Try Begging Novel - Chapter 99

The man’s brow furrowed. His jawline bulged as if he were clenching his teeth. In short, it was a look of disgust.

He wiped the blood from his lips with a bandage and muttered, “Completely insane.”

No, you’re the insane one.

Only after pressing the wound with cotton and bandaging it did the man stand up.

“Be careful when you turn the page.”

His human side was harder to swallow than his inhuman acts. Much harder.

There was no need to be careful when turning the page. She hadn’t turned a single one. Grace sat blankly, her thoughts racing, one after another.

Why is he like this?

Could it be related to why he couldn’t kill her? Then, just as her thoughts reached the day Peter died, an annoyed voice came from above her.

“Keep reading.”

“…Um, I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Peter also knew the location of the base.”

“Peter?”

“The mailman. The one you killed…”

“Ah…”

“If you knew the base’s location from him, did you fail to find it, or did you choose not to?”

She had been curious since she learned Peter was a double agent, but she kept it to herself, fearing he would relentlessly ask where the base was if she brought it up. But now that they had a deal, she bravely asked.

“Ah, damn it… I forgot to ask.”

As he muttered, feigning exasperation, the woman under the desk grumbled. How could that be?

Leon said nothing. He picked up his pen again and began to read the reports awaiting his approval one by one, but his attention was entirely focused under the desk.

About an hour passed. The occasional sound of chains and rustling paper from below completely ceased.

He looked down at his feet. Sure enough, the woman was sound asleep, her head resting on a cushion. The documents he had given her to read were tossed onto the carpet.

Even when he touched her face with his knuckles, she didn’t resist or grimace. Confirming she was deeply asleep, he finally gave an honest answer.

“I chose not to. You’re unnecessarily sharp.”

For a soldier to let slip a golden opportunity to find the enemy’s base with his own hands.

This was the result of conflicting personal desires.

He wanted to find the base immediately and raze it to the ground. He wanted to crush the rebel forces and avenge his father.

As his desire for revenge burned, another desire whispered secretly.

Make the woman offer up her comrades’ necks with her own hands. Then you can have both revenge and the woman.

How could he refuse such a sweet offer?

Leon envisioned the woman herself offering up even her fiancé to him.

Please, kill this bastard who betrayed me, she would say.

Uncontrollable excitement surged within him. What foul stench would the blood of that arrogant imbecile, who dared to take what was his, emit? Each time he imagined it, a thrilling ecstasy spread throughout his body.

He breathed out a hot sigh, as if the woman’s naked body lay at his feet, and gently caressed the sleeping woman.

The woman who betrayed everyone he knew would be left with no one. Except for one person.

To fulfill that desire, he first had to break the false beliefs that surrounded the woman like a hard egg.

What if he showed the woman evidence that she was merely a byproduct of a dirty honey trap, and that her comrades had never considered her an ally?

He could shatter the egg at once. But then, the vulnerable chick inside might also be shattered.

She might fall into helplessness and sorrow, and misguidedly turn her anger on herself. That is, she might choose suicide.

Therefore, Leon decided to meticulously crack the egg over time.

“Wake up.”

“Mmm…”

He woke the woman and put the report back in her hand. He smiled at her, who glared at him with sleepy eyes.

“I told you to read, darling.”

He would slowly plant doubts. Someday, when she learned the truth, all those doubts would sprout and blossom into the flower of revenge.

Leon tapped the woman’s forehead, hard and round like an egg, with his fingertip.

The cracks, secretly spreading without the woman’s knowledge, would eventually consume the hard egg like a spiderweb. With even a slight shock, the woman’s world would collapse without a trace.

Thus, she would be reborn as a weak, weak being in a strange world. Like a duckling emerging from its eggshell, the reborn woman would imprint on the first and only being who embraced her.

On Leon Winston.

As expected, the oppression began as soon as the Sinclair case was settled.

A request came down from the Army Headquarters in the capital to the Western Command to send a company-grade officer as an aide-de-camp to a certain general. It wasn’t even the season for personnel transfers.

It was no surprise that Leon was the most qualified person, meeting all the requirements for ability and experience.

An aide-de-camp sounded impressive, but it was essentially a secretary. While it offered many opportunities to build connections by constantly following the general and interacting with high-ranking officials, it was a position where one could never accumulate achievements. Moreover, it was arduous work, rarely taken by nobles.

It was obvious that the intention was to demote him, who had led the charge in suppressing rebels and accumulated numerous achievements, to a mere secretary, and to give the head of the Domestic Intelligence Office position to Lieutenant Collins, who had actively cooperated in this matter.

While it was understandable for the King, it was infuriating that even the Grand Duke seemed to approve of this. To go to such lengths to trip up someone who was about to become part of his own family was a ploy to tame the disobedient dog, Leon Winston.

How foolish. A dog doesn’t obey because it has something it trusts.

The Western Commander feigned not understanding the blatant demand from Army Headquarters and sent Lieutenant Collins to the aide-de-camp position instead. The higher-ups must have been quite flustered.

“There’s a limit to pretending to be a clueless old man.”

“I suppose so.”

Leon, seated in the Commander’s office, leisurely exhaled cigar smoke in response. The Commander, on the other hand, nervously flicked his cigar into the ashtray again and again, as soon as the hazy ash settled.

Understandably so.

The King’s last resort was the Commander’s daughter.

If Leon refused to obey until the end, the King would threaten him with the fact that his mistress was a rebel. He didn’t care either way. As long as the woman was alive and in his hands, he didn’t care what happened to his reputation.

On the other hand, if the King revealed that fact to the world, it would only be spitting in his own face. As soon as the news broke that Captain Leon Winston had taken the daughter of the woman who killed his father as his mistress, rumors would spread that royal blood was mixed with rebel blood.

The one who would suffer the greatest loss then was the Commander, who was now trembling as he flicked his cigar.

“Listen, Captain.”

“Yes.”

“Instead of constantly clashing like this, how about finding a way to reconcile?”

Leon furrowed his brow at the Commander as if he were looking at a senile old man.

“Reconcile? They demand absolute obedience, don’t they?”

Reconciliation was only possible between equals.

“There is one way.”

The Commander crushed his cigar and leaned towards Leon.

“Achieve an undeniable feat. A feat that will satisfy both the people and the royal family.”

“You mean wiping out the base.”

Leon, who had lost interest the moment the Commander started speaking seriously, thinking he had some grand plan, quickly added, “I know that’s already your mission and you’re trying your best. But what about this method?”

The Commander lowered his voice and suggested a path, and a look of discomfort slowly spread across Leon’s face as he listened quietly.

“I have considered that myself.”

“Then why aren’t you using it immediately?”

“Well…”

His relaxed posture changed. His discomfort was evident in the taut muscles of his neck.

“No matter how well-trained a dog is…”

He stopped speaking mid-sentence and closed his mouth. The cigar was crushed in the ashtray.

Besides, she’s not even trained yet.

He would need a better leash.

His face hardened as he thought of a way to put a leash on her.

‘Utterly disgusting.’

He asked himself, who had thought of that disgusting method, whether it was the voice of reason or the howl of savage instinct.

“Haah, please, just…”

Grace, who had been lying as if dead, suddenly sat up. Her face, roughly wiped, turned scarlet, and her hair was immediately torn and tangled by her hands.

It was the hour of shame that inevitably followed a night of madness. That is, the hour that came every day lately.

Today, it seemed to be a “day” rather than an “hour.” Because all the indecent and foolish things she had done last night kept popping into her consciousness all day, like mushrooms after rain.

Moreover, she had suffered from a hangover all day.

Lately, Winston almost always had a bottle of alcohol in his hand when he visited at night. And yesterday, as always, Grace had gotten drunk on strong liquor and done things she regretted.

It was good when she was drinking to forget the bleak reality of being trapped underground in this small space.

Her head throbbed again, and Grace reached out to her feet. She emptied the glass of water on the table and was about to lie down again when—

Familiar footsteps were heard outside the door. But they were subtly off somehow.