Try Begging Novel - Chapter 15

The maid stood on the crowded sidewalk.

Amidst the throngs of people hurrying past, the woman was rummaging through her brown handbag, doing who knew what. If he hadn’t found her back strangely familiar—she wasn’t wearing her usual black maid’s uniform, and her hair, usually pulled tightly up, was down—he wouldn’t have recognized her.

She’s annoying because she’s too kind.

Leon’s brow furrowed slightly. The woman pulled banknotes from her handbag and abruptly offered them to a beggar standing in front of the department store.

Didn’t she say she was short on money for her mother’s hospital bills?

To be wearing stockings so old they had holes, yet spending money on a beggar.

She has plenty of leisure/money to spare, doesn’t she?

What he had done by rushing back to the mansion during his busy lunch hour today was starting to feel pathetic.

“A beauty who makes heads turn.”

At the lieutenant colonel’s sudden words, Leon unconsciously straightened his head, which had been turned away.

“Did you see a pretty woman?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, you know how to handle yourself, but you’re in your prime, aren’t you? Beauties will swarm around you like bees to a honey pot. You’d do well to be careful if you don’t want to end up like the commander.”

Perhaps. Leon was confident he wouldn’t end up like the commander. He wasn’t a pathetic dog in heat who couldn’t recognize a spy and simply got aroused at the scent of a female.

“In our day, a cunning blonde fox caused quite a stir…”

The lieutenant colonel suddenly fell silent. He had just remembered that Leon was the son of the man who had been deceived by that cunning blonde fox and lost his life.

“That woman, she died a few years ago, I heard. Did you know?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Regrettable. She went too peacefully for what she did.”

The lieutenant colonel rummaged in his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a cigar case. He cut the end of a cigar, put it in his mouth, and mumbled,

“Leon…”

He called Leon by his first name, as if he were his own son, and offered him a cigar. Leon politely declined, just enough not to displease the lieutenant colonel. The thick hand holding the cigar patted his shoulder and withdrew.

“If we catch her daughter, we can show that woman in hell a lesson. Major Winston in heaven would be proud of you too.”

That woman had two children with the surname Riddle, the ‘royal family’ of the rebels. The eldest, a son, was expected to follow in his father’s footsteps and lead the high command, like ‘Little Jimmy,’ but he abandoned the rebels as soon as both parents died.

He had now given up all the power and wealth accorded to the high command and became a farm laborer in some rural village. Although he was disguised, it didn’t take Leon long to track him down.

Rats must be caught. But what about a renegade rat?

He wasn’t a small fry, but a big shot, so Leon merely kept him under surveillance, knowing that the rebel high command or his sister would eventually approach him. To let a released rat lure in more rats.

“It’ll be a sight to see when Little Riddle is caught. There are more than ten people in the West alone who have a grudge against Riddle’s rats.”

Only one of the notorious Riddle’s rats remained.

Little Riddle.

Her real name, appearance, and age were unknown.

Every time they interrogated rebels, they never forgot to ask about the last Riddle, but no one revealed anything. They seemed to fear the unknown rebel high command more than the interrogator with blunt pliers standing before them.

What kind of woman is she, anyway?

So the military called that mysterious woman ‘Little Riddle,’ meaning ‘small enigma.’

If she resembled her mother, would she be a blonde beauty with hazel eyes? She was probably as cunning and malicious as her mother. She must be selling her body to military officers somewhere to extract information.

She exited the department store’s back door and walked through the labyrinthine alleys. The other side of the glamorous downtown was gray. Dilapidated buildings, where the poor working class mostly resided, lined the streets. Only the sound of Sally’s shoes echoed in the empty alley.

No one paid Sally any mind until she reached the red brick building at the back of the alley. For the people here, even curiosity about others’ lives was a luxury. They left for work before sunrise and returned only after sunset.

That was why the safe house was located in such a secluded and dilapidated area.

A safe house in a middle-class neighborhood would be easily discovered. There were always people with too much time on their hands, peering out windows and looking for gossip about their neighbors. It was the worst location for a safe house, which inevitably saw various faces coming and going.

She stood before the peeling black door and rang the doorbell.

[Get lost, you damn brats.]

A coarse voice immediately blared from the speaker. Sally’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Nancy, it’s me.”

[Ah…]

With a click, the speaker turned off, and footsteps were heard running down the stairs behind the door. Soon, the door opened slightly, and a pair of brown eyes peered out at her. Nancy, confirming it was her friend, pulled Sally inside.

“I thought it was the neighborhood kids again… There are some brats who’ve taken to ringing doorbells and running away lately.”

Sally followed Nancy up the old stairs. The house on the third floor, to the right, overlooking the alley, was the safe house.

Even in the short time it took to come down and open the door, Nancy had securely locked the safe house door. As she entered and began engaging the locks one by one again, Sally walked through the small living room to the kitchen.

“What brings you here? Is it your day off?”

“Yes.”

As she set the cake she had brought on the small table, Nancy turned on the radio on the wall shelf. Immediately, a flamboyant trumpet melody filled the air, drowning out their voices. No matter who was beyond the thin walls, they wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Actually, Jimmy is supposed to call here.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

I’m going to withdraw.

Then she would ask why she was withdrawing. She worried that the reason might accidentally reach Fred, Nancy’s brother, who was undercover as Winston’s subordinate. He was still immature and might do something reckless.

“Nothing much.”

“Hmm… But what’s this?”

Nancy frowned, tapping the side of her lips with her fingertip. Sally, realizing she was referring to the scratch on her cheek, also frowned and changed the subject.

“I scratched it at work. More importantly, do you have coffee?”

Soon, the two chatted over steaming mugs and two slices of cake.

Sally cut a piece of cake with her fork and put it in her mouth.

Almond cake with vanilla custard cream filling between cake layers thinly coated with caramelized almond slices.

This cake was the culprit that made one salivate at the mere mention of Madame Benoit’s name. She marveled at the taste, like sweet clouds melting into savory sunshine.

“Isn’t it truly fantastic?”

“It’s surprising that such a talented person is hidden in such a rural place.”

Nancy tasted the other cake, topped with raspberry jelly, and nodded.

“They make a living thanks to the Winston family. They place enormous orders every time there’s a party.”

“Oh, by the way, how’s Fred doing?”

“He’s fine, nothing seems to be wrong.”

She didn’t mention how she had barely managed to prevent him from being whipped by Winston yesterday because of her.

“Oh, that boy, I worry about him because he’s so timid.”

“True… He seemed quite shocked by Uncle Bobby’s incident.”

She remembered Fred rushing out of the interrogation room a few days ago, where Uncle Bobby’s screams echoed. His face had been so pale. Later, when they were alone, he even asked Sally how she endured it every time.

“But what about Uncle? What happened to him?”

“What happened? An elite unit went to rescue him.”

Nancy waved her hand dismissively and chuckled, as if Sally was worrying unnecessarily.

“Where is he now?”

“At the safe house in Billford.”

“Is he okay?”

She suddenly asked Nancy, then remembered.

The contemptuous eyes that stared at her when she asked if he had leaked any information.

She felt uneasy, as if she had left a lingering misunderstanding with her uncle, whom she wouldn’t see for a long time.

“Ah, no. I should call him.”

“Long distance is expensive, so keep it short.”

“I know.”

Sally went to the living room and sat on the sofa. She rummaged through an old notebook hidden beneath the sofa cushion and found the encrypted number for the Billford safe house. She immediately picked up the receiver from the phone on the coffee table.

The operator’s voice and the clicking mechanical sounds continued tediously. On top of that, she had to endure a long lecture from the woman in charge of the safe house about why she was calling for something that wasn’t urgent, before she could finally hear Uncle Bobby’s voice.

“Uncle, it’s me. How are you?”

[Ah, yes. Now that I’m alive, I suppose I should say I’m doing well.]

The voice on the other end of the receiver was a little hoarse, but it had a vitality she hadn’t felt in the interrogation room.

“That’s good to hear.”

[Thank you for worrying about me.]

“Of course. You’re like family to me.”

No matter how accustomed she was to such matters, Sally had a warm heart. She couldn’t have been pleased about having to coldly ignore his suffering due to her mission.

“Then please rest well, recover your strength quickly, and when you return home, please give my regards to Aunt Hattie…”

She was saying her goodbyes to hang up when Uncle Bobby abruptly interrupted her. And he called her by her real name, not her cover name, in a hushed voice. What could he want?

“…Pardon?”

[Are you playing the devil’s mistress?]