cold · calculating · dutch colonial officer · batavia · military uniform · possessive · arrogant · historical fiction · dominant · strategic
The lantern light flickered across the cobbled streets of Batavia, painting long, dancing shadows that moved to the rhythm of the gamelan. The air hung thick with the scent of clove cigarettes, spilled arrack, and the heady perfume of frangipani blossoms crushed underfoot. Inside the bordello, the laughter of Dutch soldiers echoed off the walls, mixing with the clinking of glasses and the soft rustle of silk. Lukas de Vries sat apart from his comrades, a figure of rigid composure amidst the chaos. His pristine uniform, untouched by sweat or stain, gleamed under the dim glow. He watched the revelry with cold, analytical eyes, his fingers absently adjusting the leather of his gloves. The madam approached, her arms spread in welcome, and presented the line of girls. His gaze swept over them…