Flandre Scarlet tugged Hong Meiling along to their very first destination—the Lungmen Amusement Park.
Seeing the massive, glowing signage overhead, Hong Meiling wasn't surprised in the slightest. Flandre was a child, after all, so it was only natural that her idea of entertainment revolved around bright, festive attractions.
Not that Meiling minded. The directive Remilia Scarlet had given her was simple: keep Flandre safe and ensure no overly ambitious schemers tried to take advantage of her raw power. Everything else was left entirely to her own discretion. Since that was the case, spending the day indulging in harmless fun was a more than acceptable duty.
Watching the radiant smile spreading across Flandre's face, the corners of Meiling's mouth curled into a warm grin.
The pair spent the entire morning and early afternoon diving headfirst into the park's rides. It wasn't until late afternoon that Flandre and Meiling finally strolled out of the gates, making their way toward the commercial plaza.
By the time they arrived, the sun had dipped below the skyline, but the surrounding streetlights illuminated the open square as bright as day. Most notably, a large group of middle-aged women had gathered in the center, enthusiastically engaged in square dancing.
Meiling watched with a completely deadpan expression as Flandre trotted straight into the center of the crowd, mimicking their hip-swaying, rhythmic steps without a shred of hesitation.
Finding a nearby bench, Meiling sat down and pinched the bridge of her nose. Though she had seen videos of this particular phenomenon back in the human realm, witnessing it in person hit with a profoundly second-hand embarrassing force.
Before her seat could even absorb her body heat, Flandre drifted over with the dancing crowd, flashing her a mischievous grin that made Meiling's heart skip a nervous beat.
"Meiling, come join in! It's super fun!" Flandre called out, waving her arms.
At her shout, dozens of aunties turned their heads, their enthusiastic gazes instantly locking onto Hong Meiling.
Meiling let out a long, defeated sigh. She had zero desire to participate in public square dancing, but under Flandre's relentless calling and the expectant eyes of the crowd, she had no escape. She trudged over to Flandre's side and began reluctantly copying the routine: three circles to the left, three circles to the right, a sway of the neck, and a twist of the hips.
Yet, for a high-level martial artist with absolute physical control, these basic dance steps were laughably simple. She didn't even need to focus to execute every single arc with flawless precision and rhythm—doing it vastly better than most of the veterans around her.
Within half an hour, thanks to her textbook form, Meiling found herself inadvertently promoted to the "lead dancer," guiding an entire battalion of local women as they pranced around the perimeter of the plaza.
Over an hour later, the square dance finally wound down. Meiling slung a heavy arm over Flandre's shoulder, declaring in a raspy voice that her soul was depleted and she needed immediate sleep.
Looking up at the night sky and realizing they had been out all day, Flandre quickly guided Meiling back toward the villa.
When they stepped into the living room, Patchouli was already sitting gracefully on the sofa. Instead of reading a thick tome, however, she was quietly tuned into the local television news.
She offered a nod as she spotted Flandre dragging in a half-dazed, squinting Meiling. "Let us dine first."
Patchouli rose and glided toward the dining table, with Flandre towing Meiling close behind.
The twin maids immediately served a piping-hot spread.
"Where is Sister Beatrice?" Flandre asked, looking around the quiet room in confusion.
"The Young Lady is working overtime tonight," one of the maids replied gently. "She sent word that she would return quite late."
Flandre checked the wall clock: 9:30 PM. Normal off-duty hours were 6:00 PM.
In other words, Beatrice had already been working overtime for three and a half straight hours...
How pitiful, Flandre thought, shaking her head.
She felt that adults led a truly miserable existence. It was bad enough that they had to work tirelessly just to earn money, but they were regularly subjected to extra shifts. It was nothing like her own life—where all she had to do was put on a sweet, innocent face and say, "I'm very cute, please give me pocket money," to receive mountains of wealth from everyone around her.
The others naturally had no idea what outrageous thoughts were passing through Flandre's head, assuming she was merely worried for her friend.
"Ms. Beatrice is a senior officer," Patchouli noted smoothly. "Lungmen is a massive metropolis, so high operational demands are to be expected."
Through books, broadcasts, and her own observation, Patchouli had already grasped the underlying structure of Lungmen. As the primary state mechanism, the Lungmen Guard Department essentially consolidated the responsibilities of the military, gendarmerie, civil police, traffic control, and municipal administration into a single body.
While overloading one agency with so many disparate duties seemed structurally inefficient, Lungmen was ultimately a self-contained Mobile City with strict spatial constraints. Storing separate, bloated administrative headquarters for dozens of distinct law enforcement branches was impractical. Consolidating similar functions into one massive department with internal sub-divisions drastically reduced real estate footprint and administrative overhead.
It was lower pressure on the city's budget, but far higher pressure on the individual officers. Overtime was an inevitable lifestyle for the Guard Department.
And for someone as fiercely proud as Beatrice—who was determined to earn the Director's chair through sheer merit—working late was practically second nature.
After dinner, the group gathered on the plush living room sofa, watching a broadcasted drama titled Fly Me To The Moon.
"Hiss... I didn't expect this world to have its own version of Chang'e," Meiling murmured under her breath, leaning in so only Patchouli and Flandre could hear.
"Reaching for the heavens is a fundamental aspiration shared by sentient life," Patchouli explained softly. "Unlike the harsh, scorching sun, the moon is universally stylized across cosmos folklore as gentle and cool. Mythologies centered on lunar flight are bound to emerge everywhere. Though..."
As the program progressed, Flandre suddenly felt a heavy weight settle onto her shoulder. She turned her head to find that Meiling had completely passed out, snoring softly. Smiling gently, Flandre refrained from moving, letting the exhausted martial artist rest against her as she continued watching.
It was nearly midnight when the front door finally clicked open.
Beatrice shuffled inside, looking utterly drained—her complexion so pale and ghostly it seemed as though her soul had temporarily vacated her body.
Spotting Flandre still sitting up on the sofa, a brief spark of life returned to her eyes, and she stumbled over to wrap the little girl in a loose, weary hug.
"Huff... Flandre... were you waiting up for me?"
By now, Patchouli and Meiling had already retired to their bedrooms, leaving only Flandre and the attentive maids.
"Mhm! Sister Beatrice, you're back so late!" Flandre said, pointing toward the clock.
"Sigh, don't even get me started," Beatrice groaned, collapsing back onto the cushion with a long sigh. "They just opened that new night market street, and the place was pure chaos all evening! Lost children, vendor disputes over prices, minor brawls... It literally never stopped for a second. Just thinking about it makes my head throb."