The summer sun shone through a hazy layer of clouds, casting its light on the streets of East Berlin in June.

Werner sat in his office—a small room he rented privately, tucked away in an alley in the old city. With so much business now, working and holding meetings in his own apartment would attract too much attention from the neighbors with all the foot traffic.

He opened his ledger and began to review the month’s income.

Smuggling military supplies for Soviet Army officer Ivanov: 900 Marks.

Canned military rations, medical supplies, blankets, and boots "borrowed" from the barracks were always in demand on the Black Market.

Though Ivanov and Werner hadn’t seen eye to eye at first, their partnership had turned out to be surprisingly smooth. It seemed that when there was money to be made, any national animosity could be temporarily set aside.

Hank’s chemical supply channel: 800 Marks.

The high-quality developer and fixer from the military factory were in high demand among the underground photography community.

Pastor Weber’s Church charity channel: 600 Marks.

Smuggling medicine under the guise of "humanitarian aid" not only carried little risk but had also earned him a reputation among officials as a "charitable" and "generous" man.

Arbitrage of Western goods through Eva at the foreign trade store: 1200 Marks.

His partnership with Eva had always been very smooth.

However, she had always wanted to escape to West Berlin. Werner had hinted to her once that she should make preparations early if she intended to leave.

But from the looks of it, Eva hadn’t really understood his hint. And Werner couldn’t just come out and tell her that the Berlin Wall would be built on August 13.

’Looks like I’ll have to find time to remind Eva again. I also need to make arrangements for the foreign trade store after she’s gone.’

Custom services for high-ranking officials: 1000 Marks.

From Swiss watches to French perfumes and all sorts of Western magazines, the wives of East Germany’s bigwigs craved Western luxury goods like hungry wolves spotting fresh meat. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The quota business with Section Chief Klein of the Foreign Trade Department: 1500 Marks.

With official quotas for cover, his business was completely legitimized. The risks plummeted, and profits soared.

Werner put down his pen and leaned back in his chair.

A total monthly income of 6,000 Marks—dozens of times what an ordinary worker made! In East Germany, where the average monthly salary was only 200 Marks, he was already a hidden millionaire.

But it wasn’t enough.

[System Prompt: Time remaining until the construction of the Berlin Wall: 53 days]

Seeing the red text that appeared in his mind, Werner’s eyes instantly sharpened.

The Berlin Wall. It would be built in less than two months. By then, East and West Berlin would be completely cut off from each other, and the current, relatively relaxed cross-border trade would become a thing of the past.

’I have to speed up my preparations. I need to sort out all my channels and make sure they can still operate after the Wall goes up.’ He stood up, walked to the window, and gazed down at the street.

Down below, a long line had formed, as usual, in front of the state-run store.

People clutched all kinds of ration coupons, waiting to buy their allotted portions of bread, candy, and meat.

In the line were workers, students, and women holding children. The same expression was written on every face: a mixture of numbness and resignation.

A knock sounded at the door—three long, two short. The prearranged signal.

"Come in."

Keller pushed the door open and entered. He was wearing a blue factory uniform, his expression a little tense.

"Boss, I have something important to report," Keller said, lowering his voice. "I just got back from the docks. I heard the Soviets are going to tighten their control over chemicals. Our supply line for them might be in trouble."

Werner frowned slightly. "What’s the situation, exactly?"

"Rumor is, last month someone used developer to print anti-government flyers. Now the military is demanding that the use and destination of all chemicals be registered." Keller wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Ivanov asked me to tell you that it’s best to stay away from the chemical business for the next few months."

Werner paced around the room for a few moments, his mind racing. "This is fine. It just means we need to shift our focus to other channels."

He walked over to a map, his finger tracing the border between East and West Berlin. "Keller, what do you think would happen if, one day, this border were sealed completely?"

Keller stared at him, dumbfounded. "Sealed? That’s impossible, Boss. Tens of thousands of people cross back and forth every day. The government wouldn’t..."

"The government will do whatever it deems necessary," Werner cut him off, a cold glint in his eyes. "So we must be prepared."

He turned to face Keller. "Starting today, I’m going to systematically integrate all of our channels."

"What do you mean, Boss?"

Werner walked back to his desk and quickly sketched a web diagram on a piece of paper.

"Look," he explained. "Eva’s channel at the foreign trade store provides us with a stable source of Western goods. Pastor Weber’s Church network gives us cover for transporting bulk cargo. Section Chief Klein’s quotas from the Foreign Trade Department give us a veneer of legality. Hans’s connections at the border ensure the safe passage of small, high-value items. And those high-ranking officials we service? They aren’t just customers; they’re our protection."

"Our business is really booming! Boss, I definitely made the right choice following you!" Keller said excitedly.

"Don’t celebrate too soon. I have a feeling that change is coming," Werner said, his gaze turning profound. "We must be ready."

He stood, carefully gathering the ledger and several maps marked with routes from his desk, and locked them in a drawer. Finally, he switched off the office light, bundled his coat tightly around himself, and walked out.

It was just after four in the afternoon when he returned to his apartment.

Just as Werner was taking off his coat, he heard a car engine downstairs.

He walked to the window and looked out. It was a black sedan—a Stasi car.

Footsteps echoed in the stairwell, steady and rhythmic.

A few minutes later, Vonke pushed the door open and walked in, a briefcase in his hand.

"Comrade Werner, good afternoon." Vonke removed his hat and glanced around the room. "Have you had a good day?"

"A decent day, Comrade Vonke," Werner replied, preparing him a cup of substitute coffee. "What brings you here today?"

Vonke sat down. "Comrade Werner, I’ve come today to entrust you with an important mission."

"Go on."

"We’ve recently received intelligence that a group of Western Spies are planning a large-scale escape operation," Vonke said, his voice turning serious. "They’ll need a great deal of cash and supplies, which they’ll most likely try to procure through Black Market channels."

Werner’s heart skipped a beat, but his expression remained calm. "What do you need me to do?"

"Keep a close eye on any unusually large transactions, especially for food, medicine, and communications equipment."

Vonke took a photograph from his briefcase. "This man is named Joshua Schlotter. He’s with West German intelligence. We suspect he has already infiltrated East Berlin. If you see him on the Black Market, report it immediately."

Werner took the photograph, and his heart gave a sudden, violent lurch.

The man in the photograph was in his thirties, with black hair, blue eyes, and glasses. He had a gentle, scholarly look about him.

But it wasn’t the man’s appearance that shocked him. It was the system prompt that suddenly sounded in his head—

[System Prompt: Target identified: Joshua Schlotter, an agent of the West German Federal Intelligence Agency specializing in organizing escapes for East German citizens. He will contact you in one week to propose a large-scale procurement.]