Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

Then he said, “Miss Chiyu, do you know that the dragon transformation in my right eye wasn’t natural? It happened six years ago when I was protecting you and was injured by a crazed half-blood customer. He almost gouged out my eye, but you saved me and used the medical technology of the Demon Clan to save this eye, which also led to the dragon transformation.”

He touched his right eye.

“From that day on, I swore to protect Miss by any means necessary. To gather those dirty secrets and deal with those dirty people. If this is the price to protect her, I am willing.”

His voice was soft, but the determination within it was as heavy as a thousand pounds.

Frilian looked at him.

The young servant's loyalty mirrored that of Sakurai Kogure to Minamoto no Wakana. Both were willing to fall into darkness for the sake of their loved ones.

"And what about yourself?" Frillian asked. "Have you never thought about leaving? About living a normal life?"

Qinglan smiled, but there was a hint of bitterness in her smile.

“A normal life, Miss Qianyu, do you think someone like me can still live a normal life?” He pointed to his right eye. “This eye could completely turn into a dragon at any time, and then I will become a monster. Besides, the blood on my hands can’t be washed off.”

He put down his teacup and stood up.

"Excuse me, I need to go prepare for tonight's arrangements. If Miss Chiyu has any further questions, please feel free to contact me."

He walked to the door, then stopped.

“Oh, right,” he said, turning back, “I’ve already arranged for someone to take that girl from last night away. I used Gokurakukan’s medical transfer channels, so it won’t arouse suspicion. When she wakes up, she’ll be in a hospital in Yokohama, and her medical record will say ‘amnesia due to a traffic accident.’ Her family has been notified and will be coming to pick her up soon.”

Frillie was stunned.

"how do you know?"

“Miss told me,” Qinglan said. “She said Miss Qianyu is a kind person, but sometimes she’s too soft-hearted. In the Paradise Pavilion, being soft-hearted will get you killed.”

He bowed slightly and left the tea room.

Frillie sat alone in the tea room, looking at the teacup in her hand. The tea had cooled, and a thin film had formed on the surface.

She remembered Qinglan's words: "The blood on my hands can never be washed off."

I also recalled Sakurai Kogure's words: "Does a demon like me deserve to be saved?"

And then there was herself; last night, standing by the ornamental pond, watching the rice paddy sink to the bottom, she felt a deathly stillness in her heart.

Perhaps, in this hell called Bliss, everyone is a ghost.

Some ghosts are still struggling, while others have already given up.

What she had to do was save those souls who still wanted to live before hell collapsed, even though she herself was already on the verge of death.

Chapter 558 What Did Frillian Ask at Elysium (Part 1)

At 6 p.m., the staff canteen of the Paradise Pavilion was much busier than at noon.

The strict hierarchy of the daytime eased somewhat at dinner. Although the maids, waiters, cooks, and guards still sat in their respective areas, they could at least converse in hushed tones within their own small circles. The dining hall was filled with the aroma of food and suppressed laughter, like the brief calm before a storm.

Frillie carried her tray to a corner of the maids' quarters. Dinner was more lavish than lunch: white rice was piled up like a small mountain, the main course was fried pork cutlet with shredded cabbage, there was also a bowl of steaming tofu miso soup, and even a small piece of honeydew melon for each person as dessert.

“Gokurakukan is never stingy when it comes to food,” Akemi said softly, picking up a piece of pork chop with her chopsticks. “Mrs. Matsumoto said that a hungry maid has no energy to please the guests.”

Xiaochun ate the honeydew melon in small bites, her eyes squinting happily: "There's only fruit for Friday dinner. Sister Qianyu, eat quickly, or it will be taken away."

Frillie looked around. The dining hall could hold about two hundred people, and it was about eighty percent full. Most of the maids were eating with their heads down, occasionally exchanging a few words with those at the next table. The waiters were relatively relaxed, and some were discussing the evening's shift schedule. The guards sat in the seats closest to the door, with walkie-talkies beside their trays, ready to respond at any time.

The chefs peeked out of the small kitchen window, observing the diners' reactions. A plump, middle-aged chef noticed Frillie's gaze and grinned at her.

“That’s Master Fujiwara,” Akemi said, following her gaze. “He’s worked at Gokurakukan for ten years. He’s a very nice guy, and sometimes he’ll secretly give us a little extra food.”

“Three years,” Frillie murmured, savoring the word. “Why has he been working here for so long?”

Akemi shrugged: "The salary is high, isn't it? Gokurakukan pays its employees three times more than other similar establishments, and it also includes room and board. It's very attractive to someone like Master Fujiwara who has a family to support."

"Doesn't he mind what this place is for?"

This time, it was Xiaochun who answered. She swallowed the food in her mouth and said softly, "Master Fujiwara said that he is just a cook. What the customers eat or what he cooks has nothing to do with him. He just needs to cook good food, get paid, and support his family."

What a simple philosophy of survival.

Frillie recalled what her mentor Flamel had once said: "The most powerful human ability is not love or hate, but numbness. Numbness can make a person live like a normal person in hell."

There was a short break after dinner. Frillie excused herself to return the plates to the kitchen, but actually wanted to have a chat with Chef Fujiwara.

The kitchen was large, divided into three areas: Chinese, Japanese, and Western. It was peak dishwashing time, and several helpers were busy at the sinks. Chef Fujiwara was wiping knives in the Japanese section when he saw Frillie and greeted her with a smile.

"Miss Chiyu, did you like today's fried pork cutlet?"

“It’s delicious,” Frillie said, placing her plate in the recycling bin. “Chef Fujiwara’s cooking is excellent.”

"Haha, you flatter me." Master Fujiwara seemed very happy. "I've worked in a ryotei in Ginza for twenty years. If my family didn't urgently need money, I wouldn't be here."

He speaks very frankly and doesn't shy away from the nature of the Pleasure House.

"What do you think of this place?" Frilian asked tentatively.

Master Fujiwara put down his knife, wiped his hands, and took out a cigarette case from his pocket. Seeing Frillie, he put it back.

"Well, how should I put it?" He thought for a moment, "The pay is high and the workload is low, relatively speaking. I only need to be responsible for the meals of VIP guests and senior staff, while other chefs will cook the meals for ordinary guests. Moreover, there is no upper limit to the budget for ingredients, so I can use whatever I want. It's like paradise for a chef."

"but?"

Master Fujiwara's smile faded slightly.

“But sometimes when I walk through the corridor at night, I hear unpleasant noises,” he said in a low voice. “At first, I had nightmares, but I got used to it. Like Xiaochun said, I’m just a cook, I can’t worry about that.”

He paused, then added, "Besides, my daughter is taking the college entrance exam this year, and the tuition is very expensive. My son also wants to learn piano. The money here is enough for me to support their education and I can also save some money for my retirement. That's enough."

For the sake of their families, they can close their eyes, plug their ears, and pretend that they work at just an ordinary high-end club.

"So what do you think of the Ghost Clan?" Frillian asked more directly.

Master Fujiwara's expression changed. He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention before whispering:

“Miss Qianyu, please don’t ask such questions again. The Demon Clan is not something we can discuss. All I know is that my monthly salary arrives on time, and occasionally there are requests for ‘special ingredients,’ which I simply comply with. As for anything else, I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

Although he spoke casually, Frillie could sense the fear in his tone. Like an animal living in the jungle, knowing there are wild beasts around, but as long as it doesn't provoke them, it can live in peace.

"Special ingredients?" Frillie feigned curiosity. "Like what?"

“For example,” Chef Fujiwara hesitated for a moment, “sometimes they send over some strange meat. It looks like beef, but the texture is different, and the taste is more fishy. They ask that it be made into sashimi or rare steak. I make it according to their request, without asking where it comes from.”

Frillie felt nauseous.

"Don't you think so?"

“Miss Chiyu,” Master Fujiwara interrupted her, his tone becoming serious. “In this place, curiosity can kill you. I’ve worked here for three years and seen too many people disappear because they asked too many questions. You’re new here, so let me give you some advice: do your job well, get paid what you’re owed, and don’t worry about, ask about, or look at anything else.”

He put away the knife, turned around and began tidying up the kitchen utensils, ending the conversation.

Frillie knew she wouldn't get any more information out of him.

She left the kitchen and ran into Qinglan in the hallway. He was holding a list and checking something.

"Miss Qianyu," Qinglan nodded in greeting, "Was dinner to your liking?"

“Very good.” Frilian looked at the list in his hand. “Busy?”

“Check the VIP guest list for tonight,” Qinglan said. “Several important people are coming, and we need to make special arrangements.”

"An important person?"

“People from the political world, the business world, and the Snake-Headed Eight Families,” Qinglan said calmly. “Every Friday night, mid-level executives from the Snake-Headed Eight Families come to relax. It’s a tradition.”

Frillie's heart skipped a beat.

"The Snake-Headed Eight Families are here too?"

“Of course,” Qinglan smiled, a hint of sarcasm in her smile. “The Demon Clan and the Snake Clan are outwardly enemies, but their private dealings have never stopped. The Paradise Pavilion is one of their trading venues. They indulge themselves here, and we gather intelligence here. Each gets what they need.”

Aren't they afraid of being recognized?

“They can disguise themselves and use aliases. But everyone in the industry knows it.” Qinglan flipped through a page of the list. “For example, one of the people coming tonight is ostensibly the president of a trading company, but he’s actually the section chief of the executive bureau of the Snake Clan. He likes blonde girls, and he always orders the same one.”

Chapter 559 What Did Frilian Ask at Elysium (Part 2)

Instead of returning directly to the maids' quarters, Frillie went around to the staff smoking area at the back of the building. There was a simple pavilion there, where several guards were smoking and resting.

They were somewhat surprised to see Frilian, as the maids rarely came here.

"Miss Qianyu?" one of the guards recognized her. "Is there something you need?"

"It's nothing, just taking a walk," Frillie said. "Could I borrow a light?"

She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, which she had taken from Tanaka's room. She herself didn't smoke, but she knew that cigarettes were a good tool to start a conversation in certain situations.

The guard handed her a lighter. Frillie lit a cigarette, pretended to take a practiced drag, and then coughed, choking on the smoke.

The guards laughed.

"Is this Ms. Chiyu's first time smoking?"

"Mmm," Frillie said, wiping away her tears. "I want to see what it feels like."

“It’s not a pleasant feeling,” said one of the older guards, “but it’s a pick-me-up. We rely on it to get through the night shift.”

Frillie sized them up. Four guards, all dressed in identical black uniforms, with weapons at their waists—not guns, but specially made batons and stun guns. While the Elysium outwardly prohibited carrying firearms, Frillie knew that the guards lurking in the shadows were equipped with real killing weapons.

"How many hours do you work a day?" she asked.

"Twelve hours a day, two shifts," the young guard said. "The day shift is from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., and the night shift is the other way around. We rotate every week."

"Is it hard?"

“I’m used to it,” the older guard said, exhaling a smoke ring. “It’s better than being a security guard outside. The pay is higher here, the benefits are better, and... it’s safer.”

"Safety?"

“Hmm.” He nodded. “With the Ghost Clan protecting the Elysium, no one dares to cause trouble. We only need to guard against minor internal problems, such as drunk guests causing trouble, or…” He glanced at Frillie and didn’t finish his sentence.

Or perhaps it was a maid trying to escape, Frillie understood.

"What do you think of the Ghost Clan?" she asked the same question.

The guards exchanged glances.

The younger one spoke first: "A good organization is one that pays salaries. My hometown is in Northeast China, where it's hard to find a job. This place provides room and board, the salary is twice that of other places, and I can even send money home."

"Aren't you afraid of danger?" Frilian asked. "I've heard that the Ghosts have many enemies."