Ch 2

Table and her.

Sally felt a sense of intimidation as if she was facing a wall because of his large height and body.

He stared down at the man who had already begun shaking his hands for a moment with cold eyes and then took off his sharp look. His outstretched fingers that were as sharp as his eyes neatly swept over the blonde hair.

“I know that, Sally. You know that’s not what I mean.”

He pressed Sally lightly with a tone that seemed to appeal to a lover before suddenly turning around. The tip of a riding whip in his hand, clad in black leather gloves, pointed to the second lieutenant, who looked like his lieutenant.

“Correct.”

Winston’s eyebrows curled loosely, but the tension in the torture chamber only grew tighter.

Swish. Swish.

The whip in his right hand sharply cut through the chilly air and lightly struck his left palm. Each time, the two soldiers trembled as if they had been hit.

Attention? Winston stopped the whip that had stabbed Fred in the chest, and he walked over to Sally.

“Sally, you don’t have to do this again. Huh? got it?”

“Sniff, yes…”

She tried to wipe away the false tears with her sleeve, but he stopped them. Winston’s hand wrapped around her chin. Shortly, the straight-folded handkerchief gently pressed each tear print to dry it.

Everyone’s eyes widened at the not cold-blooded behavior. Their eyes widened with surprise as he stared down at the handkerchief drenched with the maid’s tears for a moment and then put it in the pocket of his jacket.

He was the one who threw the handkerchief on the floor once he had used it. Whereas this, was nothing else but a handkerchief soaked in bodily fluids of a lowly maid.

“Leave the meal outside from now on.”

“Yes, I will…”

It was a moment when Sally was able to let her guard down with a voice that was as friendly as if teasing a child. Winston’s hand resting on her chin stopped in mid-air before he picked up the thumb of her left hand. His soft eyes set sharp in an instant.

Sally’s blood became cold as she followed his gaze.

…A small piece of eggshell stuck under her fingernail.

He grinned at the pile of eggshells neatly laid out in front of the spy. His eyes were not smiling at all.

Winston’s close-cut fingernails dug under hers. The nails that had entered deep as if they were going to dig through her flesh were brutally twisted.

Sally held back a groan from the pain that crushed her delicate flesh. It was a bad habit for her to endure even when she didn’t need to because the training to endure the pain of torture was ingrained into her body.