Try Begging Novel - Chapter 2

From behind the torture chamber door, dull footsteps echoed. It was far too short a time for the two soldiers to have finished their meal and returned.
Sally stopped speaking and swiftly moved to the bed. Just as she was pulling back a corner of the blood-stained bedsheet, the door burst open.
“…Sally Bristol, what are you doing here?”
A voice, slow and soft as a falling feather, pierced her spine sharply. Why now, and why of all people, had Captain Winston returned?
Sally, clutching the half-removed bedsheet to her chest, slowly turned around. A young private stood stiffly, holding the wide-open door.
Through the gap, a man in a light gray trench coat, draped over his shoulders, strode in without hesitation. Beneath the flapping coat, his black officer’s uniform was adorned with colorful medals, neatly arranged as if measured with a ruler.
Every time another medal was added to that uniform, Sally felt nauseous. It was as if the medals reeked of blood.
“Hello, Captain. I was bringing lunch to the guest and collecting the laundry.”
She wore an innocent face, as if she knew nothing, subtly adding a touch of bewilderment, wondering why he would ask about her usual duties.
“Alone.”
“Yes. Aunt Ethel quit a month ago…”
“Ha…”
Winston’s lips curved softly, and he let out a low laugh. But his eyes, cold as ice, did not smile at all.
The urge to moisten her parched lips again rose, but Sally resisted. If she showed any sign of tension, he might notice.
‘Surely he hasn’t caught on yet? I have plenty of excuses if he asks what we talked about…’
Inside, she frantically devised all sorts of strategies, while outwardly, she merely blinked in feigned bewilderment, tilting her head.
Winston stood between the man at the table and Sally. His tall height and large build created an oppressive presence, like facing a wall.
He briefly looked down at the man, who was already trembling, with cold eyes, then removed his rigid officer’s cap. His cold blonde hair, as sharp as his gaze, was neatly swept back by his slender fingers.
“I know that too, Sally. You know very well that’s not what I mean.”
He lightly chided Sally, speaking as if he were coaxing a lover, then suddenly turned. The tip of the riding crop in his black-gloved hand pointed at the lieutenant, who was practically his adjutant.
“Campbell, bring the men guarding the door here immediately.”
His voice was chillingly low. At that moment, Sally’s mind echoed with the phantom sound of the whip slicing through the air and tearing flesh.
Sally stood against one wall, clutching the bedsheet, like a guilty person.
While waiting for the soldiers, Winston meticulously surveyed the torture chamber as if seeing it for the first time. When he picked up the iron chain hanging next to Sally and playfully held it before her neck, a shiver ran down her spine.
‘I wish they’d hurry and bring them. But I also wish they wouldn’t.’
“Captain, I’ve brought them.”
Sally sighed inwardly. She couldn’t tell if it was relief or despair.
The two soldiers, who had apparently been pulled away in the middle of their meal, had greasy lips. The corporal, his face tense, snapped to attention, his hand pressed to his forehead trembling slightly.
“Captain, you called?”
“Yes, why do you think I called? Take a guess.”
His tone was light, as if speaking to a friend, but no one in the room took the situation lightly.
The corporal nervously scanned the torture chamber. He was certain the answer to what he had done wrong lay within this room.
His gaze fell upon the maid, who stood pressed against the wall, a step away from the Captain, and he found his answer.
‘That bastard said she’d quickly come in and out, so why is she still here?’
He cursed inwardly.
“Y-you said not to let the maid in alone.”
“Correct.”
Winston’s eyes curved loosely, but the tension in the torture chamber only tightened.
Whish. Whish.
The whip in his right hand cut sharply through the cold air, lightly striking his left palm. Each time, the two soldiers flinched as if they had been struck themselves.
“You have ears to hear my orders, but no brain to understand them, perhaps?”
“N-no, sir.”
“Then tell me why I said not to let my dear Sally Bristol in alone.”
Sally’s stomach churned. ‘My dear Sally Bristol.’ It wasn’t just the overly gentlemanly yet overly rude endearment.
Winston moved closer to her, even putting an arm around her shoulder. From where his hand touched, goosebumps prickled all the way down her back.
How would another maid act in such a situation? Sally quickly racked her brain, then lightly bit her lower lip and placed her cold hand on one cheek.
‘Please, let this feigned shyness work.’
She pretended not to see the disturbed eyes of Private Fred Smith.
“That rat-like fellow…”
The corporal glanced at the man, who was stiff as a log in front of the table on the opposite side of the room, then politely met the Captain’s gaze again.
“You said he might get aroused and attack Sally.”
Aroused by Sally? A man who barely had the strength to hold a spoon would hardly have the strength to get an erection.
Moreover, while Sally was pretty, she was a plain woman, with nothing to stir a man’s lewd curiosity.
Therefore, the reason didn’t resonate with him, but if his superior said so, then so it was, and there was nothing he could do.
“Sally, did you hear that?”
Winston finally removed his hand from Sally’s shoulder. But just as she was about to relax, his fingertips stopped in mid-air and lifted her chin.
“This place is dangerous for a delicate lady.”
“Yes, I will be careful.”
She immediately gave him the desired answer, but he did not release her chin. He merely tilted his head, as if to kiss her, and looked down at Sally.
‘You’re more dangerous to me.’
This time, she couldn’t help but moisten her parched lips. The moment her tongue brushed her lower lip, Winston subtly frowned and withdrew his hand from her chin.
“Did you two hear that as well?”
He approached the offending soldiers.
“This place. Is. Dangerous. For. Delicate. Sally.”
Each time he paused, the triangular leather tip of the thin, flexible riding crop poked the soldiers’ solar plexuses. His voice grew increasingly fierce, like the roar of an enraged lion.
Cold sweat trickled down Sally’s spine. Fred’s third sister was her closest friend in the world. Moreover, she had watched Fred since he was a baby, considering him like a younger brother, and she was anxious that he might receive a harsh punishment.
Sally bowed her head deeply. Soon, her shoulders, hunched like a frightened rabbit, trembled, and tears welled up in her large eyes, falling one by one.
“H-hic, I’m sorry. It’s my fault for entering without permission. So, the punishment, hic, I’ll take it, Captain.”
She sniffled and gently tugged at the hem of his trench coat.
“Men become fools the moment a woman cries.”
Her mother had said that. Though she also warned not to use it too often, lest it lose its effect.
Was this man also susceptible? Winston stopped the whip that had been poking Fred’s chest and approached Sally.
“Sally, just don’t do this again. Hmm? Alright?”
“Hic, yes…”
She reached for her sleeve to wipe away her feigned tears, but he stopped her. Winston’s hand cupped her chin and lifted it. Then, a neatly folded handkerchief gently dabbed away each tear stain.
Everyone’s eyes widened at his uncharacteristic action. When he briefly looked down at the handkerchief, wet with a maid’s tears, and then put it into his jacket pocket, everyone’s eyes seemed ready to pop out.
He was a man who would immediately discard a used handkerchief on the floor. Yet, he had kept a handkerchief stained with the bodily fluids of a lowly maid.
“From now on, leave the meals outside.”
“Yes, I will do that.”
It was the moment she let down her guard, lulled by his gentle voice, as if he were coaxing a child.
Winston’s hand, which had been releasing her chin, stopped in mid-air and picked up her left thumb. His gentle gaze instantly sharpened.
Sally’s blood ran cold as she followed his gaze. A small piece of eggshell was stuck under her fingernail.
Winston smirked, looking at the pile of eggshells neatly placed in front of the spy. His eyes did not smile at all.
Winston’s neatly trimmed fingernail dug under Sally’s nail. It went in deep, as if to gouge out her flesh, and twisted cruelly.
Sally bit back a groan, enduring the pain of her delicate flesh being crushed. The training to endure the pain of torture had become so ingrained that she would endure even when there was no need, which was a bad habit.
Winston silently looked down at the white fragment clinging to his fingertip, then flicked it away. A chilling remark flew at Sally along with the shell.
“Sally, you’re too kind, it’s bothersome.”