Flandre wasn't the least bit surprised by Ch'en Hui-chieh's candid admission.
Back when she first arrived in Lungmen, she hadn't managed to settle down here through sheer charm or cuteness alone. It was Talulah who had personally vouched for her. On top of that, the local authorities needed her assistance to establish contact with Reunion, which was why she was allowed to stay in the first place. Even then, her initial living quarters were completely isolated from the rest of the city.
If not for the series of extraordinary events that followed—each helping build genuine, mutual trust—she would probably still be living in solitary isolation out in the villa district.
So, when a new group of Sarkaz refugees arrived, she saw absolutely no problem with them being subjected to similar precautions. Trust was never something that could be demanded or granted through cheap words; it had to be earned step by step through sincerity and proven actions.
Those people had come to Lungmen relying on her reputation, but the cold truth was that they hadn't even earned her personal trust yet, let alone Lungmen's.
After dinner concluded, the group parted ways and returned to their respective residences.
Inside the quiet living room, Patchouli offered a simple nod as everyone walked through the door. Beatrice, looking suddenly apologetic, smacked her own forehead, realizing she had completely forgotten to call Patchouli to join them for the meal.
"It doesn't matter," Patchouli replied coolly, her tone indifferent. "I have little interest in dining out anyway. Besides, the estate's head maid cooks more than adequately."
She turned another page of her heavy tome, completely unbothered by the fact that she had been left out of the outing.
"Hehe, don't worry about it, Sister Beatrice! Patchy is just like that," Flandre said, patting Beatrice on the hip before trotting straight toward the arcade console setup near the side wall. "Come play games with me!"
Beatrice gently patted her own midsection with a small sigh. "Ah, I need to work out first today. Let Meiling play with you for a bit."
Flandre tilted her head in confusion. "Why?"
"Because fitness requires absolute discipline!" Beatrice explained, pinching her waistline through her clothes. "Even though it's winter and you can't tell under all these thick layers, keeping in shape is a long-term commitment. If you skip one day, you'll find an excuse to skip the next, and before you know it, you've given up entirely. It would be terrible if my figure went out of shape."
As the cold weather set in, her daily caloric intake had naturally climbed, making her feel as though she had gained a bit of softness around her waist.
Fortunately, the private gymnasium in the compound was situated right next door. Although Flandre had never stepped foot inside, the facility was fully equipped—mostly with high-end workout gear that Beatrice had personally shipped over.
Seeing Flandre nod in agreement, Beatrice changed into lightweight athletic wear and headed off to the gym.
Meanwhile, Flandre dragged Hong Meiling over to the couch to launch a tense, chaotic session of Overcooked.
Two hours later, after finishing her workout and taking a hot shower, Beatrice strolled back into the living room. She was greeted by the sight of Hong Meiling fast asleep on the sofa, snoring softly into a cushion, while Flandre sat hunched over the coffee table, furiously scribbling in a notebook.
Beatrice walked over, a look of utter perplexity on her face. "Hmm? Weren't you two in the middle of a gaming marathon, Flandre? Why did you suddenly start doing homework?"
Patchouli, sitting across the room, looked up from her reading and cast a dry glance toward Beatrice before turning her gaze back to the little vampire. "She was being entirely too noisy. The screeching was giving me a headache, so I assigned her a few theoretical problems to quiet her down."
Intrigued, Beatrice leaned over Flandre's shoulder to examine the notebook.
On Methods to Expand the Effective AOE of Seven-Element Arts Under Output Restrictions
Beatrice knew that Seven-Element Arts were an extraordinary discipline synthesized by Ms. Patchouli, who had adapted classical elemental theory to interface directly with Terra's Originium Arts. By combining distinct elemental vectors, she could trigger cascading magical reactions of terrifying potency.
Truth be told, Patchouli's mastery over Arts theory was more than enough to earn her a senior professorship at any top university in Leithanien, such as the prestigious Ludwigs-Universität. Yet this young magical genius was perfectly content spending her days quietly shuttling between the local library and the archives, only occasionally setting complex academic challenges for Flandre when the little girl grew too unruly.
Beatrice took one single look at the complex formulas and immediately took a step backward. She considered herself a martial brawler who excelled in frontline, hand-to-hand combat; her practical understanding of raw Arts was strictly functional, to say nothing of such abstract theoretical research.
Seeing Flandre biting the end of her pen and racking her brains in intense concentration, Beatrice refrained from interrupting her, quietly sitting down nearby to rest. After a few minutes, enveloped by the heavy academic quiet in the room, she picked up a fashion magazine off the side table and began casually turning the pages.
"Phew—Patchy! I'm all done!"
Just as Beatrice had flipped through nearly a third of her magazine, Flandre's energetic voice broke the silence.
The little vampire skipped over to hand her completed notebook to Patchouli before zipping over to Beatrice's side. "Let me go play now!" Flandre whispered, keeping her voice low. Having just been punished with homework for being too loud, she wasn't silly enough to make the same mistake twice.
"Sure!" Beatrice agreed with a grin, and the two headed back toward the display screen. This time, Flandre selected a cooperative classic: Captain Commando.
Patchouli flipped through the notebook, scanning the derived equations with a quick, practiced eye before standing up. "Don't stay up too late."
"Got it!" Flandre checked the wall clock and saw it was only nine in the evening, meaning she easily had another two hours of gaming ahead of her.
As for the reigning sleep champion on the couch, everyone maintained a tacit understanding not to disturb Hong Meiling, leaving the gatekeeper to snooze peacefully in her comfortable spot.
By the time Meiling finally fluttered her eyes open, the bright morning sun was already streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Rubbing her eyes and seeing the clear blue sky outside, Hong Meiling's very first realization landed like a thunderbolt: she was in massive, catastrophic trouble.
She had actually slept through the entire night straight on the couch.
If Miss Sakuya ever found out about this back at the mansion, her life would quite literally be in mortal peril. At that horrific thought, a violent chill ran straight down Meiling's spine, making her clutch her head in sheer panic.
"Sister Meiling, what are you doing?"
Flandre, having just tumbled out of bed in her pajamas, stared at Hong Meiling in complete bewilderment as the gatekeeper sat on the sofa, gripping her skull like a lunatic.
Meiling looked up, her face a dramatic portrait of grief and existential dread. "Why didn't you wake me up last night, Flandre?!"
"What's wrong? Why are you so sad, Sister Meiling?" Flandre's eyes suddenly widened in utter, horrified disbelief. "Did you... did you wet the bed?!"
Hong Meiling stared back, completely struck dumb by the sheer audacity of the accusation. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected that, at her age and standing, she would be hit with such an outrageous slander.
"How is that even possible?!" Meiling yelled, her voice cracking in indignance. "How can you just ruin my innocent reputation like that?! Look at me—there is physically no way someone of my age and cultivation would wet the bed!"
She was practically driven out of her mind with embarrassment and outrage.
"If it wasn't bedwetting, why else would you wake up crying and clutching your head first thing in the morning?!" Flandre countered, completely unconvinced. She even leaned forward, intent on inspecting the sofa cushions to check the magnitude of the crime.
"I didn't! It's completely impossible for me to wet the bed!" Meiling loudly rejected the charge, holding her hands up defensively.
"Alright, alright... Hehe, look what I found!" Flandre suddenly squealed, pointing a chubby finger at a dark, suspiciously shiny puddle glistening on the leather surface.
"..."
"That's drool! That's obviously drool!" Meiling shouted, her face burning red.
"Ew—I don't believe you!" Flandre squinted at her suspiciously, taking a tiny step back.
Just then, Patchouli walked out of her bedroom, holding a cup of warm water and letting out a soft yawn. "What are you two making such a racket about so early in the morning?"
"Patchy, Patchy! Sister Meiling wet the bed!" Flandre immediately tattled, her voice ringing loud and clear through the living room.