Chapter 48

'His father is dead?'

Grace was confused. What should I do? What should I feel? No action, no emotion, seemed right for this situation.

She just wanted to collapse and cry, but she held back, gripping the balcony railing until her hands hurt as the adults continued their conversation.

"By the way, didn't that boy's son see Annie?"

The moment Uncle Dave asked her mother, Grace flinched. Did Mother tell the other adults that I played with that boy? Am I going to get in trouble now?

"That kid should have been taken care of too…."

When she thought she might get in trouble, her heart raced, but now it sank.

'Leon is a good boy. Don't kill him, Uncle.'

The words wouldn't come out. With frightened eyes, Grace looked up at the adults, and her mother glanced down at her and shook her head at Uncle Dave.

"He probably didn't see my face. And he's just a kid."

Second-class passengers are not suspected of murder. After her father sighed about the budget and returned to the borrowed compartment, Grace lay on the upper berth, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Her mother, who shared the compartment, suddenly reached up.

"If you don't have an appetite, at least eat this."

In her hand was an expensive box of chocolates. She had seen her buy it earlier while passing the dining car, but she didn't know it was for her.

On the way to Abingdon Beach, Grace was excited about the train journey and looked forward to the time in the dining car, but today she left most of her breakfast. She took the chocolate box and stared at it before sitting up.

"Mom."

"What is it?"

"When I grow up…."

"Yes?"

"Do I have to kill that boy with my own hands?"

Grace was still confused. She didn't understand this situation at all. She didn't even know what emotions she should feel.

But one thing was clear.

I don't want to kill him.

"Grace…."

Her mother, who had always seemed like an omnipotent god, got up from the bed and called her name. It was the first time Grace saw her mother look like she might cry.

"Come here."

It was also the first time her mother hugged her. It felt awkward. Lying next to her mother, Grace held her breath.

The scent of perfume, which she usually only faintly noticed, was strong.

'Mom's smell…'

Soon, it felt comforting rather than awkward. The mother who had always been strict with her, giving her chocolates and a hug… Grace had never been happier on her birthday or Christmas.

Thinking she was asleep, her mother gently patted her back and muttered.

"I should have sent him to an orphanage…."

The world collapsed. It was then that Grace learned that extreme shock can prevent even tears.

Sometimes, when her parents argued at night, she would hide under the covers in the next room and hear her mother shout.

"That's why I said we should send him to an orphanage!"

She never realized they were talking about her. Or perhaps she had been trying to deny it. Even as a child, Grace had subconsciously felt that her parents didn't love her.

But from that day on, Grace could no longer deny that she could be abandoned at any time.

As soon as they returned home, she suffered from a severe summer cold.

"I'll kill you…. Don't abandon me…."

Her parents left immediately for another mission. The only one who stayed by her side as she deliriously rambled with a high fever was her brother.

"What happened there? Grace, say something."

Though her brother was frustrated, Grace remained silent.

'Because I hesitated to kill the enemy, because I'm a poor revolutionary, they want to abandon me.'

If she said this, her brother might abandon her too.

The magazine Jimmy gave her to help with the express train was of no help.

[Funeral of Lieutenant Richard Winston Held Amidst National Mourning]

The tragedy of the Winston family. The execution of key rebel figures on the day of the funeral. The eldest son of Lieutenant Winston, who continues the fight against the rebels, following in his father's honorable footsteps.

She skimmed through the jumbled text and threw the magazine away. As it fell to the floor and opened, Grace screamed.

In the large black-and-white photo, the boy glared directly at her.

You lied to me. You killed my father. I liked you, how could you do this to me?

"No. It's not my fault. Don't look at me like that!"

His father deserved to die. He must have been a bad boy. All the dirty pigs of the monarchy are the same.

If she didn't believe the boy was a bad person, she would have to believe her parents were bad people. To Grace, her parents were gods. A soul abandoned by gods could only go to hell.

"We will make everyone's life equal and prosperous… for the cause… for the cause…. That utopia will grow and bear fruit from the blood of the revolutionaries…. bear fruit…."

The teachings of the village elders greatly helped Grace deceive herself.

She had lived as a dedicated revolutionary, thoroughly aligned with the cause they spoke of. She wanted to make her mother, who wanted to abandon her, proud. And to hide her past mistake of falling in love with the enemy.

The infiltration mission to the Winstons was a secret she never told anyone before.

"New maid?"

"Yes. Nice to meet you, Captain. I'm Sally Bristol, assigned to the annex this time."

And the boy she met again as an adult had become a completely different person.

"With one more person, we can turn the torture room into a sea of blood."

A bloodthirsty demon.

Now, she no longer needed to deceive herself. It was easy to hate the boy who had become a bad person, just as she had recited like a mantra.

The boy, like the girl, rose using hatred as a stepping stone.

"Die…. All of you…."

The day he fell in love for the first time and was heartbroken, he lost his only ally, his father, in a terrible way.

It was a tragedy even an adult would find hard to bear, but in a house where no one was on his side, no one cared about the shock the boy had suffered.

"Since you are the eldest son, you will inherit your father's legacy…."

"Take revenge for your father…."

The boy, like the girl, suffered from guilt that wasn't his.

Maybe I could have prevented my father's death. I should have gone with him when he told me to stay home.

The woman in the passenger seat, a rebel. After discovering her identity, Leon began to observe the blonde woman closely.

'If she's caught, I'll kill her. I'll do to her exactly what she did to my father.'

Eventually, he came to hate the blonde woman. And that hatred soon spread to all women.

All women are beasts. Deceitful snakes and greedy sows.

"You looked like a prince just a moment ago."

"Dirty piglet!"

They whisper sweet words to enchant men and then, when they are no longer useful, turn cruel and spew vicious words.

His mother was no less despicable.

"My husband died serving the royal family. To think that his reward is only a posthumous promotion to lieutenant colonel…. How aggrieved he must be in heaven, and how pitiful Leon, who lost his father at a young age and became the head of the family, must be, sniff…."

To her, her husband's death was merely a means to obtain a title.

She pretended to love and respect her husband in front of others. She went around making requests and, failing to obtain a title, wept in front of the gathered nobles and military officials at the funeral.

Her tears were not for her husband's death but for her own fall to a title-less 'Widow Winston.'

'Did Father die like this?'

When she stabbed the needle deep, red liquid spurted and stained her hands. Strangely, it didn't disgust her.

Leon took a deep breath. The acrid smell of blood filled his lungs and seemed to penetrate his brain. Oddly, the anxiety that had plagued him all day subsided when he smelled the blood.

The more he repeated this act, the more the horrific image of his father's last moments, which had haunted him even with his eyes closed, began to fade.

As the bodies of birds and mice, killed in gruesome ways, were found daily around the Winston estate, Lady Winston sent her eldest son to the military academy a few years early.

Attending a military academy where cruelty was a virtue was a stroke of luck. If it had been a regular school, Leon would have been expelled for the countless acts he committed, yet he graduated at the top of his class.

The infamous title 'Vampire of Camden,' which would befit a serial killer, was an honor for a military officer.

People said he was a born soldier, but Leon knew. He was a created monster.

People didn't know this either. That Captain Winston, who seemed fearless, suffered from nightmares.

"Dirty piglet!"

The demon in his sticky nightmares always appeared, gleaming with a greenish-blue contempt and reeking of blood.