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ArabicArknights: The Scarlet Devil of Terra — Chapter 49
Chapter 49: Press Conference
Clearly, they didn’t even last half an hour.
Ch’en had finally reached her absolute limit with Swire’s antics. Without a word of warning, she grabbed the feline by the collar, dragged her out to the backyard, and returned exactly five minutes later looking completely refreshed.
“Alright, we’re going with my plan,” Ch’en announced, dusting off her hands. “Tomorrow, little Flandre will wear the blue and pink princess dress.”
Flandre nodded enthusiastically. While the colors clashed a bit with Patchouli’s signature purple aesthetic, Flandre thought the frills looked wonderfully soft. Tomorrow, she was going to be Patchouli!
Clutching the fabric to her chest, the Vampire girl trotted into the bedroom to try it on. Just as the door clicked shut, a certain defeated feline limped in from the courtyard, wincing as she rubbed her sore waist.
“Tyrant… dictator… muscle-brained brute…” Swire muttered under her breath, her tail twitching in agitated thumps.
She collapsed onto the sofa in a huff, fixing a venomous glare on Ch’en. The L.G.D. Senior Superintendent simply took a slow, elegant sip of her tea, letting out a soft chuckle. The sheer amusement radiating from Ch’en—reveling in the fact that Swire despised her but lacked the martial prowess to do a single thing about it—only made the feline’s blood boil hotter.
It was infuriating. She couldn’t beat this female dragon in a fistfight, leaving her to stew in her own bitter juices. As far as Swire was concerned, Ch’en’s taste in fashion was just as rigid and worthless as her brain. Flandre was an adorable child; wrapping her in whatever stiff, utilitarian nonsense Ch’en picked out was practically a crime.
A moment later, the bedroom door swung open.
“Wow!” Ch’en and Swire exclaimed in rare, perfect unison.
Flandre had decided that if she was going to emulate Patchy, she needed to commit to the bit. Digging through her pile of accessories, she had unearthed a pair of round spectacles, a small leather satchel, and a floppy nightcap that perfectly matched the pastel hues of the dress. In the blink of an eye, her aura shifted from a terrifying predator to an intellectual, sickly shut-in scholar.
Basking in their stunned praise, Flandre puffed out her chest and threw her arms up into a flexed, hyper-masculine bodybuilding pose.
“Patchouli GO!”
Silence descended upon the living room.
‘While Flandre is undeniably cute, that pose is completely unnecessary…’ Ch’en shot Swire a deeply judgmental look, her eyes silently demanding to know what kind of garbage television the feline was letting the child watch.
Swire threw her hands up in bewildered defense. She had never seen Flandre watch anything remotely related to bodybuilding! Where did she even learn to flex like that?
Regardless of the bizarre posing, both women had to admit the outfit was a triumph. The way Flandre styled the princess dress made it look a bit like oversized pajamas, but that only amplified her innocent charm.
The next morning, a sleek luxury vehicle dispatched by the Governor’s Mansion arrived bright and early to collect Flandre and Swire.
“You look absolutely beautiful, little Flandre!”
Fumizuki greeted them with a warm, maternal smile, immediately reaching down to scoop the Vampire girl into her arms. “Come along. I will take you to the press conference venue myself.”
The event was hosted in the grand reception hall of the Governor’s Mansion. The cavernous room was already packed with flashing cameras, murmuring reporters, and high-ranking Lungmen officials adjusting their earpieces.
The heavy oak doors swung open. The ambient chatter died instantly.
Every eye in the room widened in shock as Fumizuki strolled in, casually carrying a child on her hip. The pair of exaggerated, crystalline bat wings sprouting from the girl’s back—strung with glowing, diamond-like baubles—broadcasted her identity to the entire room. A Blood Fiend.
Yet, there she was, resting comfortably in Fumizuki’s embrace. Flandre leaned her head against the woman’s shoulder, her lethal fangs resting less than ten centimeters from Fumizuki’s exposed jugular.
Carrying the apex predator with effortless grace, Fumizuki walked down the center aisle, politely introducing Flandre to the paralyzed officials. The political statement was deafening. Fumizuki was drawing a hard line in the sand: she and the Governor’s Mansion stood entirely behind this Vampire girl.
Anyone in the room harboring lingering doubts or prejudices immediately swallowed their tongues. To voice an objection now wouldn’t just be an insult to a Sarkaz; it would be a direct challenge to the authority of Wei Yenwu and his wife. And in Lungmen, citizens who openly challenged the Governor simply did not exist.
Forced into compliance, the officials stood up one by one, returning Fumizuki’s greetings with stiff bows—even if the little Vampire girl staring back at them clearly had zero comprehension of Yanese etiquette.
The press conference commenced. Flandre was seated directly beside Fumizuki at the head table.
As the live broadcast hit the massive screens across Lungmen’s streets and alleys, the watching citizens gasped. On camera, Fumizuki was gently feeding Flandre a cream puff. Countless viewers held their breath as Fumizuki’s delicate fingers brushed right past the Blood Fiend’s mouth.
But the terrifying Vampire merely puffed out her cheeks, chewing the sweet pastry with a blissful hum, completely uncaring of the fragile fingers lingering near her teeth.
“Ahem. Let us begin.”
Wei Yenwu’s commanding voice echoed through the hall, and every reporter immediately straightened their posture. “Today, we address the citizens of Lungmen regarding a recent, extremely vile, extremely cruel, and extremely reputation-damaging case involving an organized crime syndicate engaging in robbery, murder, and smuggling…”
Those three ‘extremes’ instantly cemented the severe nature of the incident. Once Wei Yenwu finished his opening remarks, the L.G.D. spokesperson took the podium to recount the harrowing details of the raid.
The audience’s hearts collectively tightened upon hearing how the investigating officers had been violently ambushed by fully armed suspects, only breathing a sigh of relief when the spokesperson confirmed their safe return.
“For this, we owe our deepest, heartfelt thanks to a vital colleague. Miss Flandre, a specially invited expert from the L.G.D.’s Special Inspection Unit, accompanied our Operator deep into the enemy’s den to secure critical intelligence.”
The spokesperson gestured toward the head table. “Although she is a Vampire, she is a good Vampire—one who has entirely transcended base instincts. Admittedly, there was hesitation when she was first assigned to the L.G.D. However, Miss Flandre has repeatedly used her professional expertise and exquisite Originium Arts to help us swiftly close several major cases. This time, she successfully protected the life of our Operator…”
Flandre fidgeted in her seat, her cheeks flushing pink under the overwhelming wave of public praise.
The Q&A session followed. The initial questions were pulled straight from a pre-approved list. Flandre had memorized her lines perfectly, reciting her answers with practiced fluency.
Just as she thought the tedious event was finally over, a reporter near the back suddenly raised his hand and went off-script.
“There is one thing I believe everyone here is curious about,” the man asked, leaning into his microphone. “How exactly did you manage to protect the other officer from a small army of fully armed enemies, holding out all on your own until L.G.D. reinforcements arrived?”
It wasn’t on the cheat sheet.
Flandre blinked behind her round glasses, staring at the man for a moment before answering brightly.
“With mist!”
“Mist?” The reporters exchanged bewildered glances.
“Flandre’s Originium Arts can create a really, really big area of thick mist!” Flandre explained, adjusting her spectacles with a scholarly push. “You basically can’t see anything around you when you’re inside it. We hid inside the mist the whole time, so the bad guys couldn’t find us at all!”
Off to the side, the L.G.D. insiders who knew the actual, blood-soaked truth of the raid had to bite the insides of their cheeks to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter.
Flandre hadn’t told a single lie. Every word was technically true. She simply omitted the colossal, gruesome massacre that took place inside that mist. Taken at face value, her statement was flawless.
The reporter opened his mouth, clearly wanting to follow up on what kind of miraculous mist could blind an entire syndicate, but the spokesperson smoothly intervened, calling on another journalist before the man could utter a single syllable.
The conference finally wrapped up near noon. Exhausted by the politics, Flandre had long since fallen asleep against Fumizuki’s side. The cameras faithfully recorded the elegant woman carrying the slumbering Vampire out of the hall.
From that moment on, the lingering dread surrounding Flandre evaporated from the streets of Lungmen. After all, if Madame Fumizuki felt safe enough to cradle the girl in her arms, anyone claiming the child was a monster was simply a paranoid fool. Lungmen had no place for citizens who didn’t trust the authorities.
With her public image secured, Flandre was officially free to roam the city.
Later that afternoon, after a long nap, Swire proudly announced they were hitting the commercial district.
“This time, we go openly. No cloaks, no hiding your wings,” Swire declared, adjusting her designer jacket. “Let’s see how the city treats you now!”
Standing a short distance away, Ch’en watched them leave, her eyes gleaming with quiet curiosity. She genuinely wanted to see how the populace would react to the Blood Fiend now that she carried the dual endorsement of the Governor’s Mansion and the L.G.D.
The results were overwhelmingly positive.
Because her crystalline wings were so distinct, Flandre was recognized the second her boots hit the pavement. People stared, but their eyes held wonder rather than terror. A few brave children even broke away from their parents, running up to ask if her back got tired from carrying so many shiny rocks.
“Flandre doesn’t get tired at all!” she answered with a beaming smile. “They aren’t heavy, and they don’t stop Flandre from playing!”
As they ventured deeper into the bustling commercial street, the crowds grew thicker. Pedestrians began cheering for her, calling out warm wishes for her success as an official member of Lungmen.
“Yo! If it isn’t the wealthy boss!”
A cheerful voice cut through the ambient street noise. Flandre turned to see a familiar red-haired Sankta waving enthusiastically from the curb. Swire followed Flandre’s gaze, spotting Exusiai and her quiet Lupo companion resting near a storefront.
“Are you two out shopping?” Swire asked, stepping over.
“Hardly! We just finished a massive delivery,” Exusiai groaned, shaking out her aching arms. “Vehicles aren’t allowed on the pedestrian street, so we had to haul everything by hand. I’m completely exhausted!”
“Meeting is fate,” Swire smiled, gesturing toward a high-end establishment down the block. “There’s a nice teahouse right over there. How about I treat you two to a cup of tea so you can rest your legs? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a break.”
“That would be a lifesaver, much appreciated!” Exusiai grinned. She leaned down, playfully pinching Flandre’s soft cheek. “Speaking of which, I studied a ton of material on the Sarkaz back in Laterano, but this is my first time seeing such a cute Vampire with my own eyes.”
Flandre stared up at the energetic, overly familiar girl. The Sankta’s chaotic, friendly energy felt remarkably similar to the person her sister always complained about—the annoying ‘black and white mouse’ who constantly broke into the mansion.
“Hello! Flandre’s name is Flandre Scarlet. Nice to meet you!” Flandre offered her small hand.
“Ah, so formal!” Exusiai laughed, her halo glowing brightly as she took the Vampire’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “I’m from Laterano. My real name is Lemuel, but you can just call me Exusiai. That’s what everyone else goes with!”