Try Begging Novel - Chapter 8

Her brother, who, despite their differing appearances and personalities, shared her sweet tooth, would often say something similar.

Was this the right voice? The more she tried to recall it, the fainter it became.

It had been quite some time since she had seen her brother. He had abandoned their family.

Her brother, who had been prouder than anyone that their grandfather was a pillar of the revolution, changed the moment he fell in love.

“I’m going to live for my family.”

“Family? For us, the Revolutionary Army is family.”

But he brushed aside Sally’s dissuasion.

“I won’t raise my children like our father. My wife won’t be like our father… Ha, damn it…”

“Are you out of your mind? There was no one as great as Father.”

The Revolutionary Army, like family, and the grand cause of creating a better world for everyone. Her brother ultimately abandoned all of this and succumbed to ugly reality.

Perhaps Sally was the only one whose heart ached when their comrades, once like family, pointed fingers and called him a coward.

Once a year, she would call him. To try and change his mind on the anniversary of their mother’s honorable death during a mission. But her brother said he had no regrets.

[In fact, I’m truly happy now. Mother would be proud.]

Were those words sincere? How could they be? Moreover, their mother, who had dedicated her entire life to the revolution, would never be proud of a son who had cowardly run away.

[You should leave there too. Let’s live together. Martha is counting the days until you can live with us.]

No, that will never happen. Even if it means sacrificing my life like Mother, I won’t run away. I’m the child Mother would truly be proud of.

Creak. The bed groaned again. Sally, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, suddenly froze.

The sound of a man’s footsteps echoed from outside the door.

Who?

At this late hour, a man visiting a maid’s solitary room could not have pure intentions. If he needed an errand run, he could simply pull the cords located throughout the annex to ring a bell.

Sally reached under the mattress and grabbed her small revolver. She checked again that it was loaded. Just as she pushed the magazine back in, the nocturnal intruder knocked on the door.

“…Who is it?”

Sally feigned being woken from sleep, pausing for a moment before asking. She felt a little relieved that he had knocked. If he had simply turned the doorknob without warning, his intentions would have been undeniably impure.

“It’s me.”

It’s me?

A gasp of disbelief escaped her.

She already knew who it was just from his voice. Adding to that, his arrogance in assuming she would know who he was without him even stating his name left no room for doubt.

Sally glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was already past midnight. What on earth brought him up here at this hour?

“Oh, Captain. Please wait a moment.”

Her mouth spoke like a diligent maid, but the action of tucking the revolver into the back of her pajama pants was that of a seasoned soldier.

She approached the door. Before opening it, she used her foot to pull a small wooden wedge from the corner and placed it in front of the door. Then, she composed her expression and unlatched the lock.

“Captain, do you need anything?”

The moment she opened the door about half a span, she carefully pushed the wedge with her foot, wedging it under the door. Winston wouldn’t see it. With this wedge in place, even a muscular man would find it difficult to open the door easily.

She held the doorknob with one hand and the revolver behind her back with the other. The narrow gap in the door allowed almost no light from the hallway to enter, so Winston’s face was barely visible. His massive silhouette filled the narrow opening completely.

“Captain?”

He took a deep breath, then paused before speaking.

“…Hello, Sally.”

“Oh, yes. Hello. Have you just returned?”

She feigned being half-asleep, deliberately keeping her eyes languid and her voice low.

“Yes.”

“You’re late. You must have had a lot of work.”

“More boring than a lot.”

“Oh… Then in the study with Lieutenant Campbell…”

“Sally.”

“Yes?”

She was about to suggest he go to the billiard room where she had seen other soldiers playing at night, but Winston cut her off.

His voice was heavier than when he had casually greeted her with “Hello, Sally.” Sally pressed her foot harder on the wedge and extended her index finger towards the trigger of the revolver.

“I’ve done my work, so you should do yours.”

An unsettling pressure, emanating from his cryptic command, seeped through the narrow door crack and weighed down on her. Sally slowly pulled the muzzle of the revolver from her waistband.

“What do you mean…”

“I mean, finish the cleaning you were doing.”

Her mind went blank.

“…What?”

“The office.”

Sally swallowed a frustrated sigh. The revolver’s muzzle returned obediently to her waistband.

What? Clean the office?

She already thought he was out of his mind. But was he truly insane?

She stared blankly at his silhouette, whose expression was still unclear, and took a deep breath.

Are you drunk, you lunatic?

But there was no smell of alcohol whatsoever.

At this hour of the night, long past midnight, to wake a maid and tell her to finish cleaning the office. If the office were a pigsty, it might be understandable, but it was the place Sally cleaned most meticulously, second only to the interrogation room.

It’s because of people like you that the class system needs to be dismantled.

“Oh… Yes…”

Just as she answered, revealing her reluctance, Winston pushed the door inwards. The door rattled. But it didn’t budge, and he muttered in a noticeably flustered voice.

“…You’re strong.”

“Haha… Yes, I’m naturally… Thank you.”

“Come out now.”

“I’ll just change my clothes and be right down, Captain.”

She tried to close the door, but this time, it wouldn’t budge because of Winston. He stood silently, holding the doorknob from outside.

She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she could feel it. Her skin, hidden beneath her thin pajamas, tingled. He was now visually stripping her body.

A filthy lecher.

She had already said she would come down, so there was no excuse to suddenly say she couldn’t.

Should she try to force Lieutenant Campbell to stay? Just in case, she decided to bring sleeping pills. If anything strange happened, she would slip the sleeping pills into his carbonated water.

“Captain?”

“…Right. I’ll go down first.”

As soon as Winston released the doorknob, Sally closed and locked the door. It took quite some time before she heard his footsteps receding from the door.

Damn it! I’m definitely calling Jimmy tomorrow.

The tough day was not yet over.

“Ah…”

Sally let out a dazed sigh the moment she entered the office with her cleaning tools.

The office was indeed a pigsty.

Between the desk and the coffee table, a large black stain marred the red carpet. Should she consider it kindness that he didn’t make her ask what kind of stain it was? An inkwell still lay overturned in that spot.

Crazy bastard.

That crazy bastard was sitting proudly behind the desk, smoking a cigar.

She didn’t know if he had some ulterior motive or if he was just taking out his frustrations on an innocent maid because things hadn’t gone his way.

“You’re here? You said you’d just change, but it took you a while.”

If he were an ordinary person, his fresh smile would have been reassuring. But this man was someone who laughed while watching a prisoner being hunted by bloodthirsty military dogs.

She had a bad feeling.

Before coming here, she had checked the study, but everyone seemed to have gone to bed. She considered waking Fred, who slept on the first floor, but decided against it, fearing his bunkmates might find it suspicious.

Then she would have to put him to sleep with sleeping pills.

Sally set the bucket of cleaning tools next to the stain. Then, she deliberately peered towards the desk and feigned a mistake.

“Oh… I apologize. I’ll get you a drink right away.”

A bottle of Winston’s usual carbonated water and a glass should have been on the desk. She hadn’t put them back after taking the tray out earlier in the day.

“No, you don’t need to.”

His words cut off Sally’s escape route as soon as she turned.

“Come here.”

She turned to face Winston. Their gazes met through the hazy, ghost-like smoke, and he crooked his index finger at Sally.

Her steps were cautious as she picked up the bucket again and approached the desk. It felt like walking on thin ice rather than a soft carpet.

His hot gaze, never leaving her, seemed to melt the thin ice. If she were to fall into his black abyss, what kind of hell would open its maw within?

When she stood before the desk, Winston shook his head slightly.

“What?”

“Here.”

His index finger pointed to his side. Her legs, moving like a turtle’s as she circled the desk and approached as instructed, but her heart raced like a rabbit’s.