Westminster Bank
Chapter 2: Arrested and Imprisoned
"You can’t see me?"
The Giant Dragon’s breath carried the smell of sulfur. The voice was a woman’s, mature and soft, like a gentle veil of gauze blown by the wind, brushing against a man’s rugged face.
Baron tapped his blind man’s cane and gave a wry smile. "My apologies, Lady Dragoon. A fever ruined my eyes when I was eight. To protect my pitiful, pathetic pride, I’ve always lived my life as if I were a normal person."
"While I would love to say I can see you, the truth is I cannot. I can only smell the fragrance of irises on the wind, which tells me you must be an elegant and virtuous lady."
The Giant Dragon’s head filled the foyer. Its long, hard, angular face made its colossal pupils seem utterly cold.
She was the furthest thing from elegant and virtuous. Of course, she was also the furthest thing from a lady.
Baron desperately hoped someone would walk by behind him, see this immense, finely-scaled behemoth, and call the police.
’What was the emergency number in the United Kingdom again? Was it 999 or 911? It couldn’t be 996, surely.’
The Red Dragon’s colossal eyes swept over Baron like spotlights, finally landing on his dark black eyes, which held not a single spark of light and were like pools of stagnant water.
"Come with me, Mr. Constantine. Let me hear what new policies the Sheffield Bank has this time."
The impossible happened. The Giant Dragon’s body abruptly shrank, transforming into a red-haired girl in a white dress.
She was beautiful and proud, wearing a pair of red kitten heels, her red pupils seeming to hide flecks of gold.
Faced with a scene as fantastical as something from a movie, Baron showed no emotional fluctuation. He maintained the same posture he’d held when facing the colossal eyes and even gave a polite bow.
"As you command, Lady Dragoon."
...
"Don’t call me ’Lady.’ Carmen Ray Dragoon. That’s my name."
The red-haired girl led Baron to a high-backed chair before taking a seat opposite him at a white marble dining table. The table was by the window, which looked out onto a foggy street. A bouquet of Dahlias, chewing on bones, sat on the table between them.
The Dahlias showed Baron the sharp teeth in their pistils, their floral fragrance mingled with a strange, bloody scent.
Baron, seemingly oblivious, placed his briefcase on the table, conveniently blocking the Dahlias’ gaping, bloody maw. He opened the case and took out the collection letter Miss Alice had prepared for him.
"Miss Carmen, I am visiting you today to deliver a collection letter from the bank. They have sent me to remind you that the principal and interest on the loan you took out from our bank last year, totaling 12,241.50 British Pounds, is now due..."
"A collection letter?"
Carmen’s expression instantly turned cold as she took the letter.
"Allow me to remind you, Miss Carmen."
"In the ’Philip District Real Estate Mortgage Agreement,’ signed in 1982, the seventh additional clause clearly states..."
Baron did his best to maintain the professionalism of a career debt collector. It was better to risk angering a Giant Dragon than to have his disguise seen through.
"No, you misunderstand me, Mr. Constantine. I have no intention of defaulting on my debt. I just feel that some things are not suitable to be discussed here."
Carmen looked the collection letter over a few times before slipping it into the pocket of her long dress.
’Not suitable to discuss here? Then where? Besides, this spot is right by the door. If something unexpected happens, it’ll be easier for me to escape.’
A sense of alarm rose in Baron. "Miss Carmen, I think this spot is perfectly suitable. The fragrance of the Dahlias is conducive to our conversation."
Carmen didn’t say another word. She just knocked on the table. The Dahlias used their heads to help Baron close his briefcase, which was stuffed with various documents. Carmen then stood, pushed his cane into his hand, and said in a tone that brooked no refusal:
"In any case, come with me, Mr. Constantine." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢
Leaning against the carved banister of the staircase, she extended a slender hand toward Baron. "Do you need me to help you?"
The Dahlias stared at him intently... ’even though the flowers don’t have eyes, my intuition tells me I’ll be chewed up if I refuse.’
Realizing he had no other way out, Baron indicated that he had his cane.
...
「In the attic.」
The rhythmic tapping of his cane on the chevron-patterned oak floor of the attic sounded like a somber orchestra piece.
There were four rooms upstairs, two on the left and two on the right. Baron followed Miss Carmen into the first room on the left.
Inside the room was a large bed with a lamp beside it. Near the lamp were white Venetian blinds. On the windowsill sat the irises he had noticed earlier, and through the windowpanes, he could see the tall oak tree across the street.
Carmen sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside her, saying, "Please, have a seat, Mr. Constantine."
Baron politely declined, saying that standing was good for his physical and mental well-being.
His position was near the door, convenient for a quick escape at the first sign of trouble.
SLAM. The door shut automatically, accompanied by a soft metallic sound. Baron guessed it had been locked.
But the woman clearly hadn’t moved from the bed for even a second. And she was... taking off her clothes?
Baron’s heart leaped in surprise.
At that very moment, the woman undid the sash at the back of her dress. The long gown slid down like water, her red hair flowing with it, revealing alabaster skin to the air.
She had an impressive figure.
Baron watched without blinking, his eyes tracing the girl’s translucent collarbones and her smooth, delicate forearms. He watched as she kicked her kitten heels onto the floor, revealing the long, slender arch of her foot. The silk slip and bright white stockings lay in a pile on the ground. She was completely naked.
And yet, his expression remained unchanged. On the contrary, with the utmost professionalism, he conscientiously continued to drone on about the Sheffield Industrial Bank’s latest lending policies—details he had only barely managed to learn from his predecessor’s notes.