They followed the crowd onto the platform, where a steam locomotive was parked, and there were quite a few soldiers in black uniforms on the platform. Khanyi suddenly remembered that just a few months ago, she had taken a train from the south to the capital, and it was on this platform that she had stepped off the train, dragging her heavy luggage when a small squad of black-clad SS soldiers approached her, led by that handsome man who had so domineeringly embraced her and kissed her lips passionately. Back then, she had felt like a happy little dove, eager to fly to his side; now, she felt like a sorrowful wild goose, adrift and unanchored.
Suddenly, a sharp gunshot broke her thoughts, and the crowd waiting on the platform erupted into chaos. A few more gunshots followed, and the guards sounded the alarm. In the distance on the platform, someone fell to the ground, and others rushed past her, including plainclothes police and SS soldiers in black uniforms.
Khanyi was pushed to the ground, and as she struggled to get up, she saw Evelyn already about ten meters away from her. The chaotic crowd began to surge out of the two platform exits like a flood that had burst its banks, and she watched helplessly as she and Evelyn were swept further apart.
When the chaos subsided, Khanyi found herself alone, standing in the square outside the waiting room. All her luggage, cash, and documents were in the suitcase that Evelyn had been carrying. She clutched the few coins left in her pocket and went to the phone booth to call the villa, but no one answered.
She also went to the train station’s broadcasting room to send a message looking for someone, but it was already packed with people. The petite and fragile her couldn’t even get in line. After a while, the small iron window closed, and a black-clad train conductor behind the window put up a sign that read “Closed, come back tomorrow.” In the crowd waiting in line, people in front angrily pounded on the door and windows of the broadcasting room, but it was useless.
Khanyi vaguely remembered that Evelyn had once mentioned her mother’s house’s location. Perhaps there was a glimmer of hope to find Evelyn there. So she walked along the street, following the signs.
Even in early autumn, the night wind turned a bit chilly after dark.
At ten o’clock, the city began its curfew. Around nine, she finally arrived at the dilapidated apartment building that Evelyn had mentioned. After much effort, she knocked on the door, but the landlady said there was no woman named Evelyn living there, let alone a sick mother. She thought she must have remembered incorrectly. Before the curfew, she needed to find a place to stay and arrived at a hotel.
But she had only a few coins on her, and no matter how she assured and explained, even pleading desperately, the hotel owner clearly had no intention of taking her in—a penniless foreign woman without any documents.
The old grandfather clock in the hotel lobby chimed, “Dong—Dong—” ten times, like a death knell. She knew well what the consequences would be if she were still on the street after curfew. She had to plead again for a while, but the short, stout man hiding behind the counter, with his cunning black eyes, refused to relent, and his tone grew increasingly impatient. Suddenly, she remembered the small red velvet box in her dress pocket. After hesitating for a moment, her hand reached for the box…
“This young lady is with me,” a gentle yet magnetic male voice sounded behind her. “I can pay for her room.”
Khanyi turned around, and what met her eyes was a handsome man with lake-blue eyes.
She was taken aback and called out his name, “Marcus.”
“You see, sir, it’s not about the money. She has no identification, and the checks have been quite strict lately,” the innkeeper appeared somewhat troubled.
He smiled at her with his eyes, pulled out a wallet from his trench coat pocket, took out a stack of cash, and placed it on the innkeeper’s tall wooden counter, gently pushing it forward. “Of course, this isn’t about money. The identification issue is indeed a hassle, but if anyone comes asking, I can vouch for her. Mr. Luria, please make it convenient for her.” He added, “Do you think my identity and reputation are insufficient to act as a guarantor?”
“Alright, I certainly trust you, Lieutenant Pearl.” The innkeeper accepted the bills and tucked them into a rusty, battered cash box.
Marcus pulled her to a corner of the lobby. “How could you be wandering the streets? Do you know how dangerous that is?” His tone, which had been calm and gentle just moments ago, became somewhat agitated. However, he noticed her eyes were vacant. He held her hands, which were also cold, and stopped asking questions. He quickly took off his coat and wrapped it around her frail shoulders.
His coat carried a faint scent of perfume, a mix of fresh lemon and basil, along with a lingering hint of sandalwood. For some reason, this fragrance reminded her of her brother Victor, who always had a subtle smell of ink and sawdust about him. These two scents were not similar at all, yet she couldn’t help but lean against his shoulder and began to cry softly like a little dog.
Suddenly, she threw herself into his arms. He was taken aback, and his lake-blue eyes deepened. The girl in his embrace was so petite and adorable, her delicate body trembling continuously. He tightened his hold, wanting to give her some strength and warmth.
