Try Begging

Chapter 80

Disgusting. Disgusting.

Grace muttered, standing under the pouring water.

“Huu…”

Her face contorted even more as soon as she removed her fingers that had been stirring between her legs.

A white, sticky liquid still came out.

“Don’t feel it without my permission.”

Winston sneered, reclining on a seat opposite the bathroom, where he could see her naked body in the shower. Grace withdrew the sticky gaze for a moment and glared at the man wearing the watch.

It was unpleasant to have that b*stard’s s*men in her body.

As soon as she put her hand back inside her to scrape it out, she groaned again. The feeling of the hard rubber film touching her fingertips was unpleasant.

Having to wear this for at least six more hours was more than unpleasant, it was terrifying. It was two o’clock in the morning, so she’d be able to take it off when she woke up, and it was clear that Winston would put it back in soon after.

After a few days of living like this, she really felt like that person’s exclusive prostitute.

Well, could she say no now?

She gave up scraping his semen. As she picked up a sponge to soap her body, she could hear footsteps behind her. It was the sound of distant footsteps. Looking back, Winston was gone, leaving only smoke from his cigar.

The room was not empty, but he was sitting at the foot of the bed, reading a magazine, waiting for her with a towel wrapped around her.

“Put it back.”

There was no need to ask what to put back. He placed the shackles in the middle of the new sheet, so it was very visible.

She hoped he had forgotten to put it, but he was still here.

“Stockings.”

As soon as she took a step into bed, she heard another sound. Grace turned and headed for the chest of drawers by the door.

He wouldn’t have locked this door.

Wasn’t now a good opportunity to run away without the shackles? Still, she wouldn’t be able to get to the bars, and she’d just be caught.

He was a man who never took his eyes off her.

Her head was buzzing the whole time she put her feet up in the chair and put on her stockings.

Dressed in Leon Winston’s prostitute uniform, who had more taken off than put on, Grace sat at the head of the bed, far away from him. As she began to shackle her ankles, Winston’s gaze returned to the magazine.

It was the magazine she had been reading before he came in.

[ Leon Winston is an idiot. ]

What would that person look like when he discovered the hidden message?

He would probably return the mockery to Grace with a crooked grin, as always. What she was looking forward to was the process rather than the obvious outcome from finding the first letter of a message to finding the last letter, that process.

And he’d be nervous, thinking she was trying to pass a code to Jimmy.

She wanted to step on him and stand on top of the man’s head, even just once.

Could it be a little revenge?

It was a moment when she thought it was insignificant because it was so small. The hand that was carelessly flipping through the magazine stopped. Winston’s gaze was fixed on a corner of the magazine.

‘…He found it.’

Grace quietly observed the man’s expression. His face hardened, and the blood slowly faded. After a page or two, his face suddenly turned red.

It was a frank reaction rarely seen in Winston.

‘He should be punished, too.’

That man played with her every day, and for the first time, she timidly paid him back. The slight sense of superiority tasted like cheap chocolate bought with the pocket money she had saved from helping with chores as a child.

However, the moment Winston raised his head, the cheap sweetness turned to bitterness.

Grace was perplexed. He wasn’t a man who would be seriously hurt by such a childish provocation, but his eyes were burning with anger.

‘Yes, I’m a jerk.’

It was only then that Leon realized.

[ Jimmy, my heart is always with you. ]

It was a message from that woman to him, not to her fiancé.

She was testing him

…Fearless when she was in his grasp. It was like she threw a declaration that she would never love him.

Fearlessly.

And he, the literal idiot for that woman, was deceived at once by her test and revealed it blatantly.

It was not just hate that he felt for Grace Riddle.

It felt as if he had discovered a shameful secret hidden deep in the closet. Winston had no conscience. He also had no shame… but why did he always get caught up in these strange feelings in front of that woman?

The helplessness he felt for the first time in his life was given to him by that woman in his childhood. He hated himself for returning to the immature boy of those days when he stood in front of that woman.

Do not give what is holy to dogs, and do not throw your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces.

Leon finally realized the meaning of the phrase.

It was a stern warning from his past to his future self.

He shouted the words trapped inside with only his eyes without a sound to the woman who blinked her big eyes, pretending not to know anything.

‘Yes, d*mn it. I still like her.’

And she’d still try to break his heart. Because even now, she was mocking him as an idiot for falling for a girl who didn’t even like him three times.

Would she still love that bastard?

No, that had nothing to do with him.

Even if she’d loved him someday, would their relationship be different? At the bottom of this relationship lies a hatred that stinks worse than the dregs at the bottom of the gutter. Even if love sprouts in the gutter of hatred, it would not be able to withstand the poison and would wither away.

…So, don’t provoke him.

“You think I’m funny?”

Leon, who had managed to find his reason, smiled bitterly and asked in a cold voice.

“I’m sick of the thought of killing you, too.”

He was afraid she’d trample on his heart and tear it to pieces.

“I’m just imagining it.”

As if he wanted to chew her to death, the man who had been spitting out words through his gritted teeth suddenly let out a helpless voice and laughed. It was a self-deprecating smile.

“Yes, I find myself funny, too.”

Winston put the magazine down and stood up. Seeing his back toward the door, Grace jumped in fear.

‘…Maybe he won’t come back.’

Grace rushed over and grabbed him.

“Master, Bella was wrong.”

She stopped the man trying to open the door and clung to his arms.

“Master, don’t go.”

If it went on like this, he wouldn’t come back… her meals and talking partners. Confined in a black prison, suffering from hunger and loneliness, every day flashed before her eyes, and it felt like blood was draining from her body.

“Master, please.”

Leon laughed.

This woman tried to manipulate him by acting like a submissive dog. Who was the real master? It might be this woman, and he may be the dog that barked louder the more frightened she was.

“This is miserable now.”

Grace stared blankly at the man who walked away from her.

Bang.

The door was closed.

Like this again.

She stared blankly at the closed door. Even though she was insulted as he wished, again, it seemed like he was the one getting insulted.

She couldn’t understand that man.

º º º

The banquet room of the commander’s residence was crowded with officers celebrating the new commander’s inauguration. Invitations to the party hosted by Commander George Davenport were given only to major officers and above.

Leon alone was captain. It meant that the invitation was not sent based solely on rank.

Soldiers were also economic animals. That was why they wanted to build friendships with people who held substantial economic power in the region, regardless of class.

He had yet to greet the commander who invited him personally. As Leon tilted his whiskey glass while waiting for his turn, he soon got bored.

“I’m sick of it.”

There was one more person already thinking of leaving this place. His superior, Lieutenant Colonel Humphrey, glanced towards the dining room from the cigar room.

“To have a fight with males all day long and to be staring at those males at night.”

It wasn’t a place to bring a partner, so there were only men in black uniforms in the banquet room. Nonetheless, it was the same with the cigar room, which was already thick with smoke, was a male den.

“You said that the torture chamber was closed because of your mother, so you work from home more often. It’s hard to see your face.”

The Lieutenant Colonel muttered as he lit a high-quality cigar recommended by a servant at the official residence.

Leon smiled silently and refused the cigar the servant offered him.

“After a proper greeting, we are going to have a party to celebrate the inauguration with only officers from the intelligence department. What do you think?”

He meant going to the cabaret.

Leon leaned against the wall, checked his watch, and spat out words of refusal.

“I’m getting engaged right around the corner, so I think I’d better take care of myself.”

“This young man is really stuck. Leon, you’re like a son. If I could give you some advice…”

Just as the Lieutenant Colonel tapped him on the shoulder, the new commander entered the cigar room.

“Commander.”

Officers sitting in wing chairs all over the cigar room stood up in unison.

Leon also corrected his slanted posture and saluted with a restrained gesture. The elderly man entered the room while greeting the officers and stopped walking the moment his eyes met his.

The commander came right up to him and asked for a handshake.

“I am Captain Leon Winston, Domestic Intelligence Division.”

“Ah, my guess was correct. You are the famous…”

Commander Davenport began reciting the rumors he had heard about Leon one by one. Words of high regard for him continued endlessly, but they never reached Leon’s ears.

His nerves were focused only on the commander’s eyes.

George Davenport.

A former elite officer of the Royal Guard and trusted by the King. Moreover, he was a collateral descendant of the royal family, a distant relative of the king.

In a word, a royalist.

Grace Riddle had the eyes of such a man.