Her wrist was contracting and spasming violently. Her limited medical knowledge told her it was due to excessive blood loss, but this pain did not last long. She soon fell into unconsciousness…
Abigail heard something shatter in the bathroom. She saw blood seeping through the crack of the bathroom door. She covered her mouth but did not report it immediately. This middle-aged, overweight woman silently walked towards the basement, clasping her hands together, holding a silver cross against her chest, murmuring prayers for the girl’s soul.
It was unclear whether he had a natural sensitivity to the smell of blood or if he simply thought too much time had passed, but he was still a step too late. When he kicked open the bathroom door, she was already lying in a pool of blood. His eyes were filled with her blood, as if it would instantly stain his icy blue gaze red.
“No! No!” His eyes were frantic. How could she die? He would not allow her to die; he had not yet orchestrated her death. He wrapped a handkerchief tightly around her bleeding wrist and scooped up her already cold body, rushing down the stairs…
The hospital should have been quiet at night, but with the outbreak of war, the night was no different from day. The corridors were crowded with patients. His guards rushed ahead to clear the obstacles. He carried her directly into the attending physician’s office.
The middle-aged doctor on night duty appeared somewhat troubled by this unexpected visitor. “She was brought in too late; there is no hope. She won’t survive.” He shook his head, removing the stethoscope from her chest. His profession was that of a doctor, and he was accustomed to death. He didn’t need to explain much, but he knew that the officer holding this African woman had a high rank. He wasn’t sure of the specifics, but not just any officer had a Mercedes and a few capable SS lieutenants as guards.
“I said save her.” He quickly drew his gun from his waist and pressed it against the doctor’s temple.
“Sir, please don’t be agitated.” The doctor forced a smile as he pressed down on the black handgun, as if accustomed to such threats. Soldiers often drew their guns in a fit of impulse. He patiently explained, “Sir, you see, she was brought in too late, lost too much blood, and she already had some symptoms of anemia…”
A gunshot rang out, and the doctor’s body fell. The office was instantly enveloped in a deathly silence, but this silence lasted only two seconds. His blade-like gaze swept across everyone in the ward. All the doctors and nurses seemed to be activated by the gunshot, and everything began to operate at high speed. His guards dragged the doctor’s body aside, leaving a bright red stain on the floor. Two young assistant doctors quickly replaced him, one searching for a vein on her cold arm for injection while the other prepared matching plasma.
He coldly observed everything falling into order, retreating from the emergency room. His hand rested on the windowsill in the corridor, where the gray night sky held no stars, and the snow fell heavier, silently drifting down like goose feathers. He exhaled a shallow white mist into the dry, cold air, having rushed out too quickly without wearing his long black coat with red lapels.
Standing five steps behind him, Lieutenant Jacob’s keen eyes fell on his black uniform sleeve. Following that gaze, he saw his insignia soaked in bright red blood—her blood. Under the harsh white light of the corridor, the blood appeared even more vivid. He ignored the stain, turning his face away from the corridor.
He knew this man had followed him for three years. He thought he understood him well, as he had always been a diligent subordinate and a trustworthy partner. But today, that gaze made him uncomfortable. Not only that, but Ruth, who ran the club, and his housekeeper, Abigail were also acting unusually. He suddenly felt that they were all targeting him.
He never worried about being misunderstood or targeted; on the contrary, people should fear him. Almost no one dared to call him by name in private. Everyone who heard his code name—G—should feel a fear that arose from the depths of their hearts, from the high-ranking officials of the Empire, the remnants of the dynasty, to the generals with great military achievements, to an ordinary civil servant, a grocery store owner, performers in taverns, factory workers… He held the secrets of nearly every person in the Empire in his hands, secrets that could elevate a person to greatness or destroy them in an instant. His gaze deepened, piercing into the endless gray of the night.
