Try Begging

'So you're looking for me? Now you're wasting money all over the country?'

It was a kind of mockery that he sat down in front of the flyers looking for me. I don't think the guy would know anyway.

Grace suddenly let out a bitter laugh.

The man didn't even call her by her name on the flyers looking for her.

'What are you going to do when your name is called?'

Grace tried to shake off her useless thoughts and instead thought of more useless thoughts.

I've never seen the phone number written at the bottom before. Is it a new phone number that was opened exclusively? Sometimes I feel the urge to call. I wonder who's answering. Is it a mansion? No way. That's ridiculous. Then the headquarters? No. Even if I can't tell the difference between public and private...

Then his gaze turned to the bounty written in large letters.

Oh my goodness, look at the amount. Do you want to find me that much?

Grace took a newspaper out of her bag and unfolded it. Then she looked straight at the 'perfect' man in the photo and furrowed her eyebrows.

Your insides are burning black right now, aren't they?

º º º

Leon stared at his reflection in the window with raindrops streaming down his face with indifferent eyes.

The medals were added again. He shut his eyes tightly and turned his head away as the face that seemed to be smelt blood from the medals appeared before his eyes. It was a meaningless act to close his eyes and turn his head when it was an illusion that was stuck in his head.

"Ah, Major Winston."

Leon turned around at the sound of his name. Commander Davenport was entering the Commander's office.

"I've been waiting for you."

It was natural since he had called. Leon followed the commander into the office. The commander, who had been sitting behind the desk and offering him a seat, suddenly frowned.

"Hey, how did your hand end up like that?"

He asked after seeing the bandage wrapped around his right hand. Leon sat down on the chair in front of the desk without answering. As if his stiff expression was enough of an answer, the commander took out a dark caramel-colored cigar from his cigar box and offered it to him. Leon accepted it without hesitation.

"It must have been your first day at headquarters after the operation."

Only after the smoke that had obscured his vision began to clear did the commander speak again.

"How was it? Do you like your private office?"

Leon nodded halfheartedly, exhaling a long puff of white smoke.

"It's not bad."

Starting this year, Leon was no longer the head of the Western Command's Domestic Intelligence Division, but rather the commander of the 1st Special Mission Group.

In order to completely eradicate the Blanchard rebels, a special force with command and manpower beyond jurisdiction was needed. In response to this demand, the 1st Special Mission Group was created by the Army Headquarters with the approval of the King and Parliament as a counterinsurgency operation force.

Of course, it was Leon who made such a request. It would be easy to go around the country chasing women under the pretext of eliminating the remnants. Of all the high-ranking officials, only Commander Davenport would know that he had requested a special force purely for such a personal desire.

"Look, I feel sorry for that kid too."

The commander, who had been staring at Leon's face, muttered useless words.

"I was like you once. While I was running around here and there trying to deal with the situation after that incident, the child's mother disappeared and I wandered around for a while. But if that woman hadn't left and I had found out about everything, it would have been a bigger tragedy."

He lowered his voice as much as possible and continued to speak in a way that made it unclear whether he was comforting or giving advice.

"Love will grow cold and wounds will heal. It's time for you and that child to go their separate ways. You have a bright future ahead of you. You can't lose everything you have just because of one thing you've lost."

"Commander."

Leon broke the silence by stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray.

"Is that really what you think? It's a shame that it's gone."

It wasn't just that the woman disappeared that Leon was asking about. As the investigation progressed, he erased Grace Riddle's records and testimonies as soon as they appeared.

Blanchard's rats, who were anxious to reveal the woman's crimes, immediately shut up when he threatened to burn their tongues with a cigar if they ever mentioned her name before asking.

What's more, he erased all records of the woman, including her identity.

After taking full command of the anti-rebel operation, the first order he gave was to hand over all rebel-related materials and records scattered across the country to the First Special Forces. There, he erased all information related to "Little Riddle," making it seem as if Angela Riddle had never had a daughter in the first place.

In addition, the identity written on the birth certificate found in the woman's luggage was that she had died a long time ago, making her a non-existent person in this world.

The commander also wanted to erase that woman's information. He must have felt like he was sitting on a thornbush, worried that his story might be mixed up in the records and testimonies.

"I would feel relieved if the evidence of the scandal disappeared."

The commander furrowed his brow in displeasure at his rambling.

"Well, I guess you wouldn't be all that happy about that woman disappearing."

It would be nice if all the evidence had been neatly destroyed, but the woman who is the biggest evidence and witness to the author's misdeeds is walking around somewhere outside the world. For a commander who lives with a time bomb that could explode at any moment, it must feel like he has lost the detonator.

"Major Winston."

The commander's expression softened and he changed the subject.

"You must know that I called you today for another reason."

Of course. Leon did not forget the terms of this deal. He placed the envelope of documents that had been leaning against the leg of the chair on the commander's desk.

The commander opened the envelope and carefully examined its contents. Even though he had obtained what he wanted, the author's expression did not brighten. It couldn't have been otherwise. The contents of the envelope were directly or indirectly related to the commander among the records and evidence of the operation to assassinate the former king obtained from the base.

"I hope there are no copies."

Leon shook his head, meaning no. There are no copies. Of course, there are others.

As soon as he finished his business, he returned to the headquarters of the 1st Special Forces Group, located one floor below. Unlike 30 minutes ago, the atmosphere in the office was chaotic. The soldiers were moving around busily, and several officers were having heated conversations with someone.

"Major, are you here?"

Among the officers gathered in front of the map, having a serious conversation, one of the captains who spotted Leon first saluted.

"What's going on?"

"Another tip came in a little while ago."

Campbell quickly added, not missing the subtle change in the captain's expression the moment he answered.

"This is a tip regarding the hideout of the remaining party."

"The operation went as planned. Good work."

Leon soon lost interest and headed to his office, located inside the headquarters. Passing the aide's office in front of it, he glanced at Campbell's desk. One of the two phones was the one that received only the woman's reports. It seemed that while the other phone rang nonstop all day, that phone hardly ever rang.

It was at that moment when I was desperately thinking about poetry.

"Niels, was the informant a woman this time too?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Oh, I have a good feeling about this. The tip-off is accurate. Another honorary member will be born."

Leon stopped as he opened the office door at the sound of a conversation coming from behind him.

Woman. Report. Accurate report. This time, woman again.

A strange intuition began to kick in.

"What does that mean?"

He went back into the office and asked for more details.

"Oh, it's nothing special, but these days there's a superstition going around in the office that if the informant is a young woman, the case will definitely be cleared out."

"Because the tip is accurate?"

"Yes, Major."

Leon's eyes, which had been dead for a month, began to come alive again.

"Bring me the report receipt records, now!"

º º º

"Ugh... ."

As soon as Grace entered her hotel room, she took off her shoes and hat and threw herself down on the bed.

"Haa... I feel like I can live now."

I groaned in pain. My legs, my back, there was no place that wasn't sore. If it were before, I wouldn't have been this exhausted after traveling four hours by train.

It was also absolutely unheard of to go to bed without taking off my clothes or washing myself.

"Let's take a quick break... ."

Grace took off the thin gold ring she wore to pretend to be married and placed it on the nightstand, then sighed. The clock on the nightstand showed 9:00 p.m.

At least I have to remove my makeup... .

If I lay down like this, I would surely fall asleep. Then, 'for a moment' would end only when the sun rises tomorrow.

When she was on the train, she had made an ambitious plan to fill the bathtub with water and take a bath when she got to the hotel, but now she didn't even have the strength to get up and take off her clothes. Grace lay there, groping around, taking off her coat and clothes one by one and roughly stacking them on one side of the bed. That man with a severe fixation would be horrified if he saw this.

"Ah... It's soft."

She stretched out her legs and let out a pleasant moan. On the way here, a businessman riding in the same car recommended this hotel for its cheap rates and good facilities, and it was true.

"Phew... ."

He had been living in this hotel-hopping state ever since he fled from Blackburn. At first, he had not intended to do so. He had planned to go straight from Anderton to the King's Road to collect his mother's inheritance, then make a fake passport and board a ship to Columbia from a southern port.

'So you're looking for me? Now you're wasting money all over the country?'

It was a kind of mockery that he sat down in front of the flyers looking for me. I don't think the guy would know anyway.

Grace suddenly let out a bitter laugh.

The man didn't even call her by her name on the flyers looking for her.

'What are you going to do when your name is called?'

Grace tried to shake off her useless thoughts and instead thought of more useless thoughts.

I've never seen the phone number written at the bottom before. Is it a new phone number that was opened exclusively? Sometimes I feel the urge to call. I wonder who's answering. Is it a mansion? No way. That's ridiculous. Then the headquarters? No. Even if I can't tell the difference between public and private...

Then his gaze turned to the bounty written in large letters.

Oh my goodness, look at the amount. Do you want to find me that much?

Grace took a newspaper out of her bag and unfolded it. Then she looked straight at the 'perfect' man in the photo and furrowed her eyebrows.

Your insides are burning black right now, aren't they?

º º º

Leon stared at his reflection in the window with raindrops streaming down his face with indifferent eyes.

The medals were added again. He shut his eyes tightly and turned his head away as the face that seemed to be smelt blood from the medals appeared before his eyes. It was a meaningless act to close his eyes and turn his head when it was an illusion that was stuck in his head.

"Ah, Major Winston."

Leon turned around at the sound of his name. Commander Davenport was entering the Commander's office.

"I've been waiting for you."

It was natural since he had called. Leon followed the commander into the office. The commander, who had been sitting behind the desk and offering him a seat, suddenly frowned.

"Hey, how did your hand end up like that?"

He asked after seeing the bandage wrapped around his right hand. Leon sat down on the chair in front of the desk without answering. As if his stiff expression was enough of an answer, the commander took out a dark caramel-colored cigar from his cigar box and offered it to him. Leon accepted it without hesitation.

"It must have been your first day at headquarters after the operation."

Only after the smoke that had obscured his vision began to clear did the commander speak again.

"How was it? Do you like your private office?"

Leon nodded halfheartedly, exhaling a long puff of white smoke.

"It's not bad."

Starting this year, Leon was no longer the head of the Western Command's Domestic Intelligence Division, but rather the commander of the 1st Special Mission Group.

In order to completely eradicate the Blanchard rebels, a special force with command and manpower beyond jurisdiction was needed. In response to this demand, the 1st Special Mission Group was created by the Army Headquarters with the approval of the King and Parliament as a counterinsurgency operation force.

Of course, it was Leon who made such a request. It would be easy to go around the country chasing women under the pretext of eliminating the remnants. Of all the high-ranking officials, only Commander Davenport would know that he had requested a special force purely for such a personal desire.

"Look, I feel sorry for that kid too."

The commander, who had been staring at Leon's face, muttered useless words.

"I was like you once. While I was running around here and there trying to deal with the situation after that incident, the child's mother disappeared and I wandered around for a while. But if that woman hadn't left and I had found out about everything, it would have been a bigger tragedy."

He lowered his voice as much as possible and continued to speak in a way that made it unclear whether he was comforting or giving advice.

"Love will grow cold and wounds will heal. It's time for you and that child to go their separate ways. You have a bright future ahead of you. You can't lose everything you have just because of one thing you've lost."

"Commander."

Leon broke the silence by stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray.

"Is that really what you think? It's a shame that it's gone."

It wasn't just that the woman disappeared that Leon was asking about. As the investigation progressed, he erased Grace Riddle's records and testimonies as soon as they appeared.

Blanchard's rats, who were anxious to reveal the woman's crimes, immediately shut up when he threatened to burn their tongues with a cigar if they ever mentioned her name before asking.

What's more, he erased all records of the woman, including her identity.

After taking full command of the anti-rebel operation, the first order he gave was to hand over all rebel-related materials and records scattered across the country to the First Special Forces. There, he erased all information related to "Little Riddle," making it seem as if Angela Riddle had never had a daughter in the first place.

In addition, the identity written on the birth certificate found in the woman's luggage was that she had died a long time ago, making her a non-existent person in this world.

The commander also wanted to erase that woman's information. He must have felt like he was sitting on a thornbush, worried that his story might be mixed up in the records and testimonies.

"I would feel relieved if the evidence of the scandal disappeared."

The commander furrowed his brow in displeasure at his rambling.

"Well, I guess you wouldn't be all that happy about that woman disappearing."

It would be nice if all the evidence had been neatly destroyed, but the woman who is the biggest evidence and witness to the author's misdeeds is walking around somewhere outside the world. For a commander who lives with a time bomb that could explode at any moment, it must feel like he has lost the detonator.

"Major Winston."

The commander's expression softened and he changed the subject.

"You must know that I called you today for another reason."

Of course. Leon did not forget the terms of this deal. He placed the envelope of documents that had been leaning against the leg of the chair on the commander's desk.

The commander opened the envelope and carefully examined its contents. Even though he had obtained what he wanted, the author's expression did not brighten. It couldn't have been otherwise. The contents of the envelope were directly or indirectly related to the commander among the records and evidence of the operation to assassinate the former king obtained from the base.

"I hope there are no copies."

Leon shook his head, meaning no. There are no copies. Of course, there are others.

As soon as he finished his business, he returned to the headquarters of the 1st Special Forces Group, located one floor below. Unlike 30 minutes ago, the atmosphere in the office was chaotic. The soldiers were moving around busily, and several officers were having heated conversations with someone.

"Major, are you here?"

Among the officers gathered in front of the map, having a serious conversation, one of the captains who spotted Leon first saluted.

"What's going on?"

"Another tip came in a little while ago."

Campbell quickly added, not missing the subtle change in the captain's expression the moment he answered.

"This is a tip regarding the hideout of the remaining party."

"The operation went as planned. Good work."

Leon soon lost interest and headed to his office, located inside the headquarters. Passing the aide's office in front of it, he glanced at Campbell's desk. One of the two phones was the one that received only the woman's reports. It seemed that while the other phone rang nonstop all day, that phone hardly ever rang.

It was at that moment when I was desperately thinking about poetry.

"Niels, was the informant a woman this time too?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Oh, I have a good feeling about this. The tip-off is accurate. Another honorary member will be born."

Leon stopped as he opened the office door at the sound of a conversation coming from behind him.

Woman. Report. Accurate report. This time, woman again.

A strange intuition began to kick in.

"What does that mean?"

He went back into the office and asked for more details.

"Oh, it's nothing special, but these days there's a superstition going around in the office that if the informant is a young woman, the case will definitely be cleared out."

"Because the tip is accurate?"

"Yes, Major."

Leon's eyes, which had been dead for a month, began to come alive again.

"Bring me the report receipt records, now!"

º º º

"Ugh... ."

As soon as Grace entered her hotel room, she took off her shoes and hat and threw herself down on the bed.

"Haa... I feel like I can live now."

I groaned in pain. My legs, my back, there was no place that wasn't sore. If it were before, I wouldn't have been this exhausted after traveling four hours by train.

It was also absolutely unheard of to go to bed without taking off my clothes or washing myself.

"Let's take a quick break... ."

Grace took off the thin gold ring she wore to pretend to be married and placed it on the nightstand, then sighed. The clock on the nightstand showed 9:00 p.m.

At least I have to remove my makeup... .

If I lay down like this, I would surely fall asleep. Then, 'for a moment' would end only when the sun rises tomorrow.

When she was on the train, she had made an ambitious plan to fill the bathtub with water and take a bath when she got to the hotel, but now she didn't even have the strength to get up and take off her clothes. Grace lay there, groping around, taking off her coat and clothes one by one and roughly stacking them on one side of the bed. That man with a severe fixation would be horrified if he saw this.

"Ah... It's soft."

She stretched out her legs and let out a pleasant moan. On the way here, a businessman riding in the same car recommended this hotel for its cheap rates and good facilities, and it was true.

"Phew... ."

He had been living in this hotel-hopping state ever since he fled from Blackburn. At first, he had not intended to do so. He had planned to go straight from Anderton to the King's Road to collect his mother's inheritance, then make a fake passport and board a ship to Columbia from a southern port.