Try Begging Novel - Chapter 90

“You didn’t investigate it?”

“Whether it was an investigation or a fabrication, the higher-ups finished it all and just told me to conduct the interrogation.”

“To get a false confession.”

“That’s…”

“Using the most vicious torturer in the kingdom—no, in the world.”

“…Tell me something I don’t know.”

Was she taking this as some kind of revenge, or what? The woman scoffed.

“Filthy. No, ‘filthy’ isn’t enough.”

Unfortunately, Leon couldn’t help but agree with the rebel.

“By the way, are you allowed to tell me all this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because if the revolution ever succeeds, the whole world will know what you told me today.”

“Revolution, trapped underground. Planning an ant revolution, are we?”

Grace glared at the man, who spared no sarcasm, then asked,

“So, what’s the problem?”

The Leon Winston she knew would handle such dirty business ruthlessly, just like he handled rebels. But to be uneasy…

A monster wearing human skin.

How laughable.

“Indeed, what is the problem…”

The man sighed and reached his hand across the table. Understanding what he wanted with just a gesture, Grace took out the cigar case from his inner pocket and handed it over, then conspicuously rattled the medal hanging from his jacket.

“You bloodthirsty demon.”

“Even a bloodthirsty demon has his own philosophy.”

The man put the cigar, whose end he had cut with a cutter, to his lips, then flicked the wheel of a golden lighter to ignite it. He drew on the cigar, letting the flame burn long, then exhaled a hazy puff of smoke and spoke.

“I became a soldier to catch rebels, not to catch civilians.”

He had no hobby of torturing innocent people. And he detested others exploiting his hobby of torturing guilty people for their private gain.

“And will this truly benefit my interests in the long run?”

Leon couldn’t shake the thought that the King was playing a very dangerous game.

“He might gain short-term benefits from the slander, but…”

“There are no eternal secrets.”

He tapped the cigar with his index finger to flick off the ash and nodded.

“Before being a royalist, I am Leon Winston, a private individual, and I don’t welcome anything that harms my private interests.”

“Seeing as your private interests come first, you truly are a royalist.”

At the woman’s sharp remark, a self-deprecating chuckle escaped his lips.

“Phew… Thank goodness. I thought for a moment you had suddenly found your conscience, and my heart sank.”

The woman mocked him in Sally’s tone, her eyes curving into a smile. Leon smiled back, putting the cigar to his lips.

“Found my conscience, you say…”

Winston is born with ambition in the place where conscience should be. Meaning, he has no conscience to find.

But for some reason, all day long while facing Jeffrey Sinclair, he felt an uncomfortable sensation in his chest. He felt no different from that woman’s mother, whom he detested, as he was about to push an innocent person into a trap.

So, was this not conscience, but private ambition?

It was the first time in his life that cheerful jazz music sounded so chilling. Jeffrey stared blankly at the man sitting askew with his legs crossed across the table.

Leon Winston.

The moment this man revealed his name here yesterday, Jeffrey sensed his fate.

I’m a dead man now.

Captain Winston’s reputation, and notoriety, were well-known even to him, who was far removed from the military or the highest echelons of society.

Contrary to his notorious reputation as a brilliant, and therefore exceptionally cruel, torturer, the man had merely relentlessly asked questions late into the night yesterday. Jeffrey, thinking it was the first stage of interrogation, actively denied all accusations and tried to persuade the captain.

He had gotten through yesterday safely, but he expected the captain to live up to his infamous reputation today.

Captain Winston, who entered the interrogation room late in the morning, brought a gramophone and loudly played music. Jeffrey despaired, thinking it was a tactic to prevent screams from escaping.

But the captain spent the entire morning smoking cigars and merely staring at the gray wall.

Was this also a form of torture?

He was quietly swallowing dry saliva when it happened. The captain checked his wristwatch and stood up. Jeffrey flinched as the iron chair scraped against the floor.

“It’s lunchtime.”

The moment he grasped the doorknob, he heard a stifled gasp behind him, and Leon narrowed his eyes. He found it hard to understand why she was tense when he hadn’t done anything.

“Give him a meal.”

Leon ordered the soldier waiting outside and left the interrogation room. As he climbed the stairs towards the domestic intelligence office, he inadvertently recalled the thought he had been having all morning.

His jacket was too big for the woman. Her shoulders, exposed above the jacket that had slipped down due to her rough struggles, were covered in his teeth marks. The woman, spread wide on the black jacket like a tablecloth, revealed luscious fruit and gasped for breath.

Last night, after their lovemaking, the woman he had been kissing muttered to herself,

“You’re acting strange today.”

Indeed. I, too, felt strange last night.

She was like a cursed spring that caused a terrible thirst no matter how much he drank. He had thought that last night, with the accumulated tension in his mind and body, the thirst would be even greater. He had thought he wouldn’t be able to let go of her until sunrise, but he was mistaken.

He felt a sense of liberation, as if all the burdens on his mind and body had been cast off in a single encounter.

What was different about yesterday?

Leon already knew the answer. He just didn’t want to admit it.

Honest conversation. And unexpected connection.

Connection, you say…

He scoffed at himself as he entered the office.

“Captain.”

Campbell stood up and approached him, handing him a memo.

[12:30 PM, at that restaurant from last time.]

Leon frowned at the message. He considered refusing, saying he was too busy for lunch, but immediately changed his mind. If he refused, it was obvious they would meet somehow anyway.

The waiter led Leon to the same private room as last time. When the door opened, the Grand Duke, sitting at the table, raised his hand in greeting. Amber liquid sloshed precariously in the crystal glass he held.

Leon sat opposite him and, feigning busyness, checked his wristwatch. It was 12:50 PM. He had deliberately been late.

“I don’t have time for a meal. I need to get back soon, so please state your business.”

“I didn’t call you here just for a meal.”

The Grand Duke pushed the dessert box that had been in front of him towards Leon.

“I called you to give you a gift.”

“……”

“For your nameless mistress.”

Leon opened the box in front of the Grand Duke, who wore a malicious smile. The swan-shaped profiteroles he had wrapped last time appeared, and the Grand Duke raised his glass, putting on airs.

“Chasing rebels, falling in love. It’s like a movie.”

“Love, you say…”

The captain twisted his lips into a crooked smile, scoffing at his words.

“Your Highness, you should consider becoming a novelist.”

“……”

The insolent young man, barely out of his youth, dared to be so disrespectful. The Grand Duke glared fiercely, but the captain continued to scoff contemptuously, taking out a cigar.

The unexpected behavior didn’t stop there.

The swan turned to ash. The captain used the expensive dessert as an ashtray, openly mocking the provocation he had offered as a “gift.”

His expectation that the captain would be flustered was utterly shattered. Instead, he himself began to feel flustered.

Leon smiled at the Grand Duke, who couldn’t hide the bewilderment on his face. He knew that the Grand Duke was the source of the report that Captain Leon Winston had imprisoned a rebel in the torture chamber and taken her as his mistress. He had already tracked down and eliminated the female officer the Grand Duke had bribed.

Threat for threat.

What card would be best to play? A scandal for a scandal, perhaps.

“At this point, I should inform you that I have evidence that one of Your Highness’s daughters is committing adultery.”

The bewilderment on the Grand Duke’s face became even more blatant.

“A few photos, wiretap recordings, letters, underwear left in her lover’s car. Things like that.”

He was referring to Rosalyn Aldrich and his own younger brother’s affair, but Leon didn’t reveal their names. As soon as the Grand Duke knew, the two would either break up or elope, causing trouble in a way that wouldn’t benefit Leon.

“You probably wouldn’t want to see that evidence. And the royal family of Constance would want to see it even less.”

Rosalyn Aldrich’s elder sister, the Grand Duke’s third daughter, was currently in marriage talks with a prince of the Kingdom of Constance. Thus, the scandal would be far more damaging to the Grand Ducal family.

The Grand Duke couldn’t even accuse him of a false threat. Even if it were a fabricated scandal, it would cause significant damage to the Grand Ducal family.