Chapter 752 I am very willing to serve you

As the afterglow of the setting sun shone on the 16th arrondissement of Paris, Clemenceau returned to his villa exhausted.

He felt severely exhausted.

It’s not just because I didn’t sleep well, but also because of the inner struggle and the process of adapting after the camp change.

Am I a Ciel supporter from now on?

Clemenceau smiled bitterly in his heart, walked into the living room and sat heavily on the rocking chair in front of the window, letting it rock back and forth. He hoped that this would help him relax.

The housekeeper rushed over and quickly closed the curtains, his tone commanding and warning: "Please stay away from the window, sir."

Clemenceau realized something, said "hmm" and immediately stood up and walked towards the sofa, but changed direction on the way and sat down at the dining table.

The sofa was also within sight of the window, even though the curtains were drawn.

At this moment, he faintly heard a few not-so-obvious "clang clang" sounds, like a hammer hitting a water pipe.

…

High up on the water tower, camouflaged in gray canvas, Lucia lay on the tower cover, holding a rifle equipped with a silencer and a scope and pointing it at the window opposite the villa.

In the aperture of the scope, a killer wearing a baseball cap was lying in a pool of blood, with a rifle with a silencer but without a scope next to him.

"This is the difference between you and me." Lucia said proudly, "I have Charles."

…

“When did it start?” Clemenceau looked at the butler who was grinding coffee beans.

"What?" The butler was absent-minded and continued to be busy with the things in his hands.

“Come on, Baptiste,” Clemenceau said emphatically, “You know what I’m asking!”

The butler hesitated, then replied, "I'm sorry, sir, if you're asking when I started serving the Ciel, I'm not sure when it started."

Clemenceau looked confused.

The butler shrugged and explained:

"Let me see. It was about a year ago that Ciel saved Antwerp for the first time."

"That's when I believed Charles was the only hope for France. That's when I decided to stand by Charles and serve him."

“I didn’t really get the opportunity until three months ago.”

"I'm lucky, aren't I?"

Clemenceau was a little annoyed. He hated betrayal, and he hated the feeling of having his life in the hands of others even more.

“How much did he give you?” Clemenceau asked, his eyes fixed on the butler.

However, the butler was not nervous at all. He looked up and looked directly into Clemenceau's eyes, his tone full of sarcasm but his eyes shining with pride:

"Money? Is money the only thing you care about, sir?"

"How much do you think you can buy my life?"

"A thousand francs? Ten thousand? Or more?"

"No, no matter how much money I have. I am serving Ciel voluntarily, and I will not accept any payment, not even a penny!"

Clemenceau was shocked by the butler's words.

"No, that's impossible," he said.

He couldn't imagine anyone volunteering and risking their lives for no pay.

The butler smiled indifferently: "Believe it or not, I know you can't understand it."

Clemenceau stared at the butler blankly for a while, and finally believed what the butler said.

Clemenceau knew such fools existed.

He recalled that when he went to the hospital to comfort the wounded on behalf of Briand, a soldier who was blinded by the poison gas held his hand and said anxiously: "Sir, please heal my eyes. I need to go to the battlefield. Charles needs me. I want to do something for him!"

There was also a wounded soldier whose right leg was blown off by a shell. After getting a prosthetic limb, he tried hard to march like a normal person and even perform tactical moves. He also wanted to return to the battlefield and fight with Charles.

At that time, Clemenceau thought it was just a performance, or he was unwilling to admit his disability and did not want to be eliminated by society.

But now, after he saw the butler listen to what he said, he suddenly realized that this might be true.

Clemenceau felt a sense of fear for no reason.

If this is the case with the butler, does it mean that many people are also like this?

God, that's how the Shire's intelligence system developed.

Many people believed that he was the savior of France and were therefore willing to serve him in every field, endlessly.

Wait, why should I be upset?

Am I not from the Shire, too?

Well, thinking of this, Clemenceau felt much better.

"Sir." The butler carefully handed the brewed coffee to Clemenceau and said meaningfully, "From now on, only the food I provide can be eaten."

Clemenceau's heart, which had just been relieved, was lifted up again.

…

In the kitchen, a maid came out carrying a tray of food.

It was the tutor Rosa who came towards them: "Hey, Chloe, leave it to me, you go prepare some fruit."

"Okay, thank you!" The maid happily handed the tray to the other party.

However, the moment she turned around, the tutor had put the tray on the table and quickly strangled her neck from behind.

…

"You know too many secrets," the butler said to Clemenceau. "Your presence is a threat to them."

“Yes, I know.” Clemenceau nodded slowly: “I hope my choice is right.”

"You wouldn't know that," the butler replied calmly.

“What?” Clemenceau did not understand what this meant.

The butler explained: "What I mean is, if you make the wrong choice, I will let you die without any pain, which is my reward for you."

Clemenceau opened his mouth for a long time and couldn't close it. After a while, he answered: "Really? Thank you very much, you are so kind to me!"

The butler bowed elegantly to Clemenceau and said, "You're welcome, sir. I'm happy to serve you!"

The butler turned to leave, and as if he had thought of something, he turned back and reminded, "Oh, by the way, sir, please be sure to inform me every time you go out."

…

There was a truck parked on the roadside outside the villa. The driver was disheveled and had a resolute look in his eyes. He munched on some bread and stared at the door of the villa.

A month ago he learned that he had an incurable disease, and then someone asked him if he would take on the task.

This was the best destination for him, he thought, after all, it could bring some benefits to his family.

Suddenly, someone knocked on his car door.

He rolled down the window and looked out. A homeless man stretched out his hand to him: "Give me something to eat, man!"

"Get away, you bastard!" He refused without hesitation.

However, the moment he rolled up the car window, he found that the homeless man pulled out a pistol from his tattered clothes like a magic trick.

A pistol with a silencer.

With two low honks, the driver fell in a pool of blood, his life coming to an end prematurely.

His body and the truck will sink into the lake and may never be found.

(End of this chapter)