Chapter 98

"Does it make sense that Jerome, who has no relation to you, is more proactive than you, the party to the engagement?"

Is there really no relation?

Leon smiled as he flipped through the documents.

The engagement negotiations, which had been at a standstill for nearly a year, were suddenly concluded.

Whether it was due to Jerome's desire to live under the same roof with his secret lover as soon as possible, or the Duke's desperation to tie a leash on his limbs because he couldn't find a better puppet in the army.

"I really mean it, I'm disappointed that Jerome isn't the eldest son."

Leon voiced the crazy thoughts he had been having lately.

"You're still bringing up that story."

Mother, thinking he was mocking her old catchphrase, sneered, but Leon was entirely sincere. It was absurd that he had come to empathize with the words that once hurt him.

As always, Mrs. Elizabeth Winston turned and left, pretending to be furious. Leon, ignoring her silent threat to follow and console her, bowed his head under the desk.

"Don't expect me to let you go if I get married."

The idea of keeping a mistress even after marriage was already known, but no matter how he thought about it, it was still the act of a madman.

Grace glared at the man with a look of disgust, sighed, and lay down on the cushion.

"I should give your fiancée a heads-up. Tell her to train her stamina before the wedding night."

Her body, which had been tormented for a week, still ached. Even Grace, a physically fit soldier, found Winston hard to handle.

"Wedding night?"

The man, who had been lifting the hem of her skirt with his shoe, frowned. His eyes seemed to be asking why he would do such a thing with the duchess.

"Isn't an heir necessary?"

"Why are you worried about that?"

Worried? It was only natural to think about it, as the primary purpose of a noble marriage was to produce an heir to inherit wealth and power.

Then, he suddenly thought about the man's claim that he only approached her.

"The Winston line will end here."

"It won't. I've already made plans."

"Plans?"

Was he thinking of adopting a son from a collateral branch? But that was rare, especially when the head of the family was a healthy young man. And there was no way this man had any illegitimate children...

'Could he be thinking of having an illegitimate child with me?'

Leon, looking down at her face full of doubt, laughed.

"Did you know?"

No, she couldn't have imagined it.

"That the uptight and boring Jerome Winston is committing adultery with the woman his brother is going to marry."

The woman's half-closed eyes widened. Leon reached out to touch her cheek.

"So the duchess will eventually bear a Winston child, and you won't need to feel guilty."

"Shouldn't you ask if I feel guilty first?"

Grace turned her head sharply and pulled away his hand.

"That guy calls the duchess 'Roji.'"

The man, tracing her exposed neck with his fingertips, asked.

"Do you call her that too? Huh? Gracie?"

"Disgusting."

The man chuckled softly.

"Anyway, it seems the Winston bloodline is all crazy."

"Is it just mine?"

When she shot back, a large hand stroked her head. Another instance of treating her like a dog.

"Still, you're being good. This time, you're behaving properly without causing trouble."

The man looked pleased. Grace decided to try a deal.

"Then, since I've been good, can I go for a walk outside...?"

"That's not possible."

But before she could finish, he flatly refused.

"Put a shackle on me, then."

"Who would see?"

"What difference does it make?"

More nonsense. The man pinched her nose as if scolding a child. Grace, who had no intention of escaping, felt wronged.

"I'm protecting you. Do you know how many men would try to rape you if you were caught? You wouldn't be enough for them with just the holes you have now."

"Like you?"

The man burst out laughing, but his eyes were sharp and piercing.

"Right. I don't want to share."

His hand fell away, and he straightened his upper body. The hateful aristocratic face disappeared, and a stern command followed.

"Stop thinking about sleeping and finish reading that."

The tip of his black shoe nudged the closed file.

"I'll test you after dinner. If you pass, I'll let you sleep early tonight. If you fail, don't think about sleeping well tonight."

Lately, the man had taken away all her magazines and only gave her copies of reports related to the revolutionary army. The reports were full of baseless accusations.

She didn't read them, leaving only the marks of turning pages. Somehow, he found out and made a female officer waiting outside read the reports aloud. Grace, covering her ears for nearly five hours, finally gave in and read the reports when the officer's voice became hoarse and painful.

This time, it was a report about an orphanage that the revolutionary army had operated and was later seized. The main point was that the orphans were forced to participate in anti-government activities.

Brainwashing, exploitation, forced mobilization, and the tragic end at the hands of comrades or royalists. According to the report, the revolutionary army was more evil than the royalists.

Who was actually trying to brainwash? Grace glared at the disgustingly shiny tip of his shoe.

She had heard from adults that the orphanage was run to launder military funds. Accusing them of exploiting orphans was a truly vicious slander.

Many of her comrades had adopted orphans and raised them like their own children. How was it exploitation for these children to follow in their adoptive parents' footsteps and carry on the revolution? Grace also wanted to adopt a child or two when she married Jimmy.

"Pure fabrications."

How did he hear her mutter? The man interjected.

"The former western commander's mistress was an orphan."

"So what?"

"She never spoke."

"A proud comrade."

"Was it really out of loyalty?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"The woman, during her interrogation, cried and begged to be shown mercy because she had a younger brother. She and her brother were adopted together, and her brother was held hostage by the rebels, so she couldn't speak even if she wanted to."

"Writing novels, are you?"

A mocking voice came from above the desk.

"Do you know why I said she never spoke?"

"Why?"

"The woman was killed in the concentration camp."

"...Are you trying to slander the revolutionary army, saying they eliminated her?"

"No. No one knows."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

"I'm curious. Why didn't the great Blanche's rescue team save her?"

"..."

"Like you."

Another attempt to shake her trust in Jimmy and the revolutionary army.

"...If I were going to fall for such nonsense, I would have done so long ago. Captain Winston, maybe you should try a different tactic."

A sigh, and the man looked down from under the desk. He looked tired. Who was really tired because of this?

"How long are you going to read that part? Turn the page. The interrogation records I mentioned are there."

The man tried to turn the page forcefully. Why? It wouldn't change anything to read the interrogation records. She clutched the file tightly, like a frightened person.

"Ouch!"

Grace squeezed her eyes shut from the sharp pain. The edge of the paper had cut between her thumb and index finger.

"It hurts... "

"Ah... I'm sorry."

The man let go of the paper. Grace was more surprised by his sincere apology than the pain.

'Why are you like this, man?'

What was strange didn't end there. The man brought a first-aid kit from the bathroom and treated the minor wound. He didn't get excited by the sight of blood, as he used to.

Then she realized.

'Why isn't he trying to draw blood lately?'

The man who used to enjoy drinking her blood, like a vampire.

This man, who now wiped the blood from between her fingers with a cotton ball and threw it in the trash.

His actions were so different from the Leon Winston she knew that her heart raced. Grace offered her bleeding wound to his lips again.

Suck. Act like the blood-thirsty vampire you are. Don't pretend to be human now.

The man's gaze fell on the wound, where a large drop of red blood had formed. But he didn't open his mouth.

Hurry. Please.

The man only stared at Grace's trembling eyes over his hand. The negative emotions in those icy blue eyes were incomprehensible.

What was clear was that they weren't ecstasy or excitement.

Unable to bear the anxiety, Grace did something reckless. She smeared her blood on his lips, which had been pale. They turned a deep red.

Lick. Lick it, I said.