What to do if you encounter a madman in another world (Twenty-seven)
Different world, fictional background!
The characters and worldview are privately designed and have nothing to do with real history.
The male and female protagonists are not biological children
Dusk descended tremblingly on the deserted Seine River. The sky upstream of the river embraced the sunset wholeheartedly, pulling a soft dark red veil on the surface of the river, but the water was no longer calm. The river water hit the search and rescue boat, making a noisy slapping sound.
They asked you to go back to the mansion first, but you stubbornly stayed there. Time passed by minute by minute, and every minute and second seemed so long. This painful wait made you unable to stand, and even your heartbeat could not continue. It was intermittent, as if you would lose your mind in the next second.
You can't remember what people around you said to you, let alone whether you said anything at all. Everything is like a coin completely swiped into the dark nothingness. A few short hours passed by like a river, and the gates of hell opened to you again.
"Sir, it's getting dark."
Darkness meant a blackout was about to begin, forcing the search and rescue operation to be suspended. Perhaps the outcome was already doomed: no child would survive the water until now.
Pike stood on the riverbank, looking at the tiny ships dotting the water. He dropped his cigarette butt onto the ground, extinguished it with his foot, and instructed the corporal beside him, "Send an urgent telegram to Commander von Kármán."
A group of people surround you, and you feel like you are being pushed onto the stage of ancient Greek tragedy again.
The voices beside you gradually grew louder, echoing like a storm. Pike came over and told you everything in just a few words.
Before you gave up hope, he spoke it with a compassionate language, and then entered your body directly, leaving a bloody hole in his path, through which emptiness passed, and then dissolved into silence.
You sit in the car, leaning against the corner of the seat, your head tilted, your eyes blank as you watch the Mercedes-Benz drive away from the river.
The Seine River is the soul of Paris. Paris prospers because of the Seine River, but it has also brought Paris several floods and epidemic disasters.
Even during that bloody week, thousands of corpses were cruelly thrown into the Seine. It can be imagined that its riverbed must be covered with countless white bones, and the number of more or less did not matter to it.
No matter how the world changes, the Seine River still rolls and flows silently, watching silently, witnessing one person after another passing by the river bank in the bitter wind and rain. It turns all the pain, sorrow and wailing into insignificant dust, flowing from west to east without stopping.
Not far away, several bronze statues outside the Paris City Hall had long ropes dangling from their raised hands, dangling martyred resistance fighters, men and women, old and young. They were hooked on the hemp ropes, as if they were being hung from a butcher's bloody hook.
As a final response to the Opera House bombing, command ordered that the bodies not be taken down but displayed in the street as punishment. Children passing by stopped to gaze at the naked bodies out of curiosity, only to be covered by the eyes of the adults around them and carried away.
What they lost was not only their lives, but also their dignity after death.
…
There were hurried footsteps outside the door. Feinz rushed in from Vichy. As soon as he opened the door, he saw you sitting in the baby room, leaning against the wall, with your head buried and your knees hugged. A burning pain instantly penetrated him.
"Ina, look at me!"
He half-knelt on one knee and forcefully lifted your head. The moment you raised your head, Feinz's heart was stabbed again, like another aftershock.
There is no hatred or anger in your eyes. They have lost all moisture, and all meaning has been driven away.
The culprit is right in front of you, which completely extinguishes the already faint light in your eyes, making you lighter and lighter, more and more indifferent, with only a shell left, as if you don't belong to this era and will leave in an instant.
Feinz's blood froze briefly in his veins. He froze for a moment, then looked into your eyes and shouted immediately.
"Yina, look at your brother!"
He kept repeating, trying to call you back, "Yina, Ina, Emma is fine, our Emma is fine. That woman lied to you, she just hid Emma, Emma is fine, Emma is fine!"
You felt the moisture returning to your body, tears suddenly rolled down your cheeks, and you cried quietly.
"Really?"
Feynman really felt that this question was more terrifying than any other sound in the world, broken, ethereal, and empty. He hugged you tightly, holding you with all his strength.
"Really. Ina, Emma was just taken away. Believe in your brother, he will find our Emma."
He carried you downstairs, wiped your face with a wet towel, and then picked up the porridge prepared by Mandy. He held the bowl in one hand and used the other hand to pick up a spoon, scooped a mouthful of porridge, and fed it to your mouth.
You hadn't eaten for almost a day, but you had no appetite at all. You didn't open your mouth, but just stared at him blankly.
He coaxed, "Yina, be good and drink your porridge. This way, when Emma comes back, you'll have the strength to hold her, right?"
Emma...
You opened your mouth mechanically, and the porridge entered your stomach, but instead of feeling warm, a feeling of vomiting surged up in your stomach.
You hadn't taken a few bites when Yuri hesitantly called out "Sir" from outside the cafeteria. Feints ignored him and continued to feed you porridge diligently, wiping the corner of your mouth from time to time.
Yuri glanced at the time and anxiously reminded Feints again, "Sir, Darnan can't wait any longer..."
"Yina, my brother has something to deal with first. It concerns the empire."
His military cap was placed aside, his hair was as dazzling as the light of the sun god Helios, his brows were furrowed in a cold frown, and his eyes looked at you like the deepest and darkest sea water, and vaguely there was a trace of pain sliding across the surface of the sea.
He gently smoothed your hair, "Don't let your thoughts wander. Just eat and sleep well."
Your unfocused eyes finally landed on the medals on his chest: an Iron Cross and a Silver Wound Medal. He only wore them when attending important gatherings and meetings.
There's something to deal with... It concerns the Empire...
And your Emma...
You opened your lips slightly, "Emma..."
"Brother will bring Emma back."
When you didn't respond, Feintz stood up and hugged you tightly. Just as he was about to leave, you grabbed his hand, but because your hand had no strength at all, it was about to fall like a leaf, but he immediately grabbed it back.
You looked at him, his gaze on you was so clear that it touched your torn heart, "Don't kill anymore..."
Enough people have died.
He gripped your hand a little harder, then pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, "Okay."
As soon as Feynman left, you ran to the bathroom and vomited out all the food you had just eaten. Only then did your churning stomach calm down and become cold again.
…
As soon as the Mercedes-Benz arrived at the Ritz Hotel, someone opened the car door for Feynman, and he strode towards the conference room, where the people around him briefly reported the situation to him.
"Sir, the feedback from Raylo remains unchanged. La Rochelle is begging to see you, and Barnabe is waiting at the headquarters to report to you."
Barnabé, Baron Barnabé, is currently the director of the Seine River Administration, responsible for coordinating the waters of Paris.
His heart sank when he heard the report, and his expression became even more serious. "Go tell Barnabe that if the report yields no results, I don't mind sending him to Drancy!"
He was followed closely by guards, recorders, and others, all the way to the conference hall door. Standing at the door, he immediately became the absolute center of attention. Everyone present stood up, and the military personnel waved their arms in salute.
The people who accompanied him to Vichy secretly raised their eyes to peek and saw that his face was ashen and his eyes were filled with murderous intent. They couldn't help but speculate about the content of the urgent telegram from the headquarters. Could it be that something had happened there again?
He walked into the conference room, sat down in the main seat, took off the holster on his waist, and placed it on the table with a snap.
Taking off one's arms is a sign of sincerity and an apology.
"Secretary General, I've been busy with things in Paris, so I just had time to come here."
He sat there, glancing briefly at Darnan and the others present. Those sitting nearby, mistaking his gaze for a scrutiny of themselves, quickly straightened their upper bodies and adjusted their sleepy gazes to a serious and respectful one.
"Commander von Kármán, we've worked together many times before. There's no need to be so reserved. I came to Paris this time to assist you in dealing with the resistance and to share some of your tedious tasks."
Feyntz was in no mood to engage in superficial social etiquette with him, so he asked him to directly tell him about the agreement they had made all the students gathered in the Latin Quarter and the university area sign.
"Sir, this agreement is good, but it only affects students. The resistance organizations I've dealt with aren't just students; they even involve the old French nobles, who I provide financial assistance to. If we want to expand the scope of our attack, we must do something else..."
Darnande gave a sinister smile, quite meaningful. "I suggest that a special military tribunal be established directly in Paris! Regardless of whether or not an agreement has been signed beforehand, anyone identified as a resistance member can be executed immediately!"
As soon as these words were spoken, all the smart people present looked at each other and began to assess the situation in their minds.
Feints made no comment, placing his open hand, palm down, on the conference table. His hand had calluses from years of gripping a gun, but his fingers were strong and slender, with veins bulging at the joints, a hand that had undoubtedly flown freely across the black and white keys of a piano.
Peart, the representative representing General Stupnagel, frowned and said, "Isn't this too harsh? The rationality of mass executions needs further investigation."
As soon as the rebuttal was heard, Darnand snorted coldly, and everyone fell silent, choosing to remain silent.
As time ticked by, Feints tapped the table. "Anyone else have any comments?"
Seeing no one answer, he folded his hands on the table, staring at Darnande who was sitting opposite him with a hawk-like eye, but the words he said were those of the person who had just spoken out in opposition.
"In February, Spalt died at home. In May, Rogers and others were killed by criminals in a bombing at the opera house. So many people have already died in the liaison office. Since they are becoming more and more reckless, why should we cherish their lives?"
He stood up, clenched his fist and slammed the knuckles on the table, which immediately made everyone even more silent.
As Feints re-holstered his gun, he continued expressionlessly, "I have something important to attend to. Please continue to communicate with the Secretary-General regarding the details of establishing the court."
Everyone stood up to see Feints off. Peart was feeling resentful and did not stand up this time.
As soon as he left, everyone's nerves, which had been stretched to the limit, relaxed immediately. In the blink of an eye, the meeting was over, everyone came to the private room, the dishes were served on the table, and the French beauties from the Ritz Hotel also flocked in.
This meeting was originally an informal one, so the location was chosen to be the Ritz Hotel, in order to bring the negotiators closer together, so that things that were difficult to talk about in a formal meeting room at the headquarters could be discussed in a relatively relaxed atmosphere.
However, anyone with a discerning eye could see how bad his mood was, and no one dared to remind Feints about serving the food during the previous meeting, turning the relaxed and pleasant informal meeting into a formal meeting with a depressing atmosphere.
Darnand took a liking to Matilda's dish at first sight, and he asked Matilda to sit on his lap.
Peart reminded him, "This is the woman General von Stupnagel frequents."
"Oh, really?"
Darnand buried his face in Matilda's neck, took a deep breath of the sweet fragrance on her body, and regardless of the presence of everyone, he bit her earlobe and grinded and bit it with his teeth like a beast. Matilda immediately grabbed the hem of her dress tightly with her hands in pain.
Germany was in urgent need of manpower, and with Feinz having just publicly supported his opinion, Darnande became even more uninhibited in his words. He laughed loudly and said,
"Then I'm even more determined to get this woman, haha. Please understand."
…
86 Avenue Foch.
La Rochelle followed closely behind Feyntz, took out a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. His big face, which had originally looked shiny due to eating and drinking, was now full of panic and worry.
"Sir, Commander von Kármán, my wife and child were captured here by your men. This must be a misunderstanding. Could you please talk to the people below and ask them to release them?"
Money, money! Everything is easier with money! They wouldn't arrest the family members of pro-Germans for no reason. They must want money!
La Rochelle quickly pulled out a check and a real estate transfer statement from his pocket and said haltingly:
"Sir, I am willing to pay for the release of my wife and children. Here are 300,000 francs. If that's not enough, I have the title deed. I am willing to transfer my Petrus estate in Rouen to you free of charge!"
One hundred francs is only equivalent to five marks nowadays, but most of his money had been automatically deducted from the Bank of France to the headquarters, and now he could only take out three hundred thousand francs.
Feinz didn't stop and said nothing. He walked towards the underground interrogation room with a cold and stiff look in his eyes. Yuri stopped La Rochelle.
The Duchess was tied naked to the interrogation chair, her hair was disheveled, her left eye was black, her cheek was swollen, and the rope cut deep into the skin of her wrists, leaving a circle of bruises. Her limbs were numb from the cold.
When she woke up, she was a little disoriented. She slowly regained consciousness after smelling the unpleasant smell of urine and mildew in the house. She suddenly found herself in darkness, and the twitching pain under her body reminded her of how many people had walked into this room, taken off her clothes in the dark, and invaded her body.
Soon, the light bulb above her head lit up. The light made her extremely uncomfortable. She wanted to cover her private parts with her hands, but her hands were tied.
Until someone came in, untied the ropes on her, dragged her into another room, and handed her a set of clothes. When she went out and saw her husband waiting outside, she was still a little bit unbelievable. Those demons actually let her go. Wait, where are her children...
The door to the interrogation room was opened.
Madeline was lying on the table, shaking her legs. When she saw the person coming, she sat up straight in fear and leaned back in her chair.
Her two neatly braided blonde hair had some thorns on it, and her green eyes, as clear as emerald green, looked at Fiennes timidly, like the gaze of a frightened little animal.
"Uncle...Commander, I want to go home..."
She still remembered the man she met at the music festival.
Feynz half-knelt down and touched Madeline's head, just like he was touching the grown-up Emma, his movements were surprisingly gentle, "Anything else?"
"I want to...I want to see my mom...I want to see my dad, and, and my brother..."
"You'll be home soon."
Madeline's eyes widened with joy, but she still shrank back uneasily. Her face fell as she stammered, "I did tell my brother that I wanted to play with my little sister, but, but my brother said that mommy doesn't like it..."
Madeline looked at Fiennes' increasingly cold eyes and felt panicked. She was very scared. She felt as if she had said something wrong and wanted to make up for it, so she asked a question she often asked her parents.
"Uncle, is there really a God in this world?"
Madeline's bright eyes were misty, and she leaned forward to hear Fiennes's answer. The intersection of light and shadow was like an angel trying to reform a sinner.
"God is dead. The only person you can trust is yourself."
Feyntz answered and left, the iron door of the interrogation room closing again. Outside, Leiro waited, awaiting instructions. He waved his hand, and with a single gesture, Leiro understood his intention and saluted.
…
Back in the office at the headquarters along the Seine, Feintz flipped through the written investigation documents submitted by the Seine River Administration with a gloomy face. Without even glancing at them, he simply threw the documents to the ground and covered his face with his hands. Even so, he was unable to control his uneasy emotions.
Seeing this, Barnabe felt very miserable in his heart. He was not going to die on the spot today. He was going to be in big trouble anyway, so he had to fight for what he should fight for.
"Sir...Seine River search and rescue", to be more precise it should be "salvage", but he didn't dare to use this word.
"There's really no progress at the moment. No, but... based on years of experience, whether it's someone who drowned or was dumped in the river, it takes about six to ten days for the body to swell and float to the surface."
"You must be aware that even if a body is blown to pieces by artillery fire and then thrown into the Seine, it will remain submerged in the water for at least five or six days before floating to the surface..."
The logical starting point of this statement is based on the fact that his daughter is dead.
Feintz felt as if a thick rope was strangled around his neck, making it difficult for him to breathe. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his military uniform, then raised his eyes and glanced at him, his sinister eyes filled with hostility.
"Remember what I said?! If the report yields no results, Drancy is where you'll end up! There's a train picking up people tomorrow, so go with it!"
Barnabe was so frightened that his legs trembled. He knelt on the ground with a pale face and begged for mercy in panic, "Sir! Sir! Please give me another chance! Sir——"
The man was dragged away by the corporal who came in, and Pike was called in again.
Feinz observed the map of the Paris area spread out in front of him, calmed his mind, thought for a moment, pointed to a location on the map, and instructed:
"Search all the houses along the Seine, starting from the Duke's Palace and ending at the center."
"Sir, may I ask, what is the purpose of this search?"
If the reason for the operation is not right, we may lose the upper hand in public opinion and even achieve nothing. But if people know that the person being searched for is Commander Kalman's daughter, there is a fear that the child will be harmed.
"Anyone who intends to hide will be arrested immediately under the pretext of searching for resistance organizations, and their relatives will be held jointly responsible."
As soon as the words were spoken, not only the recorder next to him was surprised, but Parker also raised his eyebrows in obvious shock.
Collective punishment was an extraordinary tactic. Although they had been consciously and secretly purging some of the relatives of resistance members, this was the first time that this crime had been brought to the surface without any disguise.
After Parker left, Fiennes smoked half a box of cigars. In the swirling smoke, he looked at the phone on the table, picking it up and putting it down again. Finally, he picked up the receiver and dialed the number of the Earl's Mansion.
"Hello……"
You waited by the phone all afternoon, desperately hoping it would ring, but it remained silent, without a single sound of salvation. The system that had brought you to this other world ignored your pleas.
Now the phone finally rang, but there was no sound from the person on the other end.
"Hello?"
"Ina, it's me."
His voice is usually cold. Most of the time, when you hear him talking to others, he is always cold and distant. But this time, you feel that his tone is a little uneasy, even nervous.
Your hand clenched the microphone, pressing it tightly to your ear, "Emma...Emma found it..."
silence.
"Ina, have you had dinner? After you finish, wash up and go to bed quickly."
After a period of silence, he continued to speak to himself, but his questioning tone sounded like he was giving an order. It was unclear what he was trying to hide.
You knew him too well, so you just followed his example and kept silent. The two of you stopped talking.
"If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up." In wartime, occupying telephone lines without reason is a crime.
You hung up the phone and wiped the tears from your face.
…
Matilda, holding a small bag of food containing two pieces of bread with alkaline water, a small dish of strawberry jam and 300ml of milk, dragged her battered body back home with difficulty and tremblingly opened the door with her key.
"Laura, sister is back. There is jam to eat today. Little sister, are you hungry too?"
Eight-year-old Laura heard Matilda come back in her room, jumped up from her chair, and ran out in two steps.
"Sister! She's so hot! She seems sick, and she's not crying anymore..."
Matilda frowned and hurried to the bedroom. Emma was lying on the rough wooden bed, small and alone, tightly wrapped in a blanket.
"Oh my God, Laura, my sister has a high fever. How could you wrap her so tightly in a blanket? It will hurt her!"
Matilda quickly untied the blanket from Emma, then ran to the bathroom and got half a bucket of cold water. She poured vinegar into the water, then brought it to the bedroom, soaked the towel, and immediately wiped Emma's whole body.
Although the child still didn't cry, her body shivered, perhaps because the sudden cold was too stimulating, and then she gradually relaxed under the cooling water.
Laura looked aggrieved, "But, she was obviously very cold just now, I, I wrapped her in a blanket..."
After nearly a whole night of work, Emma's temperature finally dropped, and Matilda fed the child some milk that she had just brought back from the Ritz Hotel in the afternoon.
Laura put her hands on the corner of the table, holding her cheeks and watching, swallowing her saliva greedily, and said puzzledly:
"The little girl is so cute, why did her mother not want her anymore? She actually threw her away. Is it because she has nothing to eat? Her mother is so mean. Why doesn't she go to work at the Ritz Hotel like her sister? That way everyone can have milk to drink..."
Matilda sat on the chair, holding Emma and trying to comfort her, patting her gently, but she still whimpered and cried like a kitten, and no amount of coaxing worked. It was obvious that her illness made her too uncomfortable.
"Lola, I'm sorry. Wait for your sister to bring back more milk tomorrow so that you and your sister will have milk to drink."
Matilda watched Laura spread some strawberry jam on the alkaline bread and took a bite with satisfaction. She couldn't help but start thinking about the future of the child in her arms.
She couldn't support three people, not to mention that the child had no identification. Once she encountered an inspection, she would not be able to explain the child's identity. Not only would the child die, but she and Laura would also be implicated.
The main text edited version is 7k, the hidden ending of the return gift can be unlocked. The full version of this chapter is 1.1w: The male protagonist is not a human being. Serious warning
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