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ArabicArknights: The Scarlet Devil of Terra — Chapter 47
Chapter 47: Speech Draft
Flandre Scarlet tapped a dainty finger against the printed script resting on the desk. “Do you really think these words sound like something someone Flandre’s age would say?”
Ch’en Hui-chieh plucked the speech draft from the desk. Her amethyst eyes scanned the blocky, bureaucratic text, and her expression immediately stiffened into a grimace.
Before she could speak, Beatrice Swire snatched the paper right out of her hands. The feline Operator skimmed the lines, a sharp, airy laugh escaping her lips. “Hah! This speech is so painfully bland and formulaic. It has the stench of those old geezers written all over it, doesn’t it?”
Ch’en couldn’t argue. The draft was utterly ridiculous for a child. “Give me a moment. We still have time before the press conference. I’ll revise it right now.”
Snatching a pen, Ch’en spread the paper flat and began aggressively highlighting the key points. Then, under Swire’s wide, astonished gaze, the strict Senior Superintendent completely rewrote the formal document, softening the vocabulary into the innocent, bouncy cadence of a little girl.
“Sausage Dragon…” Swire muttered, her tail twitching in disbelief. “Since when did you learn how to do that?”
Ch’en didn’t even look up, her pen flying across the page. “Back when I had to help a certain someone write a convincing letter of apology.”
Swire’s face instantly burned a bright, furious red. “You’re going to die, Sausage Dragon.”
“What are you going to do about it, Char Siu Cat?” Ch’en shot back smoothly, lowering her head to continue writing.
Swire let out an indignant huff, whipping her head away—only to find Hoshiguma and Flandre Scarlet sitting side-by-side on the office sofa. Both were holding powdered donuts, munching away in perfect sync as they watched the drama unfold like a theatrical play.
“What are you looking at?!” Swire snapped, her hands on her hips. “Go eat your food!”
When the Little Tiger bared her fangs, few dared to treat her like a sick kitten. The towering Oni and the tiny vampire immediately lowered their heads, taking small bites of their donuts while subtly pricking up their ears, eager to catch the rest of the argument.
Swire wasn’t foolish enough to take the bait again. She simply stood there, arms crossed tightly beneath her chest, glaring daggers at Ch’en’s busy pen.
Just as the two spectators swallowed the last of their pastries, Ch’en capped her pen. She had finished polishing the revised draft.
She slid the paper across the desk to Flandre. “Here. See if this works better.”
[Question: Miss Flandre Scarlet, why did you choose to stay in Lungmen?]
[Answer: Because Governor Uncle is very nice, and the uncles and aunties at the L.G.D. are also very nice! I really like it here, so when Governor Uncle asked if I was willing to stay, I agreed.]
The rest of the questions followed the exact same pattern, instantly transforming a rigid, politically loaded manifesto into the harmless, endearing chatter of a sweet little girl.
Flandre nodded her head in approval, her blonde twin-tails bobbing. With the draft settled, the group prepared to head out.
Ch’en grabbed her coat, casting a sidelong glance at Swire. “By the way, where did you disappear to today? I didn’t see you around headquarters at all.”
Swire flipped her hair, her tone dripping with casual wealth. “The L.G.D. hadn’t prepared any suitable clothes for Flandre. I had to take her shopping at the high-end boutiques all day.”
“It’s true that logistics dropped the ball,” Hoshiguma chimed in from the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Flandre looks like a child. Even though she was hired as a special expert due to her unique abilities, having her walk around in standard L.G.D. tactical gear would look a bit ridiculous.”
Ch’en sighed, adjusting her collar. “Fine. So, what clothes did you end up choosing?”
“We had them shipped back by car,” Swire said, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll work a little overtime tonight trying them on. We should be able to barely scrape together a decent outfit.”
“Car?” Ch’en paused. Knowing the feline’s extravagant habits, a sudden, heavy sense of dread settled in her stomach. She turned her gaze to the little vampire. “Flandre. Exactly how many clothes did this Char Siu Cat buy for you?”
“Flandre doesn’t know!” the girl chirped happily.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
Ch’en glared at Swire, who suddenly found the ceiling tiles incredibly fascinating, deliberately avoiding eye contact.
“It’s just a lot! A whole, whole lot! Way too many to count!” Flandre spread her arms wide, forming a massive circle in the air to emphasize the sheer volume. “Every time we went to a mall, Big Sister Beatrice would pack almost an entire truckload of clothes! Flandre couldn’t possibly calculate how many pieces there were.”
Ch’en slowly turned her head back to Swire, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “What, are you planning to have Flandre switch careers and open a children’s clothing wholesale empire?”
“I just wanted Flandre to have plenty of choices!” Swire defended, lifting her chin haughtily, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
“A truckload of clothes from every mall, and you still claim you weren’t hoarding?!” Ch’en slammed her hand against the desk. The sharp crack made Swire flinch and retreat a few steps. Realizing her reaction was embarrassing, the feline quickly puffed out her chest and marched right back.
“What’s your problem?! You’re too stingy to buy clothes for Flandre, so I’m not allowed to spoil her either?”
Ch’en gave her a flat, deadpan stare that clearly communicated, Don’t think I don’t know exactly what kind of dress-up doll fantasy you’re playing out.
“Can you even call that ‘buying clothes’?” Ch’en muttered, massaging her temples. She glanced at Flandre, holding back the urge to curse in front of the child. “Forget it. I’ll go back to the villa with you later. We need to sort through that mountain and pick an outfit as quickly as possible.”
“No! I don’t like you. You are absolutely not allowed into my house!” Swire immediately bristled, her tail puffing up.
“Char Siu Cat, get this through your thick skull,” Ch’en ground out through clenched teeth. “That is the safehouse Governor Wei arranged for Flandre to stay in. It is not your home!”
“Ah? Is that so?” Swire blinked, her haughty facade cracking. “Hehe… I completely forgot!” She offered a cute, airy laugh, trying to brush off her blatant attempt at claiming the child’s residence.
“Let’s go home,” Hoshiguma said, breaking the tension. Seeing that everyone was ready, the tall Oni reached down, effortlessly scooped Flandre up into her arms, and took the lead down the corridor.
Ch’en and Swire trailed behind, watching the little vampire get carried away like a stuffed toy. Both were entirely speechless.
“That Hoshiguma…” Ch’en muttered.
As they made their way through the L.G.D. headquarters and out toward the parking lot, plenty of Operators caught sight of Hoshiguma carrying the blonde girl. Whispers quickly rippled through the ranks.
“That kid really is cute,” one Operator sighed, leaning against a pillar. “And those glowing crystals hanging off her bat wings are gorgeous.”
“Cute, sure. But absolutely terrifying,” his partner muttered, shivering. “Remember those syndicate thugs they brought back alive? Only one of them wasn’t completely broken, and even he starts screaming if he sees anything red. The rest? The psych department says their minds are completely shattered.”
“You can’t really blame her, can you?” a third Operator chimed in, defending the girl. “I read the transcripts. At most, the kid just spooked them a little. It was their own people who snapped and turned on each other.”
“Oh, right. Because if you were out on the highway, suddenly blinded by pitch-black darkness with unseen enemies whispering directly into your ears, you wouldn’t lose your mind?” the second Operator shot back. “And don’t forget the cleanup crew’s report from that destroyed car near the village. Tsk, tsk. The bodies were completely petrified by Originium. Died screaming.”
“It’s their own fault for ambushing the convoy,” the defender argued stubbornly. “Superintendent Swire was driving and couldn’t free her hands, so she had to let the kid fight back. It’s perfectly normal for a child with Arts to not know her own strength.”
“Hey, why are you always bending over backward to defend her?” A disgruntled Operator scowled. “She’s a Blood Fiend!”
“So what if she’s a Blood Fiend? Can’t Sarkaz be good people too? That child is polite and well-behaved! You, on the other hand, are always nitpicking. She made a massive contribution to Lungmen, and you’re still whining. Tell me, do you have a problem with Governor Wei’s judgment, or are you just a spy for the syndicates?”
The defender glared fiercely at the dissenter, his hand dropping to rest on his standard-issue L.G.D. baton. One more word, and he was ready to deliver the standard riot-control tutorial: strike the legs, strike the mouth, three hits in one second.
“Uh, I was just raising a point… Lungmen is supposed to be an inclusive city, right? Ah! What are you doing?! Ahhh—help! Mmph—!”
Before the dissenter could finish his sentence, the surrounding Operators pounced on him, dragging him down into a chaotic scuffle.
From Hoshiguma’s shoulder, Flandre peeked back at the rolling brawl, her crimson eyes wide with innocent curiosity. Do these Operators also like to play Danmaku games? Flandre thought happily.
Driving to the upscale suburban villa district was smooth, but as their vehicle approached the outer security gate, they found the road blocked. A massive delivery truck was parked idling at the checkpoint, and a red-haired Sankta girl was leaning out the window, arguing animatedly with the estate guard.
“I’m telling you, boss, we really are just here to deliver goods!” The girl’s voice was bright, energetic, and completely lacking in actual malice. “Look, the address is written right here on the manifest. Why won’t you let us through?”
“I have no choice, miss,” the guard sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Too many trucks have come through today, all delivering to the exact same address, and the homeowner isn’t even there. The boxes outside that villa are piled up to the roof. Management is worried it’s a fire hazard, so they ordered us to stop all incoming deliveries for that lot.”
The guard felt helpless. He normally never stopped logistics couriers with proper documentation, but the sheer volume of packages was absurd. They had to wait until the residents returned to clear the yard.
Inside the L.G.D. vehicle, Ch’en stared a hole through Swire’s skull. Only one household receiving goods all day. Boxes piled up to the roof. Combined with Flandre’s earlier testimony, she didn’t need to be a detective to solve this mystery.
Ch’en rolled down her window and leaned out. “Sir, let them through. These are our purchases. We were delayed at headquarters and came back late. Apologies for the trouble.”
Recognizing the Senior Superintendent, the guard immediately waved the truck through. If the homeowner took responsibility, management couldn’t blame him.
“Oh! Are you guys the recipients this time?” The red-haired Sankta leaned halfway out of her truck cab, peering back at Ch’en’s car with a bright grin.
As the truck slowly rolled forward, Flandre stared at the glowing halo above the girl’s head, the wings on her back, and the distinct penguin logo painted on the side of the truck. A name bubbled up from her memory.
Lemuel… Exusiai from Penguin Logistics, right? Flandre thought, a small, delighted smile creeping onto her face. She seems like a very interesting person. Maybe she can play with Flandre!
When they finally neared the destination, the delivery truck ahead of them braked to a halt a good distance away. Ch’en and the others watched as the Sankta girl hopped out, scratching her head in utter bewilderment.
Spotting their car pulling up behind her, Exusiai’s eyes lit up. She jogged over to Swire’s window.
“Hey! You’re the ones who ordered this batch, right?”
Swire rolled down the window and nodded gracefully. “Yes. What seems to be the problem?”
“Well, the front yard is completely barricaded with boxes. Our truck literally can’t get through the street. Is it okay if we just unload everything right here?”
Ch’en stepped out of the car and looked down the road. They were nearly fifty meters away from the villa’s front door. The streets in this district were dual-lane, wide enough to fit two large armored transports side-by-side. For the road to be completely impassable… Ch’en couldn’t even fathom the sheer, ungodly amount of clothing Swire had purchased.
Knowing she was entirely at fault, Swire turned her head, suddenly finding the distant streetlights incredibly fascinating.
Ch’en slammed the car door shut. She turned to the feline, her voice dropping to a dangerously calm whisper.
“Char Siu Cat. Later, Hoshiguma and I will help Flandre pick out her clothes. You have exactly one job tonight.” Ch’en pointed a rigid finger at the towering mountain of cardboard boxes blocking the street. “You are going to carry every single one of these boxes inside by yourself. Got it?”