What to do if you encounter a madman in another world (Part 32)
Different world, fictional background!
The characters and worldview are privately designed and have nothing to do with real history.
System Document
The male and female protagonists are not biological children
The winter sunshine was like a gift of God's mercy to Paris, which was short of coal resources. Unfortunately, when the night swept away the dusk, the streets became extremely cold, and the moonlight shone brightly on the empty road surface.
A cold wind, carrying the lingering sobs of the Place de la Concorde, swirled over a massive building. There, the brick walls towered, the concrete was cold, and the iron gates were locked. Occasionally, a car drove in, trampling the stagnant water, sending countless blood droplets bouncing off it.
With a muffled creak, the cell door slowly opened. Two prisoners, dressed in ill-fitting prison uniforms, with unkempt hair and dirty faces, and heavy shackles on their hands and feet, walked in.
In the dim light of the kerosene lamp, they looked at the black words written on the wall - "Long Live France", "Mom, I Miss You", "Patriots Are Noble, Informers Are Shameless", "I Really Want Onion Soup", "Olivier, Die on Your Eighteenth Birthday", "Justice Will Prevail"...
The black characters, some large, some small, some long, some short, were stacked one on top of the other, occupying a quarter of the area on the surrounding walls. When one touched the characters with one's hand, one could find that the edges of the characters were slightly raised, which turned out to be dried, coagulated black blood.
The prisoner rubbed his frozen fingers, raised his shackled hands, and dropped the shovel on the brick wall. With a clanging sound of friction, the last footnote left to the world by the person who had been imprisoned in this cell was erased.
[Frenay Prison, near Paris]
The system prompt sounded, and your fingers leaning on the side moved. You struggled to lift your eyelids. After a while, the temporarily recovered energy supported you to stare at the dark wall above your head.
"Good girl, you finally woke up, God bless you."
A whisper of gratitude reached my ears.
It turns out you were lying on a woman's lap.
You stand up, but even the slightest movement triggers a powerful reaction. Dizziness immediately washes over you, your internal organs seeming to flip upside down, and the lingering burning sensation in your body still lingers. Forced to sit back down, you lean against the woman's shoulder.
You want to say "thank you" and "water", but you can't make a sound.
The high fever you've had these days has caused you to temporarily lose your voice.
Goya saw your intention and asked for water from the people in the crowded cell. The precious water of life came to you after a circle.
You drank the remaining water from the broken bowl, and the burning sensation in your throat eased slightly, but you still couldn't utter complete sentences, only hoarse monosyllables.
…
Under the dim light, a man in black military uniform sat in the corner. His figure made you feel extremely familiar, but the unruly aura on his body made you feel very unfamiliar.
The cell was filled with a strong smell of anesthetic, which was too harsh and mixed with the smell of rusty iron. A limp body was dragged out from the side door.
You couldn't hold on and fell quite hard, causing the rubber band that was already loose to loosen even more, and all your blonde hair fell down, covering half of your face.
The high fever that has temporarily subsided has left an unhealthy redness on your face. Your posture is awkward and exhausted, and your pair of light blue eyes still emit a faint blue light. In the faint light, you can feel a kind of confused truth. Under the false calmness, there is an unconcealable fear.
Seeing this, Schleicher, who was sitting on a chair supervising the execution, came over and squatted next to you.
He reached out and gathered your hair in his hand, rubbing it boredly, and then tucked the hair behind your ear. Then he clamped your jaw and said as if he was talking to an acquaintance:
"Poor thing, if you're so scared, why do you still have the courage to wear three colors?"
He recognized you from the Place de la Concorde where he had met you once before.
You opened your mouth, but only simple "uh" and "ah" sounds came out.
"Oh, it turns out the poor little thing is actually a mute."
Schleicher raised his eyebrows slightly, obviously more interested in the prey in front of him. His eyes fell on your jaw, which, although clamped, highlighted the soft and beautiful curve. His hand gradually moved down and touched the fragile center of your throat through the wool collar.
…
You kneel on the ground, your left arm forced onto the wooden platform. Dirty ink sinks into your exposed, delicate skin like poison oak sap.
As the sharp needle pierces deeper, a wave of intense pain follows. Your pale face is covered in sweat, you can't speak, and your upper and lower teeth clash.
Finally, the pins and needles in my arm ended.
Schleicher grabbed your hand that was about to fall to the ground, and with a jerk, he dragged your entire body onto the wooden platform.
His rough fingertips rubbed the dense and terrifying scars on his forearm, which were tangled in ink but with vertical and horizontal strokes. When his gaze moved to your trembling thick eyelashes, a playful sneer appeared in his eyes.
"Has anyone ever told me that your blue eyes are so beautiful, like the blue of the sea? It's a pity that I just gave it away, otherwise I would definitely give it to you."
Your body instantly flew into the air, and Schleicher picked you up. The corporal next to him opened the door for him. Dizzy, you tried to push him away, but he immediately grabbed your arms and thighs.
"Little mute, it doesn't feel good to fall to the ground."
Schleicher's long strides still revealed a hint of impatience. He led you to the bathroom in the prison lounge, picked up the overhead shower head, and sprayed you directly without adjusting the temperature.
The shower head started pouring, and the overwhelming cold water instantly turned the cold-proof clothes into a heavy burden.
You sit slumped under the cold water, shivering with cold. The headache that had disappeared begins to reappear secretly. Gradually, the water temperature rises. The water passes through your dry lips. You open your mouth slightly and let the water flow into your dry throat.
Schleicher turned the valve to turn off the shower, then wiped his face with a towel.
He stepped on the wet clothes on the ground, walked a few steps to the bed, threw you on it, turned around and began to "take off" his clothes.
Seeing you crawling out of the bed with tears in your eyes, he grabbed your slender ankle with his big hands and pulled it down. In an instant, he was pressing on you. You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, and the sound of his cry was like a newborn kitten.
Cat... Schleicher's eyes grew more and more interested.
"Little mute, follow me and you won't have to go to Drancy"
He kissed you, and seeing that you were extremely tired but didn't know how to relieve yourself and respond, he patiently seduced you bit by bit.
"Do you know what poses are common in Rabinovich's paintings of nude women?"
"I'll teach you"
"First, spread your legs."
The edited version of the main text costs 2k, and the hidden ending of the return gift unlocks the full version of this chapter for 1.3w~
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