Chapter 100

100th Chapter

Click. The lock opened and the door swung wide. It was quite late today.

"Hello."

The same, tiresome greeting as always.

"Daisy."

But today, the name that followed was different.

'Daisy?'

Usually, it was the troublesome she-cat Bella. When she was beneath him, it was Sally. When she was his enemy, it was Riddle. That was the rule.

But Daisy had never been part of that rule.

With a bewildered look, she watched as the man approached her.

'He's drunk.'

His posture was as straight as ever, but as he drew closer, the smell of whiskey grew stronger. When he was right beside the bed, it was clear that his eyes were unfocused.

'Why is he already drunk when he comes here today?'

As she tilted her head, the man's lips curved into a gentle smile. His perfectly symmetrical lips and warm eyes—it was a rare, genuine smile.

The dazed Grace reached out her hand.

"Let's go."

"Where?"

"We promised to play in my room, didn't we?"

"When did I ever make such a promise, oh!"

When she didn't take his hand, Winston lifted her, blanket and all. Not over his shoulder like he did when he took her to the bathroom, but cradled her in his arms like a princess. He even undid her shackles and carried her out of the torture room.

Grace pulled the blanket around her and glanced around nervously. Fortunately, no one saw her bizarre appearance—naked except for the blanket, stockings, and dog collar.

Perhaps because it was late, or because he had left the soldiers on guard for a moment as he did when he took a stroll through the office, the corridor and stairs, dimly lit, were empty.

After passing the second floor where the office was, Grace asked as they continued up the stairs.

"Where are we going?"

"I told you, to my room."

The man, who seemed annoyed by her repeated question, started walking down the third-floor corridor.

At this hour, and not to the office but to the bedroom.

"My bed is too good for you."

It seemed he was serious when he said that on the day he arrested her, as he had never taken her to his bedroom before.

'Good grief, how drunk is he?'

Even so, she buried her nose in his neatly tied necktie and sniffed. His warm breath brushed against her cheek, and his lips, hotter than usual, touched her forehead.

Grace, who had no intention of engaging in any affectionate behavior, immediately lifted her head. The man set her down in front of the bedroom door and opened it. He grabbed Grace's hand and dragged her to the bed.

"Why here? Your bed is... too good for me."

Just as she was about to mock him for saying it was too good for her, Grace's eyes wavered.

"I have something I want to give you."

At the end of her gaze, on the bedside table, a bright red candy apple was skewered in a tilted empty teacup.

"Want to play at my villa tomorrow?"

Only then did Grace realize he was referring to a faded, tattered promise from over a decade ago.

"Instead, if the adults find out, it'll be a headache, so let's play in my room."

"Okay."

The unfulfilled promise was actually a prophecy showing what would happen over a decade later. As he said, this man was secretly hiding Grace in his room and using her as a plaything.

'What is he going to use that for?'

Grace's expression was far from that of someone looking at a sweet dessert. Now, the things he brought as gifts no longer seemed purely innocent.

Cherry candy, and...

"In return for buying you an ice cream, you have to play with me today, right? That's our promise, isn't it?"

The popsicle was just another tool for his crude pranks.

Not long after her arrest, when he was intensifying his torture, he brought a bright red strawberry-flavored popsicle during one of his visits. It was the same one he had bought her that summer.

That way, the memory of her first love was further tainted.

"It's melting."

The cold sensation was still vivid. Grace shivered and turned pale, just as she had then.

What is he going to use the candy apple for? She was too scared to ask.

Winston sat Grace on the edge of the bed and sat at her feet. He roughly untied his black tie and threw it onto the wing chair opposite. He untied and kicked off his military boots and flopped onto the middle of the bed.

"Damn it..."

As a low, rough word slipped out, Grace turned her head to look behind her. Had the alcohol suddenly hit him after they climbed the stairs? The man's thick fingers missed the end of the pin that held his shirt collar.

When things didn't go well and he felt embarrassed, like Grace often did, the man pouted and looked dejected.

"Daisy, untie it for me."

Untie it. It was another tiresome request she often heard.

Grace, who had been looking at the man with a stunned expression, far from the vicious vampire of Camden, asked.

"If I stab you with this pin and kill you, what will you do?"

The man's eyes darkened instantly. His gaze, unable to hide his melancholy due to the alcohol, fixed on her, and he twisted one corner of his mouth into a faint smile.

"The son who follows in his father's footsteps. The daughter who follows in her mother's footsteps. Something like that."

"..."

The twisted smile, devoid of enthusiasm, seemed to be a sign of resignation. After looking at him for a moment, Grace reached out her hand to his neck.

'Why is he acting like this today?'

Today, the one acting out of character wasn't just Leon Winston.

As she pulled out the pin and placed it on the bedside table, and unbuttoned his shirt, Grace kept questioning herself. What is she doing? She had let slip an opportunity to kill him and was now taking care of her drunk husband like a wife.

"Put it on."

The man handed her his shirt, but Grace wrinkled her nose and avoided it.

"It smells of alcohol. The cigar smell is also intense."

"At least I didn't come back with a woman's perfume like the others. You should be grateful."

As he said, there was no scent of a woman on his shirt.

"Please, just do it."

"Because I left my first love at home? I'm a more old-fashioned man than you think."

Not only Daisy, but talking about his first love. He must have drunk all the whiskey in some cabaret.

"Oh, you don't like the smell of me?"

That's not the reason. Grace frowned deeply. He crumpled the shirt and threw it into a corner of the bedroom, then half-raised his body.

"Come here, Daisy."

The man picked up the candy apple and opened his arms. What is he going to do? He finally pulled the resisting Grace down and did something unexpected.

"Eat it."

Just eat it?

She thought he would use it for some messy and cruel prank, but he put it in her mouth. Then, lying beside her, he watched as she anxiously bit into the apple.

"Is it good?"

The man, brushing her hair behind her ear, asked. As she nodded in a daze, a tender smile spread across his face. It was as if a drunk man, impulsively buying a silly gift for his lover, felt pleased.

"Why did you buy this?"

"Because I thought of you."

"Shouldn't I be hearing that in a more serious tone?"

"Anything, as long as your heart beats faster."

He chuckled and leaned down. Crunch. The sugar coating in his teeth made a pleasant sound as it broke.

Their eyes met beyond the apple, which seemed smaller than it did when she was younger. At that moment, all movement stopped. The intermingling breaths in the silence grew increasingly tense.

Flick.

Without warning, the man snatched the apple from her hand and threw it to the other side of the room. He immediately grabbed the back of Grace's head and pressed his lips to hers.

Their sugar-coated lips stuck together with a smacking sound. The sound of skin touching and separating became more explicit. The kiss was so sticky that Grace's ears turned hot.

'Snap out of it.'

She struggled to calm her pounding heart and regain her composure.

If you don't want to miss the chance to kill him, don't miss the chance to escape.

While stealing a kiss from Winston and looking at his lips, she thought of the door behind her. It was only closed, not locked. He hadn't brought handcuffs or shackles. The soldiers were probably either out of the annex or sleeping in the first-floor rooms. All she had to do was climb over the wall.

Grace closed her eyes slightly and tilted her head. A thick tongue slipped into her slightly parted lips.

'This time, it's quite certain.'

The man, who was so drunk that he couldn't even untie his neatly arranged clothes or remove the pin, would probably collapse in exhaustion after one encounter. Grace decided to escape during that time.