Wasn’t it the most delightful thing to have these two schemers mutually restraining and plotting against each other? Marcus smiled, gently closing the curtains. His lake-blue gaze shifted from the black night outside to the girl lying on the sofa. The strength of his opponent had long been anticipated, yet the appearance of this girl was unexpected.
Under the influence of the sleeping pills, she lay with her eyes closed, sleeping soundly. Crystal tears still clung to her long eyelashes, like a sleeping angel. Her complete trust in him made him suddenly not want her to suffer any harm. When he was with her, everything became so simple, just like when he first met her. He began to think of ways to make her smile because he liked seeing her happy, just as he had just given her a glass of water laced with sleeping pills, not planning any ulterior motives, but simply not wanting to see her cry so heartbreakingly…
A sudden urgent phone ring interrupted his thoughts. Marcus walked over to the phone, decisively picked up the receiver, and held it to his ear but did not speak.
A vague male voice came from the other end, “Lieutenant Marcus Pearl, please come to the door to confirm your room service.”
“Hello?” He was about to inquire when the other party had already hung up. Marcus alertly drew his gun, lowered his footsteps, and cautiously approached the door. With one hand holding the gun and the other pushing the door open, he found no one outside, only a white envelope on the ground. He glanced around, bent down, and quickly picked up the envelope.
On the white paper was only a line of black typewritten text, clearly not handwritten but printed with a typewriter. He gently touched the last letter’s thick stroke with his fingertip; the ink was still wet.
“What’s meant to come will eventually come,” Marcus muttered to himself, confirming the contents of the note once more, a meaningful smile rising at the corners of his lips.
The meeting place was an old, dilapidated church.
Marcus, dressed in a gray-black uniform, pushed through the dark wooden doors and stepped into the hall of the building. The statue on the altar was mottled and worn from years of neglect, and the stained glass windows in the dome were shattered. He walked lightly towards the altar, clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, and prayed to the statue. Moonlight streamed through the broken skylight, casting a faint silvery glow on the marble floor, illuminating the remnants of the crumbling walls.
A slender man in black appeared, pointing a black pistol directly at him, pressing it against his temple. He emerged from the shadows with such light footsteps that they were almost imperceptible, yet his movements were as swift as lightning.
“Marcus Pearl, Lieutenant,” the man said, swiftly hooking his belt buckle with one hand, disarming him in an instant. “What a pleasure.” He was like a black panther, suddenly attacking from the darkness, instantly gripping the opponent’s throat with his white teeth, his voice filled with a threatening tone.
“When did the SS start sending generals to personally apprehend people?” Marcus remained calm, not panicking despite the gun pressed against his temple, his tone still somewhat teasing.
After disarming his opponent, he skillfully removed the bullets from the chamber with one hand, the bullets clattering onto the marble floor, and the gun was tossed into the ruins nearby. The man in black moved closer to Marcus, his sharp chin on the left side of his handsome face, his ice-blue eyes glinting with cold light. “If you don’t want to cause trouble, then get lost.”
Marcus chuckled lightly, tilting his head to meet the cold gaze of the man. “If you think I’ve violated any laws, you can arrest me, but it’s best to send me to the military court of the National Defense Army.” A faint smile appeared on his lips, as if he didn’t perceive the danger in his actions. “Of course, you could also throw me directly into a concentration camp, General Ryan. That’s the privilege of your SS Division 4.”
“You should understand what I mean. Stay away from her.” He glared coldly at Marcus, the provocative words from his opponent failing to stir his anger or throw him off balance.
“It’s hard to believe that a mastermind would come down from the shadows to the forefront,” Marcus lowered his lake-blue eyes. “It’s a pity; I don’t want to involve anyone in a scandal. I just can’t bear to see a poor girl wandering the streets, used as bait without her knowledge.”
“What right do you have to say that to me?” The man in black pulled the trigger, the cold muzzle pressing into Marcus’s deep brown hair, against his skull. “Do you think this gun won’t go off?”
“If you were determined to kill me, you wouldn’t have waited until now to act. The fact that I’m still alive means there’s a reason for it,” Marcus closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly back against the gun, his brown eyelashes fluttering.
