try begging

Leon Winston had everything except Grace Riddle, and so he was penniless.

He threw the magazine he had just straightened into the blazing fireplace and returned the fountain pen to Pierce. Leon laughed as he walked toward the main entrance of the main building. But he wasn't laughing in the window.

People say he has it all: a noble aristocrat, a respected senator, a great hero, a military commander with enormous power, and a capable businessman. He has achieved all the success a man can hope for in society at a young age.

But those are goals to be achieved, not purposes to have. They are like stopovers on a long journey, and the moment they are achieved, they lose their meaning. There was a meaningful destination in his life.

Leon looked up as he stepped out of the main gate of the main building. A cool breeze blew, and red and yellow fallen leaves fluttered across the cloudless blue sky.

It's fall.

The autumn that had come back when she had suffered from terrible morning sickness, had acted cutely and cruelly while pretending to love him, and had run away with the two faces of a lady and a witch.

It was the season of torture.

He waited for Grace's new torture, sniffing the autumn air like a dog trained to salivate at the sound of a bell.

He envied his past self, who had been resentful of being given the chance to chase after him like throwing a bone to a hungry dog, but never the chance to catch him. Now, he was dying of thirst, not even receiving that fleshy bone.

Grace, throw the bone. Anywhere. Just throw it. You don't want to watch the mad dog chase it and laugh at it.

While he was repeating the same words, his steps naturally led him towards the annex.

After mulling over the conversation they had after the woman ran away countless times, Leon caught one consistent sentiment.

I have no resentment or interest in you anymore.

In that one phone call, the woman said this at the end.

Do you still love me? So you're unhappy?

Even with laughter.

He said he had no resentment, but he left a letter full of resentment. The fact that he left the letter saying it was the last time was proof that he couldn't shake him off.

Daisy, Sally, and Grace Riddle are dead. You killed them.

So forget it.

He told me to forget, but then he blamed me for killing him. He told me to forget, but not to forget.

I hope that even when you're smiling, you suddenly think of me and feel pain, that I won't be stuck inside you like a nail and fall out for the rest of your life.

I'm happy that I'm soon to be your misfortune.

The words were incoherent, like a letter from a schizophrenic. He told me to forget him, but he hoped that I would be unhappy because I couldn't forget him.

Looking back, it was the same in Newport Harbor. I was in a hurry to get away from him, but I stopped and kept spewing out words and actions that would hurt him.

I have no resentment or interest in you anymore.

Don't make me laugh. You reek of resentment and concern.

Grace has a crush on him.

That was the psychology that Leon captured.

It didn't matter if the essence was hatred rather than affection. If it was nothing, it was fortunate that hatred was planted. The only thing Leon could cling to and hope for now was the emotion he wanted to erase from the woman's heart.

Grace, do you want me to not let you go?

I won't let you go either. No matter where you are, you'll never be able to escape from me.

So the medium chosen was the media.

So that Grace, somewhere in this kingdom, could see his face endlessly and hear his news endlessly whenever she turned on the radio or walked down the street.

He only shows his happy side to the woman who wants to see him suffer. The media praises him as a hero in front of the woman who believes he is a villain. It was obvious how twisted it must be.

I'm going to torment you until you can't stand it anymore and show up to torment me.

Now the stain of the country will disappear from your perfect life.

It's funny. Just as I can't forget you, you can't forget me.

º º º

The restaurant Norman had made a reservation at was in Prescott, a 15-minute drive from the studio, in a downtown area just a block from the Paramoor Theater, where the premiere would be held next month.

"I wanted to bring you to a better place, but I had to make a reservation suddenly...."

As Norman, sitting across from them at a small table, said this, Grace, who had been looking around the restaurant, turned her gaze to him and waved her hand.

"No. It was my fault for suddenly asking to eat dinner."

"It's not my fault. I'm just happy that I can go on a date with Anna, even if it's suddenly."

Grace smiled back at the smiling man and fiddled with her empty left ring finger under the table. When she was about to leave work, Mrs. Tate kept nagging her to take off her ring. On top of that, she spent the whole afternoon sweating profusely because her boss was so excited that he refused to lend her a dress with a low neckline.

"Where does Anna live?"

"I live in Greenfield."

Actually, I lived in Hazel Brook, which is on the way from the studio to Greenfield.

"I'll take you there in my car."

"Oh, you don't have to go that far."

"Then you're going to take the tram alone at this late hour?"

I habitually lied about where I lived and got in trouble. After a brief argument, Grace changed the subject.

"How old did Norman say he was?"

"I'm thirty-one."

He was the same age as that guy.

"Have you ever been married?"

"No. I was so focused on success that I didn't have time to think about marriage. Now that I've achieved success, it's time to think about marriage."

"I see."

"Anna said she was widowed?"

"yes."

"Oh, my heart hurts."

It wasn't a face that looked particularly heartbroken. When the man reached out across the table, Grace reluctantly reached out. The unfamiliar touch and temperature made her feel strange, but she held on.

Then, as soon as he saw the waiter bringing the food from afar, he took his hand away. After that, the conversation was quiet as they ate. As Grace was scooping a spoonful of steaming clam chowder from the soup bowl, she glanced at the man sitting across from her and suddenly had this thought.

Maybe I won't get caught if I leave the country with a man. That's what I thought, and then I realized. I haven't confirmed something very important yet.

"Norman."

"yes?"

"Have you ever thought about settling down somewhere other than here?"

"Uh... Where are you talking about?"

Now that I think about it, it was a topic that seemed a bit premature to bring up on a first date. Grace hesitated for a moment, then made up a story and brought it up.

"I have an aunt in Columbia. She became very rich through gold mining. I heard there are skyscrapers there. My aunt and her husband don't have children, so I'm alone and they keep telling me to come to Columbia. I'm thinking about moving there when my daughter gets a little older."

The man looked flustered, as if it wasn't the kind of thing to say on a first date, but then quickly straightened his expression and smiled.

"A fresh start in a new continent full of dreams and hopes. What a good choice."

"... That's right."

In fact, it is not a choice but a necessity. Even if Winston were to give up Grace, he could not live here.

Although the remnants of the rebels were almost completely eradicated, there were still occasional newspaper articles reporting that they had committed crimes or that their bases had been wiped out. Furthermore, those who committed less serious crimes would only spend a few years in the camps before being released into society. Whether or not they had completely washed their hands of Grace, she was their traitor.

So, if I wanted to get married, I had to meet a man who was willing to leave this place.

Should I have just gone to Columbia and found a man to marry?

I'm starting to regret impulsively asking her out on a date.

"I brought it up too soon. Please forget about it."

"Oh, no. You never know what the future holds. There are probably many companies across the ocean that need capable public relations professionals."

The man naturally moved the conversation to my career.

"It may sound like bragging, but after working in public relations for over 10 years, people now want to hire me wherever I go."

"I'm not bragging, but it's true. You're Mr. Grant's favorite public relations person. By the way, I guess you've been working here for a long time."

"I've only been here for three years. I used to work for Sinclair Motors...."

Sinclair? That was a familiar name.

"After that, the Sinclair family's companies were on the verge of bankruptcy one after another, so they moved to Grant Pictures."

Only then did Grace recall. One day, the man had brought a strange investigative report to the torture chamber and asked if the Sinclairs, a respected business family, were in league with Blanchard's group.

Then, the man who was suffering from the plot brought alcohol into the torture room for a while and eventually even locked himself in the torture room.

It was truly uncharacteristic of the greedy demon, Leon Winston, that Grace knew..

Leon Winston had everything except Grace Riddle, and so he was penniless.

He threw the magazine he had just straightened into the blazing fireplace and returned the fountain pen to Pierce. Leon laughed as he walked toward the main entrance of the main building. But he wasn't laughing in the window.

People say he has it all: a noble aristocrat, a respected senator, a great hero, a military commander with enormous power, and a capable businessman. He has achieved all the success a man can hope for in society at a young age.

But those are goals to be achieved, not purposes to have. They are like stopovers on a long journey, and the moment they are achieved, they lose their meaning. There was a meaningful destination in his life.

Leon looked up as he stepped out of the main gate of the main building. A cool breeze blew, and red and yellow fallen leaves fluttered across the cloudless blue sky.

It's fall.

The autumn that had come back when she had suffered from terrible morning sickness, had acted cutely and cruelly while pretending to love him, and had run away with the two faces of a lady and a witch.

It was the season of torture.

He waited for Grace's new torture, sniffing the autumn air like a dog trained to salivate at the sound of a bell.

He envied his past self, who had been resentful of being given the chance to chase after him like throwing a bone to a hungry dog, but never the chance to catch him. Now, he was dying of thirst, not even receiving that fleshy bone.

Grace, throw the bone. Anywhere. Just throw it. You don't want to watch the mad dog chase it and laugh at it.

While he was repeating the same words, his steps naturally led him towards the annex.

After mulling over the conversation they had after the woman ran away countless times, Leon caught one consistent sentiment.

I have no resentment or interest in you anymore.

In that one phone call, the woman said this at the end.

Do you still love me? So you're unhappy?

Even with laughter.

He said he had no resentment, but he left a letter full of resentment. The fact that he left the letter saying it was the last time was proof that he couldn't shake him off.

Daisy, Sally, and Grace Riddle are dead. You killed them.

So forget it.

He told me to forget, but then he blamed me for killing him. He told me to forget, but not to forget.

I hope that even when you're smiling, you suddenly think of me and feel pain, that I won't be stuck inside you like a nail and fall out for the rest of your life.

I'm happy that I'm soon to be your misfortune.

The words were incoherent, like a letter from a schizophrenic. He told me to forget him, but he hoped that I would be unhappy because I couldn't forget him.

Looking back, it was the same in Newport Harbor. I was in a hurry to get away from him, but I stopped and kept spewing out words and actions that would hurt him.

I have no resentment or interest in you anymore.

Don't make me laugh. You reek of resentment and concern.

Grace has a crush on him.

That was the psychology that Leon captured.

It didn't matter if the essence was hatred rather than affection. If it was nothing, it was fortunate that hatred was planted. The only thing Leon could cling to and hope for now was the emotion he wanted to erase from the woman's heart.

Grace, do you want me to not let you go?

I won't let you go either. No matter where you are, you'll never be able to escape from me.

So the medium chosen was the media.

So that Grace, somewhere in this kingdom, could see his face endlessly and hear his news endlessly whenever she turned on the radio or walked down the street.

He only shows his happy side to the woman who wants to see him suffer. The media praises him as a hero in front of the woman who believes he is a villain. It was obvious how twisted it must be.

I'm going to torment you until you can't stand it anymore and show up to torment me.

Now the stain of the country will disappear from your perfect life.

It's funny. Just as I can't forget you, you can't forget me.

º º º

The restaurant Norman had made a reservation at was in Prescott, a 15-minute drive from the studio, in a downtown area just a block from the Paramoor Theater, where the premiere would be held next month.

"I wanted to bring you to a better place, but I had to make a reservation suddenly...."

As Norman, sitting across from them at a small table, said this, Grace, who had been looking around the restaurant, turned her gaze to him and waved her hand.

"No. It was my fault for suddenly asking to eat dinner."

"It's not my fault. I'm just happy that I can go on a date with Anna, even if it's suddenly."

Grace smiled back at the smiling man and fiddled with her empty left ring finger under the table. When she was about to leave work, Mrs. Tate kept nagging her to take off her ring. On top of that, she spent the whole afternoon sweating profusely because her boss was so excited that he refused to lend her a dress with a low neckline.

"Where does Anna live?"

"I live in Greenfield."

Actually, I lived in Hazel Brook, which is on the way from the studio to Greenfield.

"I'll take you there in my car."

"Oh, you don't have to go that far."

"Then you're going to take the tram alone at this late hour?"

I habitually lied about where I lived and got in trouble. After a brief argument, Grace changed the subject.

"How old did Norman say he was?"

"I'm thirty-one."

He was the same age as that guy.

"Have you ever been married?"

"No. I was so focused on success that I didn't have time to think about marriage. Now that I've achieved success, it's time to think about marriage."

"I see."

"Anna said she was widowed?"

"yes."

"Oh, my heart hurts."

It wasn't a face that looked particularly heartbroken. When the man reached out across the table, Grace reluctantly reached out. The unfamiliar touch and temperature made her feel strange, but she held on.

Then, as soon as he saw the waiter bringing the food from afar, he took his hand away. After that, the conversation was quiet as they ate. As Grace was scooping a spoonful of steaming clam chowder from the soup bowl, she glanced at the man sitting across from her and suddenly had this thought.

Maybe I won't get caught if I leave the country with a man. That's what I thought, and then I realized. I haven't confirmed something very important yet.

"Norman."

"yes?"

"Have you ever thought about settling down somewhere other than here?"

"Uh... Where are you talking about?"

Now that I think about it, it was a topic that seemed a bit premature to bring up on a first date. Grace hesitated for a moment, then made up a story and brought it up.

"I have an aunt in Columbia. She became very rich through gold mining. I heard there are skyscrapers there. My aunt and her husband don't have children, so I'm alone and they keep telling me to come to Columbia. I'm thinking about moving there when my daughter gets a little older."

The man looked flustered, as if it wasn't the kind of thing to say on a first date, but then quickly straightened his expression and smiled.

"A fresh start in a new continent full of dreams and hopes. What a good choice."

"... That's right."

In fact, it is not a choice but a necessity. Even if Winston were to give up Grace, he could not live here.

Although the remnants of the rebels were almost completely eradicated, there were still occasional newspaper articles reporting that they had committed crimes or that their bases had been wiped out. Furthermore, those who committed less serious crimes would only spend a few years in the camps before being released into society. Whether or not they had completely washed their hands of Grace, she was their traitor.

So, if I wanted to get married, I had to meet a man who was willing to leave this place.

Should I have just gone to Columbia and found a man to marry?

I'm starting to regret impulsively asking her out on a date.

"I brought it up too soon. Please forget about it."

"Oh, no. You never know what the future holds. There are probably many companies across the ocean that need capable public relations professionals."

The man naturally moved the conversation to my career.

"It may sound like bragging, but after working in public relations for over 10 years, people now want to hire me wherever I go."

"I'm not bragging, but it's true. You're Mr. Grant's favorite public relations person. By the way, I guess you've been working here for a long time."

"I've only been here for three years. I used to work for Sinclair Motors...."

Sinclair? That was a familiar name.

"After that, the Sinclair family's companies were on the verge of bankruptcy one after another, so they moved to Grant Pictures."

Only then did Grace recall. One day, the man had brought a strange investigative report to the torture chamber and asked if the Sinclairs, a respected business family, were in league with Blanchard's group.

Then, the man who was suffering from the plot brought alcohol into the torture room for a while and eventually even locked himself in the torture room.

It was truly uncharacteristic of the greedy demon, Leon Winston, that Grace knew..