Paris – November 12, 1937 – 7:01 AM
The newspaper was in everyone's hands.
At kiosks, on café tables, under doorsteps. The headline cut through the city like a blade:
"LUX: The Name of Diplomatic Death."
Signatures, stamps, dates. Everything published. Everything real.
Claire watched from the window of a crowded tram. No one spoke loudly. But their eyes said everything: disbelief, anger, fear.
She turned to Solène, seated beside her:
— "Do you feel that?"
— "It's not magic. It's politics in its rawest form."
—
Champs-Élysées – 8:12 AM
The first protests began in silence. People with signs. Then came shouts. Then... sirens.
The Gendarmerie tried to contain it. Not the crowd — but the panic.
Because this time, it wasn't a king or a czar.
It was the whole system.
—
Presidential Office – 9:20 AM
— "Confiscate all copies. Censor the radio. Deny everything!"
— "We can't. They published the original documents. It's reached abroad too."
The president rubbed his temples.
— "Then prepare the cabinet's dissolution. And find Claire. Now."
—
Madeleine's Safehouse – 10:03 AM
Émile entered with a folder in hand.
— "It's not just the French." he said, tossing documents onto the table.
— "Berlin, London, Rome... they all have their own 'LUX'. Different names, same knife."
Madeleine sighed.
— "Then truth is now a war without borders."
Claire remained silent.
She knew what was coming.
They would try to silence her.
But she would not be quiet.
—
Eiffel Tower – 12:00 PM
Someone tied a black flag at the top of the tower.
It wasn't a symbol of mourning.
It was a warning:
"If the Veil is gone… we now see everything."