Chapter 349: No Sense of Romance
After the 105th Infantry Regiment returned to Paris, they received a hero's welcome of the highest honor: permission to march through the Arc de Triomphe on the Champs-Élysées. This monument, built under the orders of Emperor Napoleon of the First French Empire, was typically reserved for the celebration of decisive or significant victories. This underscored the importance of this triumph in the minds of the French people.
Charles, however, was not present. He disliked such public displays, especially when they involved a high degree of predictability, which, for him, spelled danger. The time and place of their march through the Arc were fixed, leaving him vulnerable to any threat.
Instead, Charles went directly to the Defense Command to debrief with Gallieni, then returned to the police training base. He'd taken a note from Tijani, who had taught him that a commander should stay with his men rather than abandon them as if they were expendable. Only by treating the unit as family could he expect loyalty, respect, and genuine commitment from his soldiers.
Gallieni completely agreed with this reasoning.
What Charles didn't mention, however, was that the police training base was much more comfortable than Defense Command. Tijani had set up a dedicated suite for Charles on the third floor of the headquarters building. It was a two-bedroom, one-living-room suite of about 80 square meters, with a private bathroom that included a large bathtub.
Tijani considered this setup entirely reasonable.
"Charles needs a private office," he'd explained. "The other room is for rest, so he can work more efficiently. And since he often has meetings, the living room is essential."
If Charles hadn't stopped him, Tijani would have added a dining room, study, and gym to the adjacent room. While comfort is acceptable, luxury in a military setting could come off as insensitive to the soldiers, who often bunked ten or more to a room.
From the office building, muffled sounds of cheers from the parade could be heard. Meanwhile, Charles lay comfortably in his bathtub, soaking in a bubble bath.
If there was any modern invention Charles thoroughly approved of, it was the bathtub. Floating quietly, enveloped by warm water, he felt every pore unwind, releasing all tension. Every ounce of fatigue seemed to melt away.
Just as he was beginning to drift between waking and sleeping, a soft voice called from outside the bathroom door, "Hey, little hero… need a hand?"
Charles thought he was hallucinating. He was certain he had locked the door, and there were two guards outside, with Adrien just next door—how could anyone have entered?
But then, with a soft "click," the bathroom door opened.
Startled awake, Charles turned to see, through the misted air, a woman standing in the doorway. She wore an alluring dress that accentuated her fair skin and full figure. Her lips curled into a seductive smile as she cooed, "I'm here, my little hero."
For a moment, Charles was lost. The timing, the place, the atmosphere—it was exactly what he needed. He swallowed hard, his gaze wandering across the woman's figure.
But as soon as her face became clear in the light, Charles snapped back to his senses with a jolt. It was Hali, the German spy!
"Guards!" Charles shouted. "Security!"
At the same time, he reached for the revolver he'd kept at his side—a habit from the battlefield. His hand closed around the weapon, and without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
"Bang!"
The bullet narrowly missed, embedding itself in the doorframe just beside Hali.
With a shriek, Hali threw herself to the ground, clutching her head and trembling.
"Don't shoot!" she cried out.
Charles struggled to aim again, but the guards burst in and restrained him.
"No, Colonel," one of them said. "She's here on General Tijani's orders."
"What?" Charles blinked, his mind racing. Tijani had sent a German spy to assassinate him?
"Yes," the guard explained. "General Tijani thought you needed some relaxation, so he privately hired Miss Hali to… entertain you."
Charles stammered, momentarily at a loss. Then he remembered—no one knew Hali was a spy. Officially, she was a cabaret dancer, and one of the most coveted entertainers in Paris. So that's why Tijani…
"My apologies, Miss Hali," Charles said, holstering his gun, an awkward look on his face. "I overreacted."
"There's no need to apologize," Hali replied coolly as she got to her feet. "I knew I shouldn't have accepted this job. Good day, Colonel."
With that, she turned and stormed out.
Tijani arrived moments later. His office was on the second floor, and he'd rushed up at the sound of gunfire, his mind racing as he tried to piece together what had happened. He ran into Hali in the hallway and, after a quick glance to make sure she wasn't injured, let out a quiet sigh of relief.
If Hali had been hurt or killed, this would have been a disaster.
Hali hadn't done anything wrong—Tijani had hired her for this, after all. The guards hadn't erred either; they'd simply followed Tijani's instructions. And Charles couldn't be blamed for his reflexes; having just returned from the battlefield, he was still on high alert.
The only one at fault, Tijani realized with a grimace, was himself.
"My apologies, Miss Hali!" he called out as he followed her. "I never meant for any of this to happen…"
"Really?" she spat back, glaring at him. "Your 'oversight' nearly got me killed, General!"
"I'm sorry. Please, forgive me," Tijani said helplessly. "Next time, I'll make sure to warn him beforehand…"
"There won't be a next time, General," Hali interrupted, her voice icy. Without a backward glance, she strode away.
For the most sought-after performer in Paris to nearly be killed by her client was a humiliation she'd never live down.
What puzzled Hali even more was that she'd seen a spark of interest in Charles's eyes when he'd first looked at her. But the moment he'd recognized her face, he'd looked utterly horrified.
Did she lack charm? Or was she somehow… terrifying?
This would be an unforgettable stain on her record.
Tijani gave up on chasing after her and turned back toward Charles's quarters.
By then, Charles had hastily pulled on a robe, though soapy bubbles still clung to his neck.
"You shouldn't have done that," Charles glared at Tijani, clearly annoyed.
Tijani just sighed and gave Charles a sympathetic look, shaking his head. "You're hopeless, Charles. You just don't have any sense of romance. But next time, maybe use the other gun."
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