Try Begging Novel - Chapter 83

It was a distance that required a car ride from the annex to the mansion’s main gate. After a leisurely twenty-minute walk, the inspector’s figure finally came into view beyond the main gate’s iron bars.

The inspector paced nervously in front of the parked sedan, his hands clasped behind his back. The rank insignia of a major general gleamed on his shoulder.

“Open the gate immediately.”

Leon ordered the gatekeeper, then offered a perfunctory salute. The inspector, glaring at him with displeasure, reluctantly returned the salute, and Leon immediately lowered his hand.

The inspector seemed to be in a foul mood, perhaps from standing in the scorching sun for too long. Of course, Leon cared nothing for the unwelcome guest’s mood.

“I don’t recall making an appointment, but welcome nonetheless.”

He offered a handshake, his eyes curving into a smile.

“The party starts at six today, but you’ve arrived a bit early.”

Leon pretended to check his wristwatch. It was just past eleven in the morning.

“By the way, I don’t recall sending a party invitation… Are you acquainted with my mother?”

“Do I look like someone here for a party, Captain?”

The middle-aged man glared at the nonchalant Leon. The whites of his eyes were visible from his fierce stare.

A rigid man.

Bribery or persuasion was tantamount to a confession of weakness, so he had no intention of using them. He had planned to divert attention, steer the inspector to the main house instead of the annex, deal with him appropriately, and then send him away, but even that seemed unlikely to work.

“I wish to see the Captain’s famous interrogation room.”

The inspector directly stated the purpose of his visit. It seemed he had decided to apply pressure openly, rather than covertly.

“You’re too late. The interrogation room has already been closed. This is now merely the Winston family’s private residence.”

“Private residence…”

The inspector twisted his lips into a smile.

“If military personnel are stationed here, isn’t it a military facility?”

The inspector’s sharp gaze swept over Leon and the soldiers lined up behind him.

“Oh, I beg to differ. Since we can’t agree, perhaps it would be best to ask the Commander first.”

“I’ve already obtained the answer to that.”

The inspector smiled, wrinkles forming around his eyes, and pulled something from his jacket.

[As part of the audit, all military facilities are to be thoroughly inspected; full cooperation is expected…]

As Leon read the Commander’s hastily scribbled letter, the inspector gave him a contemptuous smile.

“Commander Davenport also shares my opinion.”

Leon returned the inspector’s identical smile.

Would he still share his opinion tomorrow?

Creak. The heavy door opened with a grating metallic sound. The interrogation room, like the hallway, was steeped in silence. All eyes turned to the dark room, and tension stretched taut like a bowstring.

Leon, having opened the door wide, stepped aside and politely gestured with his hand. It was an invitation to look around freely.

However, the inspector stood with his hands clasped behind his back, merely glaring at Leon’s smiling face. With his sullen expression and sagging jowls, he resembled a bulldog.

“Turn on the lights.”

As the bulldog barked, Leon nodded to a soldier in the hallway. Click. The moment the switch flipped, the room was brightly illuminated.

The inspector, standing in the doorway, scanned every corner of the room with his eyes. His dissatisfied look was likely because no one was visible.

Now he’ll look for traces of a person.

As expected, the inspector stepped inside. Leon remained in the hallway, watching the farce unfold. The man immediately headed to the bed and rummaged through the neatly arranged bedding.

Perhaps he was looking for hair.

But nothing of the sort would be found. He had ordered the maid to clean while the woman was in the office.

Finally, the inspector, having found no trace of a person on the bed, ordered his subordinates to haphazardly search every corner of the room.

He seemed to think the woman was hidden somewhere in the room, as he ordered all storage units large enough for a person to enter to be opened. He even checked the bathroom and knocked on the walls.

It was nothing short of a farce.

The woman was tied up in the second-floor office. The birth control device, which could serve as evidence that she had been imprisoned here, was inside her.

Indeed, luck was on his side.

The inspector, having confirmed there were no clothes or signs of torture devices, noticed something else was missing.

“There’s no dust.”

The man held out a finger that had wiped the lampshade on the wall, right in front of Leon’s eyes. The finger was clean.

“How can a supposedly closed place not accumulate dust?”

“Whether it’s closed or not, the day dust is found in the Winston mansion is the day the head maid is dismissed.”

Leon added with a nonchalant reply.

“By the way, you said this was an inspection, but you seem to be looking for something specific.”

The inspector ignored his remark and abruptly opened a drawer next to the door. The man opened a fancy box inside and smiled triumphantly.

“Are these yours?”

The inspector held up a pair of brown stockings, asking in a sarcastic tone. Leon didn’t bother to suppress his laughter.

“I am a man, so I have my proclivities, but not that kind.”

“Then whose are they?”

Leon contorted his face as if he had been told to eat the stockings.

“Wear them? No, they’re for interrogation. They’re tough, good as rope. For tying limbs, or strangling. Since you’ve come all this way to the interrogation room, shall I demonstrate on one of your aides?”

As he offered with a curving smile, the inspector glared at him again, the whites of his eyes showing.

Eyes filled with indignation.

And eyes that, at first glance, seemed friendly but, upon closer inspection, revealed prominent mockery.

As the two men’s staring contest continued, the surrounding air grew taut with tension again.

He could almost hear the bulldog’s rough growl. The inspector, who had been glaring as if to tear his throat out, suddenly passed him and walked into the hallway.

He thought he had found a bone.

Leon shifted his gaze from the inspector, who began rummaging through the hallway, to the stockings he had thrown into the drawer.

Filthy.

The thought of an object touched by another man wrapping around that woman’s thighs was repulsive.

“Discard them.”

He ordered the private standing by the doorknob and stepped into the hallway. The bulldog and his pack were rummaging through the laundry chute.

“If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can help you.”

Leon was casually mocking from a distance when the inspector suddenly turned to him, his eyes flashing.

“I want to see the Captain’s office.”

Inspector?

Grace stood alone in the office, recalling what Winston had said before he left.

Could he have come because of me?

But she immediately dismissed the thought with a sigh. What were the chances of that?

Clink. Grace, who had been looking at the window, lowered her gaze to her ankle, where the chain rattled. The man had tied the shackle on one of her ankles to the leg of the office chair.

To be tied to a chair that could move freely.

She thought it was utterly flimsy, but after thinking about it more carefully, a curse word for a wicked man spontaneously escaped her lips.

The office chair had wheels, so she couldn’t remove the shackle unless she broke it. And if she did, the soldiers guarding outside would hear the noise and rush in.

What about opening the window and escaping?

Grace looked down at her ankle again. She had no desire to fall from the second floor with a heavy chair and break her neck.

That bastard, of course.

Giving up on escape, Grace rummaged through the desk again and sighed once more. Whatever she stole from here would be taken from her along with her clothes as soon as she returned to the interrogation room.

Grace gave up on stealing Winston’s things and decided to reclaim her own. Her face twisted as she rummaged through the desk again. The buttons torn from her blouse were neatly displayed inside a luxurious ebony cigar box.

“Crazy bastard. Does he think these are trophies?”

Grace was picking up the tiny buttons, intending to tie them onto her tattered blouse with whatever thread remained, when she suddenly stopped.

A small wooden box placed in the corner of the cigar box caught her eye.

It was a rough, plain object, unlike the high-end items Winston always kept on his desk. Why? The box looked familiar.

She had never seen it here when she worked as a maid…

Her intuition whispered to open it. Grace reached for the box.

“Campbell, call the maid and have tea prepared.”

Just as she was about to grasp it, Winston’s voice came from outside the door. His voice was louder than usual. As if warning Grace, who was undoubtedly doing something she shouldn’t.

Thump, roll.

A button fell from her hand as she hastily closed the cigar box, rolling across the desk. There was no time to pick it up. As she heard the doorknob turn, Grace ducked down.

“I don’t need tea.”

As soon as she hid under the desk, the door opened, and voices became clear. It was a strange man’s voice. Grace, knowing the man couldn’t see her hiding under the desk, still huddled, pulling her open blouse together.

“I’m not so idle as to sit and chat over tea with the Captain…”

Clink. The moment the chain around her neck rattled, the strange man’s voice stopped.