Chapter 747: Fake Mustache

This was perhaps the first vacation Akado had taken by himself since becoming the Führer of the Third Reich. The last time he had vacationed with Mercedes was more than half a year ago, before the war on the Eastern Front had begun.

Thanks to the backwardness of photographic technology in this era, and the fact that Akado’s slightly thin face had no flamboyant features—he neither sported a mustache like Hitler’s, nor had he shaved his eyebrows or tattooed the character for “patience” on his face—when he walked down the street, no one actually recognized him.

In fact, there was another reason: he was followed by many plainclothes special service personnel who kept the crowds on the street at a distance, so that even as Akado strolled down the main street of Rotterdam, he did not feel any crowding.

Many Italian luxury brands and German specialty goods stores lined the streets, reflecting the prosperity of Rotterdam. This huge port had now become an important transit station connecting the British mainland with Wilhelmshaven and Kiel. Although it was not as prosperous as before the war, it had more or less recovered some of its former atmosphere.

Many German companies had their own branches in the Netherlands. For example, the German car company Mercedes-Benz had placed the production of a cheap export model car near Amsterdam. Germany had also built military bases here, constructing airfields and military docks to hide and produce some old-style submarines and torpedo boats.

As one of Germany’s early occupied territories, the Netherlands, Belgium, and even France, compared to Poland, could be called a paradise on earth. The workers here were all employed by contract, people could keep their own land and property, and the locals were even allowed to mourn the soldiers who had died in battle from their families. The policies could be said to be quite lenient.

So, as the war receded into the distance, the people here were healing their wounds at the fastest possible speed. People began to work hard from morning till night, to earn the new currency, the Imperial Mark, to support their families. Fortunately for the local people, the supply of goods was relatively sufficient, at least enough to maintain a minimum standard of living.

As the actual ruler here, Akado pushed open the door of a shop. This was a shop that sold German goods, and there were not many customers inside. In fact, the sentiment of the Dutch people to boycott German products had always existed. Unless it was a situation where there was really no other choice, very few people came to buy German goods. However, it was clear that as time went on, the “situations where there was really no other choice” were becoming more and more frequent.

This shop was like a general store, selling German canned goods, as well as rice and flour. It could be considered a German food specialty store. A few Dutch people inside were choosing German-produced potatoes, which were not large and not very expensive. These few women were clearly startled by the large group of people who had come in, and they looked in terror at the tall men who were entering the room one after another.

Akado’s security was even tighter due to Anna’s absence. At least five highly trained super-soldiers were following him. In terms of combat effectiveness, these men were definitely on the same level as Rein. Even if there were some shortcomings, the difference would not be too great. Combined with their numerical superiority, they could easily resolve any sudden crisis.

Of course, there were even more plainclothesmen outside who had not followed him in, and the car was also following not far away. It was clear that even an old-fashioned gimmick like an incognito visit was an extremely complicated procedural work for the Führer. There were at least 70 special service personnel on the entire street, and at least 10 people’s cars were carrying automatic weapons like assault rifles.

The car waiting dozens of meters away had doors as thick as the frontal armor of a Panther tank. The armored-car-grade tires could easily ensure the car could travel for several kilometers even if hit by a bullet. Inside the car were a radio and spare weapons. It could be said that this specially designed Mercedes-Benz was a mobile castle.

The shopkeeper was also clearly startled by the sudden influx of a group of burly men. It had been several months since he had seen so many people come in at once, and for so many of them to be dangerous-looking men made him a little flustered. But he still opened his mouth and asked, “Gentlemen, what can I get for you?”

“We’re just taking a look! We’ll be leaving soon!” The leader of the group, a tall man in a long coat and a fedora standing in front of Akado, forced a smile and replied. As he spoke to the shopkeeper with a smile, his hand, which was in his pocket, was still gripping a pistol.

“Business seems to be average. Is the income satisfactory?” Akado said with a smile, walking up to the shopkeeper. Although he wasn’t wearing a hat, he had a fake mustache and a pair of very thick-rimmed glasses. Coupled with his originally rather ordinary appearance, it was enough to ensure he wouldn’t be recognized.

“Honored sir, your clothes are custom-made Italian goods. I don’t know the origin of the watch on your wrist, but I know it’s not cheap. Are you just taking a look, or would you like me to make some recommendations?” The shopkeeper’s eyes were clearly very sharp. To be able to pan for gold in an environment full of hostile gazes, he was clearly not a mediocre person.

What’s more, even if he didn’t recognize Akado himself, seeing the few bodyguard-like figures who had followed him in, he could naturally guess that Akado’s status was either rich or noble. And these people were speaking German, which was a reason enough to be considered superior in the Netherlands. Akado smiled, then seemed to be very interested in the cans piled together. He walked over, picked one up, and examined it carefully.

The price was not expensive, about the same as in Germany. But Akado still saw some differences. For example, the meat content indicated on the label was not the minimum standard of 40% in Germany, but a lower 30%. This canned food was in fact more accurately called a starch mixture. The taste and the actual nutritional content were not very satisfactory.

“Sir, you probably won’t be too satisfied with this kind of canned food. If you’d like, I can recommend you to the one at the end of the street. They have original imported German canned food there, and some French counterparts with better quality meat, which might satisfy you,” the shopkeeper said, seeing that Akado was not very impressed with the can in his hand. After all, his shop was not opened to serve distinguished guests like Akado.

Akado put the can in his hand back on the shelf, then watched with interest as the local Dutch women paid and left. The last time he had gone shopping himself was more than ten years ago. At that time, he was still an officer in the Wehrmacht, living in a single apartment. Although he could now eat the best beef at every meal, he longed to live a few days of that ordinary life again.

People are sometimes just so fickle—when you’re alone, you like the feeling of having a partner, and when you have a partner, you miss the days of having no ties. When you have money, you miss your free time, and when you’re free, you worry about how to make money.

After the customers had left, he also nodded and said goodbye to the owner. “Sorry, I was just taking a look. I’ve disturbed your business. I’ll be leaving now.” The other man quickly said it was no problem, then came out from behind the counter and saw Akado and his group off. In an instant, the small shop returned to its quiet state. The owner of the shop stared blankly at the still-swaying shop door, without the slightest bit of joy from having received a distinguished guest. To him, a Führer who didn’t buy anything was far less useful than a Dutch old lady who did. What’s more, he didn’t know Akado’s identity. To him, the person who had just come in was just a stranger, an insignificant stranger.

The street outside was still as bustling as ever. People in heavy coats bustled along the clean-swept roads. In some places on both sides of the road, there were still piles of snow. This was a commercial street in Europe that was as ordinary as it could be. Akado stood with his hands behind his back, his black woolen greatcoat unbuttoned. The two rows of gold buttons were of fine workmanship. Even in Germany, not many upper-class people dressed so well.

“Sir, buy a newspaper!” Just as Akado was repeatedly thinking about how to deal with the capitalists who were violating his wishes and excessively exploiting the civilians in the occupied territories, a clear, childish voice pulled him back from his deep thoughts. He looked up and saw a little girl a few steps away, holding up a somewhat wrinkled newspaper in her hand.

Her German was not very good; it could be said to be halting. After all, the German influence here had only been for a little over a year. Although many Dutch people could speak German, the popularization of German language teaching had only been for a very short time.

The little girl was stopped by the guard walking in front of Akado and was at a loss for a moment. But her eyes were clean and transparent, and Akado was immediately taken with this innocence and clarity. So he walked forward, bent down slightly in front of this little girl, and took the somewhat wrinkled newspaper.

“Thank you. I was just in need of a newspaper,” he said with a smile, putting his hand in his pocket, only to find with embarrassment that he had no money. It really couldn’t be blamed on him. After all, as the Führer of a vast empire spanning Europe, there were not many occasions where he needed to pay for things.

Of course, the people around him all had cash in their pockets, enough to buy all the newspapers. So a guard took out an Imperial Gold Mark note, handed it to Akado, and then respectfully returned to his original position. Akado took the banknote and put it in the little girl’s hand.

Clearly, this Imperial Gold Mark, with a face value far greater than the actual value of the newspaper, had cheered the little girl up. She looked at Akado with her big, beautiful eyes and asked, “Sir, are you very famous?”

Akado was taken aback by the little girl’s question. He raised the corner of his mouth and asked in return, “Why do you ask?”

“If you weren’t very famous, why would you be wearing a fake mustache?” The little girl’s words sent a cold sweat down the backs of the guards around Akado. They had almost drawn their guns. The Führer was wearing a fake mustache, and it had been seen through. What about his identity? Had that also been seen through?

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