Arknights: The Scarlet Devil of Terra — Chapter 46

Chapter 46: Beatrix’s Shopping Urge

Unfortunately, Beatrix had already returned whatever culinary knowledge she possessed straight back to her expensive private tutors. She could only stare helplessly toward the gleaming kitchen, praying the estate’s arriving chefs could rescue her from this domestic disaster.

Fortunately, the pair of twin maids did not disappoint.

Soon, dish after fragrant dish of high-end cuisine was wheeled out into the dining room. Beatrix quickly scooped up the little vampire.

“Flandre wants to eat first! Let’s eat, let’s eat!”

Beatrix carried her over to the edge of the long mahogany dining table, setting her down gently. Flandre immediately grabbed a specially made strawberry shortcake and took a massive bite. The little girl’s crimson eyes lit up with absolute delight.

“So yummy!”

Hearing her cheerful verdict, the entire kitchen staff collectively let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

“Excellent work. You two shall remain stationed here,” Beatrix ordered the twin maids, a satisfied smile crossing her face as she watched Flandre happily stuff her cheeks.

“Yes, Miss!” The two maids bowed in unison, retreating to a discreet corner of the room where they remained on standby—close enough to hear any commands, but far enough to give the pair their privacy.

Beatrix rested her chin on her hand. “By the way, did Madam Fumizuki say anything else to you today besides all that?”

Flandre swallowed her cake and pointed a frosting-covered finger in the air. “Oh! And Flandre’s salary!”

Beatrix blinked, her elegant brows knitting together. “Salary?”

“Yeah, yeah! Flandre did so much work today. Flandre shouldn’t have to break things for free! I should get at least some shiny coins!” Flandre crossed her arms, her tone making it entirely clear that she had no intention of being a charity worker for the city.

Beatrix paused. Now that she thought about it, she had never actually seen Flandre pull out a single LMD note to buy anything. Beatrix had been the one covering all the expenses, naturally assuming that as the wealthy adult in the room, she couldn’t possibly let a child pay for her own meals.

Now it became glaringly obvious—it wasn’t that Flandre refused to spend money, but rather that her pockets were completely empty.

Another realization suddenly struck Beatrix. It had been quite a while since Flandre officially joined the L.G.D. as a special consultant. Yet, the department hadn’t issued her a single paycheck.

A sharp, unladylike snort escaped Beatrix’s lips. So this was how Chief Executive Wei Yenwu handled the illegal employment of child labor. As long as he didn’t actually pay her, it technically wasn’t employment.

Beatrix threw her head back and laughed out loud at the sheer audacity of the loophole.

Flandre just kept eating her cake, entirely unfazed. She was already quite used to Beatrix’s occasional erratic outbursts. Back at the Scarlet Devil Mansion, she would sometimes catch Sakuya hiding in the dark corners of the hallways, giggling to herself with a flushed face while secretly watching her older sister. Flandre never really understood what was going on in the maid’s head, but a good child definitely never tattled!

After clearing the table, the two relocated to the plush living room couch, picking up a pair of wireless controllers. The screen flashed with bright arcade colors, but right in the middle of a combo, Beatrix suddenly paused the game.

“Speaking of which… what exactly do you plan to wear to the press conference the day after tomorrow?” Beatrix eyed the little vampire’s usual outfit. “The L.G.D. certainly doesn’t stock formal uniforms for someone of your size and age.”

Flandre swung her legs off the edge of the couch, shaking her head. “Madam Fumizuki didn’t say. Flandre will just wear whatever is lying around.”

Hearing that, the feline ojou-sama practically leaped off the cushions.

“How can you say that?! This press conference is a highly critical matter! You absolutely cannot treat it so casually!” Beatrix grabbed Flandre by the shoulders, her tail puffing up in distress. “This event dictates whether you can smoothly integrate into Lungmen’s society. It decides whether you can walk the streets and alleys freely without causing a panic! How can you take your public debut so lightly?”

Before Flandre could even process the lecture, Beatrix was already dragging her by the hand. “No, this won’t do. Let’s go to your room right now. I need to see if there is anything suitable in that closet.”

Abandoning the paused video game, Beatrix pulled Flandre down the hall and threw open the massive double doors of the guest room wardrobe. Inside hung dozens of luxury outfits Beatrix had previously bought for her. The older girl began aggressively flipping through the hangers, muttering to herself.

“This color washes you out… this cut is far too informal for a press conference… this fabric is entirely wrong for the season…”

Flandre stood in the center of the room, watching Beatrix act as if she were possessed by a fashion demon. The feline would pull a dress out, hold it up against Flandre’s shoulders, stare at it with intense scrutiny, and then violently shake her head before tossing it onto the growing rejection pile on the bed.

After nearly half an hour of this agonizing ritual, Beatrix let out a heavy sigh and dropped the final hanger.

“Forget it. Not a single piece in here is suitable.” Beatrix placed her hands on her hips, her eyes burning with determination. “I am skipping work tomorrow. I’m taking you shopping for a completely new wardrobe. It must—it absolutely must—be an outfit that allows you to present a flawless image to the citizens of Lungmen.”

Flandre scratched her blonde head, genuinely baffled. Back in Gensokyo, everyone basically wore the exact same outfit every single day. It just made it much easier to tell who was who from a distance. The idea of having a closet stuffed full of different clothes, yet somehow having nothing to wear, was a concept Flandre simply could not compute.

She wanted to refuse the exhausting trip, but the sheer, burning sincerity radiating from Beatrix was too heavy to ignore. Flandre finally gave a reluctant nod.

“Alright. Can we go downstairs and finish our game now?”

Beatrix smiled, taking Flandre’s hand and leading her back to the living room.

The very next morning, the sun had barely crested over the Lungmen skyline before Beatrix dragged Flandre out the front door.

“My battle plan for today is simple,” Beatrix declared from the back of her luxury sedan. “We sweep through several high-end shopping districts this morning. Then, this afternoon, I have summoned a few private designers I keep on retainer. They will take your measurements and custom-tailor several bespoke outfits. That way, no matter what high-society function or street-level brawl you find yourself in, you will be dressed appropriately.”

Flandre rested her chin against the car window, watching the neon signs blur past. She really didn’t see the point. Even with a mountain of clothes at home, Beatrix still suffered from choice paralysis. Adding more clothes wouldn’t fix the problem; the only variable that actually mattered was the person wearing them. Flandre thought the frilly dresses from yesterday were already perfectly pretty.

But Beatrix’s standards were impossibly high, leaving the little vampire feeling entirely helpless. Flandre didn’t share the feline’s obsessive-compulsive fashion tendencies, but she found Beatrix’s frantic energy highly amusing. So, she decided to play along, acting as the perfect, compliant dress-up doll.

They spent the entire morning sweeping through Lungmen’s most exclusive commercial centers. If Beatrix’s eyes lingered on a display piece for more than three seconds, she bought the entire set immediately. Before Flandre had even stepped into a single fitting room, she had acquired over a hundred new outfits.

By the time afternoon rolled around, Flandre found herself standing on a velvet pedestal in a private boutique, surrounded by several unfamiliar older women. They fluttered around her like anxious birds, wrapping measuring tapes around her waist one moment, and politely asking about her favorite colors the next.

“Aren’t you ladies afraid that Flandre is a Vampire?”

Flandre tilted her head, looking curiously at the tailors circling her. She was genuinely puzzled. Usually, normal humans who got this close to her ended up shivering in absolute terror.

“What’s the use of being afraid, little one?” one of the older tailors whispered softly, glancing over her shoulder to ensure the wealthy Miss Swire was out of earshot. “Besides, if the eldest miss of the Swire family isn’t afraid to keep you close, there’s no reason for little working-class people like us to panic.”

Another tailor adjusting Flandre’s hemline nodded in agreement. “Exactly. If someone of her status really wanted us to disappear, she has a hundred different ways to do it. She wouldn’t need to use a little girl.”

Flandre giggled, the sound light and airy. “Don’t worry, Flandre won’t just drink your blood out of nowhere. You all seem like very nice people… Oh, big sister, Flandre thinks you should go to the hospital for a check-up after we’re done here!”

Flandre pointed a pale finger directly at a younger assistant tailor near the back. The woman looked noticeably pale, her lips tinged with an unhealthy, dark purplish hue.

“M-me?” The woman stammered, shrinking back as the entire room turned to look at her.

“Mm-hmm.” Flandre tapped her own ear, then pointed directly at the woman’s chest. “Your heartbeat sounds very strange. It goes thump-thump all wrong, completely different from everyone else’s. Flandre thinks you might be broken inside.”

A senior tailor beside the pale woman gasped, quickly grabbing her arm. “Xiao Lan, I told you! I told you something was wrong. Your lip color has been terrible all week. If the little Miss can hear it too, you are going straight to the clinic with me the second we finish this hem!”

“But… but we still have so much backlog to finish…” Xiao Lan hesitated, clutching her measuring tape nervously.

“Work? Who cares about the work!” the senior tailor scolded, her voice rising in panic. “What good is a paycheck if you drop dead on the floor? Didn’t you hear her say your heart is failing?”

It was a harsh truth of Lungmen. Grinding for money was essential, but staking your life on a shift was a fool’s gamble. Dying before you could spend your wages was the ultimate loss.

“Exactly. Listen to her,” Beatrix’s sharp, authoritative voice cut through the room as she strolled over, having caught the tail end of the commotion. She looked Xiao Lan up and down, taking in the pale skin and Flandre’s diagnosis. “Go straight to my family’s private hospital. I’ll arrange a complete, top-tier physical exam for you immediately. Don’t worry about the bill; it won’t cost you a single cent. In fact, if any of the rest of you need a check-up, head over there as well. The Swire family will cover all the medical expenses.”

Hearing Beatrix casually wave away what would have been crippling medical debt, the tailors nearly collapsed in relief, bowing and thanking her repeatedly.

“Alright, alright, keep your tears. Since we’re basically finished here, I have official business to attend to. I need to take Flandre back,” Beatrix said, waving her hand dismissively but keeping her tone surprisingly gentle. “Just remember to actually go to the hospital, understand?”

Walking out into the cool evening air, Flandre stretched her arms above her head. “Where is Flandre going now?”

After playing dress-up all day, the little vampire just wanted to go back to the mansion, bury herself in soft blankets, and read a picture book.

“I received a message from the L.G.D.,” Beatrix explained, unlocking the car. “There will be several speeches at tomorrow’s press conference, and you are scheduled to give one. But don’t panic—the PR department has already written the entire script specifically for you. We just need to swing by headquarters to pick it up. You can look it over tonight and just read it word-for-word tomorrow.”

Beatrix started the engine, glancing at Flandre through the rearview mirror. “The media invited to this specific event are all heavily vetted official partners. Those trashy tabloids that write gutter gossip won’t even be allowed in the lobby. The Q&A session is entirely rigged; everyone already knows the questions. You just have to stick to the script.”

Flandre slumped against the leather seat, groaning. “That sounds like so much trouble. Flandre thinks she just won’t go!”

“Oh, come on~” Beatrix suddenly leaned over the center console, grabbing Flandre’s small hand and pouting her lips. “Just do it as a tiny little favor for your favorite Beatrix, okay? Please?~~~”

Flandre stared at her, utterly bewildered. Wasn’t Flandre supposed to be the little sister here? Why was this wealthy, arrogant feline so incredibly skilled at acting spoiled? Just how many people had Beatrix manipulated with this exact tone?

Despite her absolute disbelief, Flandre found herself sighing and nodding in agreement.

By the time Beatrix’s car pulled up to the towering L.G.D. headquarters, the evening shift change was in full swing. The grand lobby was packed with officers coming and going.

Many of the lower-ranking guards had never actually seen Flandre in person. When a tiny, blonde Blood Fiend strolled casually through the fortified glass doors, several hands instinctively dropped to their holstered weapons. But the tension dissolved when they noticed the veteran guards and senior staff acting completely unfazed. Whispers quickly spread through the ranks, informing the rookies that this terrifying little creature was actually a high-ranking special colleague who simply rarely visited the office.

Beatrix led Flandre straight up to the senior superintendent’s office. Pushing the door open, they found Ch’en Hui-chieh buried behind a mountain of paperwork. The dragon looked up, her expression tired and stern.

“I was just about to dispatch a courier to send this speech over to your estate,” Ch’en said, setting her pen down. “I didn’t expect you to actually show up here.”

“Hmph. Believe me, I certainly didn’t want to look at your miserable face on my day off!” Beatrix shot back immediately, crossing her arms and falling right into their usual bickering rhythm.

Ch’en ignored the bait, pulling two folders from her desk. “Let’s just go over the Q&A protocols right now to ensure there are zero mistakes tomorrow.” She handed the thinner folder down to the little vampire. “Little Flandre, your section isn’t very long, but you still need to memorize the core talking points.”

Flandre opened the folder. Compared to the massive, terrifying stack of documents Beatrix had just been handed, Flandre’s script was literally a single, double-spaced page.

She scanned the text. The pre-approved questions were painfully boring: What is your name? Why did you choose to visit Lungmen? What are your initial impressions of our great city?

As for the answers she was supposed to memorize, they were incredibly dry, sounding exactly like the robotic, soulless official responses she always heard politicians give on the evening news. Flandre frowned, finding the whole thing entirely unappetizing.

Slowly, Flandre raised her small hand into the air.

Ch’en paused her lecture, looking down at the little girl. “Do you have a question?”