Chapter 581: The Heroic Rescue of a Damsel in Distress

ARC: Curse of the Royal Tribulation

Chapter 80: The Heroic Rescue of a Damsel in Distress

Thales leaned against the wall in the dimly lit interrogation room, his face obscured by shadows. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings. The Black Prophet, on the other hand, idly stroked the armrests of his wheelchair, paying no attention to the prince. His gaze was fixed on the writhing, serpentine black vines at his knee.

In the silence of the room, an unspoken understanding seemed to pass between them.

Raphael’s voice echoed through the glass partition, the only sound breaking in the room, “Our sources have confirmed that this was likely an accident, but we must prevent the information from being leaked and used to manipulate the public,”

“Let’s hope this is the only incident of its kind.”

The only incident…

Thales slowly raised his head,

Of its kind.[1]

Because of his… taste in food.

His expression was unwavering and devoid of emotion.

Of course, he could claim,

‘He had absolutely nothing to do with it.’

‘The so-called prince’s love for lettuce was merely the spark that ignited the flames. In reality, it was a case of two fools getting what they deserved—one greedy, the other impulsive.’

‘He was not to blame for this,’

‘This… and the other incidents.’

Thales’ fists trembled a bit.

Sure,

To many, this would not be a cause for concern. Faced with the same situation, King Nuven would undoubtedly brush it off with a laugh, King Chapman would scoff without mercy, and King Kessel would remain unmoved on his throne.

But…

“They are from another species. Normal people rely on food and air to survive, while they rely on power,” was Putray’s reflection on the Prestige Orchid Snowfield.[2]

As he recalled King Nuven’s advice, Thales couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of bitterness welling up within him.

“You need a heart that is firm, callous, and unyielding… So, you better get used to it as soon as possible for your own good.”

Raphael’s tone grew serious as he continued, “Of course, the Asses are still investigating a few other cases. Some of these could damage your reputation; others could cause financial losses; and there may be many that aren’t immediately obvious.

But we need to be proactive and anticipate any loose ends that need to be tied up…” He paused knowingly, leaving his words unspoken.

There was a long pause before Thales finally broke the silence, his voice heavy with melancholy. “Alright, I understand.”

Raphael’s face subtly shifted, as if he had detected something in Thales’ tone.

“Alright, let’s continue,” Morat said softly, his words mingling with the rustling of the black-veined vines.

“Your Highness, my Lord,” the Barren Bone man interjected abruptly, “the rest of the cases are pretty similar. Would it be possible to call it a day?”

Thales lifted his head, lost in thought. He turned to the old man in the wheelchair and saw the Black Prophet staring at Raphael through the glass.

Raphael’s gaze remained steady, and his expression was calm.

Morat let out a slight grunt. “Sure.”

The Chief of Intelligence gave a smile to Thales. “Everything but that one.”

“The last one,”

Raphael fell silent for a while, then nodded with deference and did as instructed.

Thales arched his eyebrows, but it soon dawned on him,

The last person being interrogated was a woman. Despite being escorted in with a hood over her head, she still moved with grace and lightness.

As the hood was lifted, a delicate and charming woman was revealed. Her first instinct was to smooth her hair and adjust her appearance, displaying no signs of panic or fear. Her simple yet stunning makeup and poised, seductive mannerisms were captivating.

“Your name?”[3]

Raphael’s tone significantly softened in the presence of such beauty, no longer as aggressive as before.

With a graceful movement, the woman lifted her head. Despite her slightly dishevelled appearance, she still managed to look almost perfect.

“Felicia,” she answered unhurriedly, her voice and gaze bewitching.

But the moment Thales caught a glimpse of her face, his eyes widened in surprise.

Raphael insisted politely, “Felicia…?”[4]

The beautiful woman, Felicia, giggled with bright, shining eyes.[5]

She slowed down her speech and looked at Raphael’s handsome face with interest, “Perhaps it’s Dorothy? Amy? Undine? To be honest, guests have called me many names…”

Felicia leaned forward, her left hand lightly touching the table and a sparkling glint appeared in her eyes.

“But if you must know…”

She teased with a seductive tone, “How about calling me… Baby, Sweetie, Honey, or perhaps even Bitch?”

Raphael’s brow furrowed slightly in response.

Felicia casually leaned over, allowing her chest to press against the table, accentuating her alluring curves.

“Which one do you prefer?”

The corners of Felicia’s lips curled in a perfect arc as she gave a playful wink,

“Pretty boy.”

Raphael’s face darkened,

“Felicia, then it is.”

Felicia held his gaze, then burst into laughter.

Leaning forward on the table, she seductively propped up her chin with a hint of provocation in her expression, completely unfazed by the fact that she was being questioned,

“Let me take a wild guess,” she said, studying Raphael intently. “You’re not a cop from the Western City Gate, right? They’re not that stupid to dare drag someone off Red Street Market.”

“As for the Blood Bottle Gang is concerned, Catherine lacks the guts, Fogg lacks the influence, and Nikolay lacks the power. They’re all incapable of breaking the truce,” she rattled off each name, her gaze never leaving the man in front of her.

“And neither,” she added, “are any newcomers reckless enough to risk their lives just to make a name for themselves lately.”

Thales gazed blankly at the woman, taking in everything about her—her appearance, her manners, and even her words.

It further revived his memories.

He was quite sure.

It was her.

An old friend.

Felicia’s bright eyes gleamed, but her tone carried a threat,

“So, are you a regular street cop or a desk officer from another department?”[6]

Raphael locked eyes with the beautiful woman in front of him and smiled back.

“Whether I am a police officer or not,” the Barren Bone man remarked, not mincing his words, “you are already here.”

“If necessary, I can keep you locked up for a few nights.”

Felicia turned her head and regarded him with a sidelong glance.

“A few nights? Hm,” she said, her eyes sparkling with playful amusement.

The woman’s lower lip was nibbled in a flirtatious way, “My services for a night don’t come cheap, Pretty boy.”

“And, though you’re good-looking, you’re also rather thin,”

Moving in closer, Felicia gazed at Raphael with charm and delight.

“I have my doubts that you can last for…” She provocatively put her fine figure on the tabletop, biting her lips in a blatantly inviting manner. “A few nights?”

Raphael’s expression grew tense at Felicia’s words. She giggled at his reaction before continuing,

“And throughout the following few nights…”

“Are you sure ‘locking me up’ is all you want to do?” Felicia asked, showing off her smooth, white neck with a grin.

“Are you not interested in trying something…out of the ordinary?”

Felicia crossed her legs, and her skirt slid up, exposing the gentle curves of her legs.[7]

Raphael cleared his throat.

Under the other’s smug gaze, he opened the file in front of him, no longer willing to engage in a futile argument.

“Felicia, also known as ‘The Flowery Heart’,”[8]

“Starting as an ordinary street prostitute in the slums and used your beauty to rise to power, attaching yourself to stronger figures until you eventually joined the rising force after the Bloody Year…”[9]

Raphael trailed off, his eyes meeting Felicia’s,

“The Black Street Brotherhood.”

Felicia’s face tightened, and she leaned forward in her seat.

“But that’s not all,” Raphael continued, “you also work for one of the Brotherhood’s Six Powerhouses—the Black Sword’s right-hand man, ‘The Fatty’ Morris. Your exceptional abilities have earned you the task of training the prostitutes and forging connections for the Brotherhood.” Raphael watched Felicia’s expression closely, gauging her reaction.

“Your brothel, ‘Little Flowers,’ is so reliable that even Lance ‘The Sleepless Eye’ depends on it as a source of information.”

“So it seems that you’re really not cheap, Miss ‘Flowery Heart’…

“Or should I call you—a gangster madam?”

Caught off guard and with her secrets and background laid bare, Felicia struggled to maintain her composure, her expression turning sour as she glared at Raphael. “You…”

Unfazed, the Barren Bone man grinned.

“Six years ago, the Black Street Brotherhood crushed the Blood Bottle Gang in the One Night War, and you’ve since risen to Red Street Market—along with your little flowers—and taken over the void left by the Blood Bottle Gang, masterminded behind the scenes, and expanded the Brotherhood’s prostitution business.”

Felicia’s expression turned ghastly.

“Now you have two choices: the first one is to cooperate with me, and everything will go smoothly. As for the second option… well, let’s just say it’ll be a lot rougher.” Raphael said that before nonchalantly closing the file.

On the other side of the glass, Thales let out a sigh to himself.

Felicia.

He remembered her well.

During his time as a beggar, she had been a constant presence in the familiar haunts of Black Street, the Underground, the Sunset Pub, and the Abandoned Houses. She even frequented Morris’ Headquarters, never mincing her words with Rick and looking down upon Quide. However, when she encountered beggars, she would laugh coquettishly and wave her hand, tossing a handful of copper coins generously.

She had a confident and radiant smile and was well-groomed, poised, and articulate. Her unrestrained and exuberant nature drew men to her like moths to a flame, leaving them forever changed in her wake.

One day, while indulging in some ‘private activities’ with her intimate friend Layork, she stumbled upon Thales hunched over in front of the window, counting his money in the safety of that private space.

As their eyes briefly met, there was no panic, shame, or displeasure—not even a hint to the Brotherhood’s assassin, Layork, who was ‘working hard’ under her.

Felicia, with her hair dishevelled, lazily pulled the blanket up to cover her beautiful, bare shoulders and chest. She gave the frightened young beggar under the window a meaningful smile while pressing her index finger to her scarlet lips.

Then, the beautiful woman laughed heartily and leaned her head back, enjoying herself to the fullest as her long hair fluttered in the air, continuing her suggestive moans.

Rather Thales, the beggar, was spooked out of his mind, reddened, and at long last had to flee.

Thales was consumed by a sense of melancholy as he dwelled on the memories of the past.

Yet, inside the interrogation room, the Barren Bone man’s unwavering gaze was as sharp as a knife, and he refused to back down until he got what he wanted.

Felicia looked back at Raphael, feeling bewildered and unsure of what to do. But under the intense and unforgiving stare of the Secret Department interrogator, she quickly faltered.

“Brotherhood, giving myself up to power, attaching to stronger, even being a go-between for prostitutes… It looks like you’ve got it all figured out, Mr. Police Officer,” Felicia’s eyes welled up with tears, and her lips quivered.

Gone was her previous playful and sharp-witted persona, replaced with a confrontational edge.

“You can certainly take the high moral ground and criticise my occupation and affiliations, accusing me of being a filthy, low-life gang madam, a pimp.”[10]

“But what makes you think…” The woman forced herself to lift her head up, biting her lip and wiping away the tears that had welled up in the corners of her eyes.

“What makes you think I would willingly degrade myself and commit heinous acts for the sake of the Brotherhood?”[11]

Raphael had shattered the target’s mental defences and was poised to press his advantage, but he came to a halt.

Felicia appeared, standing there, a lone flower on a cliff. Her slender neck and graceful figure accentuated her stubborn yet heart-wrenchingly beautiful features.

“Since I was little, men have only ever looked at me with dirty, lecherous eyes, especially once I started wearing skirts,” Felicia spoke bitterly.

Raphael looked visibly uncomfortable as he listened, his brow furrowed.

“And those people, those lowlifes with knives, when they forced themselves on me…

Felicia gave a pitiful smile.

“They would become more fierce if I resisted them. They would think I enjoyed it if I didn’t, that I deliberately provoked and seduced them, that I was a whore, a slut…”

“But what could I do? I was just a helpless woman. What options did I have? Should I have killed myself to defend my honour?”[12]

Felicia wiped away her tears roughly, her body trembling with emotion. Despite this, she maintained her composure and fixed her gaze on the man in front of her.

She stood tall and proud, like a cold plum blossom standing resolute in the snow.

As Raphael saw the emotions his words had stirred up in her, he cleared his throat, momentarily unsure of how to respond.

“I just want to survive, but they won’t let me unless I open my legs willingly—even to someone like you, a cop. All you want is to grope me and strip me naked!”

Raphael stuttered to a halt.

Felicia recoiled as she noticed it, tears streaking down her face. Frantically, she tried to cover herself, pulling at her sleeves and skirt, desperate to hide her skin from view.

All of it with an intense gaze bore into Raphael, causing him to grow even more uncomfortable while his eyes darted around restlessly.

Felicia’s tears continued to flow as she shielded her chest and thighs, her eyes glued to the Barren Bone man, “And of course, I have no other choice,” she said, her voice trembling. “I have no other choice but to do what I’m told…

“I just want to keep on living!”

“In your hands, men!”

Through eyes hazy with tears, Felicia exclaimed with contempt, “Throwing ‘roughness’ at me as a threat? Really? There are so many people in this world who are rough to me; you are just one more!”

Gasping for air, she struggled to hold back the tears that were falling from her eyes like rain.

She fought the urge to lower her sleeve and wipe away her tears, but eventually she relented. As soon as she did, the sleeve became soaked with tears.

Raphael heaved a deep sigh, feeling unsure of what to do. He looked down at the files in his hand and contemplated his next move.

For a while, the only sounds that could be heard in the interrogation room were the woman’s sobs and sighs.

On the other side of the glass, Thales was in a complicated mood. The Black Prophet, though, was intrigued and whispered,

“She’s quite good. I like this girl.”

To the demon vines at his knee, Morat bent his head and mumbled,

“Tell Raphael to wrap things up with her.”

The black-veined vines in his wheelchair flowed in reaction.

Inside the interrogation room, Felicia showed no signs of stopping her crying.

Raphael, however, sensed something and cast a sidelong glance towards the window.

Even though Thales had witnessed that exchange before through the vines, he still felt uneasy.

Raphael took a deep breath and hesitated for a moment before finally pulling out a handkerchief and handing it over to Felicia.

Initially surprised, Felicia cautiously accepted the handkerchief after a gesture from Raphael.

“Th-thank you,” Felicia stuttered, her makeup smudged, and her eyes were red from crying.

Using the handkerchief to wipe away her tears, she cast a shy, embarrassed glance at Raphael. “I…I don’t want to cry. It’s just…I’m sorry.”

Raphael sighed once more, this time with a bitter expression.

“It’s fine,” he said as he frowned at his file, “You are safe here; no one will force you, no one can hurt you.”

“No!” Felicia exclaimed, her tone suddenly changing.

“The Brotherhood is a powerful organization, not to mention I was caught on Red Street Market and gone for so long…”

“No, they don’t take kindly to traitors and whistleblowers…”

She grew agitated, but Raphael interrupted her.

“Listen to me!”

He said firmly, taking her hand,

“I will protect you.”

Felicia halted.

“Protect me?”

Felicia struggled to break free from Raphael’s hand, which made the latter a bit embarrassed.

She gave a sarcastic laugh while shedding a few tears,

“Indeed, you are handsome, and you don’t look like a bad guy, at least not like the scum of the Brotherhood,” The sarcasm faded, leaving behind a deep sense of fear and distress,

“But you’re not enough. You can’t protect me… You don’t know how terrifying they are…”

All of a sudden, someone erupted in laughter…

… a sound that was full of uninhibited indulgence and cynical amusement.

Not one sob was heard in the room.

“Is this your way of dealing with them as well?” Raphael’s expression no longer conveyed empathy. The gentleman who had previously spoken with comfort and warmth seemed to have disappeared.

Felicia trembled and looked up, catching sight of Raphael leaning back in his chair and raising his arm, gesturing towards her,

“With all of this?”

“What?”

Felicia stared at him, transfixed.

It wasn’t until Raphael let out a chuckle that she snapped out of her daze.

The Barren Bone man calmly opened a file on the table and produced a sheet of paper.

“Gary, the ‘Big Hand’ of the Iron Bat Organization, disappeared mysteriously over a decade ago and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

Felicia was struck dumb at the sight of the image sketched before her.

Raphael produced a second page and continued without hesitation.

“On his own birthday, ‘Dogtooth’ Bott, the notorious drug lord of the Blood Bottle Gang, was brutally backstabbed by his second-in-command, now going by the name ‘Fantasy Blade Edge’, Catherine.”

“Mudu Talon, a corrupt police officer from the Western City Police Department, was caught in the act and imprisoned in the infamous Prison of Bones. Several months ago, his attempted jailbreak resulted in his immediate execution.”

“Bolley Cato, a prominent spice merchant and esteemed member of the Fragrance Trade Association council, was viciously attacked by bandits during a countryside excursion. Despite paying a substantial ransom, he met a gruesome fate.”

Raphael calmly presented page after page before Felicia,

“As for the once-famous Blood Bottle Gang’s top master, the Wandering Knight, who had reached the supreme class, ‘Lawson II’…”

Raphael narrowed his eyes,

“He too met his end sixteen years ago when he attempted to ambush the Black Sword and failed. The Black Sword fought back and was able to take on both Lawson and his accomplice, ultimately beheading him in the street.”

Thales perked up at the sound of a familiar nickname.

Felicia stayed quiet, staring blankly at the files in front of her as if she were an innocent bystander caught up in a major case. Her face, streaked with tears, was still wet.

“As a mere ‘helpless woman’, Miss Felicia,” Raphael’s gaze turned icy as he stripped away her final pretense, “it seems that every powerful figure you’ve associated with since the age of twelve—or, as you put it, every terrifying ‘bad guy’ with a knife who forced themselves upon you—has met a less-than-favourable end, haven’t they?”

Felicia sat motionless, as if she had forgotten even how to cry.

A moment later, the woman raised her head in a mild motion.

Raphael frowned.

Felicia’s face suddenly transformed, as if by magic, and all signs of fragility and pain vanished completely. She no longer gasped for breath, nor did she weep or wipe away any tears.

Discarding the handkerchief, she slowly rose to her feet, wearing a strange and unsettling smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Felicia abruptly turned and aimed her gaze at Raphael.

“Well, hello there, Pretty boy,” she purred, her voice soft and flirtatious.

She sat on the edge of the table, her body positioned sideways as she leaned forward, exuding an air of seduction and provocation. “It seems like you know a bit about me,”

“So, do you want to delve…”

“A little deeper?”

Despite the tears that had ruined her makeup and caused her rouge to smear on both cheeks, Felicia’s smile remained strangely alluring. It possessed a mysterious and deadly charm that was impossible to ignore.

On the other side of the glass, Thales felt a sudden surge of unease, which he knew stemmed from the Sin of Hell’s River.

While maintaining a serious expression, Raphael stayed silent.

With her eyes misty, she leaned over the table, biting her finger and drawing herself alluringly closer to the Barren Bone man.

“Or is it that deep down, you too crave the feeling of wielding a sharp, hard knife like they do …?” she teased, her breath tickling Raphael’s ear as she leaned in closer.

“To poke me?” She whispered in a seductive tone that was both tempting and heart-wrenching, causing Raphael’s heart to race.

Raphael’s breath quickened as her words sank in.

Thales couldn’t help but reminisce about the time he had caught a glimpse of this woman in a compromising situation when he was a child. The memory caused a slight blush to rise on his cheeks.

In a sudden, deafening metallic snap…

Felicia’s left hand, which had been propping up the table, was now handcuffed to the table leg. Her face contorted in shock as she realised what had happened.

She found herself in an unusual and uncomfortable position, lying sideways on the table with one hand cuffed. She couldn’t free herself or even sit up straight, causing her to feel embarrassed and flushed. The woman turned to the side, her expression angry as she spoke, “You—”

Raphael, however, calmly picked up the files, walked around the table, and took Felicia’s former seat.

Felicia had to awkwardly turn her head to keep up with Raphael’s movements. But as soon as she shifted her gaze, the anger on her face dissipated completely.

“Well, well, well. So this is what you’re into,”[13]

Felicia’s face broke out into an enigmatic smile. Awkwardly, she kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the table, positioning herself seductively on her side in front of Raphael.

Crossing her slender legs, Felicia concealed the view under her skirt—tantalising yet out of sight. “You know,” she purred, “I actually quite like being handcuffed.”

She was let down, though.

Raphael just looked at her with a half-smile, showing no interest at all.

Felicia’s smile disappeared a few seconds later. She tugged at the handcuffs and spat out fiercely, “No reaction to this either?”

The woman fixed a withering gaze on Raphael and sneered, “What’s the matter? Are you too small down there to have any confidence, or can you just not get it up at all?”

Raphael couldn’t help but look at her sideways.

Thales, behind the glass, arched an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you… take it off and let me take a peek?”

Once more displaying her innate charm, Felicia chuckled to herself. She grasped at emptiness and smashed it at the edge of her mouth while arching her tongue from within, swelling her cheeks back and forth,

“Shall I lend you a hand?”

Raphael was rendered speechless for a while by the dexterous demonstration.

Attempting to ignore her acting abilities, the Barren Bone man cleared his throat.

“What about these lists? These unfortunate men? Don’t you have anything to say about them?” Raphael’s gaze shifted to the files spread out on the table, each one representing a life lost.

Felicia’s expression turned cold as she scanned the files on the table, her eyes full of contempt.

She let out a cold huff of air,

“Do you know that every person who’s ever coerced me into something has begun with these exact same words?”

“‘I’ll help you’, ‘You’re safe with me’, ‘Nobody can hurt you’, ‘I will protect you’…”

Felicia lay on her cuffed arm, looking coldly at Raphael.

“Just like you did earlier,” she said.

Raphael grunted in response.

“Every man thinks he’s better than the ‘other men,’ and wants to prove to me that he’s different. They want to prove that they really respect and care for me, unlike the ‘other men’ who hurt me.”

Right there, Felicia was unsmiling, and her eyes were detached, as if that were her true face.

“But what happens when push comes to shove? They can’t wait to take off their trousers or for me to take off my skirt and repay them.”

“And if I refuse,” she continued with a wry chuckle, “they still believe they’re protecting me and taking care of me. They say things like ‘I know you want it too,’ ‘I’ve done so much for you,’ or ‘you don’t know how beautiful you are,’ and so on.”

Felicia’s gaze sharpened, and with a swift movement, she swept all the files on the table to the ground.

“Pretty boy…”

“The reason why the trope of the hero rescuing the damsel is so popular is because men naturally expect and assume in the next scene…”

As Felicia surveyed the scattered files and sketches, something seemed to trigger a memory, and her expression contorted with an unprecedented malice and hatred,

“The hero gets to fuck the damsel.”

Raphael grimaced.

“And if that doesn’t happen… if the damsel doesn’t fall in love with the hero, yearn for him day and night, and complain about the itchy water below, if she says ‘no’ as weakly as I did before…” Felicia lifted her head, her teeth clenched in anger.

“Then wait for the next hero to come to the rescue.”

“And what will that hero say? The same tired old line: ‘I’m not like the one who forced you, I’m here to protect you.’”

Felicia wiped a smudge of powder from her face with a fierce swipe of her sleeve.

“Fuck off with all of those “hero saves the damsel’ stories!”

“And I just showed them, showed them wrong!”

Felicia gazed at Raphael with piercing eyes.

“Damsels do not belong to heroes,” the brothel madam of the Brotherhood spat bitterly,

“Just as I don’t belong to them either.”

“Regardless of the actions taken by the hero.”

“Never!”

[1] The incident being a murder.

[2] All the inserts in this chapter, are from the official translation.

[3] 姓名 lit. full name (surname and personal name). The “full” is implicit.

[4] This time what Raphael said is 全名, lit.“full name (of a person, i.e. family name plus given name)”, 全, lit. all; whole; entire; every… and 名, lit. fame; to describe… So, it’s ‘whole name’.

[5] ‘明艳夺目’; lit. Bright and dazzling, beautiful jade shine.

[6] ‘regular street cop’; 青皮, ‘beat cop’ or ‘street cop’ in English, as it refers to police officers who work in public security and patrol the streets. ‘administrative/desk officer’; 蓝皮 ‘blue uniform’ in English, as it refers to police officers who work in administrative or specialized roles within the police force and typically wear a blue uniform.

[7] ‘exposing’, 若隐若现, (idiom) ‘partly hidden and partly visible’ (faintly discernible).

[8] ‘花心’ it can mean, Heartbreaker, Flowery/Flower Heart and Unfaithful as in the official. But ‘Miss Unfaithful’ doesn’t sound good to me and the Chinese equivalent mingle well with the rest.

[9] ‘attaching yourself to stronger’; 攀附 in the raws, fig. to seek connection (with the rich and powerful); cliimbing up the ladder.

[10] ‘take the high moral ground’; ‘义正词严’ simplified version of ‘義正詞嚴’ idiom, ‘morally just and in a stern tone’.

[11]‘degrade myself’; 自甘堕落, idiom, ‘to abandon oneself’.

[12] ‘’killed myself to defend my honour’; ‘自杀以明志吗’ lit. Commit suicide to show my innocence/sincerity. ‘以死明志’ idiom. To demonstrate one’s sincerity by dying.

[13] ‘into this ‘, 好这口, ‘one’s cup of tea, preference, taste ‘.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep