Bruno sat in his office chair, staring at sothing on his desk that would've made any other man in the world elated—multiple briefcases stacked with banknotes. But Bruno looked dreadful, as if the very sight of this cash was blighted.
He said nothing. The man who delivered the cases was given only a silent nod before being dismissed.
Contrary to what one might assu, this wasn't a fortune made from criminal racketeering—at least not in the traditional sense. This was Bruno's share of the profits from the Werwolf Group and its ongoing operations around the world.
War, it turned out, was a profitable business. Maybe the most profitable.
Drugs might be worth more by the kilo, sure—but guns? Guns didn't need to be cut, packaged, or smuggled in balloons. You sold one crate, and an entire district could fall. That was their value—not in gold, but in fear.
But Bruno wasn't just selling guns. He was selling n—trained killers with combat-tested skills. His markup was a premium. One that nations, insurgents, and collapsing empires alike were willing to pay.
Because what he offered was simple: guaranteed victory. And that was a price worth more than a man's soul if his ambition was greater than his sense of wisdom...
Even so—legal or not—Bruno was disgusted by the money before him. The Werwolf Group had always been a necessary evil in his eyes, a tool to secure Germany's future. Never a ans for personal enrichnt.
He wanted the money gone. All of it. And, as if summoned by fate itself, a voice knocked on the door and offered him an answer.
"Bruno, dear… there's sothing I wished to speak with you about. Do you have a mont?"
Even Heidi never entered Bruno's inner sanctum without permission. It was his personal refuge, and though she was the only one he trusted with that key, she had never used it. Which is why he answered without hesitation:
"It's open, sweetheart—and you know I always have ti for you."
The grim expression vanished the mont Heidi stepped into the room. But when her eyes fell on the briefcases, she gasped. She had known her husband was rich—obscenely so—but never once had she seen this much cash out in the open.
Most of Bruno's wealth had been used to back his own private bank, which—after the war—had beco the largest in the Reich. His fortune lived in vaults unseen by the light of day, and those within it.
Even Bruno had no idea just what his fortune looked like when stacked together in a single room. He didn't dare think about it. Gold had a way of corrupting n greater than even power.
A strange occurrence, but one all too recorded throughout history, across ti, space, and culture. n had descended into madness in pursuit of gold so frequently it was a damn near biological obsession.
Hence, he would never gaze upon his wealth in its entirety, but this? This was sothing else. This was paper, and lots of it. It was the figure it represented that stunned Heidi, even if the brilliance of its display was lackluster compared to what she knew they had hidden away.
"Bruno… what is all of this? Why isn't it in the family treasury?"
Bruno shut one of the briefcases and handed it to her as if it were possessed. His voice was heavy with contempt.
"Blood money. Unfortunately, it's the cost of securing a future for our children—one worth living in. I want nothing to do with it. Take it to your charity. At least then, maybe the deaths it paid for will an sothing. Because otherwise, I might as well burn it and have a priest exorcise its spirit."
Heidi blinked. The disgust on her husband's face was almost tangible. But it didn't take her long to understand why.
Bruno had made a fortune designing weapons, yes—but those were for the defense of the Fatherland. The Werwolf Group? That was sothing else entirely. He had helped spread war beyond Europe, sold death wholesale to unstable regions.
It had been necessary—but profit was never the point.Bruno refused to benefit from that bloodshed. That line, however small, mattered to him. It was all that separated a mortal man from a devil. And he had yet to cross that boundary, at least in accordance with his own virtues, no matter how much he had been tempted to do so repeatedly throughout the years.
And Heidi understood. She didn't argue. Instead, she called for a group of servants to carry the money away, marking it for her charities.
Once they were alone again, she settled into his lap, wrapped her arms around him, and whispered sothing only a woman like her could say with conviction:
"You were right to give it to , darling… I'll make sure it helps those who truly need it. I know what you're thinking—but if people are going to profit from this business, then the least we can do is make sure your share does so good in the world.
You can trust to do that. While you carry the weight of nations… I'll carry this for you. I'll always be here for you—you only have to ask."
Bruno kissed her hand, then brushed his fingers through her hair, silently grateful.
She stood to leave, returning to her own responsibilities.
And when Bruno was alone once more, he stared at the empty desk, sighed, and whispered to the silence,
"Let her words be enough to mourn the departed. Civilization isn't preserved with compassion, and empathy alone, but rather with the sacrifice of the n within the boundaries of its grace, and the price they are willing to pay at the cost of their own soul..."
After saying this, Bruno stood up and left his office behind, turning off the light before shutting its door. As if trying to escape a haunting spirit that ca with the cash and did not fully disperse with its departure.
User Comments
0 comments from readers