Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Grace looked down blankly at the chipped soup bowl and chuckled.

‘My situation is really…’

One of the privates handed over clear soup boiled with leftover ingredients as breakfast. It was the menu that she always brought to the ‘guests of the torture room.’

The only ingredients were onion roots and carrot stems. There was only a bowl of soup on the tray because there was no longer ‘Sally’ who provided boiled eggs or bread to the captured revolutionary army.

No one put morphine in her mouth.

Her stomach was throbbing. As her thighs were pulled, her bruised knee hurt.

Grace frowned as her sensitive n*pples brushed her bra with every breath she took. In the end, the soup was thrown, and then she lay down on the bed. It was a relief to have extra sheets in the closet. No matter how hard it was, she would not lie down on a dirty sheet.

Human habits were scary… Or should she say she was resilient?

After Winston left last night, she had been working incredibly diligently until breakfast. Closing her eyes for a moment, she wiped away the traces of s*x on the bed and floor. The torture chamber maid erasing the traces of torture on herself.

…Should she laugh or cry at that contradiction?

Then, she tried to erase the traces left on her body, but it was not easy. As the s*men and clotted blood were washed away, the bruises and tooth marks left on the body became clearer.

It wasn’t the only thing that was clearer.

Winston’s smell still seemed to linger on the tip of her nose.

It was definitely a smell that should have been wiped out of this bed and her body. As Grace shuddered at the body odor drifting around her like a ghost, even the sound of his gasping breath like an animal lingered in her ears. So, when she closed her eyes tightly, it unfolded vividly.

The man’s face and nudity, who crushed her while looking down at her with eyes drunk with the joy of the conqueror…

“You’re dripping milk.”

Suddenly, she remembered one of the disgusting moments of last night.

He fit the gap on the tip of his p*nis to Grace’s peaks, then let out his s*men. The milky white liquid with a honey-like texture accumulated at the flat peak and ran down the pointy n*pple down to the gentle flesh.

Winston gazed at it and made fun of her, saying that Grace was lactating. It didn’t seem like people would act so badly in the brothel.

“Ah!”

Grace wrapped her arms around her chest in a belated defense and shook her body.

Even the slightest touch between the two layers of clothes made her n*pples tingle. Because Winston had been chewing on it all night, the piece of flesh did not return to its original smooth shape but swelled upright the whole time, making it even more painful.

Getting her body up, she opened the luggage next to the bed. She covered her blouse with a pointed spot in the shape of her beads with a thick cardigan and looked through the bag to see if anything was missing.

The private who had given her breakfast a while ago had brought her luggage with him. They probably opened it up and inspected it. It was fortunate that there were no items containing important information.

“Why is this…”

There was nothing missing, but there was something that should have been missing.

There was a box of high-quality stockings that had been set aside on the chest of drawers in the maid’s room that was now in the luggage. It seemed that the soldier who was looking through the luggage thought it belonged to Grace and mistakenly put it in.

‘…This is Winston’s.’

She took out the stocking box, placed it on the iron table in the middle of the room, and laid back on the bed.

“Ugh… haa…”

Her whole body was screaming, but her mind was still.

‘I thought I was going to die yesterday…’

Today, she was strangely calm. Was it resignation or disciplined? After the storm passed, silence came, but Grace knew…

…The storm was only just beginning.

‘Don’t be shaken.’

Today may be more painful than yesterday.

Grace scolded herself as she pondered all the selfish thoughts she had last night after being pushed to the brink. As time goes by, her mental powers crumble. It’d only been two days, so she shouldn’t collapse already.

‘Don’t be shaken. Don’t be shaken.’

As if she was brainwashing herself, someone knocked on the iron door.

It was strange. No one would be knocking on the door to the torture chamber. Perhaps, everyone knew it, they thought that there was no need to respect the privacy of the person inside, so they would just open the door.

Come to think of it, the private who brought breakfast a while ago also knocked on the door.

‘…What? Were they being considerate because I’m a woman?’

Grace answered as she got up and sat down.

“Yes, come in.”

Ha. There was a sad laugh. What cruel joke is this? To answer as if the torture chamber was her room.

When the door opened, Lieutenant Campbell appeared.

“Please sit down.”

He pointed to the iron table with the file folder in his hand. Grace sat on the chair and glanced at the lieutenant across.

‘He knows what happened yesterday, right?’

She wet her parched lips and pulled the frill collar that covered her neck even higher. Still, he already knew anyway. There was no need to show the lieutenant even the naked evidence.

It was embarrassing to look him in the eye. Perhaps the lieutenant felt the same way, and he did not look directly at Grace but began the interrogation as he looked at the folder with the words ‘Grace Riddle’ written on the cover.

“Father, Jonathan Riddle.”

“Yes.”

“Mother, Angela Riddle.”

“Yes.”

After verifying her identity, he accused her of charges and asked if she would admit it.

“Do you admit to infiltrating the major military facility located in Winston’s residence?”

“Yes.”

This was the standard procedure before a full-fledged interrogation. Grace was relieved to see that Campbell was proceeding with the procedure as usual.

Then, by the end of today, Winston would report her arrest to Western Command. Because of her surname Riddle, Grace was classified as a Level 1 Dangerous Person. It meant that their superiors would pay attention to her.

Being ‘big’ was annoying but sometimes beneficial.

It would take many officers to interrogate one Grace. There would always be countless eyes watching her.

So Winston, who valued his dignity as a nobleman, wouldn’t treat her like a horned dog. Possibly, she would move to Western Command. It was Winston’s principle that women were not interrogated in this torture chamber.

‘Please…’

Whether it was Western Command or the concentration camp, please let her get out of here in a few days. If Winston released Fred as promised, Jimmy would be contacted within today. Then, they would set up a rescue team and try to rescue her from the convoy.

Grace only had to get out of this mansion.

“What happened to Fred?”

The lieutenant nodded his head to signify that he had been released and murmured.

“Captain Winston is a gentleman who can keep his promises to a lady.”

At those words, Grace bit her teeth, trying to contain the ridicule.

‘…Gentleman? That’s funny. Was he being sarcastic?’

However, there was no such nuance. Was he brainwashed? He must have heard all the vulgar sounds that leaked out of this room yesterday.

“I don’t know. That gentleman called me a whore.”

Campbell curled his eyebrows and glared at the sly, smiling spy. He was actually holding back the words that she was a whore from inside him. It was only because he was afraid of Captain Winston that he treated her with respect as a lady.

The rat, the torture chamber guest, the greenhorn, the fool…

The Captain always called the Blanchard rebels in this way, but he continued to call the woman Riddle. It was no surprise that he recalled the Captain’s face again the moment Wilkins revealed Sally’s identity.

Leon Winston had the face of a broken-hearted man.

‘Ha… He like the spy, what to do?’

Leon was also the person who seemed the farthest from a woman so far. Still, it wasn’t for Campbell to advise because the Captain already knew better.

Men, especially soldiers, would soon forget their conquered woman. Even so, if Campbell called a woman whom the Captain had not yet made up his mind on ‘a whore,’ only he would fly out of sight. So, he ordered the soldiers under him to treat Grace Riddle with respect.

But, this woman…

“Why does Lieutenant Campbell call me a lady? Speaking respectfully and knocking are unusual behaviors toward a spy.”

She kept provoking him to call her a whore.

It was no use as her future was bleak, and the Captain would soon send her to the camp and forget about it.

“Look here, don’t try to drive a wedge.”

Not threatened nor frightened, the woman tilted her head.

“Drive a wedge? So, if I tell the Captain that you insulted me as a whore, would the Captain hate you? Why?”

“I ask the questions.”

However, the woman didn’t listen to him.

“Ah, with that logic, it would be more effective to say you tried to attack me. Thanks for the useful information.”

What was this woman? Campbell was speechless.

The maid, who was always kind, was nowhere to be found. Campbell saw his superior in the spy. Did she get it after hanging out with the Captain? Or, it may be that birds of a feather have come together by chance.

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