Kingdom’s Bloodline

ARC: The King's Calamity Curse

Chapter 80: The Heroic Rescue of a Damsel in Distress

In the darkened interrogation room, Thales slumped instinctively against the wall, his face entirely hidden by the shadows.

The Black Prophet, on the other hand, ignored the prince completely as he explored the arms of his wheelchair while watching the black-veined vines’ breath-like writhing on his lap.

At the moment, they appeared to have reached a mutual understanding.

Through the glass, only Raphael's voice could be heard,

“Our staff confirmed that it was really an accident, and they are keeping an eye out to ensure that this information is not being spread, used, or exploited by those seeking to influence the general opinion.”

“Hopefully this is the only case that has as a result… homicide.”

Homicide…

Thales slowly raised his head.

As a result.

Due to his… tastes in food.

Thales had an expressionless and unwavering look.

Of course, he could claim,

‘He had absolutely nothing to do with it.’

‘The whole incident was in fact the result of someone’s impulsivity and avarice; the so-called prince’s love for lettuce was only a trigger.’

‘He was not to blame for this,’

‘This… and the other incidents.’

Thales' fists trembled a bit.

Yes, 

Some… some wouldn’t be bothered as much.

In the same circumstances, King Nuven would for sure laugh it off, while King Chapman’s response would be nothing more than a cold sneer. King Kessel would also remain undisturbed on his throne.

But…

“They are another sort of creature. Everyday people live on food and air, but to them, power keeps them alive.”

Putray expressed those sentiments in the midst of Welland snow-covered plains.

“You must have a heart that cannot be moved, one that is strong and cold enough.… For your own sake, you’d better get used to it while you can.”

This was the advice that King Nuven had given him.

And recalling it just left a bitter taste in Thales’ mouth.

Raphael went on, his tone lacking the usual lightheartedness. “Of course, the Asses are still looking into a few other cases,

"Some may affect your reputation, some may cause financial losses, and many may not be obvious for the time being, but we must plan ahead to find ways to catch up…"

Instead of continuing, he intelligently paused.

Thales hesitated for a while before responding "All right, I get it."

Raphael's expression shifted slightly after picking something on Thales' muddled tone.

“Very well, let’s continue.” Morat slyly snapped over the rustling noise of the black-veined vines.

“Your Highness, my Lord,” the Barren Bone man exclaimed with abruptness,

“The rest of the cases are, in fact, mostly similar, so we might as well stop here today?”

Immersed in his misery, Thales looked up silently.

He then turned his attention back to the elderly man in the wheelchair.

Across the glass window, the Black Prophet stared at Raphael for a long time, but the latter had steady eyes and a calm expression.

Morat let out a little snort.

“Sure.”

The head of the Intelligence Department grinned at Thales,

 "Except for that...”

“Last one.”

Raphael remained silent for a while, then nodded respectfully and did as instructed.

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

The last person to be interrogated was a woman. Although she was escorted there in a hood, she still appeared graceful and walked with a light foot.

When the hood was taken off, a stunning woman with a charming bearing appeared before his eyes. Her first instinct was to reach out to straighten her hair and tidy herself up without any nervousness.  

She had lovely, subtle makeup, and her demeanour was calm yet enticing.

“Your name?”

Raphael’s tone changed a bit, and he wasn’t as aggressive when presented with such a beautiful woman.

The beauty raised her head with caution and executed the slightly embarrassed look almost to a T.

“Felicia.”

She unhurriedly answered, her voice and gaze meant to captivate the listener.

But after Thales got a glimpse of the woman’s face, his eyes grew wide!

Raphael re-iterated with politeness, “Just Felicia?”

Felicia, the beautiful woman, smirked with bright, shining eyes.

Slow-talking, she stared with interest at Raphael's handsome face,

 “Then Dorothy? Maybe, Amy? Undine? Anyway, the clients have referred to me by a lot of names…”

Felicia had her left hand resting on the table; the whole person was tilted forward, eyes crystal-clear.

“Well, if it’s you…”

She adjusted her tone, utterly enticing,

“Why not call me… ‘babe’, ‘honey’, ‘sweetheart’ or ‘slut’ instead?”

Raphael wrinkled his eyebrows a little bit.

Felicia, not by design, placed her breast on the table’s edge, highlighting her graceful and self-assured form.

“Which one appeals to you?”

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.”

She gazed at him and burst out laughing.

With a daring expression and without the respondent’s self-consciousness, Felicia drew even closer to the table and wistfully held her chin up with her palm.

“If this isn’t the bad boys of the Western City, as they aren’t that stupid to dare drag someone off Red Square Street.”

Felicia sized Raphael up carefully as she adopted a serious tone.

“As for the Blood Bottle Gang is concerned, Catherine lacks guts, Fogg lacks boldness, and Nikolai lacks strength. None of them could have broken the truce." She stared at the man in front of her as she listed the names one by one,

“And neither, there are newcomers who are desperate to make a name for themselves lately.”

Thales gazed blankly at the woman, taking in everything about her—her manners, conduct, looks, and even the content of her words.

It further revived his memories.

He was quite sure.

It was her.

An old friend.

Felicia cast lingering glances with bright eyes, yet her words were menacing,

“Then, are you a no-local thug? Or an officer of other departments?”

Raphael locked eyes with the beautiful woman in front of him and smirked 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 cocked her head and gave him a dubious gaze.

She chuckled and asked, “A few nights?”

The woman's lower lip was nibbled in a flirtatious way,

“A night [with me] doesn’t come cheap, Pretty boy.”

“Besides, despite your good looks, you are nothing more than skin and bone!”

Leaning forward, the stunning woman eyed Raphael with charm and delight.

“I highly doubt that you can endure...”

Felicia put her fine figure on the tabletop, biting her lips; her actions were blatantly inviting,

“A few nights?”

Raphael furrowed his brows.

Felicia giggled as she observed his reaction.

“And throughout the following few nights..."

“Are you sure that ‘locking me up’ alone will suffice?” Felicia asked, revealing her white, delicate neck with a broad smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to do something more... questionable?”

The view underneath Felicia’s skirt was faintly discernible as she switched her legs and sat cross-legged.

Raphael coughed.

He opened the folder on his hands before the other person’s smug eyes and did not linger any longer.

“Felicia, known as ‘The Flowery Heart’.”

“You came from a streetwalker’s slum and committed yourself to the Powerhouse along the way, climbing up the ladder until you joined the new rising after the bloody year…”

Raphael paused briefly,

“The Black Street Brotherhood.”

Felicia’s sitting posture straighten up, and her complexion somewhat changed.

“Not only that, but you also work for Fatty Morris, one of the Black Sword’s inner circle and one of the six Powerhouses of the Brotherhood, trusted for your talents, you train prostitutes for the Brotherhood, and you act as a madam,” Raphael spoke to the point while observing the other’s reaction.

“To the extent that Lance, the ‘Sleepless Eye’, needs to get his intelligence from your brothel, ‘Little Flowers’.” 

“So, it seems that you are indeed not cheap, Miss ‘Flowery Heart’. .

“Or ought I to address you as The Thugs' Procuress?”

Being told pithily and correctly the ins and outs of her background and classified information caught Felicia off guard. With an unsightly complexion, “You…”

The Barren Bone man grinned with confidence,

"Six years ago, the Black Street Brotherhood crushed the Blood Bottle Gang in the One Night War, and you've since risen to Red Square Street—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 had a ghastly expression.

“Now you have two choices: the first one is to cooperate with me, and everything will go smoothly; as for the second... it’s much rougher.” Raphael closed the folder, brushing it over.

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

Felicia.

She was someone he recognised.

This woman had appeared innumerable times in places Thales was familiar with, such as Black Street, Underground Street, the Sunset Pub, and the Abandoned Houses, a long time ago in his beggar career. She even spent a lot of time in and out of Boss Morris’ main property, didn’t show Rick any respect, and had nothing good to say about Quide. But every now and then, when she came across a beggar, she flashed a coquettish smile and waved her hand, giving out a considerable amount of copper coins.

She had a confident, bright smile and was well-groomed, tidy, and eloquent.

She was unbridled, exuberant, and unrestrained, and the men around her always changed.

One time, when she was doing “good stuff” in her room with her intimate friend Layork, she stumbled upon Thales hunched over in front of the window, using that safe place to rest and count the money.

But the moment the two pairs of eyes shortly met, there was no panic, no shame, no displeasure, or even a reminder to the Brotherhood’s assassin, Layork, who was ‘working hard’ under her.

Then, with her hair disheveled, Felicia languidly lifted the blanket to cover her naked 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 lovely woman, laughing loudly, threw her head back; the long hair flew up and down as she was riding, carrying on with her expressive moans.

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

Thales was overcome with melancholy as he dwelt on the past.

In the interrogation room, the Barren Bone man’s eyes were aggressive, and he would not let up until he got his objective.

Felicia looked back, rather embarrassed and at a complete loss, at Raphael.

However, before the sharp-eyed and ruthless interrogator of the Secret Intelligence Department, she was beaten in no time.

“Brotherhood, commitment to the Powerhouse, climbing up the ladder, and a procuress… I see you’ve got everything figured out, Mr. Police Officer…”

Felicia’s eyes were a little red, and the corners of her mouth were shaky.

Her previous wit and charm vanished, as though carried away by an avalanche.

“You can certainly be all upright and accuse me of my occupation and my affiliation, of being a dirty, nasty thug madam, head of the streetwalkers.”

“But, do you believe…”

She clenched her lips tightly and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes as she forced herself to lift her head up.

“Do you believe I was willing to let myself go and that I’m on this path by choice, doing dirty things for the Brotherhood?”

Raphael, who had broken the defences of his target and was on the verge of taking advantage of the situation, held up for a while.

With a delicate jade neck and a lithe, graceful form, Felicia was like a single flower on a cliff, unyielding yet poignant,

“Ever since I was a little girl, men would only glare meaningfully at me, of course at my body, with dirty, malicious eyes, and when I was old enough to wear a dress, they were even more…”

Raphael scowled and was quite uncomfortable as he listened to the other person’s statements.

“These people, these bad guys with knives in their hands, forced themselves upon me…”

Felicia gave a pitiful smile.

“They would become more ferocious if I resisted them. They would assume I like it and enjoy it if I didn’t. And claim that I’m being proactive, looking for connections, being cheap, or being a slut…”

“What can be done, though, as a weak woman? What can I do? Die with resolution?”

Felicia brushed away her tears crudely while trembling all over, but she kept her composure and stared straight at the man.

Like a plum blossom in full bloom, standing proudly in the cold and snow.

Raphael cleared his throat, unable to speak after witnessing her emotions burst forth.

“I just want to keep on living, but they won’t let me unless I spread my legs open freely—even a complete greenhorn like you, all you want to do is grab hold of my corset and skirt and pull them off!”

Raphael paused.

Felicia realised something, and with tears on her face, she shrank back, trying hard to pull up her sleeves and dress so that more skin would not show.

While directing a fierce stare at Raphael.

The way she stared at him, Raphael felt even more embarrassed and had to look away.

With tears streaming down her face and her eyes glued to the bone man, Felicia shielded her chest and thighs,

“And of course I have no other choice; I have no other choice but to do what I’m told…”

“I just want to keep on living!”

“In your hands, men!”

With eyes hazy with tears, she exclaimed in contempt,

“Throwing ‘roughness’ at me as a threat? Oh, come on! There are so many people in the world who are rough to me; you are just one more!"

Felicia gasped for air, with tears in her eyes falling like rain.

She resisted the need to lower her sleeve to wipe away her tears, but as soon as she did, that sleeve became wet as well.

Raphael heaved a deep sigh.

Unsure of what to do, he regarded the folder in his palm.

For a while, the only sounds in the interrogation room were the woman’s sobbing and sighs.

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

“Quite good, I like this girl.”

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

“Let Raphael know it’s her.”

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

In the interrogation room, Felicia didn’t appear to have intentions of stopping her crying.

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

The back and forth through the vines, though seen before, still made Thales feel a bit uneasy.

Raphael took a deep breath, hesitated for a while, and finally pulled out a handkerchief and handed it over.

Felicia at first stared blankly, but at the behest of the other, she probed to take the handkerchief.

“Thank, thank you,” her makeup smeared; red-eyed, she wiped her tears with the handkerchief. She shyly glanced at Raphael, embarrassed beyond words.

“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,” the Barren Bone man frowned at his file, “You are safe here; no one will force you, no one can hurt you.”

“No!”

“The Brotherhood is very strict, not to mention I was caught on Red Square Street and gone for so long…” Felicia came to her senses, and when she said that, her tone changed colour.

“No, they don’t like traitors and whistleblowers…”

Raphael cut her off as she started to panic.

“Hey, hear me out!”

Raphael took hold of her hand and spoke sternly,

“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 little tears,

"Indeed, you are handsome, and you don't look like a bad person, 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 realise how frightening they are…”

Then…

Someone burst out laughing!

A laughter filled with abandon, indulgence, and cynicism.

Not one sob was heard in the room.

“Is this how you deal with them too?” Raphael’s expression was no longer marked by empathy.

It was as if the gentleman who had once spoken with comfort and warmth did not exist.

Just as Raphael leaned over his chair and raised his arm in a single motion toward Felicia, the trembling woman looked up.

“This whole set-up?”

“What?”

Felicia regarded him with confusion.

Raphael let out a snort.

The Barren Bone man, with meticulousness, pulled out a page from the folder on the table,

“The “big hand” of the Iron Bat Union, Gary, by chance vanished more than ten years ago and hasn’t been seen since, alive or dead.”

Felicia froze when she caught a glimpse of the portrait on the sketch.

Raphael selected a different page,

“On his birthday, “Dogtooth” Bott, the Blood Bottle Gang’s top drug dealer, was betrayed by his subordinate, now known as ‘Phantom Blade’ Catherine.”

“Mudu Talon, a corrupt Western City Guard Department guard officer. After an attempted escape a few months ago, he was transferred to the White Bone cell, where he was killed right away.”

“The spice merchant Polly Gato, one of the fragrant Chamber of Commerce’s honorary council member. He was taken advantage of financially when he encountered a thug on a trip, but he still met a horrible end.”

Before Felicia, Raphael meticulously displayed the folder’s pages,

“As for the once renowned number one ace of the Blood Bottle Gang, who has reached the supreme class, the errant knight ‘Lausanne II’…”

Raphael narrowed his eyes,

“Sixteen years ago, he failed to kill the Black Sword with two against one and was beheaded by the latter on the street.”

Hearing the familiar moniker, Thales straightened right up.

Like an uninvolved observer caught up in a major incident for no apparent reason, Felicia remained silent while her wandering eyes scanned the pages. The tears on her face had yet to dry.

“Being a ‘weak woman’, Miss Felicia," Raphael said as he tore off the final mask, speaking with icy eyes,

“It looks like every bigwig you’ve been with since your youth—or, as you said, every “bad guy” that has ever come upon you with a knife has not turned out well?”

Felicia just stood there and forgot to cry.

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

Raphael frowned.

Uncannily, Felicia’s expression had lost its vulnerability and sadness. She stopped sobbing, panting, or wiping tears.

The woman discarded the handkerchief, slowly getting to her feet.

She had a peculiar, unsettling smile that extended from ear to ear.

She aimed in the other direction, right at Raphael.

“You’ve really got to know me, Pretty boy.”

Felicia spoke in a sweet and gentle tone.

She sat sideways on the table, bending forward, seductive and provocative,

“So, do you want to delve…”

“A little deeper?”

Felicia’s smile didn’t appear unattractive despite the fact that her makeup was marred by sobbing and the powder on both sides of her cheeks was blurred. She, on the other hand, had a peculiar, lethal allure that was even more striking.

On the other side of the glass, Thales felt a burst of irritability from the Sin of Hell’s River.

While maintaining a serious expression, Raphael remained silent.

With her eyes misty, she bit into a finger as all of her body was almost crossed over the table and quite close to the Barren Bone man.

“Or, perhaps, you want to be like them, too, with a hard knife…”

Raphael’s ear was warmed by her gasp as she pressed herself up against his ear and gasped,

“Poke me?”

The teasing in Felicia’s voice was gripping and heart-rending.

Raphael’s breathing began to quicken.

Thales could not help but flush a little by remembering the encounter they had when he was younger and discovering the ‘good deeds’ of this woman.

However, at that very moment…

A sudden, sharp cracking sound was heard.

Felicia’s complexion underwent a significant change!

She lowered her head and was shocked to see that her left hand, which was resting on the tabletop, was firmly handcuffed to the leg of the table.

She was lying on her stomach on the table in a strange posture, handcuffed and struggling in vain. Incapable of sitting or getting up, she couldn’t help but get flushed.

The woman turned her head in rage,

“You—”

Raphael, however, calmly grabbed the papers, went around the table, walked to Felicia’s chair, and took a seat.

Felicia had to turn her head in an awkward position before she could follow Raphael’s movements.

But she rolled her eyes, and the anger on her face vanished without a trace.

“So you’re into this, huh?”

Felicia’s face broke out in an enigmatic smile.

In a clumsy posture, she simply took off her shoes, put her whole body on the table, and positioned herself seductively lying on her side in front of Raphael.

The woman’s slim legs were squeezed together; the hidden scenery under the skirt was utterly alluring.

“Actually, I quite like it too… doing it handcuffed.”

She was let down, though.

Raphael looked at her with a faint smile, showing no interest in her hint.

A few seconds later, Felicia’s smile faded, and she pulled her handcuffs and bawled with fury.

“What is this reaction?”

The woman stared at Raphael with venomous fervor,

“What, is this because your confidence is measured by the size of your weenie, or is it that you can’t get hard at all?”

Raphael couldn’t help but glance sidelong at her.

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,

“May I be of assistance?”

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

Trying his best to disregard the woman’s acting abilities, the Barren Bone man coughed.

“Do you not have a voice in regards to these lists, these unfortunate ones?”

Raphael went through the files on the table, or rather, each file’s representation of a deceased individual.

Felicia’s expression cooled. She stared all over the table with disdain in her eyes.

“Hmph.”

“Did you know that every man who coerced me initially said the same thing?”

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

Felicia lied on her handcuffed arm, looking coldly at Raphael,

“Just as you did before.”

Raphael made a humming sound.

“Every man thinks he’s better than his counterparts and wants to prove to me that he’s different, that he really does love and respect me, unlike the ‘other men’ who have hurt me.”

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

“But what happens? When it comes down to it, they can’t wait to take off their trousers or to wait for me to take off my skirt in return.

“And if I refuse…,” she continued with a slight chuckle. “They still think that they’re protecting me and looking after me. ‘I know you want it too’ or ‘I’ve done so much for you’ or even ‘You don’t know how beautiful you are’, and so on.

Felicia swiped every file off the table with a severe look as they clattered to the ground.

“Pretty boy…”

“The reason why heroic rescues work out is because men expect and are naturally sure that in the next act…”

Every stretch in the files that were lying on the ground caught Felicia’s attention, and she recalled something that revealed unprecedented wickedness and hatred.

“The damsel is fucked by the hero.”

Raphael grimaced.

“And if that doesn’t happen… if the damsel doesn’t fall in love with that 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 put her head up and gritted her teeth.

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

“And he will go with the classic, ‘I’m not like the guy who forced you; I’m here to protect you.’”

Felicia lifted her sleeves and removed a powder smear from her face,

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

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

Felicia stared openly at Raphael with sharp eyes.

“Damsels do not belong to heroes,” declared the head prostitute of the Brotherhood with hatred,

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

“Regardless of the actions taken by the hero.”

 “Never.”