Chapter 15

The maid stood on the crowded sidewalk.

Amid the many people bustling past, the woman was rummaging through her brown handbag. If it weren't for the strangely familiar back view, considering she wasn't wearing her usual black maid's uniform and her usually tightly pulled-up hair was now loose, she might not have been recognized.

‘She’s so annoyingly good.’

Leon's brows furrowed slightly. The woman pulled out a bill from her handbag and abruptly handed it to a beggar standing in front of the department store.

‘She said she was short on money for her mother’s medical bills?’

Wearing such worn-out stockings and yet giving money to a beggar.

‘She’s so well-off, huh?’

The effort of taking time out of his busy lunch to return to the mansion was starting to seem ridiculous.

“A beauty that makes you turn your head.”

The colonel's sudden voice made Leon involuntarily straighten his head, which he had turned back.

“Did you see a pretty woman?”

“No.”

“You might handle yourself well, but aren’t you in your prime? Like bees to honey, beauties will come your way. If you don’t want to end up like the commander, you should be careful.”

Well, Leon was certain he wouldn't end up like the commander. He wasn't a pathetic dog who couldn't recognize a spy and just got excited by the scent of a female.

“Our generation had a mischievous blonde fox running around...”

The colonel suddenly fell silent. He had just remembered that Leon was the son of the man who had lost his life by falling for that mischievous blonde fox.

“That woman, I heard she died a few years ago. Did you hear about it?”

“Yes.”

“What a pity. She had it too easy compared to what she did.”

The colonel searched his jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a cigar case. He cut the end of a cigar and muttered to himself.

“Leon...”

He called Leon as if he were his own son, offering him a cigar. Leon politely declined to a degree that wouldn’t upset the colonel. The thick hand that had been holding the cigar tapped his shoulder and then withdrew.

“You should catch that daughter and show her what it’s like in hell. Even Lieutenant Winston in heaven would be proud of you.”

That woman had two children, both from the rebel group's 'Royal Family' with the surname Ridley. The eldest son, like 'Little Jimmy,' was expected to follow in his father's footsteps and lead the leadership, but he deserted the rebels as soon as both his parents died.

He abandoned all the power and wealth given to the leadership and became a farmhand in a rural area. Although he was in disguise, it didn't take Leon long to track him down.

Rats need to be caught. But what about a traitor rat?

Since he was a big catch, not just a small one, the rebel leadership and his sister would eventually approach him, so he just kept an eye on him. To let the released rat bring more rats.

“Once Little Ridley is caught, it will be quite a show. There are more than ten people in the west alone who are gnashing their teeth at the Ridley rats.”

Of the notorious Ridley rats, only one remained.

Little Ridley.

Her real name, appearance, and age were unknown.

Every time the rebels were interrogated, they never revealed anything about the last Ridley. They seemed more afraid of the rebel leadership than the interrogator with the dull pliers in front of them.

What was so special about her?

So the military called her Little Ridley, meaning 'little mystery.'

If she resembled her mother, she would be a beautiful blonde with hazel eyes. She would likely be as cunning and cruel as her mother, and surely selling her body to military officers to extract information.

***

She slipped out the back door of the department store and walked through the maze of alleys. The other side of the bustling street was gray. Shabby buildings where the poor working class lived lined up. Sally's footsteps echoed in the empty alley.

No one gave Sally a second glance as she approached the red brick building in the alley. To the people here, even feeling curious about others' lives was a luxury. They left for work before dawn and returned after sunset.

That's why the safe house was in such a secluded and rundown area.

If it were in a middle-class neighborhood, it would be easily discovered. There would always be someone with spare time to peek out the window and gossip about the neighbors. The worst location for a safe house where different faces frequently came and went.

She pressed the doorbell in front of the black door with peeling paint.

“Get lost, you bastards.”

A rough voice blurted out from the speaker. Sally slightly frowned.

“Nancy, it’s me.”

“Oh...”

The speaker clicked off, and the sound of footsteps running down the stairs came from behind the door. Soon, the door opened slightly, and brown eyes peeked out. After confirming it was her friend, Nancy pulled Sally inside.

“I thought it was the neighborhood kids... Lately, some of them have been ringing the doorbell and running away for fun.”

Sally followed Nancy up the old stairs. The safe house was on the third floor, on the right, overlooking the alley.

Even in the short time it took to come down to open the door, Nancy had securely locked the safe house. As she relocked the door, Sally walked through the small living room to the kitchen.

“What’s up? Is it your day off?”

“Yeah.”

While setting the cake she brought on the small table, Nancy turned on the radio on the wall shelf. Immediately, a lively trumpet performance drowned out their conversation. No one on the other side of the thin walls could eavesdrop.

“Actually, Jimmy is supposed to call this way.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

To withdraw.

Then she would be asked why they were withdrawing. She was worried that the reason might reach the ears of Fred, Nancy's brother and Winston's subordinate, who was undercover. He was still inexperienced and might do something rash.

“Nothing much.”

“Hmm... But what’s this?”

Nancy frowned and tapped the side of her lip. Sally, realizing she was referring to the scratch on her cheek, frowned and changed the subject.

“I got scratched at work. Do you have any coffee?”

Soon, the two of them were chatting over steaming mugs and two slices of cake.

Sally cut a piece of cake with a fork and put it in her mouth.

A slice of cake with a layer of vanilla custard cream between almond slices coated with caramel.

This cake was the culprit that made anyone who heard the name Madame Benoit salivate. She marveled at the taste, which was like sweet clouds melting in the sun.

“Isn’t it really fantastic?”

“To think such a skilled person is hiding in such a backwater?”

Nancy tried another cake with raspberry jelly and nodded.

“Thanks to Winston, we get to eat. He orders a lot for parties.”

“Oh, by the way, how’s Fred doing?”

“Yeah, he seems to be doing fine.”

She didn’t mention that she had barely managed to prevent Winston from whipping him yesterday.

“Phew, that kid is so timid, it worries me.”

“Yeah... He seemed shocked by what happened to Uncle Bobby.”

She remembered Fred running out of the torture room a few days ago, his face pale with fear. Later, when they were alone, he asked Sally how she could endure it every time.

“What about Uncle Bobby? How is he?”

“What do you mean? The elite team went to rescue him.”

Nancy waved her hand dismissively and chuckled.

“Where is he now?”

“At the safe house in Billford.”

“Is he okay?”

Nancy suddenly asked, and she remembered.

The contemptuous look in her eyes when she asked if he had leaked any information.

It felt uncomfortable, as if she had left a misunderstanding with someone she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Oh, I should call him.”

“Long-distance calls are expensive, so keep it short.”

“I know.”

Sally went to the living room and sat on the sofa. She flipped through an old notebook hidden under the sofa cushion and found the number of the Billford safe house written in code. She picked up the phone on the coffee table.

The operator's voice and the clicking of the machine were monotonous. After enduring a scolding from the lady in charge of the safe house for calling about something not urgent, she finally heard Uncle Bobby's voice.

“Uncle, it’s me. How are you?”

[Oh, well. Now that I’m alive, I should say I’m doing fine.]

The voice from the other end of the phone was a bit hoarse but had a vitality that couldn’t be felt in the torture room.

“I’m glad.”

[Thank you for worrying.]

“It’s only natural. Uncle is like family to me.”

No matter how accustomed she was to such things, Sally had a warm heart. She couldn’t have been happy about coldly ignoring his suffering due to her mission.

“Take a good rest, recover your strength, and come home. I’ll pass on your regards to Aunt Hattie...”

As she was about to hang up, Uncle Bobby suddenly interrupted. He called her by her real name, not her cover name, in a low voice. What could he want?

“...Yes?”

[Are you taking on the role of that devil’s mistress?]