Chapter 753: How Did He Think of That?
Green grass, blue sky.
A light spring breeze swept the scattered petals across the ground—it was the perfect day for a countryside stroll.
Charles stood atop the hill in Parc d'Auteuil, looking down over the bustling town of Davault.
Today was May 1st—Labor Day.
Traditionally, a time for rest and exchanging lilies of the valley.
But in Davault, towering smokestacks billowed thick black smoke into the sky—there was no sign of any holiday pause.
In wartime, holidays had become little more than mealtime conversation.
Workers joked with each other as they toiled:
"Happy Labor Day! Where are you vacationing?"
"Oh, I was thinking the coast… but the water's still too cold. So, here I am—back at work."
"I don't have a car, so I decided to build a tank instead. That's my ride!"
They were joking—but all of them were working willingly.
Because this was Charles' factory.
And they believed that every drop of sweat they shed here helped France—helped protect their homes.
Unlike other parts of the country, which were constantly plagued by strikes and protests, Davault had never seen a strike.
On the contrary, more and more workers were pouring in from every corner of the nation.
Many of them were skilled professionals who could easily find higher-paying jobs elsewhere.
But they'd rather wait in line here for an interview.
"That's your charm," Lucia said as she appeared at Charles' side, naturally wrapping her arm around his.
She looked out at the town—now the size of a mid-sized city—with pride in her eyes.
"Everything ready?" Charles asked.
"Yes." Lucia nodded. "Much easier than expected."
Charles found that odd.
"It shouldn't have been. 'White Lady' is just a civilian organization.
Even with veterans and elite volunteers, it's only existed for about a year."
"How could it possibly crush France's Second Bureau?
That's a professional intelligence agency."
Lucia took Charles' arm again and led him along a gravel path lined with blooming flowers.
"It's not strange at all. The Second Bureau's strength was never theirs to define—it came from their opponents."
Charles paused and thought about that.
The Second Bureau's usual targets had been commoners, criminal syndicates, or private mercenaries funded by capitalists.
These were disorganized, poorly trained opponents.
It made victory easy—too easy—and in time, it dulled their edge.
But "White Lady," though civilian in nature, had been built for war.
Its enemies were the German Army and its highly trained intelligence services.
So every member of White Lady was ideologically driven, mentally prepared for sacrifice, and constantly evolving under wartime pressure.
The result?
A young civilian network that could overwhelm a seasoned national intelligence agency.
Charles exhaled slowly. He had overestimated the Second Bureau.
Lucia added,
"And don't forget—White Lady had a built-in advantage from the beginning.
That part's crucial."
"What advantage?" Charles asked. He realized he didn't know much about his own loyal shadow army.
"Identity." Lucia plucked a red rose, brought it to her nose, smiled, and handed it to Charles.
He took it with a puzzled look.
"Identity?"
"Yes," she said, playfully hopping along beside him.
"The Second Bureau has to forge identities for its agents—maids, drivers, vendors… and there are always flaws.
One slip and a veteran of the trade could sniff them out."
"But White Lady? We don't fake anything.
Our agents' identities are real.
Authentic. Untouchable."
Charles finally understood.
Like Clemenceau's butler and driver.
If they hadn't deliberately revealed themselves, they could have remained undetected for years—not even Clemenceau would've suspected them.
The Second Bureau was fighting in the open.
White Lady was in the dark.
They knew the Second Bureau's every move—while remaining invisible in return.
In espionage, that was checkmate.
"The biggest credit goes to you," Lucia said, offering a second rose—this one pure white.
"Me?" Charles laughed softly. "You mean my leadership?"
"That's part of it," Lucia said.
"But more than that—it's your victories.
Your rationing system.
What you've done for the people of France."
"Do you know what I spent your funding on?"
"Weapons and equipment, right?" Charles guessed.
Lucia nodded.
"Exactly.
We didn't use your funds for salaries or expenses.
Most of our people work for free.
That's how we grew to thousands in under a year."
Had they not worried about keeping quality high, they could have easily expanded to tens of thousands.
Charles nodded.
It was a side effect—but a critical one.
In the end, the true battle for control would come down to intelligence power.
Win that, and you could control politicians, manipulate Parliament, and ultimately run the country.
"But now we have a problem, General." Lucia handed him a third rose—this one pink, soft and romantic.
"What problem?" Charles asked.
"The Fidèle Refinery matter is progressing.
Our 'middleman' signed the contract.
They've even agreed to reopen production just to fulfill our order."
"Excellent," Charles said.
The more gasoline they sold to the Germans, the deeper Briand's scandal would run.
And the better they could prolong Germany's agony—on Charles' terms.
"The problem is…" Lucia frowned slightly, walking backward to face him.
"How do we get the gasoline across the border to the Germans?"
"You know the eastern front is active.
There's no way we can sneak that much fuel past the Russians."
Charles replied without hesitation:
"You don't need to."
"Don't need to?" Lucia blinked, confused.
Charles nodded.
"Just bury the fuel somewhere behind the front lines.
Then give the Germans the location."
"They'll attack, drive the Russians back—and dig it up themselves."
Lucia stopped dead in her tracks. Charles almost bumped into her.
"You… you…" she stared at him in awe.
"You'd already thought of this?"
God…
How did he think of that?
No risk, perfect execution, and she'd spent days racking her brain for a solution!
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