Try Begging Novel - Chapter 98

“Is it right that Jerome, who has no relation to the engagement, is more active than you, the engaged party?”

No relation, indeed.

Leon chuckled as he flipped through the documents.

The engagement discussions, which had dragged on for nearly a year, had suddenly concluded.

Was it due to Jerome’s eagerness to live under the same roof with his secret lover, or was it because the Grand Duke, unable to find a better puppet in the military, was desperate to pull his strings?

“I truly mean this, but I, too, regret that Jerome isn’t the eldest son.”

Leon uttered the insane thought he had recently entertained.

“You’re still bringing that up.”

His mother pouted, thinking he was mocking her by bringing up her old habit, but Leon was entirely sincere. How ironic that he had come to agree with the words that once hurt him.

As always, Mrs. Elizabeth Winston feigned annoyance and turned to leave. Leon ignored her unspoken demand to follow and console her, and lowered his head under the desk.

“Don’t expect me to let you go if I get married.”

To keep a mistress even after marriage. She already knew he would, but no matter how she thought about it, he was an insane man.

Grace looked at him with exasperated eyes, then sighed and lay down, resting her head on the cushion.

“I should tip off your fiancée. Tell her to train her stamina diligently before the wedding night.”

Her body, tormented all week, still ached. Even Grace, a physically fit soldier, found Winston hard to handle.

“Wedding night?”

The man, who had been lifting the hem of her skirt covering her bent knees with the tip of his shoe, furrowed his brow. His eyes seemed to ask why he would do such a thing with the Grand Duchess.

“Don’t you need to make an heir?”

“Why are you worrying about that?”

Worry? It was merely a natural thought, given that the primary purpose of aristocratic marriage was to produce an heir to inherit wealth and power.

Then, her thoughts suddenly turned to his words that he only got hard for her.

“The Winston line will end here, then.”

“The line won’t end. I’ve already made arrangements.”

“Arrangements?”

Was he planning to adopt a child from a collateral branch? But such things were rare, especially when the head of the family was a healthy young man. And he certainly wouldn’t have an illegitimate child…

‘He’s not suggesting having an illegitimate child with me, is he?’

Leon looked down at her face, which clearly showed her confusion, and smiled.

“Do you know?”

No, she couldn’t have imagined it.

“That Jerome Winston, who was so uptight and boring, is having an affair with the woman his brother is going to marry.”

Her half-closed eyes widened. Leon reached out a hand to her cheek.

“So the Grand Duchess will give birth to a Winston child someday, and our darling doesn’t need to feel guilty.”

“The question should be whether I feel guilty at all.”

Grace sharply turned her head, knocking his hand away.

“That fellow calls the Grand Duchess ‘Rosie’.”

The man traced the exposed nape of her neck with his fingertip, asking, “Will you call me that too? Hmm? Gracie?”

“It’s nauseating.”

The man let out a low chuckle.

“It seems all the Winston bloodline is insane.”

“As if yours isn’t.”

She glared, and his large hand stroked her head. Dog treatment again.

“Anyway, you’re good. You didn’t cause any trouble this time and behaved meekly.”

The man seemed to be in a good mood. Grace decided to try to make a deal.

“Then, since I behaved well, just one walk outside…”

“That’s not possible.”

But before she could finish her sentence, a flat refusal came.

“You can just put shackles on me.”

“What if someone sees?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Another trick. He muttered, pinching Grace’s nose as if scolding a child. Grace, who had no intention of escaping by being seen by others, felt unfairly treated.

“I’m protecting you. Do you know how many men would want to rape you if you were caught? The holes you have now wouldn’t be enough.”

“Like you, then?”

The man burst into laughter. But his eyes weren’t laughing; they were sharply glaring at Grace.

“You’re right. Actually, I just don’t want to share.”

His hand dropped, and the man straightened his upper body. As soon as his disgustingly refined face disappeared, a stern command was issued.

“Don’t think about falling asleep again, and finish reading that.”

The tip of his black shoe kicked the closed file.

“I’ll test you after dinner. If you pass, I’ll let you sleep early tonight. If you fail, don’t even think about sleeping tonight.”

Lately, he had confiscated all her magazines and only given her copies of reports related to the revolutionary army to read. The reports were all filled with absurd slanders.

If she tore them, she would be punished, so she left marks indicating she had read them but didn’t actually read them. Then, somehow knowing, he made a female officer waiting outside read the reports aloud. Grace, who had endured for nearly four or five hours with her ears plugged, eventually gave up and had to read the reports herself when the officer’s voice became increasingly hoarse and painfully cracked.

This time, it was a report about an orphanage confiscated from the revolutionary army. The gist was that the orphans there were forced to participate in anti-government activities.

Brainwashing, exploitation, forced mobilization, and the tragic end at the hands of comrades or royalists. According to the report, the revolutionary army was a more wicked group than the royalists.

Who was actually attempting brainwashing? Grace glared at the disgustingly shiny tip of his shoe.

She had heard from the adults that the orphanage was run to launder military funds. Accusing them of exploiting orphans with that was truly malicious slander.

Many comrades had adopted orphans and raised them as their own children. How could it be exploitation for those children to grow up and inherit the revolutionary spirit, following their adoptive parents’ example? Grace also wanted to adopt one or two children if she married Jimmy.

“Just nonsense, full of fabrication.”

The man, who somehow heard her quiet mutter, interjected, “The former Western Commander’s mistress was also an orphan.”

“So?”

“They say she never opened her mouth until the end.”

“A proud comrade, then.”

“Was it truly loyalty?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“The woman cried during the interrogation, saying to spare her because she had a younger sibling. She and her biological sibling were adopted together, and her sibling was practically held hostage by the rebels, so she couldn’t open her mouth even if she wanted to.”

“Did you write a novel?”

A scoffing sound came from above the desk.

“Do you know why I said she didn’t open her mouth until the end?”

“Why?”

“That woman was murdered in the detention center.”

“…You’re trying to slander the revolutionary army by saying they eliminated her, aren’t you?”

“No. No one knows that.”

“Then what exactly are you trying to say?”

“I’m curious. Why didn’t that woman’s esteemed Blanchard’s rescue team save her?”

“…”

“Like you.”

There he goes again. An attempt to shake her trust in Jimmy and the revolutionary army.

“…If I were going to fall for such tricks, I would have fallen long ago. Captain Winston, perhaps you should change your tactics.”

He sighed, then looked down under the desk. His face looked tired. Yet, she was the one who was tired because of him.

“How long are you going to read only that part? Turn the page. There’s a newspaper record I mentioned.”

The man tried to force the page turn. Why did she do that? Even though seeing the newspaper record wouldn’t change anything, she gripped the file tightly with her hand, blocking him, like someone scared.

“Ah!”

Grace squeezed her eyes shut at the stinging pain. The sharp edge of the paper had cut between her thumb and forefinger.

“It hurts…”

“Ah… sorry.”

The man released the paper. Grace was more surprised by his genuine apology than by the pain.

‘What’s wrong with this man?’

That wasn’t the only strange thing. The man even brought a first-aid kit from the bathroom and treated her minor wound. Even though bright red blood flowed, he wasn’t excited as he used to be.

Then, she suddenly realized.

‘Why doesn’t he try to draw blood these days?’

He was a man who enjoyed sucking her blood. Like a vampire.

That man wiped the blood that had welled up between her fingers with cotton. The blood-soaked cotton immediately went into the trash can.

Her heart pounded again at his actions, which deviated from the Leon Winston she knew. Grace offered the bleeding wound to his lips again.

Suck. Act like a blood-crazed vampire. Don’t dare try to be human now.

His gaze fell on the wound where thick drops of red blood had formed. But he didn’t open his mouth.

Come on. Please.

The man only stared at Grace’s unsteadily trembling eyes through his hand. She couldn’t understand what the negative emotions in those chillingly blue eyes meant.

What was clear was that it wasn’t joy or excitement.

Unable to bear the anxiety, Grace did something reckless. She personally rubbed her blood on him. His pale lips were stained crimson.

Lick. I said lick it.