Chapter 1

"Pray to me"

- Revenya

Chapter 1

The kind maid, the cunning spy, the heartbroken first love, the daughter of an enemy she wanted to kill.

And the runaway who disappeared with his child.

She had many names.

***

The moment she opened the kitchen door, the smell of various ingredients and the hot steam hit her. The maids were too busy preparing lunch to turn and see who had entered.

There was no need to turn around.

The person who stepped into the noisy kitchen, filled with the sounds of chopping and sizzling oil, was an ordinary maid.

Her black maid's dress brushed her knees, her spotless white apron, and her plain chestnut hair. In the mansion of the Winston family, her appearance was as common as a crystal chandelier.

The maid picked up a wooden tray, a soup bowl, and a spoon from the dish cabinet. She went to the pantry where various pickles were lined up, and only then did someone speak to her as she took a white bread and two boiled eggs from the basket.

"Is the guest in the annex still there?"

Mrs. Appleby, the head cook, took a freshly baked meat pie out of the oven and clicked her tongue. The young maid, as always, pretended to be gloomy, pouting slightly.

"Well, I thought they might leave today."

"Tsk, Sally, you really have it tough."

Mrs. Appleby placed the meat pie on a large table in the middle of the kitchen and held out her empty hands to the maid called Sally.

"Give it to me."

Taking the empty soup bowl, Mrs. Appleby opened a large pot by the stove and filled it with cold, murky soup, placing it on Sally's tray. The only things floating in the bowl were broken bits of ingredients.

"To do such a difficult job alone without Edel is really something."

Edel was a middle-aged maid who, until a month ago, had been in charge of the 'special room' in the annex basement with Sally. She was now on a ship heading to the New Continent, dreaming of a fortune with her gambler husband.

All the employees of the Winston mansion felt sorry for Sally, who was now alone in charge of the revolting and unpleasant tasks. But no one offered to help. Sally, in turn, felt relieved.

"Talk to Mrs. Belmore. Ask for another person or a raise."

"I will."

But Sally had no intention of going to the housekeeper to make such a request.

Sally carried the tray and exited through the side door on the west side of the mansion. A gravel path ran through the neatly trimmed blue lawn.

Soon, the annex, which had appeared small, came close enough to see the sharp barbed wire on the wall.

In the midst of a full spring with cherry blossoms fluttering, the annex alone exuded a winter chill. It was understandable. The place, where screams echoed endlessly from the basement, was like a haunted house.

Seeing the soldiers guarding the front door of the annex, Sally moistened her dry lips and smiled.

"Hi, Martin."

"Hi, Sally."

The soldier, who saw her every day, opened the iron gate without asking anything. So, he wasn't the one who made her so tense that her lips dried out.

Sally slowly walked to the annex entrance, glancing around the front yard. The car of the mansion's owner, Captain Winston, was not there, meaning he had not returned from the base yet.

Good.

She went straight into the cool building and down to the basement. She walked down the familiar left corridor. A soldier guarding the iron door in the middle of the corridor opened it as soon as he saw Sally.

The security was triple-layered, meaning there was one more group to get past.

Turning the corner, she saw two soldiers sitting in chairs, chatting.

"Hello."

"Hi, Sally."

On the opposite side of the soldiers was a solid, black iron door, giving off a different aura from the luxurious annex.

"Have you eaten, gentlemen?"

Sally approached the soldiers, smiling with her eyes.

"No, the food hasn't been served yet…."

The corporal, with a name tag 'Fred Smith' on his chest, glanced at the sergeant sitting next to him and answered cautiously.

"It will be brought from the main house soon."

At the mention of food, especially at the time when they were hungry, and with the smell of soup wafting, no one could resist the bait.

"What's on the menu today, Sally?"

"Meat pie. The smell when I opened the kitchen door was so rich, it made my mouth water."

The corporal's drowsy eyes suddenly sparkled.

"Ah… If we go late again, there won't be any, right?"

The young-looking private, looking at the corporal, cautiously added, then immediately gave Sally a suspicious look. His eyes were like a dog asking for praise, but she ignored it, looking only at the corporal.

"Damn… I'm tired of consomme soup…."

An outsider might think a man who finds high-end cuisine boring doesn't know his place or appreciate it.

But to give a young, strong man a soup with only chicken meatballs and a few vegetables for lunch, complaints are inevitable.

The practice of lavishly feeding ordinary soldiers, not officers, actually stemmed from Mrs. Winston's vanity and neglect, so there was no reason to be grateful.

"There don't seem to be many left… You should go to the dining room before it's too late. I'll lock the door."

Sally transferred the tray to one hand and took a black key from her pocket, making the corporal look uncomfortable.

"Captain said Sally shouldn't go in alone…."

From his wavering tone, it was clear he was about to give in. Sally raised an eyebrow, smiling as if it was no big deal.

"It's fine. The guest doesn't seem violent. I'll just put down the tray and collect the laundry and come right out. Greg is outside, too."

She nodded towards the soldier guarding the iron door beyond the corner. The corporal reluctantly got up.

"Smith, let's go."

As the two men turned the corner and disappeared, Sally unlocked the heavy iron door with the key. The door creaked and opened inward, and a pungent smell of blood seeped through the two-inch gap.

Sally moistened her dry lips again and reached into the dark room. She quickly found the switch.

The four wall lights turned on with a click, but the room didn't get much brighter due to the black walls, floor, and ceiling.

The middle-aged man, curled up on a narrow bed on one side of the room, flinched. Sally quickly entered the 'special room' and closed the door.

"Uncle, it's me."

The 'guest' in the special room, who had stiffened, let out a long sigh and relaxed. He couldn't see Sally's face clearly due to the brightness, but he must have recognized her voice.

The man's condition was terrible. She had seen countless times how a vibrant face turned into a corpse-like figure the moment it entered this room.

But it was even more painful to see the face of an uncle she had known since childhood.

"I brought your meal."

Sally walked to the small table at the foot of the bed. The man tried to get up but could only manage halfway, groaning in pain.

She placed the tray on the table and quickly went to help him. She didn't ask if he was okay, knowing from experience that such a question could be a trigger for someone enduring all kinds of horrific torture with a thin thread of spirit and strength.

She silently handed him a spoon and started peeling the boiled eggs. The man couldn't peel the eggs himself because his fingernails had been pulled out.

"Nothing happened last night, right? Last night, there was a party at the main house, so…."

"Nothing, cough, cough."

As the man started coughing, Sally poured water from the pot on the table into a cup and handed it to him.

He was lucky in a way. He was allowed one meal and water a day. Sometimes, not even water was given.

After moistening his dry throat, the coughing subsided. Sally quickly took a small bottle from her pocket before he picked up the spoon again.

"Take this first."

It was a painkiller containing morphine. As the man opened his mouth, Sally poured a syringe of the painkiller into his mouth.

She hid the bottle back in her pocket and finished peeling the egg. She continued talking to the man, who was hurriedly eating the soup, to finish the conversation before anyone came. She didn't have the luxury of waiting for him to finish eating.

"Did you talk at all?"

"…No."

The man stopped his spoon and looked up. His eyes were filled with intense contempt.

This was a common occurrence.

Sally's questions to a fellow who had been tortured for days were not welcome. It could be seen as an interrogation or surveillance.

But she had no choice. If any information had leaked, she needed to know as soon as possible to take action. A mistake could put not only the uncle but others in danger.

"You know you have to be honest, right?"

"…No."

The man glared at Sally for a long time before lowering his head to the soup bowl, his tone like he was spitting.

"I think we'll be moved today. I'll send someone as soon as I find out where. So, don't say a word and just hold on a little longer. Understand? The rescue team doesn't know about the failure…."

She was pouring out her final instructions when—