Chapter 26: Marching into Luxury

In the twenty-first century, it would hardly be an exaggeration to call luxury goods the bedrock of the French nation. After all, outside of France, no other country has managed to sell clothing, footwear, and headwear—products of manual labor—at such exorbitant profit margins.

It is worth noting that industrial profit margins in the great Eastern power are actually quite low. In order to export, they have compressed costs to the absolute limit; even a slight increase in labor costs could lead to losses, forcing them to pin their hopes on automated factories. Fortunately, they have entered a phase of low birth rates, which is easing employment pressure; otherwise, it would truly be a major problem.

The export of goods from this Eastern power, especially light industrial products, nets an average profit of only three percent. Only high-end manufacturing, such as new energy vehicles and drones, reaches ten percent. In contrast, French clothing and footwear, relying on the brand advantage they have cultivated, can reach profit margins of over ten percent. In other words, French apparel is roughly equivalent to the new energy vehicles and drones of the Eastern power.

No country in the world, not even Italy, can take products derived from the textile industry—historically the lowest-margin sector—and sell them at the price of luxury goods, except for France. In fact, many luxury brands that people still perceive as Italian have long been controlled by the French. To borrow an analogy from the Cold War, Italy is like the Soviet Union during the Chernenko era; it looks like a superpower on the surface, but internally it is riddled with holes and full of local collaborators.

In this era, French luxury goods remain highly competitive. This is a legacy of history. Before the nineteenth century, France was not the nation it became after the Napoleonic Wars, forced to lower its head before the British. French was the lingua franca of European royalty, and French culture was renowned far and wide. The German song *Fredericus Rex* even contains lyrics about the King of France using luxury goods to pay his troops.

These lyrics describe France during the Bourbon dynasty. A common ensemble for the Sun King, Louis XIV, was silk stockings and high heels. While these items existed long before, they became legendary and a trend among the European aristocracy precisely because Louis XIV wore them constantly. When comparing the France of the Sun King to that of the Napoleonic era, in terms of national strength, the former far surpassed the latter. This is perfectly normal; a country’s national power and its displayed combat effectiveness do not necessarily peak at the same time. In terms of national strength, the German Empire under Wilhelm II certainly far exceeded the Greater German Reich under the Führer, yet the latter’s battlefield performance surpassed that of the former.

Coman gestured toward some seats in the courtyard. These were where the Bastille guards rested, though they were not dirty; in fact, they were quite clean.

At that moment, several soldiers from the Youth Division appeared, leading in newly captured prisoners. Coman recognized them as soldiers from the Jerusalem Regiment; the various regiments of the Youth Division were easily identifiable by their distinct unit patches. The patch of the Jerusalem Regiment featured a golden cross on a white background, composed of one large and four small crosses—the emblem of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

Coman nodded to his comrades from the other unit before turning his gaze back to Chanel. He did not bother with pleasantries for the old woman. Even if she had been a stunner in her youth, she was now over sixty and hadn't aged into a Greta Garbo, so why be polite?

Just as he was about to speak, Chanel, who had taken in the entire scene, spoke first with a compliment: "The vigor of youth—it is truly displayed to perfection in you."

"Madame Chanel, you are truly worthy of being a woman who navigates the corridors of power in every nation. If you were only a few years younger, it would be quite something," Coman replied with a dry laugh, shaking his head. Since the old woman was so sharp, there was no need to engage in cat-and-mouse games. "As for the Youth Division, every soldier outside of the officer class was recruited by me. After the dossiers were prepared, I joined the unit myself. Now, the work of purging French traitors across the country is carried out by our division. Naturally, we do not have judicial authority."

"It sounds very much like..." Chanel trailed off, having thought of something but hesitating to finish.

"Very much like the Gestapo?" Coman chuckled coldly. "Every country is much the same; units like ours serve similar purposes."

It was no surprise that Chanel understood the nature of such a unit; her German lover was a Gestapo officer. Before the war, she had already successfully built her business and climbed into the wealthy elite, navigating complex relationships with high-ranking officials across many nations.

"If you are willing, Madame Chanel, you can return to Paris now and rebuild your brand. With us behind you, there will be no issues, and the investigation into you and the Germans can end here." Coman stated his terms in a businesslike tone. Due to the war, her career had been interrupted. In another world, she would not return to Paris to reclaim her career until the fifties, where she would, unsurprisingly, succeed again to create the world-renowned Chanel brand.

This was a fairly generous offer, but Chanel, having spent years among the high-ranking officials of various nations, knew that nothing came for free. "And so, what are your conditions?"

Although the offer was tempting, Chanel did not lose her head. Even if he could deliver on his promise, there were surely conditions waiting for her. If this had been thirty years ago, she might have thought Coman would become her admirer, but she no longer possessed that level of confidence.

"We will enter a joint venture to restart your business, but Madame Chanel, you must remain the face of it." Coman was interested in this kind of national industry—one with no technical barriers but massive profit potential. Helping her now would ensure her survival, but if he wanted to destroy her, it would not be a difficult task.

"Madame Chanel, could you find anyone more patriotic than us? Soldiers are simple; we are born to serve our country."

"I need some time to prepare." Chanel hesitated before agreeing. She wanted to observe the situation within France; after all, the French Communist Party was still a daunting presence.

"No problem. I have always respected the opinions of women. My mother was a woman, and my future wife will be a woman," Coman replied expressionlessly. This was an excellent opportunity to enter the luxury industry, so he had plenty of patience to wait.

Coman stood up and watched as Chanel left the Bastille. He then turned and headed back into the prison. Encountering Alain, he said directly, "Find me a French traitor in good physical shape. I’m going to promote him."

Alain raised an eyebrow. Less than an hour ago, the man had insisted on avoiding physical torture during interrogations—and now this? However, Alain also possessed flexible moral standards. Choosing between his own comrade and a traitor was an easy task. Before long, accompanied by heavy thuds and cries of pain, another French traitor was met with the iron fist of justice.

At the Paris City Hall, Henri Frérot, Secretary-General of the Prime Minister's Office, informed de Gaulle of a piece of news: "General Dragon, commander of the First Army, has left Sardinia to prepare for an invasion of Italy from the southeast. General Dragon will visit Paris to understand the Provisional Government’s views on the next stage of the war."