeds; the delay was solely because erasing Swire’s explosive mess had eaten up their first ten minutes.
“It seems like it is almost ready. Flandre can already smell the aroma.”
Swire sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Since it is not ready yet, let us read together. Little Flandre, what are you looking at right now?”
She leaned over and plucked the heavy, leather-bound tome from Flandre’s lap, her expression shifting into one of utter bewilderment as she read the cover.
Analysis of Illusion: This World is Neither Real Nor Fake by Otto Dietmar Gustav von Utheca.
“What exactly is this?” Swire stared at the dense text. She vaguely remembered seeing similar academic nightmares floating around during her university days, but she had zero interest in the theoretical mechanics of Originium Arts and had actively avoided those courses.
“It is an in-depth analysis of spells from the Illusion school.” Flandre pointed a finger at the embossed title.
“I can read the cover just fine, but can you actually comprehend any of the material inside?” Swire flipped open a page, noting that even with a university education, deciphering this text without a master-level tutor would be borderline impossible. “Also, why does this author’s name sound so incredibly familiar?”
She rubbed her chin, digging through her memory. A name that long and that familiar had to belong to a major figure in Terran history.
“He has a very famous alias. Herkunftshorn, the previous Witch King of Leithanien. A true master of the Arts.” Flandre supplied the answer effortlessly, not even waiting for Swire to guess.
“Ah, so it is him.” Swire nodded slowly. “I remember hearing that after he was ousted from power, the new regime in Leithanien recalled and burned massive quantities of his research. To think a surviving copy of his work ended up all the way out here.”
It made sense when she thought about it. Leithanien might treat the Witch King Herkunftshorn as a taboo subject, but to the rest of the world, he was just a failed, tyrannical neighbor who tried to centralize absolute power and got overthrown by his own nobility. Neighboring nations did not care about Leithanien’s fear of a remnant restoration. Finding his banned literature in a Lungmen black market or private collection was not actually that strange.
What was strange—terrifying, actually—was the fact that Flandre Scarlet was casually reading it.
Swire leaned in closer, squinting at the open page Flandre had been studying. It displayed a highly complex Originium Arts spell model. Swire recognized the individual letters and basic runic shapes, but the moment they linked together, the equations warped into an beyond understanding alien language.
She quickly pulled her head back, feeling a phantom headache forming behind her eyes. She refused to let her brain be polluted by such cursed knowledge.
“So, little Flandre, why exactly are you reading this?” Swire asked, deeply unsettled. This was absolutely not the kind of literature a child should be consuming for fun.
“To study. Flandre has read many spell books in Patchy’s grand library, but the way they analyze magic here is completely different from the books back home. Flandre plans to study this Terra magic really well and give Patchy a massive surprise when we finally meet again.”
The little vampire puffed out her chest, wearing a fiercely proud expression that looked more suited to a child planning a brilliant prank.
Choosing to study borderline-forbidden, master-class Originium Arts theory just to surprise a friend named Patchy… Any normal adult would weep tears of joy if their child showed such terrifying academic dedication.
Swire, however, only felt a deep, sinking anxiety. Flandre was casually mastering concepts so advanced that Swire could not even participate in the conversation. The wealthy heiress suddenly felt a desperate, panicked urge to dig out her old university textbooks just to prove she still knew how to read.