What immense secret is hidden within an ancient French poetry collection labeled “Not for Human Eyes”? Why do those who possess it meet with a violent end?
What immense secret is hidden within an ancient French poetry collection labeled “Not for Human Eyes”? Why do those who possess it meet with a violent end?
Foreword February 1999, Avenue de Beaumarchais, Paris, France. Conrad Adenauer had finished a busy day at work and returned to his 18th-floor apartment with an elevator. He embraced his wife, Louise, who opened the door to greet him. Filled with tender affection, he stepped inside to find that she had prepared a romantic candlelit dinner. Conrad couldn’t help but turn back to kiss his wife once more, thanking her for her thoughtfulness and care. Meanwhile, his wife took off his coat and urged him to take a hot bath to wash away the day’s fatigue—a time-honored French tradition. Conrad immersed his entire body in the warm water of the bathtub, feeling an instant sense of physical and mental relief. This made him thank God in his heart for bestowing upon him such a beautiful and cozy life. He closed his eyes and imagined what was still missing from his current life—oh, he had it: the only thing missing now was a vacation plan for this weekend. Where should they go? Perhaps a visit to the picturesque Luxembourg Gardens to soak up the approaching spring would be a good choice… But no, it’s too crowded there—with such a beautiful wife, they should head to the more romantic Île de Bercy, where they could enjoy an unparalleled romantic getaway at a secluded lakeside inn… With his mind made up, all of Conrad’s fatigue vanished. He stepped out of the bathtub, slipped on a bathrobe, and opened the bathroom door, eager to share his vacation plans with the lovely woman waiting outside and give her a loving embrace. But the moment he stepped out of the bathroom, he stopped dead in his tracks—waiting at the door to greet him was not his wife Louise, but two strangers dressed in black suits. They stared at him expressionlessly, and one of them held up an unwelcome object that made Conrad’s breath catch in his throat and his heart sink. Facing him was a silenced pistol. Conrad immediately understood the situation he was in. He obediently raised his hands, doing his best to remain calm. “Hey, hey… gentlemen, I’ll cooperate. The key to the safe is in the secret compartment of the desk in the study. Go ahead and open it—there’s cash and jewelry inside. You can take it all. I hope you understand, I just want to keep my life…” One of the men in black gave a cold laugh and said, “We don’t want any of that, Conrad. We just want you to hand over ‘that book.’ ” They know my name. Conrad’s mind raced as he asked, “Book… what book?” The man holding the pistol took a step forward. “Don’t play dumb, Conrad. We did our homework before coming here—is there any book in your house more important than that one?” Conrad’s heart sank. So that was what they were after. “If you know what’s good for you, hand it over now,” said another man in black. “You must have hidden this family heirloom in a secret place, right?” Conrad’s heart was pounding—what should he do now? Hand it over to these men to save his own life? But his grandmother had told him that this book had been passed down through generations for centuries; it was an object of vital importance to the future of humanity and must never be lost. Yet if he didn’t hand it over, his own life might be in danger… Conrad hesitated for a few seconds, then forced a sentence out through his parched throat: “What… what do you want that book for?” “That’s none of your business!” the man holding the gun snarled. “Conrad, we’re not here to chat. If you want to live, you’d better do exactly as we say!” When the barrel of the pistol pressed against Conrad’s forehead, his whole body jerked, and his face turned deathly pale. He made his decision—survival came first. “All right, all right! I’ll tell you. I hid the book in…” As he spoke, Conrad suddenly tensed up. Only then did he remember a question he’d overlooked in the midst of his extreme tension and fear. He slowly raised his head, staring at the man in black before him, and asked, “Where’s my wife? Where’s my wife, Louise?” “Don’t worry about that! Just tell us where the book is!” roared the man holding the gun. Conrad opened his mouth, his whole body trembling, his eyes wide with terror and bloodshot: “You killed her, didn’t you… You killed Louise!” “Yes,” said another man standing nearby impatiently. ““Now you understand. We’re not messing around. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll end up just like that woman.” “No!” Conrad lost his mind in an instant, and two streams of tears poured from his desperate eyes. Forgetting his situation, he roared furiously, “You two sons of bitches!” “Wise up, Conrad!” The man in black thrust his gun forward and shouted, eyes bulging. “Don’t you want to live anymore?” “You damned villains!” Conrad had completely lost control and raged, “You killed my wife without a second thought, and now you want me to hand over the item? Do you think I’m an idiot? If I give you the book, do you really think you’ll let me live? Besides, you’ve known all along that I’ve read what’s in that book—do you really think you’d let me live?” The two men in black suddenly paled: “You understand what that book means?” “Of course I do! A book passed down through our ancestors for generations—how could I not know its meaning? That’s precisely why I’ll never hand it over to scum like you! Let me tell you the truth:the book isn’t even in my possession. It’s being kept by someone you could never imagine. The moment I die, he’ll immediately move it to a place thousands of miles away. You’ll never find it!” Having said this, Conrad walked toward the living room without a trace of fear, forcing the gun-wielding men in black to retreat step by step. Conrad glanced toward the dining room and saw his wife lying in a pool of blood. With a cry of grief and fury, he charged toward the massive floor-to-ceiling glass wall in the living room. With a crash, he smashed through the glass and plunged downward. For a moment in midair, he became one with the nightscape of Paris.
