Chapter 568: This Isn't a Trap
Paris – City Defense Command, Officer's Club.
The place was lively, filled with chatter and the clink of glasses under dim lights. Officers laughed and drank, exchanging war stories in loud voices. Every now and then someone would raise a glass and shout:
"Vive la France!"
And around the room, more voices would echo:
"Vive la France!"
Gariel weaved through the crowd with a tray of drinks and returned to the bar, where Lucia was mixing beverages behind the counter.
"I heard Charles is on leave," Gariel said. "If you see him, thank him for me."
"What?" Lucia asked, confused by the remark.
Gariel nodded toward the crowd with a half-smile. "Can't you tell? We're still employed because of Charles."
Lucia tilted her head, puzzled. She slid a finished drink toward a customer, then turned back with questioning eyes.
"Come on, Lucia," Gariel explained. "With the shortages, most clubs have already shut down."
It was true. Fewer people could afford to drink, and many establishments had gone out of business.
But the officer's club remained busy—because Charles was known to visit. Officers felt it was more meaningful to discuss his victories here. It gave them the illusion that Charles was part of their circle, sharing in their glory.
So yes—it had something to do with Charles.
Still…
Lucia flipped her hair, putting on a deliberately smug face, and leaned in:
"Gariel, maybe you should thank someone else instead."
"Oh?" Gariel made an exaggerated face, flicking her hair like an actor. "Charles might not even be coming here for you, Lucia."
"Get lost!" Lucia laughed, flinging a towel at her. They both cracked up.
Then Gariel suddenly dropped her voice, smirking playfully:
"Want me to seduce him for you?"
She jerked her chin toward the door.
Lucia turned her head—Charles, in full uniform, was walking in, deep in thought.
Lucia shot Gariel a glare and reached out to grab her, but the woman ducked away with a grin.
"One coffee," Charles said, then reconsidered. "No—just water."
"Got it," Lucia replied calmly.
By now, the officers had noticed Charles. They erupted in cheers:
"Look, the General's here! What luck!"
"An honor to see you, General!"
"That was a clean, beautiful victory—you beat the Germans flat!"
Someone raised a glass and shouted:
"Gentlemen, a toast—to France's greatest general!"
"Cheers!"
"To the General!"
Charles accepted the glass of water from Lucia and gave the officers a modest wave. The room roared with appreciation.
A few over-eager officers started to approach him, but were immediately pulled back by their peers:
"Idiot, the General doesn't have time."
"He's not here for you."
"Don't bother him!"
Charles ignored the fuss. He found an empty seat, sat down, and dabbed at his nose with the handkerchief Camille had given him. He coughed lightly.
"What's wrong?" Lucia asked, approaching with her own drink, concern in her eyes.
"Nothing serious," Charles replied. "Probably just caught a chill."
He wasn't eager to say more. Instead, he glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in and lowered his voice:
"Can you get information about American merchant ships heading to Britain?"
Lucia nodded without hesitation.
"We have someone working in that network."
"Good." Charles leaned closer and whispered:
"Pass some of that information to the Germans—selectively."
Lucia didn't flinch. She responded without delay:
"No problem."
Charles was taken aback. He had expected at least a question or two. After all, giving shipping routes to Germany was, by any measure, treason.
But Lucia had agreed without so much as blinking.
She seemed to read the look on his face. With a slight smile, she explained quietly:
"I know your sonar system has been issued to the navy. They're already testing it under pressure."
Charles nodded slowly.
So the "White Lady" had some reach. The sonar system—still top-secret and closely guarded by both the French and British navies—had clearly leaked.
But perhaps that was inevitable. With installations underway and field trials beginning, too many people were involved. Keeping it secret was no longer realistic.
"So?" Charles asked. "What's the connection?"
Lucia leaned closer, her breath tickling his ear.
"It's a trap, isn't it? Leak the intel to lure the U-boats out—so the sonar can hunt them."
She grinned. "You're clever."
Charles hesitated a beat, then answered:
"Uh… yes. That's exactly right."
Let's go with that, he thought.
Because in truth, it wasn't a trap. It was a maneuver to teach the British a lesson.
France relied on Britain for munitions, supplies, and especially American imports.
That dependency allowed Britain to hold sway over France—even the new Commander-in-Chief, Foch, had to bow to their demands.
To change that, Charles needed the German U-boats to become relevant again—crucial, even.
Because only then would France's sonar system become indispensable.
Once that happened, Britain's monopoly would weaken, and their "special privileges" would begin to erode.
So leaking merchant shipping routes wasn't bait—it was a strategic blow to British leverage.
But no one had to know that.
After all, once the French navy used the sonar to score victories, people would just assume it was a trap.
"Also," Charles said, hesitating, "there's… something else."
Lucia looked up curiously. Charles rarely stumbled like this.
"My parents… want to meet you."
Lucia blinked.
"Meet me?"
She didn't understand at first. Then her eyes widened in shock—followed by a smile.
"Wait… you mean they know about me?"
Charles sighed.
"Yes. They'd like to invite you to dinner tomorrow night. At our home."
Lucia stared at him for a second, dazed. He added quickly:
"If you're uncomfortable, I can cancel—"
"No," Lucia interrupted, her hand unconsciously closing over his.
"I want to go. I'm just… nervous. I don't know what they like. I don't know what gift to bring."
She glanced up at him, silently pleading for help.
And that was the problem.
Charles didn't know either. He realized, with some embarrassment, that he'd never once thought about what Deoka or Camille actually liked.
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