Chapter 17

She looked around and thoroughly searched the inside of the maid's room, but the culprit was nowhere to be found. Sally entered the room, firmly locked the door, and glared at the luxurious shopping bag as if it were a time bomb. After much deliberation, she finally opened it and winced.

'What kind of whim is this now?'

The first thing she took out was a small box containing ointment. It was meant to be applied to the wounds on her face.

When did Winston start caring so much about a maid's injuries? There are plenty of maids in the mansion kitchen with cut hands, and he should send the ointment to them instead.

Since he's not a normal human being, it can't be an apology. What kind of trick is this?

She placed the ointment box in the drawer and continued to search the shopping bag. Inside were twelve flat, square boxes. When Sally opened one of the boxes with elaborate patterns, an exasperated sigh escaped her lips.

Silk stockings.

They were three times more expensive than the ones Sally had picked up and put down earlier that afternoon. They came in black, white, brown, and peach, with three pairs of each color.

Sally, staring at the twelve bomb-like boxes scattered on the bed, replayed the absurd order Jimmy had given her in her mind.

"Please, don't do this."

***

Sally hummed a tune as she organized Winston's annex dressing room. The rescue operation of Guev had unexpectedly turned into a stroke of luck.

Winston went to Guev the day after the operation and hasn't returned even after three days.

'Please, don't come back.'

A beam of crimson sunset light seeped through the gap in the curtains. Given that Campbell's call to prepare something to suit Winston's mood hasn't come by now, it seems he won't be back today either.

Winston has been sleeping in the annex bedroom more often in the past few months. As a result, Sally has been managing his private items, keeping her busy without a moment's rest.

As Sally hung the officer's uniform neatly in the wardrobe from the laundry cart, she frowned, recalling the silly gossip from the laundry room earlier.

"The buttons are all frayed."

The maids in charge of the laundry room giggled, saying they had to resew Winston's trouser buttons with strong thread. They were clearly talking about the trousers he wore when he attacked Sally.

"What could have made him so excited that the buttons came off?"

"Didn't you hear he had a date with the duchess that day?"

What a lunatic. Spending the whole evening with his fiancée and then immediately attacking a maid.

"He's tall and has big hands, so, well, that part must be big too, right?"

One maid whispered, and another clenched her fist and shook her arm.

"Just looking at the frayed thread, it's obvious. He must be at least two inches, right? I bet that part is also exceptionally well-endowed."

At that moment, Sally involuntarily thought of a large 'cigar' and scowled as if she had bitten a bug.

Why are they so curious about that dirty part of that bastard? Sally didn't want to know, but now she felt wronged for having to know.

The cart was almost empty. Only small items like socks and handkerchiefs remained. As Sally absentmindedly picked up a neatly ironed white silk handkerchief from the basket, she frowned again.

'That damn handkerchief.'

She had wanted to throw it into the stove and burn it as soon as she found it but held back. Considering his quirks, if she burned something he left intentionally, he would surely interrogate her as if she had committed a crime.

Sally inserted the clean handkerchief into the middle of the neatly arranged handkerchiefs in the drawer.

'Maybe I should just get fired.'

She was carrying the laundry cart back to the first floor and heading to the attic to receive her share of dinner when a good idea came to mind.

If the engagement to the duchess hasn't been finalized and there are rumors of an affair with a lowly maid... Mrs. Winston would immediately fire Sally.

Then, it wouldn't be that she didn't start the new mission but that she couldn't.

However, her stubborn sense of responsibility held her back. She had successfully infiltrated the Winston family, and leaving without a proper replacement would be like building a sturdy bridge and then burning it on the way back.

Fred is there, but he's not reliable. Since he hasn't gained Winston's trust, he could be sent to another unit or branch at any time.

'Please, don't come back. Or fall for another woman in Guev... Why am I thinking this way again?'

After finishing her meal, Sally sighed deeply as she entered the small bathroom attached to the maid's room. She turned the shower valve, but only ice-cold water poured out. Sometimes, the boiler in the annex basement is old and doesn't supply hot water to the attic.

To have ice-cold water as a reward for hard labor was unbearable.

The bathroom downstairs was already as cold as ice. Shivering in her underwear, Sally glared at the pouring ice-cold water and turned it off. She put on her clothes again, gathered a change of clothes, and headed downstairs.

Winston won't be coming back anyway.

***

As the dancers took the stage, the whistles of the men drowned out the music. The women dancers were wearing only short skirts adorned with tassels and beads, and multiple layers of fake pearl necklaces around their necks.

Leon watched the women dancing with exposed chests with a disinterested gaze. Why were they so enthusiastic about mere chunks of flesh? They were no different from pieces of meat hanging in a butcher's shop.

Among the five officers seated at the table, Leon was the only one who looked bored.

Unable to bear the boredom, he cast a glance at the seated Lieutenant Humphrey. His superior was so engrossed in ogling the young women that he didn't even notice his cigar turning to ash.

Lieutenant Humphrey, who had a serious expression like a Doberman in Guev, started laughing like a monkey the moment they left. He even led the intelligence officers to a cabaret, claiming it was a farewell party for the commander who was about to return to civilian life.

A party without the guest of honor.

The only amusing thing for Leon was that contradiction.

Leaning his chin on his hand, he slowly swirled the glass, and the lieutenant tilted the whiskey bottle over Leon's glass.

"Is it not entertaining?"

"It's just that my tastes are picky."

Leon's honest answer made the lieutenant laugh with a low, throaty chuckle.

"What about that one?"

The lieutenant pointed to the dancer in the center of the stage with his cigar. The beauty, smiling radiantly and sending kisses to the audience, was the most popular woman in Winsford's pleasure district, and thus the most expensive.

"Kitty Hayes. Not just anyone can have her."

An older man put his arm around Leon's shoulder and whispered as if sharing a valuable piece of information.

"You're lucky today. The owner of this cabaret owes me a favor."

After always warning him to be careful with women, Leon took a sip of whiskey and twisted his lips.

"Thank you, but I'm not in the mood. I'll pass."

"Come on, a good roll in the mud can cure your OCD. Everyone starts that way, don't they, Johnson?"

Lieutenant Johnson, sitting opposite Leon, shrugged.

"Lieutenant is right, but it's not bad to get married without knowing that pleasure. It would be troublesome to get hooked late and lose control."

The lieutenant winked at Leon. It was always his job to stop the lieutenant from pushing Leon into a hotel room whenever they came to the cabaret. The lieutenant was of a higher military rank than Leon but of a lower social class than the major landowners in Camden, including Winsford.

"Ah... right. The noble duchess. How about her? Is she your type?"

"I don't choose marriage based on my tastes."

The lieutenant burst into a hearty laugh, making Leon's ears ring.

"True, that."

The lieutenant, patting Leon's back with a thick hand as if acknowledging his wise words, muttered quietly.

"But remember this."

"..."

"A hot night doesn't always end badly."

Leon just smiled bitterly. The lieutenant was afraid that he would meet a miserable end like his father and was avoiding strange women.

The lieutenant continued to point out the dancers on stage one by one, annoying Leon. A woman with a black, high-end tray hanging from a string around her neck approached. She had been called over by Lieutenant Campbell, who was sitting next to Leon.

While Campbell was selecting a pack of cigarettes and a few packs of gum from the tray and paying for them, Leon quietly observed the woman.

A woman selling cigarettes.

A woman as insignificant as a maid.

Soon, a crooked smile appeared on his face.