Try Begging Novel - Chapter 22

‘This is torture.’

Sally sighed as she dusted a book on the shelf. Physical pain wasn’t the only form of torture. Winston’s daily mental torment was also, unequivocally, torture.

“I think you know the answer.”

She’d be found out soon.

If she was found out, it was over. Winston wouldn’t kill her kindly if he knew her true identity. Sally knew the leadership inside and out. He would resort to all sorts of heinous tortures to extract core information about the rebels’ stronghold and leadership.

‘Then it’s not just me who’s in danger.’

This wasn’t the time to stay put, citing her responsibility as a spy. Fred would fill her place. Though he was still unreliable, everyone grew through burdensome missions, didn’t they?

It seemed simple enough to just tell the head maid she was quitting and pack her bags, but it wasn’t that easy.

She couldn’t just quit; she had to be fired. If she returned unharmed, she would face the full brunt of the leadership’s criticism. She also didn’t want to hear Jimmy say he was disappointed.

Pretending to be fired wouldn’t work. Fred or Peter might tell tales.

So, if she pretended to attempt the new mission of becoming Winston’s mistress and then got fired, wouldn’t everyone have nothing to say?

The “how to get fired” method Sally chose after much deliberation was, in the end, the very first strategy she’d thought of.

Getting word of her affair with Winston to Mrs. Winston.

“Miss Bristol.”

And that wouldn’t be too difficult.

Winston approached Sally, who stood on a low ladder, from behind. His breath was so close she could feel it on her neck.

“Good girl.”

“Pardon?”

His hand slipped between her legs and stroked up her calf, making Sally squeeze her legs together tightly.

“I bought them for you.”

His fingertips glided over the smooth silk stockings. Usually, it was natural for things to slide down, but his hand slid up.

Wearing the stockings Winston bought was part of her dismissal strategy. She had expected him to touch her, but putting his fingers past the stocking band and under the garter belt strap was unacceptable.

“What are you doing, Captain?”

“A body search for illegal weapon possession.”

“Didn’t the Captain take that illegal weapon?”

“Did I?”

“It’s still in the desk drawer.”

“You know that well? Then why didn’t you take it?”

“You said it was confiscated.”

“Clever girl.”

His tone was less a compliment and more tinged with regret. His hand, which had been searching every corner of Sally’s thigh for a non-existent pistol, soon withdrew.

“Didn’t your fiancé get you another one?”

“I suppose you were waiting for me to break the law again.”

Since she was trying to get fired anyway, Sally stopped acting like an obedient maid. A soft breath brushed her neck.

“Sally, as someone who cares for you, I’ll give you a piece of advice. It’s best not to marry such a bad man.”

For Winston, who was arguably the second-worst man in the kingdom, to say such a thing was the height of contradiction.

But it wasn’t entirely wrong either. It was hard to call a man who would try to make his own fiancée an enemy’s mistress a good man.

“Sally.”

If she left here, she would never use the pseudonym “Sally” again. Winston called her by that name so often that just hearing “Sally” might give her a nervous breakdown, recalling his leering voice.

“What is it, Captain?”

“One thing…”

The moment he began, someone knocked on the office door.

“Come in.”

Winston commanded, still pressed close to Sally. The door opened, but instead of footsteps, only a bewildered voice was heard.

“Uh… Captain, I’ll come back later.”

Without turning around, Sally knew the voice belonged to Lieutenant Campbell. He seemed quite flustered to see his superior officer having an intimate moment with a maid.

Finally, Sally had been caught as she wished, but unfortunately, the rumor wouldn’t spread throughout the mansion. A lieutenant was a soldier. To spread rumors, she needed to be caught by a gossipy mansion employee.

“So it’s not urgent, then.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I had new information regarding Jonathan Riddle Jr. that I wanted to report.”

“Come in.”

Winston pulled away and headed to his desk, but Sally couldn’t relax.

‘Information about my brother? Did something happen? No, more importantly, has he been watching my brother all this time?’

She knew that even though he had defected, the military wouldn’t leave him alone, as he was once a promising young officer of the rebel army. She just hadn’t known Winston was the one assigned to him.

His surveillance of her brother meant he was tracking her. Sally pretended to clean, anxiously listening to Campbell’s report.

“He received a large sum of money a few days ago.”

Sally’s mouth went dry.

“The sender?”

“The name is Holly Easter, and…”

Winston let out a scoff. Holly Easter. He immediately recognized it as a pseudonym for “Happy Easter.”

“Where was it sent from?”

“From the post office on Main Street in Winsford…”

“Winsford?”

“Yes.”

“The sender’s description.”

“All we have is long brown hair, fair skin, and round sunglasses.”

“Why is that all?”

His voice was dangerously low.

“I apologize, Captain. I interrogated the employee who handled the transfer, but there was little gain. It was difficult to make him remember. He said it was close to closing time and he was busy, and her plain attire left no impression.”

Sally turned her back, a triumphant smile on her face. Once again, she was one step ahead.

“A young woman, early to mid-twenties.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Little Riddle.”

Winston leaned back deep in his chair and scoffed.

“Utterly audacious. To think that rat dares to frequent my territory as if it were his own home.”

Sally struggled to suppress her laughter at his indignant voice. There was nothing more exhilarating than stirring up the enemy’s stronghold and slipping through their encirclement.

‘You know what? I’m utterly audacious, but you’re utterly pathetic.’

The Vampire of Camden was an overly generous nickname. Pathetic bastard, perhaps.

A pathetic fool who didn’t even know the rat he was chasing was right before his eyes. And to top it off, a pathetic bastard who was so aroused he couldn’t control himself.

“Sally.”

Leon picked up an empty soda bottle and put it down. The maid quickly approached, took the empty bottle, and left.

He roughly pulled down the knot of his tie, slightly askewing the perfectly symmetrical knot. He took a deep breath and searched inside his jacket. Soon, a wispy plume of smoke rose from his fingertips.

“So, he didn’t just stop by Winsford out of boredom on his way through.”

“I think so too. Perhaps he’s targeting the Western Command…”

“No, that’s not it. He wouldn’t be so careless as to make a transfer right in front of the operation site, knowing he’d be tracked.”

Then what about this area? There weren’t many operational targets for the rebels in the Camden region. This meant the possibility of his own stronghold, the Winston mansion, being the target was not low at all.

“What about the soldiers’ movements?”

“Yes, we’ve already started. We’re investigating suspicious activities or communications, especially around the time of the Governe raid.”

“Report any suspicious personnel immediately.”

“Yes.”

Leon exhaled a long stream of white smoke and lightly flicked the ash from the end of his cigar.

If only suspicion could be flicked away so easily.

That filthy rat-like woman. Where was she hiding after spewing such persistent doubts at him, like chewed-up gum?

To prevent the worst-case scenario, he might have to expand the investigation from his subordinates to the mansion’s employees. Fortunately, he only needed to investigate women with brown hair. Unfortunately, brown hair was common.

He stared at the edge of the desk, lost in thought, when the maid returned. His gaze sharpened for a moment as he watched the woman flip over a clean cup on the desk and pour soda.

Brown hair. Winsford a few days ago.

The maid seemed to sense his gaze and tilted her head, offering the cup. At that moment, his eyes softened.

An absurd speculation.

This woman wasn’t smart enough to do such a thing. She was a woman whose daily routine was to be played in his hands.

When she had started to bother him, he had already called the head maid and inquired about Sally’s background, but there was nothing suspicious.

Moreover, she didn’t resemble any of the known members of the Riddle family. They all had blonde hair and brown or hazel eyes. That rat’s hair must have been disguised with dye.

“Good work. You may leave.”

When Campbell left, Leon crushed the half-smoked cigar in the ashtray and stood up. He approached the sofa, and the maid, who was tidying a cushion in the corner, looked up.

“Ah, Captain!”

He sat on the sofa and wrapped his arm around the maid’s waist, pulling her towards him. As he sat her on his lap, making her lean back as if cradling a baby, the woman pushed against his chest.

“Stay still. We’re not doing it here.”

Which meant he was going to do it somewhere else.

Sally’s face contorted with obvious displeasure, but Winston didn’t even sneer. His hand slipped under her white ruffled headband and ruffled her hair. Winston’s sudden disheveling of her neatly braided hair made her irritation surge.

“What are you doing…”

“Brown.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s real.”

Surely he wasn’t checking because of the sender’s description just now, was he?

“…Did you think I was old enough to need to dye my hair?”

She deliberately pouted, sticking out her lips. She didn’t consider herself a beauty, but it seemed the honey trap worked. She had succeeded in clouding Winston’s judgment.

“No.”

Sally blocked his lips with her hand as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Ugh…”

Immediately, a wet tongue licked her palm, making her recoil and pull her hand away. Winston grinned mischievously and asked,

“Why? Haven’t you been kissed before?”

“…I have.”

The smile vanished from his face.

“Hah… But I don’t like it. Isn’t it an honor for you to kiss a handsome man straight out of a movie?”

“It’s a disaster for someone who doesn’t want it.”

Sally replied coldly, meeting his gaze, and gripped his thick shoulders. As soon as she tried to sit up from her half-reclining position, Winston pressed her back down onto his lap.

“We still need to finish our conversation from earlier in front of the bookshelf.”

“Do we need to talk in this position?”

“Shall I pin you down under me then?”

Sally sighed deeply.

“What were you talking about?”

He stroked Sally’s cheek with his knuckles, as if caressing a lover, and curtly uttered one word.

“Annoying.”

“I already know that, Captain.”

“Even months ago, just seeing you gave me a strange feeling, but it’s gotten worse lately. You keep hovering around, and I can’t concentrate on my work.”

“Then I’ll hide away as if I don’t exist. Or you can fire me…”

“There’s no need for that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Your body.”

Such blunt and rude words no longer surprised her. Sally replied without even a twitch of her eyebrow.

“That seems contradictory.”

“I just want to do it once and get it over with. Once we’ve rolled around dirtily, it’ll probably be more boring than you think. Wouldn’t it be more comfortable for you if I lost interest?”

“I don’t want that.”

“Why? Do you want to be a mistress?”

“No.”

Before she could finish her sentence, his firm refusal came, and Leon couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh.

“Fine, I don’t want such a bothersome pet either. And just so you’re not mistaken, I don’t like you. I’m only doing this because I can’t get hard for anyone else. Do you know how annoying that is?”

“I understand that well, but I don’t like such disgusting acts.”

“How do you know without even trying? It might be good once you try it.”

“Wouldn’t that be even more troublesome? What if you get bored after doing it once, but I want more?”

She would say anything if it seemed to work, even if it was absolutely untrue.

“And how can you trust me? It would be troublesome for you if I suddenly had a bastard child.”

“Then it would be like a jackpot for you, wouldn’t it?”

“My dream is to live a normal, quiet life.”

“I’m saying let’s do it just once so you can live quietly.”

“What if you don’t get tired of me after doing it? You might lose your mind even more.”

A snort escaped from Winston’s twisted lips.

“You’re quite confident, aren’t you?”

“If you want to get tired of me, I can offer you a boring date.”