Chapter 471: 88. Scarlet Romance
The morning light on the Southern Continent was unexpectedly cool, the hazy light resembling white mist dragged the consciousness of the Trans, Margaret, deep down, like half-dreaming thoughts.
She seemed to return to her hometown, back to Paris, which had been stained by the ravages of war, back to that unforgettable day in 1944.
“Strip her of her clothing!!”
“They are all traitors, collaborators!!”
“Shave their heads!”
In the dim morning light, amidst the wreckage left by war, everyone stood on the Paris streets, symbolizing the glory of France, as if forming a parade. The French people, who had been oppressed by the German hoofs over the past few years, finally awaited that day of victory.
In 1944, the German garrison in Paris, von Choltitz, had surrendered to the Allies, finally driving the fascist beasts from the territory of free romance. This honor was a task left unfinished by their great “First Army of Europe” four years earlier.
But even this was still not enough. They certainly remembered how those shameless French collaborators had cringed before the Germans, how those sycophants had maintained their bloody romance in this world of fame and fortune.
They wanted to settle scores with those damned traitors and take back the dignity they had gained through flattery and submission. This was the first step for the great French nation to rise.
In the cool morning light, outside came the restless noise, as if the angry flames within the people’s hearts had completely materialized, ready to swallow Paris whole like a roaring beast.
“Margaret René, I testify that she has gained wealth through selling her body over the past few years. She is a blatant traitor and deserves to be punished, to be dragged into this shameful group!”
“Yes, she looks good and was liked by a German officer; I can testify!”
“In that case, we must invite her out for a chat.”
“Open the door! Open the door!”
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
The uproar outside could not be known, but at the door of a second-floor room, a blonde woman with a headscarf squatted down. She gasped and glanced at the commotion outside, her expression slightly bitter. Facing the violent knocking, Margaret crouched down, looking at her daughter in front of her.
She was just like her, with a head of golden long hair, but her eyes were now filled with trembling and fear, seemingly terrified by the noise outside.
Seeing this, Margaret quickly pressed her lips together; she reached down and thrust a doll into the little girl’s hands, then anxiously pointed to the bedroom, whispering to her,
“Mathilda, take the toy into the bedroom and don’t come out. If someone comes in, don’t move, and don’t speak German, okay?”
“Mommy, is this the toy that Uncle Schneider gave me?”
Margaret paused slightly, then after a moment of contemplation, she nodded and said,
“Yes.”
“What about Uncle Schneider?”
“He went back to Germany. Be a good girl, go back to the bedroom.”
“Why don’t we go with him? I heard Uncle Schneider telling you that he wanted you to leave with him.”
“We are French, darling. Your father, your grandfather, and your mother’s father are all French; we are French.”
As Margaret spoke, she lowered her head, suddenly thinking of her husband who had left four years ago and never returned. Her eyes grew redder; clearly, she had told herself these words in her heart many times, but for some reason, she couldn’t repeat them to her daughter at this moment.
“I don’t understand, Mommy.”
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
“Margaret! Open the door!”
Margaret turned to look at the door, then kissed Mathilda on the forehead, pushing her and the doll towards the bedroom.
“You will understand later, darling.”
As the door closed, Margaret breathed heavily for a moment, then adjusted her expression, seeming somewhat panicked about the people outside.
But after a moment of silence, she slowly walked to the entrance and opened the door.
No one could hear her speak because she was quickly grabbed by the furious crowd, her clothing and hair pulled, being shoved and dragged out of her home and into the procession outside.
“Kill that traitor!”
“Bang! Bang!”
The city was in turmoil, the roars of anger, the distant screams, and the nearly nearby gunfire execution sounds left Margaret’s mind blank. She was shoved alongside many other women identified as “collaborators,” being escorted by others in a different direction on the street.
Those women had gotten their splendid clothes, gold, and jewels from their enemies and superiors during the Vichy regime and the German occupation, but now they were all torn away by the enraged citizens. Their clothing was riddled with holes, as they walked awkwardly in the procession, trying to avoid the angry stares around them.
Margaret was certainly among them, but she felt more fear and unease. She wanted to say something, but the surrounding noise was too loud; no one could hear her, not even the women beside her.
They were soon taken to a crowded square where thousands of onlookers had gathered, where there seemed to be dry blood and dragged bodies on the ground.
When a male was identified as a collaborator, he would be executed by his compatriots; but women were evidently luckier than them. They would have their hair shaved and their clothes stripped, paraded through the streets of Paris in the most humiliating manner while being insulted and trampled by the people on the sidelines.
Margaret stood dazedly in front of the judges, along with the other women who had been declared to have bowed to the Germans.
“Margaret René, it has been reported that during the past four years, you have had an intimate relationship with the Germans and exploited this to gain benefits, damaging the interests of your compatriots. Do you plead guilty?”
“I—I did not.”
Margaret lowered her head; her mind was blank, and she knelt humbly on the ground, allowing the various piercing glances and items thrown at her. The people had long been dissatisfied with those French women who had partied every night in the occupied zones, flaunting their glory, showing no sense of French integrity, and therefore committing such ugly acts.
“You lie! We saw with our own eyes! You were with a German officer! You lie!”
“That’s right! You’re damned!”
Margaret seemed to be struck right where it hurt; she bit her lip, lowering her head, her face frighteningly pale.
“I—I had no food for my children; my husband went to war and didn’t come back. I did not betray France.”
“You brought shame to your husband!”
“You are a whore!”
Buzz…
Margaret’s mind went blank, and even her light blue pupils couldn’t help but narrow; that sentence nearly caused her heart to stop, making her want to die right there. But thinking of the child inside the house, she gasped for breath, letting her head droop weakly, finding it difficult to utter a single word.
Of course, this appearance looked more like a helpless admission of guilt.
The judge fell silent for a moment, then spoke to the people beside him,
“Shave her head and take her for a parade!”
Margaret was forcibly grabbed by her long golden hair, which flowed from beneath her headscarf. The “executioners” roughly passed their scissors over her head, cutting her golden locks down like harvesting wheat, one sheaf after another.
“Snip! Snip!”
Of course, there were some uneven strands that were not cut, but those executioners did not act as gently as future barbers; they only brutally tugged the hair from her scalp as if pulling seedlings.
Margaret cried in pain; that unprecedented shame felt increasingly hopeless for her, yet even so, she remained silent, lowering her head, enduring in this humiliating posture.
But when others started pulling at her clothing, she finally could no longer restrain herself and began to struggle. However, her slender body was easily overpowered by the strength of the thugs around her. She was almost effortlessly overpowered and soon was met with a flurry of punches and kicks that made her give up resistance entirely.
“Stop! Let go!”
“Stop! Let go!”
“I am Beren Ael, stop! This lady’s husband was my comrade; she is not a traitor! Stop!”
Just as Margaret curled up on the ground, a voice of urgent call finally came from beside her, and the executioners hesitated and stepped back, revealing a young man in a military uniform on the outskirts of the crowd,
“Her husband was my former comrade, Elmano Beller! Her last name is still Beller!”
The soldier burst into the execution ground, panting as he ran through the crowd, gradually squeezing through the people blocking the way to Margaret, who was in extreme disarray.
However, even he, upon seeing her trembling form on the ground, her once beautiful golden hair now reduced to mere strands, found it difficult to articulate his feelings.
But soon Beren adjusted himself; gritting his teeth, he approached Margaret and looked at the judge beside him, but in reality, there were too many and too diverse people to be executed, making this parade and uproar seem like people released the pent-up resentment from four years.
Seeing an officer coming forth to vouch, the executioners dispersed, moving to another area to execute traitorous women.
Finally feeling relieved, Beren quickly crouched down and extended his hand toward Margaret, saying,
“Madam Beller, are you alright?”
“.”
Margaret covered her body with a shake, looking at him with trembling eyes, feeling the person before her was unfamiliar. It took her a long moment before she murmured,
“Beren?”
“It’s me.”
Beren gave a bitter smile, looking around the chaotic square. He stuffed his firearm into its holster, swiftly pulling the still stationary Margaret up, leading her towards the outer section,
“It’s not safe here; let’s leave first.”
“.”
Margaret absentmindedly let Beren drag her away from the scene of execution; the recent events had terrified her. She was somewhat lost.
But soon, it seemed she thought of something, looking towards her home,
“Beren, I want to go home.”
“Okay, madam. But you should rest for now; you are not in a good state. And there is still a reckoning going on; perhaps it would be better to wait until it’s quiet there before going back. I haven’t seen you in a long time and want to talk about your husband, Elmano.”
Being led away by Beren, Margaret trembled, surrounded by the stench of blood, the gazes of people looking at her nearly bald head struck her with fear and despair. So, she fearfully hid behind Beren, following him to a relatively quiet place: a corner already cleared of the reckoning.
“Madam, I wanted to find you earlier, but you were no longer in your original residence. If it wasn’t for hearing the voices of my comrades, I wouldn’t have known.”
As they sat down, Beren looked at the disheveled appearance of the woman before him, seeming hesitant to continue.
Margaret was surprised at his words, then lowered her head and said,
“Ever since Elmano went missing, I didn’t know what to do. It was very difficult at home; I had no means of livelihood, but our daughter needed food. I went to work at a hotel run by the Germans, where I met a German man who gave me a bit of help, but… but it wasn’t what I wanted!”
At the end, Margaret seemed worried that Beren would misunderstand, so she spoke with some agitation.
Beren blinked after hearing this, then smiled bitterly,
“You don’t have to explain, madam. I understand; he was pursuing you. We surrendered too quickly at that time. Many people did not want the war, and it is understandable that things have come to this point today. But you and Elmano are both good people, you know. Many people will be wrongfully accused or excessively punished for what happened today. As long as you can survive, I will have an explanation for Elmano.”
Hearing this, a glimmer of hope finally flickered in Margaret’s eyes, previously dull and lifeless. She incredulously looked up at Beren, questioning,
“Is Elmano still alive?”
“Alive? Oh, no, he…”
The light in Margaret’s eyes dimmed a little, and she dazedly nodded her head down,
“So he died in the war against the Germans? But I didn’t know… I moved to Paris, and maybe I…”
Beren hesitated, his words stuck, but after a moment of silence, he still said,
“Elmano might have died from British artillery, in that damned ‘Operation Crossbow.’ Of course, it’s just a possibility. But I heard he was on the Bretagne, and the British feared the navy would be controlled by the Germans, so…”
Margaret stared blankly at the officer before her, all past events surging to her mind.
Elmano had believed the navy would unlikely participate in battle, so he had his wife take their child to safety in Paris first, missing four years of news and notifications, leaving Margaret in position to be unaware for so long.
“Allies? Why…”
“We were allies before the surrender.”
Beren lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall of the street, pausing for quite some time before saying this.
The flickering hope in Margaret’s eyes slowly faded, as she lowly hung her head, sitting in the debris-strewn, ruin-like street beside Beren.
The distant cries and the sounds of the parade gradually faded away. When the surrounding cold atmosphere seemed to show no sign of warming, Margaret finally spoke dazedly,
“I want to go home.”
“I’ll take you back, madam.”
Beren glanced sympathetically at the woman beside him, her exhaustion evident, then put on his military cap, extinguishing the cigarette he held, and said,
“There will be people taking advantage of the chaos during the reckoning to steal. I came here to prevent such situations; it would be safer to return with me. Plus, we can see Elmano’s daughter; we had agreed to it before. After we return, you shouldn’t go out again. I will make arrangements with the others.”
Margaret walked ahead, dazed, and did not respond to all Beren said. He glanced at her back, as if wanting to say something comforting, yet found no words could come forth.
He seemed to still remember when he had previously boasted to Elmano about his wife.
Elmano said his wife had beautiful golden hair, was well-read, and could write poetry; she was both gentle and beautiful, a dream lover of every romantic Frenchman.
Thus, they silently walked back to the neighborhood where Margaret lived, and in her quick, seemingly worried steps, Beren was the first to notice an open door, along with the disordered room inside.
Among them, in the open bedroom, a pool of bright red blood was steadily seeping.
“…”
Margaret’s back silently froze, statue-like, in Beren’s view, only staring in the direction of the bedroom.
Indeed, she was as beautiful as Elmano had described, even now with her head shaved.
But perhaps she was no longer romantic.
Buzz…
The cool morning light spread across the sky of the Southern Continent, making today’s weather feel fresh and cool, awakening the golden-haired beauty curled up on the bed from her slumber.
Her long golden hair spread across the wide bed like a waterfall, her vacant, blue eyes seemingly lost in thought, staring blankly at the simple buildings outside, stacked like scales beyond the soaring Giant Tower.
In the residential area established within a short six months, various subhuman races and humans walked by, including special varieties from the Tree Continent, brought back by Duke Chuan from afar.
Upon closer inspection, there were already tens of thousands of them, subtly revealing a flourishing scene.
Margaret stared blankly at everything before her, not having moved for a long time, except for the golden light that occasionally flickered like waves within the towering Giant Tower.
That was the light of fate.
“Margaret.”
A gentle voice came from behind, pulling Margaret out of her daze.
She turned her head and saw Duke Chuan climbing the stairs to the top of the tower.
“Chuan.”
Duke Chuan glanced at the deep dark pool in the center of the tower, whose depths were unknown and had turned black. The golden light of fate was emanating from that pool.
Soon, he withdrew his gaze and said to Margaret,
“People from the outside world have come, it’s Fisher and the previous Trans.”
“I know, I’ve known for a long time.”
Margaret slowly sat up, looking at the distant, dark, cold sky, and then softly said,
“Let them in.”
