Reincarnated: Vive La France-Chapter 44: "They were selling bodies to the Germans."

Evening

inside Colonel Perrin's office it was full of smoke and heavy smell of whiskey.

Lieutenant General Delon sat at the head of the table, his face shadowed under the dim light of the oil lamp.

Beside him, Major Lucien Varenne held a folder in his gloved hands, his expression disturbingly neutral.

Across from them, Colonel Perrin sat stiffly, his hands clenched into fists, his face pale as he braced himself for what was coming.

Varenne flipped open the file and cleared his throat.

"Sir, these are the confirmed reports from the interrogation and troop investigations."

A pause.

Then, the words that made the air in the room turn ice cold.

"We have over thirty confirmed traitors."

Perrin exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching as he reached for his glass.

Delon's eyes darkened. "Continue."

Varenne's voice remained steady. "The arrested officers and soldiers were not merely informants. They were active participants. The evidence suggests they were running a full-scale operation, selling military assets, food supplies, and even information on French defensive positions to unknown parties."

Silence.

Varenne glanced at Perrin.

The colonel looked like he might be sick.

Delon leaned forward, his voice dangerously calm.

"Numbers."

Varenne's hands tightened slightly around the folder before he read the next line.

"Four lieutenants. Two captains. One major. The rest are lower ranks sergeants, corporals, privates. All deeply embedded across multiple regiments. This isn't a handful of greedy men, sir. It's an infestation."

Perrin buried his face in his hands.

Delon, however, didn't move.

He remained unnervingly still, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

Then came the next words.

Words that made the tension snap like a wire stretched too thin.

"Additionally, there is evidence of direct cooperation with Germany."

Perrin jerked his head up so fast his chair scraped against the wooden floor.

Delon's hand twitched.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Varenne continued, voice grim.

"Documents show that some of the captured traitors were facilitating 'body transfers.'"

Perrin's brows furrowed. "Body transfers? What the hell does that mean?"

Varenne looked between them.

Then, he hesitated.

Delon's eyes narrowed. "Major. Spit it out."

Varenne's voice dropped, quieter now.

"They were selling bodies to the Germans."

Silence.

No one spoke.

The world stood still for a single, unbearable moment.

Then

CRASH!

Delon stood so violently that he knocked over his chair.

His hands slammed onto the desk, sending the whiskey glass flying into the wall, shattering on impact.

His voice was pure rage.

"THESE FUCKERS KILLED THEIR OWN COMRADES AND SOLD THEM TO THEIR FUCKING ENEMIES?!!"

His entire body shook with fury, his breath ragged, his nostrils flaring.

Perrin closed his eyes, taking a slow, shaky breath.

He felt sick.

Varenne remained still, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Delon's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He looked at Varenne, voice still shaking with fury.

"The interrogation is done?"

Varenne nodded. "Yes, sir."

Delon took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

"Good."

Then, with absolute, terrifying certainty, he spoke.

"I want every single prisoner brought to the center of the base. In thirty minutes, we will execute them. Publicly."

Perrin's breath hitched. His head snapped up.

"Sir, what?!"

Even Varenne, who had remained composed throughout the entire briefing, looked slightly taken aback.

Perrin's hands tightened into fists.

"General, this will not sit well in Paris. The Ministry of War—"

Delon cut him off with a sharp glare.

"Fuck Paris."

The words hung heavy in the air.

Delon wasn't done.

"You think I give a shit what those cowardly bastards in Paris think?!"

His voice roared through the office. "You think I will let this filth crawl through my army unchecked because some spineless politician will wet his pants?!"

Perrin's jaw tightened, but he didn't back down.

"Sir, I understand your anger. I share it. But public executions—"

Delon slammed his hand against the desk.

"NO." His eyes burned with pure rage. "They will die tonight. And every soldier here will know why."

Perrin exhaled through his nose, trying to steady himself.

Varenne, after a long pause, finally nodded.

"I will handle the arrangements. Every soldier in the base will be assembled in the central courtyard in thirty minutes."

Delon nodded curtly.

Varenne saluted and left the office.

As soon as the door closed, Delon let out a deep sigh, his shoulders finally sagging.

Then, quietly, as if speaking only to himself, he muttered:

"Why does this happen?"

His voice, now stripped of all anger, was full of something else.

Something deeper.

Perrin watched him carefully.

Then, after a long silence, he spoke.

"I don't wish to even imagine the despair of our men." His voice was quieter now.

"Men who left their homes, their families, thinking they would protect this country… only to find out that the real enemy was behind them."

Delon's jaw tightened.

His voice was low.

Seething.

"Something must be done, Perrin. This nation is rotting from within. Something must be done."

Perrin's stomach twisted.

The way he said it, it didn't sound like a passing thought.

It sounded like an idea.

A conviction.

Perrin's eyes widened.

His voice came out sharp. "Sir. We must never. Not have those thoughts."

Delon turned his head sharply, his gaze meeting Perrin's.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then, the general's lips twitched into a humorless smirk.

"Perrin, what the fuck do you think I mean?"

Perrin swallowed.

"You—"

Delon cut him off.

"Do you think I'm talking about a rebellion? Some kind of coup? Do you take me for a damn Bonapartist?"

Perrin exhaled sharply, still tense.

Delon scoffed, shaking his head.

"No, Perrin. I mean we must do something in Paris. We must act. We can't just purge traitors; we need to stop this from ever happening again. We must change this army before it's too late."

Perrin didn't answer.

Delon studied him for a long moment.

Then, finally, he exhaled. freёweɓnovel.com

"Let it be. It doesn't matter right now."

He grabbed his coat from the chair.

"Right now, I want those motherfuckers to die."

Without another word, he turned and walked out.

Perrin remained seated for a long time.

Something had changed tonight.

Not just in Delon.

But in all of them.

And he wasn't sure if they would ever be able to go back.