Chapter 32: Boss, You Wouldn't Want...

"What kind of bar could possibly be in a place like this?" the commander of Vehicle Four asked, eyeing the deep, descending tunnel before them with curiosity.

"Sounds like a scam, doesn't it?"

"That’s because you don’t know how it works!" his driver interjected, acting like a seasoned veteran with a smug tone. "Generally speaking, the better the bar, the more hidden it is. Some are even members-only—you wouldn't even be able to get in without an acquaintance leading the way..."

"So, how many bars are you a member of?" Macarius, leading the group at the front, suddenly stopped and asked curiously.

"Well, uh... I’m not a member of any of them..."

"And here I thought you were, seeing as you sounded so proud of yourself!" The commander gave the driver a sharp smack on the head. So much for the boys' expectations!

Guided by Macarius, the group clicked on their flashlights and hurried down the tunnel, then continued along a series of descending steps. After five or six minutes of winding turns, they stopped before a semicircular gate. To the right of the frame hung a flickering neon sign depicting a beautiful bar hostess. Clearly, this was Macarius's destination.

"We’re here. Remember what I said: behave yourselves inside, but be prepared!"

"Understood. Don't worry, everyone brought their gear!" As they spoke, the men simultaneously lifted their coats to reveal the collapsible electric batons tucked underneath. After all, they were technically on leave, and since they couldn't carry sidearms, they had to make do with what they could.

"I wasn't talking about a fight, but never mind!" Macarius waved his hand and pushed open the door.

Behind the gate was another downward passage, though this one was only a single floor deep. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the melodious sound of music drifted up from below.

Stepping off the stairs, the group finally got a full view of the bar. To their left was the bar counter; directly ahead was a row of booths; and in the open spaces on either side of the booths stood several small round tables. The air was filled with a faint scent of rum, likely wafting from the rows of casks deeper inside. The music they had heard was playing from a jukebox beside the booths.

"Stop right there!"

As Macarius prepared to step forward, a burly man lounging on a sofa to the right of the stairs—his face covered by a newspaper as if he were napping—suddenly called out to them.

"No kids allowed in here. Get out!"

As if to ensure they wouldn't enter, the man stood up and planted himself directly in front of Macarius, blocking his path. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"I don't want to repeat myself either. The Führer’s Bodyguard is conducting an inspection. If you don't want a battalion of military police to come here and level this place to the ground, get out of the way!" Macarius pulled an ID card bearing the SS insignia from his pocket and flashed it before the man’s face.

The burly man’s expression flickered with a mix of emotions upon seeing the emblem—disgust, followed by panic. Yet, as if reaching a sudden decision, he spread his arms and continued to block the path. "Even if the military police come, you aren't getting in!"

"You little punk!" The men behind Macarius started to protest, but were silenced by a wave of his hand.

"That’s enough, Gaman. Guests are guests—let them in." A gentle female voice interrupted the standoff, causing the burly man’s expression to tighten.

"But, Madame..."

"It’s fine. Let them in."

The man stepped aside reluctantly, and the group finally saw the source of the voice. A beautiful woman with dazzling blonde hair tied up in a bun and wearing a black, form-fitting dress was wiping a glass behind the counter. Beside her stood a waiter in a butler’s jacket, looking equally nervous.

"What would you like to drink? It’s on me!"

"Eight glasses of milk. If you don't have that, soda will do. Keep the change as a tip," Macarius said, sitting comfortably at the bar before fishing a one-hundred-Heit note from his pocket and placing it on the counter.

"This is the first time I've seen someone from the Führer’s Bodyguard pay with Federation currency!" The woman smiled, her hands busy as she placed a glass of soda with a lemon slice and a plate of crackers in front of Macarius.

"Federation money is still money. Or do you not accept it here?"

"Of course I do, but this is a bit much." She picked up the note and tucked it into the register behind the bar.

"In that case, let me order something else. Do you have any food?"

"What would you like to eat? You can order anything!"

"Then I’ll take a steak set, please."

"Hey, kid, this is a bar!" the waiter interjected, half-amused and half-annoyed.

"It’s fine, go take care of our guest!" The woman glanced at the waiter, who frowned in thought for a few seconds before nodding obediently and leaving the bar. As for the burly man, he had already departed the moment they entered.

"Alright, now that everyone else is gone, can you tell me your business, young man?"

"Macarius Klini, third-year cadet at the Federal Armored Academy. I’m sixteen, and my family has a bit of money."

Hearing Macarius introduce himself, a flash of surprise crossed the woman's eyes, but she was quickly amused by the response.

"This isn't a matchmaking session. Crowley Harmon, as you can see, the proprietress. As for my age, I'm afraid a lady's age is a secret."

"No worries. It doesn't have to be a matchmaking session to become one. Ms. Harmon, I have quite a bit of potential myself. If you’re interested, you might want to consider me!"

"Hahaha..." The blonde woman burst into uncontrollable laughter. "You’re quite the character, young man. But surely a Federation cadet didn't come all the way here just to entertain an old woman like me?"

"That’s true. I’ll get straight to the point then, Madame. I want to save this country." Macarius dropped his playful demeanor, his voice serious and deliberate. "And your fate as well."

"Yours, and Ramba Ral's."

Hearing this, the woman’s expression did not change in the slightest. She maintained her gentle smile, looking steadily at Macarius. "Then, tell me—how do you intend to save us?"

"That is for you and him to decide. The path to salvation is not in my hands, but in yours," Macarius replied with profound gravity.