He led her into a room, turned on the warm yellow light on the wall. Khanyi knew he had wrapped his arm around her shoulder and brought her into his room. It was a small suite, with somewhat outdated furniture and facilities. The windows were tightly shut, covered with thick curtains, making it feel a bit stuffy. But she paid no mind to this, sitting on the sofa and starting to cry again.
“The moment he said that, I felt like the whole world was collapsing…” She cried so hard that her words became choked. “I want to go home, I don’t want to stay here anymore…”
“Regardless, he shouldn’t have put you in danger.” His fingertips cautiously brushed through her black hair. Her strands were soft, with a silky touch, yet it felt like an electric current passing through his fingers.
He quickly withdrew his hand, stood up, and walked to the small kitchen in the suite. He took a very clean glass from the iron rack, filled it with water, and placed it in front of her. Khanyi took it with both hands, her slender fingers cradling the transparent glass, feeling that the water inside was warm.
“Look at you, how many milliliters of tears you’ve shed. Drink some water,” he said with a smile.
She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, her throat parched. She tilted her head back and drank all the water in the glass.
“Marcus, how did you end up here?”
“Perhaps the moon god heard your call and knew you needed help, so it brought me to your side,” he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Just a joke. As you can see, I rented this small apartment for convenience and don’t come back often. If you wish, you can stay here.”
“Thank you.” Khanyi glanced around, feeling a bit suffocated in her chest and dizzy. She instinctively covered her chest.
“You see, I was so busy talking to you that I forgot to open the window for some fresh air.” He got up, walked to the door, dimmed the lights in the room, and turned to look at Khanyi sitting on the long sofa. “This room is too small; it can get stuffy when the weather is hot.” He walked to the window and gently pulled back the heavy curtains. A cool breeze flowed in through the narrow window. She took a deep breath and looked outside. This should be the second floor; tonight the night sky was gloomy, with no moon or stars visible, only the dim yellow light of a streetlamp flickering among the dark shadows of the trees.
Whether it was because she was tired from crying or the water had taken effect, she soon curled up on the sofa and fell asleep. However, it seemed she was constantly disturbed by nightmares; her beautiful brown eyebrows faintly furrowed. This woman was so delicate, petite, innocent, kind-hearted, and trusting.
“I’m sorry, my little swan.” His right hand slipped into her black hair again, that enchanting touch making his fingertips linger for a moment, gliding down her head, gently brushing over her arm, her top, her waist, and her skirt. Suddenly, his fingers were blocked by something hard. He reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a familiar red velvet box. Carefully opening it, he found a pair of pristine white pearl earrings inside.
He stared at the earrings with his lake-blue eyes, the emotions in his gaze no longer needing to be concealed, for the girl was now asleep. He had no intention of harming her; he merely searched her for safety reasons, initially thinking that the hard box contained a listening device or something similar, only to discover it was the pair of pearl earrings he had given her. Why was she carrying this with her? And in such a critical situation, why didn’t she use these earrings as collateral to exchange for her temporary safety from that greedy innkeeper? She was too pure, too kind, like a flawless mirror, making any ugliness, hypocrisy, and filth unable to hide before her. He gazed at her, his lake-blue eyes deepening again, like a clear blue pond. He had to admit that this Eastern girl possessed an indescribable charm.
But he forced himself to snap out of this brief daze. He would not forget his purpose. Since that unexpected encounter on the train, he had been secretly approaching this girl, orchestrating several meetings, looking for an opportunity to take revenge on that man.
He suddenly realized he might have made a mistake. He quickly walked to the window, and through the gap in the curtains, he saw a black car parked at the street corner, with several plainclothes police officers surrounding it. At this moment, the one who should truly be worried was himself. The black car that had been tailing her contained none other than himself, General Friedrich Albert von Ryan of the SS. Marcus was taken aback; his actions had always been swift and secretive, with strict guards at all times. More frightening was that the secret police organization he commanded was all-encompassing. Finding a weakness in such a man was incredibly difficult, but everyone had weaknesses, unless they were angels without desires or devils with no redeeming qualities. From her fragmented cries, he had roughly gathered what had happened. That man might have already known she would come to him, using this incident to convey a message: he had no weaknesses and wanted him to know that everything was already under his control.
But why did he choose to appear at this moment? If it was merely to take his life, he would have long been dead under the black guns of the snipers lying in ambush. Perhaps, even with control over the empire’s secret police and intelligence agencies, he still had some reservations about his arch-nemesis, the “King of Espionage,” Flame Kalis. That man knew that Kalis’s subordinates had visited him several times to dig up evidence of his past arms smuggling, corruption, and assassination of colleagues, yet he did not know that he had not shared this information.
