Chapter 93

"Slowly."

The woman obstinately ignores his words. Despite this, she manages not to fall and approaches the door, grabbing the doorknob.

Click, click. The sound of the doorknob being turned in a hurry makes Leon burst into laughter.

How long does she plan to fight with the locked door?

Finding it quite amusing, he watches silently. The woman grumbles at the innocent door, even getting drunk, before returning with a sullen face.

"Honey, the door won't let me out? How mean. Should I scold it?"

When he extends his hand, the woman pouts and slumps onto his thigh.

"Ah-."

She points at the bottle with her eyes and opens her mouth.

She's not a baby bird...

Baby birds are fed by their mothers' mouths. Leon fills his mouth with rum and presses his lips to hers. The woman sweetly swallows the poison he gradually lets drip from his mouth.

She's so drunk she can't recognize her enemy.

"Miss drunkard."

"Uh-huh?"

Dizzy, the woman rests her forehead on Leon's. Her body was hot.

"Isn't it better to be trapped here?"

The woman glares at him through half-closed eyes.

"You don't have to earn money or work. Like a doll."

She was indeed as cute as a doll. Her cheeks, smooth like porcelain, were flushed. Her lips, puffed up and red like ripe cherries, were charming.

Indeed, half of the rum that disappeared from the bottle was already numbing Leon's brain.

"Besides... unlike me, who is surrounded by annoying people."

"There's no one to bother you."

The woman chuckles and pokes his cheek with her index finger.

"Annoying... people..."

Though her words were slurred and hard to understand, it was obvious she meant him.

He turns his head and bites her finger. The woman frowns and whines.

When he opens his mouth, she tries to pull her finger away. He sucks it in, and when he swirls it with his tongue, she tenses and curls her legs.

"Uh-huh... pervert..."

"Someone who gets excited by just this isn't a pervert."

The woman glares at him through her hair. Despite this, she looks adorable.

He reaches out to push her hair aside. She turns her head to avoid it and picks up his tie from the armrest.

Her slender fingers neatly gather her long brown hair and place the tie around it.

When he wonders what she's doing, she seems to be using the tie as a headband. She tries to tie a knot on top of her head, but her fingers, numbed by alcohol, keep slipping on the smooth silk.

Frustrated, she sticks out her tongue and looks up. It's not like she can see anything by doing that. It's amusing.

Leon, who has been watching the drunk woman's foolish actions, reaches out when annoyance seeps through her puffed lips.

"I'll do it for you. Is it okay? Do you like it?"

The woman, with a large black bow on her head, smiles sweetly. It's a smile that makes him feel foolish.

He wants to see her smile as much as he wants to see her cry because of him. But he knows very well that there's nothing to make her smile for him.

So he keeps her drunk until she forgets who he is, and he keeps himself drunk until he forgets who the man in front of him is. Only then can he see a smile filled with pure pleasure.

Leon picks up the bottle. Before he can tilt it, the woman leans forward and presses her lips to the bottle's mouth, even urging him to tilt it with wide eyes.

This is the first time he's wanted to possess a woman because of her cuteness.

He slowly pours the poison into her mouth and asks,

"Have you ever been this drunk in front of him?"

"Yes."

The woman, who answered without thinking, scrutinizes his eyes and quickly adds,

"It wasn't just with Jimmy..."

Her words are slurred and unclear as she continues to make excuses.

"With my brother and village friends..."

"Village?"

The woman stops talking and stares at him. Leon smirks and tilts his head.

'Is your base a village?'

In response to his silent question, the woman makes a silly sound and smiles sweetly again. This time, it's not a particularly innocent smile.

She collapses into his arms. Her rum-soaked lips press against his, and a soft, fleshy mass squeezes into the narrow gap and enters his mouth.

Trying to cover up her slip of the tongue with her body. Truly, she's both foolish and cunning.

Leon passionately kisses her, gradually mixing his tongue with hers. He decides not to probe her mistake, as it was a condition of their deal not to ask about the location of her base.

"Hey, the Duke's puppet."

As soon as their lips part, the woman tries to change the subject.

"How's that going?"

"Don't ask."

Leon unbuttons a few buttons down to her collarbone. When he pulls aside one side of her shirt, a pale breast, tinged with his bite marks, is revealed.

Her nipples, perhaps from the friction of the clothes she rarely wears, are pointed. Leon picks up a drop of rum from the bottle's mouth with his fingertip and smears it on her plump flesh.

The pink skin glistens with the rum. His thirst grows. He lifts the heavy mass that seems too much for her frail body and bites into the soft flesh deeply.

"Aah..."

Again, the flavor of rum mixes with the scent of her skin. No matter how much he sucks, nothing will come from this place, yet the more he does, the more his mind becomes hazy, as if he's swallowing the poison.

"Don't kick away the opportunity I'm giving you to regain your title."

A sudden unpleasant voice echoes in his head.

'Ask if I even want the title.'

Honor, wealth, power. The title is indeed helpful for all these things. Therefore, the heir of the Winston family must want it.

But lately, he has been thinking more about himself than being the heir of the Winston family. No matter how much he thinks, what Leon Winston, as a human, wants is only the woman in his arms, moaning.

Whether this desire stems from affection, hatred, or both.

Honor, wealth, and power, which were once his lifelong goals, now seem only like means to an end.

A means to keep this woman in his grasp.

'A fool blinded by a woman.'

A part of himself, once his whole life as the heir of the Winston family, scolds him.

'Tell me what I don't know.'

Leon clings to the woman's body to block out his rational thoughts. But the woman, as if finding him annoying, keeps bringing up the Sinclair case.

He agrees with the criticism of the royal family but doesn't find it pleasant. He came down here to forget everything above for a while, but the woman keeps irritating him.

"Is there no one helping the Sinclair family?"

"No."

Who would want to make the royal family their enemy?

"Are you just going to stand by?"

Leon lets go of the nipple he was sucking and sighs deeply.

"What do you think I am? A god? A martyr? A philanthropist?"

Leon Winston is far from all of those.

"Indeed... a stupid question."

"It's the most uniquely stupid question you've ever asked."

Leon grabs the woman's cheeks with one hand and warns her.

"Don't think of interfering pointlessly."

Don't try to manipulate me by appealing to a conscience I don't have.

"Just make me feel good, like a proper prostitute."

The woman grits her teeth and picks up the bottle. Leon quickly overpowers her, lying her down on the table as she tries to pour the alcohol on his head.

"Uh-huh..."

The woman rubs her wrist, which aches from where she was gripping the bottle, and moans.

"It hurts..."

"It's supposed to hurt."

The hand that had been pressing her down suddenly falls away. Grace glares at the man, who is rummaging through his jacket on the chair as he gets up.

When the man's hand comes out of his pocket, her eyes widen.

Winston is holding out a box of candies. Grace can't forget the cherry candy he once put in her mouth in the bathtub.

"What kind of crazy thing are you planning to do today?"

"You're getting sharper."

To realize that he didn't buy the candies to eat normally. Leon smirks and opens the box.

"Today, you're the candy seller at the cabaret."

The red candy held between his long thumb and index finger, and the soft curve of his eyes beyond it.

Grace sighs deeply.

"Ha! You, a lunatic like you, should be locked up in a mental hospital for the good of society."

Her prediction that this man would do something despicable is never wrong. But the degree of his despicable actions always exceeds her imagination.