He ordered, pouring wine into Graceâs glass. Grace glanced sideways at the plates lined up beside her with blank eyes.
She wanted to live, so she was not in a position to refuse her food. Besides, when she had the worry about them giving her rotten food, she didnât have to refuse this hospitality beyond her expectations. However, the problem wasâŠ
âDonât think you can get anything out of a hunger strike.â
Graceâs cutback on food these days was misunderstood by Winston as preparing for a hunger strike.
âItâs fortunate that he doesnât seem to know the real reason.â
She was losing her weight anyway, thanks to that beast harassing her so hard, so maybe it was okay to eat a good meal.
Grace took a sip of the refreshing wine and picked up the oyster.
âAnyway, itâs creepy that he was keeping an eye on the amount of food I ate.â
The manâs hungry eyes remained the same throughout the meal. It was not an appetite, as he spent more time looking at her than chewing something in his mouth.
Halfway through the main dish, he suddenly mentioned Jimmy to his mouth. It was an out-of-the-box subject to Grace but not to Leon. He was on the alert that Little Jimmy might try to save her. Nonetheless, he saw no signs.
No signs of them planting new people, no signs of raids, no surveillance, nothing.
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It was embarrassing.
âDid he give up?â
The woman in front of him looked pitiful.
âI donât know what you like about that kind of irresponsible man, he even promised to marry you. Miss Riddle, you look pathetic.â
Grace, believing that it wasnât that Jimmy wouldnât rescue her, just that he couldnât, was unfazed.
The first step in the rescue was for her to get out of the annex. Grace knew very well that attacking Winston was not easy in reality and that it would do more harm than good, so she wasnât upset at all.
âHe was a very exemplary pimp, dedicating his woman to the military. Miss Riddle, being engaged to a pimp is turning you into a prostitute.â
âHurry up and eat or go.â
As she thought so, Grace moved her fork, pretending not to hear Winston continue to speak ill of Jimmy.
âSo, tell me what the prostitute school is like.â
The woman who kept ignoring his words cast a sharp gaze.
âAh, I already know you couldnât go there. I mean, your friends would have gone.â
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âWhy do you keep talking nonsense like that?â
Nonsense⊠Yes, it could be nonsense.
Leon leaned loosely on the back of his chair and smiled.
âYes, the school must be an exaggerated rumor. However, it is true that they use honey traps to seduce officers and steal information.â
When he told the woman, who denied that that was nonsense, about the recently captured mistress of the Western Commander, she got an astonishing reply.
âYou must have mistaken her for a mistress just because they ate a few meals. Men are ahead of themselves more than you think.â
Leon was speechless for a moment. Those words sounded like she was saying that with sincerity, rather than protecting her allies.
âAre you Grace Riddle?â
Grace tilted her head at the sudden question.
âAre you from the Riddle family? Why do you know nothing about leadership? You donât even know what I know.â
âIsnât it normal to think that I might not know, that you are the one whoâs mistaken?â
ââŠ.â
âI donât use honey traps. Do you think I donât know that the dirty monarch pigs would get into heat and attack a female comrade without permission and then accuse them like that?â
âIsnât the evidence right in front of you?â
âLike you.â
Winston smiled cheerfully and pulled a cigar case from his jacket hanging from the chair.
âNo. It is a proven fact that the Blanchard rebels plant mistresses among officers in key positions in the military.â
The tip of a lit cigar pointed at Grace.
âLike you.â
âI am not your mistress.â
Winston laughed out loud. There was plenty of ridicule.
D*mn Jimmy. D*mn executives. Thanks to this, the truth that Blanchardâs Revolutionary Army did not use honey traps was refuted.
âThat was unprecedented. Thatâs why I couldnât believe my ears.â
When did they fall like this? Grace hoped that the executives who had learned from this failure would never issue such an order to anyone again.
âI guess youâre that important. I consider it an honor.â
The sarcastic woman calmly continued her meal. Leon stared at the woman with serious eyes, forgetting about his portion of dinner that was getting cold.
Brainwashing? It could be.
However, it also seemed like she really didnât know. Did it make sense that the leaderâs family didnât know this? Her mother was notorious for being a honey trap.
Could it be that she hid it?
Why?
In the meanwhile, the surrounding was quiet. Because of that, Grace slightly raised her gaze as she cut the fish to see Winston resting his chin, deep in thought.
It was the moment when she lowered her gaze again because she felt uncomfortable with the eyes staring at herâŠ
ââŠThis is nonsense.â
Unsure of what was going on, Grace returned his gaze to Winston.
âDo you want to believe that? That you guys are clean?â
âI donât want to believe it, but we are really clean. We are all willing to sacrifice. Itâs not something the dirty monarchy pigs, united by selfish greed, will understand.â
âYes, selfish greed. Not wrong.â
That woman may have wanted to insult him, but what he already admitted was no insult at all.
âThe royal family is corrupt, but at least I know I am corrupt. You rebel rats who are corrupt but believe in integrity are dirtier.â
At least he knew he was the dirty squireâs pawn though that person mistook herself for an apostle of justice. As expected, the woman gripped her knife tightly, and she glared at him with eyes that wanted to stab him at any moment.
âI am telling you this because I care for you very much. My first love was brainwashed and raised by a group of crazy fanatics. That is heartbreaking.â
First love?
He dared speak of first love when he was trying to kill her slowly and painfully? Grace wondered why they were eating together, perhaps this was also an interrogation.
No, it was torture.
The utensils she held in her hands were gathered neatly on one side of the plate. Expressing that she would not eat anymore. Then, she stood up.
âAre you one to stand up first during the meal without asking for permission?â
How very polite to preach a sermon at mealtime.
Grace responded inside and then turned her back. She wanted to get out of the place but she could not.
As she made her way to bed, thinking of putting on a blanket, like an ostrich burying only its head in the sand to hide from enemies, Winston raised his voice more ferociously than a moment ago.
âI have told you to eat everything.â
âI tried, but I have no appetite, Captain.â
She suffered all afternoon. Grace was too tired to suffer again.
Unlike when arguing over the honey trap, she lowered her tail while having eyes that seemed genuinely angry. But still stubborn, she thought he might drag her off and tie him to the chair though Winston reacted unexpectedly.
âSally.â
Grace paused.
âWhy is he calling me by that name?â
What was his intention?
She glanced back impatiently. Contrary to the expectation that he would mock her, Winston had a serious face. To her surprise, it was close to the face of a requester, even the tone of voice.
âIf you donât have an appetite, at least eat dessert.â
She was going to ask what kind of dessert it was and tried to eat itâŠ
ââŠItâs Madame Benoaâs cake.â
The moment Winston opened the lid of the plate, her head raced. She guessed why he called her Sally. To him, the person who liked Madame Benoaâs cake must have been Sally, not Daisy or Grace.
Perhaps, that was why he prepared it on purpose?
It was a really crazy guess.
She was the spy and the enemyâs daughter. Why would he do such a thing to a woman whom he only wants to kill painfully? The night she had the dirty âdealâ with him, she briefly thought that the guy might be liking her. Still, judging from what she has been through, that was a complete illusion.
There was probably a party at the mansion, and the maids served the cake that came into the kitchen as a dessert without much thought.
âThen, maybe he didnât tell me to get to know what dessert it is and eat it.â
Leon moved his portion of the cake to the plate of the woman who was completely deluded.