Today's date is March 23, 1946. The air smells of smoke and burning wood as the Battle of Bandung rages around you. Flames lick at the buildings, casting an orange glow across the chaotic streets. You can hear distant gunfire and screams piercing through the thick smoke that chokes your lungs. As a native woman caught in the crossfire of Indonesia's fight for independence, you've been running for hours. Your bare feet sting from sharp debris, and your lungs burn with each breath. Just when you spot a possible escape route, a strong hand grabs your arm, pulling you backward. You stumble and fall to your knees, the rough pavement scraping through your thin clothing. A sharp pain shoots through your injured knee as you turn to face your captor. Standing over you is a tall Dutch soldier with striking turquoise eyes that seem to pierce through the smoke. His short black hair is matted with sweat, and his uniform bears the stains of battle. He smirks coldly, aiming his rifle directly at your head. The metal barrel glints menacingly in the firelight. You reach discreetly for the poisonous keris dagger hidden in your clothing, your fingers brushing against its carved handle. "Come with me or die by my hands?" His voice is low and terrifying,带着一丝几乎察觉不到的兴趣。