Chapter 80

I feel bad. I feel bad.

Grace stood under the cascading water, muttering to herself.

“Ugh…”

The moment she pulled her fingers away from between her legs, her face contorted even more. The white, sticky fluid still clung to her.

“Don’t feel without my permission.”

Winston, standing opposite the bathroom, where Grace’s naked body was clearly visible, sneered. Grace glared at the man who had just put on his wristwatch, his gaze lingering on her for a moment.

I feel bad that his semen is still inside me.

The moment she tried to scrape it out again, she groaned. The feeling of her fingers touching a hard rubber barrier was unpleasant.

It was more than just unpleasant; it was terrifying to know she had to keep this in for at least six more hours. It was two in the morning, so she could only remove it after waking up, and she was sure Winston would insert it again soon after she took it out.

Living like this for a few days made her feel like she had truly become his personal prostitute.

But, can I still deny it?

She gave up trying to scrape out the semen. As she reached for a sponge to wash her body, she heard footsteps behind her. They were moving away. Turning around, she saw that Winston had disappeared, leaving only the smoke from his cigar.

Wrapping a towel around her body, Grace found Winston not in an empty room but sitting at the foot of the bed, reading a magazine.

“Put it on.”

There was no need to ask what he meant. The handcuffs were placed right in the middle of the new sheet, clearly visible.

I hoped he would forget to put them on, but he’s still here.

“Stockings.”

The moment she took a step toward the bed, she heard his voice. Grace changed direction and headed to the drawer next to the door.

I didn’t lock this door, did I?

Is this the best time to run out without the handcuffs?

But I won’t make it to the iron bars before he catches me.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off me for a second.

She put on the stockings while her mind was in turmoil.

Dressing in the uniform of a prostitute, which Leon Winston used more to take off than to put on, Grace sat at the head of the bed, far from him. As she started to put the handcuffs on her ankles, Winston’s gaze returned to the magazine.

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

[Leon Winston is a fool.]

What kind of face will he make when he discovers the hidden message? He will probably smirk and mock her as usual.

What she looked forward to was not the predictable result but the process. From the moment he finds the first letter to the moment he finds the last, the process itself.

He will be tense, thinking she is trying to pass a code to Jimmy again.

She wanted to stand on top of the man who had been trampling her, even if just once.

Can this be a small revenge?

Just as she thought it was too small and insignificant, his hand stopped turning the pages. Winston’s gaze was fixed on a corner of the magazine.

‘He found it.’

Grace quietly observed the man’s expression. His face stiffened, and the color drained from it. After a few more pages, his face suddenly turned red.

It was a rare, raw reaction from Winston.

‘Now you know how it feels.’

For the first time, she had timidly retaliated against the man who had been toying with her daily. The cheap chocolate she had bought with the pocket money she earned by helping with chores in her childhood tasted sweet, but it was a cheap superiority.

But the moment Winston lifted his head, the cheap sweetness turned bitter.

Grace was taken aback. This man, who usually didn’t take such childish provocations seriously, had his eyes burning with anger.

‘Yes, I am a fool.’

Leon finally realized.

[Jimmy, my heart is always with you.]

It was not a message to her fiancé but to him.

She had tested him.

Despite being in his grasp, she had been fearless.

It was also a declaration that she would never love him.

Fearless.

And the fool that he was, he had fallen for the test, revealing his true feelings for Grace Lee.

It felt like a shameful secret hidden deep in the closet had been exposed.

Winston has no conscience, and thus no shame. But why does he keep getting entangled in these unfamiliar emotions in front of her?

The sense of powerlessness he felt for the first time in his life was also given to him by her in his childhood. He despised himself for reverting to that naive boy whenever he stood before her.

Do not give what is holy to dogs, nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet and turn and tear you to pieces.

Leon finally understood the meaning of those words.

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

He silently shouted to the woman who was blinking innocently, pretending to know nothing.

Yes, damn it. I still like you.

And you will still try to shatter my heart, won’t you? You, who mock me for being a fool, falling for you three times even though you don’t love me.

Do you still love that guy?

No, what does that have to do with me?

Would our relationship change if you ever loved me?

At the bottom of this relationship, there is a hatred that is more foul than the filth at the bottom of a cesspool.

Even if love sprouted in the cesspool of hatred, it would wither and die from the poison.

So don’t dig it up. Don’t provoke it.

“Do I amuse you?”

Leon, barely regaining his composure, asked with a bitter smile and a cold voice.

“I also imagine killing you until I’m sick of it.”

Out of fear that you will trample my heart and tear me to pieces.

“Just imagine it.”

The man, who had been speaking through clenched teeth as if trying to crush her, suddenly spoke in a powerless voice and laughed. It was a self-mocking smile.

“Yes, I am amusing.”

Winston put down the magazine and stood up. Seeing his back as he headed for the door, Grace was suddenly afraid.

‘He might not come back.’

She rushed to grab him.

“Master, Bella has done wrong.”

She blocked the man who was about to open the door and clung to him.

“Master, don’t go.”

If you leave now, you won’t come back. No meals, no conversation.

The days of being locked in a black prison, suffering from hunger and loneliness, flashed before her eyes, and she felt the blood drain from her body.

“Master, please.”

Leon chuckled. This woman, acting like a submissive dog, was trying to manipulate him.

Who is the master, really? It could be this woman. And the dog that barks louder when it’s scared might be him.

“This is becoming pathetic.”

Grace watched the man who pushed her away and left with a blank expression.

Bang. The door closed.

Again, like this.

Grace stared at the closed door with a blank look.

She had humiliated herself as he wished, but he treated her as if she had humiliated him again. She couldn’t understand this man.

* * *

The dining room of the commander’s residence was bustling with officers celebrating the new commander’s inauguration. The invitation to the party hosted by Commander George Davenport was sent only to key officers of the rank of lieutenant colonel and above.

Leon was the only captain. It meant the invitation was not based on rank alone.

Soldiers are also economic animals. They wanted to build a relationship with the person who held the actual economic power in the region, regardless of rank.

Leon had not yet had the chance to meet the commander who had invited him. While waiting his turn, he sipped his whiskey and soon became bored.

“I’m getting sick of this.”

There was one more person who was thinking of leaving. His superior, Lieutenant Colonel Humphrey, gestured toward the cigar room outside the dining room.

“After spending the whole day with these dark males, I can’t stand to see their dark faces at night.”

It was not a place where partners were allowed, so the dining room was filled only with men in black uniforms. However, the cigar room, already filled with smoke, was no different from a den of dark males.

“You closed the torture chamber for your mother and now work from home more often. It’s hard to see you.”

The colonel muttered as he lit a high-quality cigar offered by the residence’s servant. Leon smiled silently and declined the cigar offered by the servant.

“I plan to gather the intelligence department officers for a separate inauguration party after we exchange greetings. What do you think?”

It was an invitation to a cabaret.

Leon leaned against the wall, checked his wristwatch, and politely declined.

“I’m about to get engaged, so I should be careful.”

“Young people are really uptight. Leon, as someone who sees you like a son, let me give you some advice….”

Just as the colonel patted his shoulder, the new commander entered the cigar room.

“Commander.”

The officers sitting in the wing chairs around the cigar room stood up in unison. Leon straightened his posture and saluted with a disciplined gesture.

The elderly man, who had been nodding to the officers as he entered the room, stopped when his gaze met Leon’s. The commander approached and offered his hand.

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

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

Commander Davenport began listing the rumors he had heard about Leon. The endless praise fell on deaf ears.

Leon’s attention was focused solely on the commander’s eyes.

George Davenport.

An elite officer from the Royal Guard and a general trusted by the king. Moreover, a distant relative of the royal family.

In short, a die-hard royalist.

And those eyes belonged to Grace Lee.