The Hero's Blackmail and the Blush Behind the Veil

The grand restaurant behind the parliamentary building bustled with the nobles who had gathered for their final celebratory lunch before the holiday recess. At one of the tables in the center, a duke and a count sat facing each other.

Leon Winston had chosen this particular time and place deliberately. He was certain that the duke’s motives for the gathering ran deeper than mere social pleasantries.

“Count, when exactly is your film set to open?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the precise date.” Leon replied with a careless shrug. “You should check the posters along the road. That’s where the word will reach the public first.”

“Given how busy Your Excellency is, such trivial details are hardly worth your concern.”

His mother, seated beside him, chuckled and chimed in with a wink.

“The film is scheduled to premiere on the eve of Christmas.”

“Ah, two whole weeks away.”

“And that day happens to mark three years since Your Excellency single-handedly saved the kingdom. Roselyn must have mentioned the special screening in Prescott, right?”

The duke nodded vigorously, though a flicker of unease crossed his usually composed face. His mother’s steady chatter kept steering the conversation away from the film, effectively shielding the duke from further questions about its content.

“That’s why both Roselyn and the Winston family have been granted early access to the screening.”

Whether deliberate or not, the mother carefully distinguished between the duke’s daughter and the Winstons. Leon glanced toward Jerome, seated beside the duke’s daughter, and caught the faint smirk tugging at his brother’s lips when he saw his own expression.

“We sincerely hope the film achieves blockbuster status.”

“Thank you.”

“While maintaining strong ties with the nobility and the royal family remains essential for a ministerial position, public opinion and media reputation have become equally vital these days.”

The duke finally revealed his true purpose. Leon Winston, the count, was eyeing the youngest prime ministerial seat in history.

In royal and noble circles, a persistent rumor had begun to circulate: Leon had begun appearing in the press far too often. To Leon, the gossip was laughable. He had no intention of accepting such a position, and the king—whose authority he still held in check through his family’s redemption—would never allow it anyway.

He assumed the rumor would wither and die, but the duke and his fellow party members were actively nurturing it into fact, leaving Leon in an uncomfortable bind.

“There is no better way to sway the ignorant masses than through a film like this.”

“Precisely. You have my full agreement.”

The duke’s encouragement only fueled his mother’s excitement. She could already imagine interrogating him back at the townhouse about why he refused to pursue the prime ministerial role with any enthusiasm.

Leon, however, knew the truth. Even if he became prime minister, he would remain a hollow shell of a leader—little more than a puppet, like Little Jimmy.

Such realities escaped his mother entirely. Her eyes sparkled as she continued to chime in, but the moment the duke began speaking of marriage, her lips pressed into a firm line.

“Oh, this is lovely. I see the count is here as well.”

“Your Highness, it’s been far too long. How have you been?”

The duke excused himself to greet another member of the council. His mother, momentarily relieved from the marriage pressure, had no idea that a spy was nestled among their allies.

“It’s been over three years since the engagement. That should be enough time, don’t you think?”

The brother across the table sliced the venison on his plate with deliberate care, as if the words were mere small talk. It was rather pathetic, Leon thought, watching his sibling scramble to secure a legitimate reason to live under the same roof as his lover.

“Keeping the duke’s daughter unmarried any longer is hardly proper…”

“I’m perfectly fine with that.”

The duke’s daughter responded in a voice that barely carried, feigning modesty. His mother shot her son an irritated glance but said nothing. The second son’s words were, after all, entirely accurate.

“Even in society and the media, rumors are spreading that damage the reputation of both families…”

“Quite right. It’s not good for the heir either.”

Leon finally spoke up, his voice cutting through the silence.

“Then let’s proceed with the wedding. Duke, how about next spring?”

Despite his promise to fulfill a wish, the fiancée offered no reply. Jerome’s face had turned ashen.

Why? You said you’d marry us if that’s what we wanted—why the long face? Smile, damn it.

Only Leon was smiling at the table. He had deliberately chosen to bring forward the marriage proposal in the name of the heir, knowing it would unsettle them.

“I look forward to holding my future child in my arms soon. It’s been some time since I’ve asked, but how many children do you think would be appropriate? Honestly, I’d be satisfied with enough to form a polo team.”

Leon had no desire for children, yet here he was suggesting four. His mother’s eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at him. A faint smile curved his lips.

“I didn’t know until recently, but I’ve grown quite fond of children.”

The subtle tremor in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth was unmistakable.

“Ah… but Your Highness…”

The duke’s daughter, lost in thought about sharing a bed with him, began to stammer.

“You promised to allow me to complete my studies.”

She was attending university in the capital alongside Jerome, who had long ago relocated there for various excuses.

“Indeed. Studying while raising children sounds rather burdensome. You could finish your studies after the heir arrives…”

Jerome, momentarily stunned into silence by Leon’s words, began to protest again. Leon seized the opportunity for negotiation disguised as intimidation.

“My only intention in this marriage is the production of an heir.”

No, there was no such meaning at all. The engagement with the duke’s daughter had served as a distraction for Jerome’s final operation. That was all.

“So if you intend to bear no children, there would be no need for marriage. Still, I must respect a lady’s wishes. I shall postpone the wedding until you have finished your studies.”

“…Thank you.”

Leon’s arrogance was obvious, yet the duke’s daughter offered no retort. Instead, she thanked him for the delay in the wedding.

For now, the two shameless foxes would avoid the topic of marriage for some time.

Leon tilted his wine glass and grinned. Forcing the brother and fiancée to surrender the very things they desired had become one of his few remaining amusements.

Would they simply be used by me?

He had always viewed their actions as mutual exploitation aimed at their respective lovers’ futures. Leon harbored no ill will toward them. Yet watching them chase their illusory bright future while trampling him into the mud filled him with revulsion.

“We sincerely hope the film becomes a blockbuster.”

The duke delivered this parting remark and departed with his daughter. As Leon’s mother waited by the Winston sedan heading back to the townhouse, she began her complaint.

“It’s obvious the duke’s family is behind that marriage article.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. The second son’s reckless behavior with arms crossed was precisely what had triggered the rumor. Perhaps Grace had not yet reacted because Jerome kept spreading these false marriage whispers. He had wanted to close the brother’s media outlets and bar him from the industry entirely, but he had held back for now.

“The duke’s daughter is increasingly disappointing. She cares more for astronomy than becoming the mistress of the family.”

“Astronomy, Mother.”

“Men and actresses alike study subjects that are fundamentally the same, Jerome.”

Jerome corrected the mistake, inadvertently wounding his mother’s pride and striking at the core of her nagging.

“Why are you behaving this way?”

“What have I done?”

“Why do you cling so desperately to the duke’s family? When has our status changed that you need to act like this? I never expected to be the one saying such things, Jerome—please, emulate your brother.”

Perhaps the Annex was more welcoming. Leon exhaled a long sigh. Enduring these people from the townhouse to the Annex was true hell.

And there would be the screening tomorrow.

He knew tomorrow would bring only hell once again.

The department store was crowded with shoppers hunting for Christmas gifts. Leon stood in the packed elevator like a passenger on a train car, holding his daughter’s hand as they descended.

The attendant blocked Grace’s path and announced loudly.

“Please, Mrs. Princess! Let our daughter see today’s toy—the dollhouse chosen by Princess Elizabeth!”

The pointer indicated a massive, ornate dollhouse tall enough to reach Grace’s shoulder height.

Grace’s heart sank.

No. Ellie, don’t look.

Grace looked down at her daughter in despair. It was already too late. Ellie stared at the dollhouse with wide eyes, mouth agape.

Greedy Ellie’s eyes.

Big trouble. Grace quickly pulled her daughter away.

“Ellie, if we’re too late, Santa won’t come to see you, right?”

The child, who had been staring at the dollhouse the entire way down, finally turned forward and began walking.

In the center of the three-story area decorated with sleighs and reindeer plush toys stood a man in a Santa suit. When Ellie tugged Grace’s coat and whispered, the father pulled the child aside.

“Mommy, what should I ask Santa for?”

“What do you want to ask?”

“Tell Santa I don’t want mushrooms.”

“Then I’d be a liar if I said that. Mommy would be saying no gifts.”

“Ellie can give me the gift.”

“That’s nice. Then Mommy wants a gift of Ellie not eating mushrooms.”

The child furrowed her brow and pouted.

“There is no such thing as that Ellie.”

“Why?”

“…They’re all sold out.”

“You can buy Ellie? I need another one.”

“No. Ellie can only come with one present.”

“Hah, you lied! Santa, Ellie said she lied!”

While the argument continued, it was Ellie’s turn. Grace snapped several photos of the beaming child sitting on Santa’s lap. The curved eyes reminded her of Leon’s—growing sharper with each photo.

“Yes, our little lady has been a very good girl this year, hasn’t she?”

“Yup!”

Ellie nodded vigorously, staring at Grace. Grace smiled and nodded in agreement, a mix of plea and warning.

“That’s right. I haven’t gotten sick once this year, and I’ve been eating well. I’ve been a good girl.”

“Then you deserve a Christmas gift. What would you like?”

Parents used this method to discover what their children wanted.

“Ellie…”

Watching the child ponder deeply, Grace felt her eyes sting. Last year she had cried at the department store, thinking the strange old man was leaving her behind. When asked what she wanted, she had only requested cookies.

“That one!”

Grace turned to see what Ellie was pointing at and gasped.

“Ellie.”

Grace took the child to the corner and began scolding her.

“Not that one. Something else.”

“But Ellie wants to be a princess.”

Ellie pointed at the crown on her head and stamped her feet.

“You’re a princess, but Mommy isn’t a queen.”

The dollhouse cost half a year of Grace’s salary. If she could afford such luxury, she would have bought a refrigerator instead.

From childhood, she had formed the habit of saving everything, even to the point of denying her daughter necessities. She had sworn to her parents that she would never make Ellie feel ashamed of money, and she had given her daughter everything she needed.

But expensive toys were not essentials. While she felt guilty, it was not wise to indulge her daughter unconditionally.

“Mommy doesn’t have enough money to buy that. If I do, I won’t be able to buy any other toys next year.”

Grace spoke honestly about her limits. She hoped Ellie would never believe she had everything she needed. After all, she had been like that herself.

“And you wouldn’t have anywhere to put such a huge dollhouse.”

To house it, they would need a proper home first.

“Then what if Santa gives it to me?”

“It won’t fit in the stocking.”

“Hmph…”

The child looked crestfallen but soon nodded in understanding.

“Ara… then…?”

“Mmm.”

“A horse, please.”

“Princess, that would require buying a whole house.”

Eventually, they settled on a small pony toy with wheels and a rope. Grace’s heart sank as she realized the child who had been playing with the display earlier was gone.

“Ellie!”

Grace called her daughter’s name and rushed into the middle of the store, then stopped with a sigh of relief. As expected. Her first guess had been correct. Ellie was standing in front of the dollhouse—not alone, but chatting animatedly with a blond boy her own age.

“Ellie, you promised not to let go of Mommy’s hand.”

Ellie clung to the gift box Grace held, oblivious to the danger she had just stepped into.

“I want to ride the horse!”

“You can’t until Christmas.”

“Hmph…”

“Oh, hurry up and get out of this place.” Grace pulled the sulking child toward the elevator.

“Achoo!”

Ellie waved at the boy. Just as Grace wondered why he was speaking Norderian, the boy waved back.

“Achoo!”

He was a Norderian child.

“Mommy, what is that?”

The belief that they would be safe outside the department store was a mistake. While walking toward the train station, Ellie pointed at a poster on a building wall.

“Eh?”

Grace thought it was her father’s film poster, but it wasn’t. Next to it, a colorful poster showed a clown performing tricks on a horse and a magician pulling a rabbit from his hat.

“Circus.”

When Grace explained what it was, Ellie’s eyes sparkled. A toy that cost half a year’s salary was out of reach, but a circus was different. She asked at the roadside stall, only to learn it was sold out.

“Hmph…”

“Mommy will get tickets for you.”

Grace soothed her daughter and walked toward the station while singing carols together. Then she stopped. An old woman was begging passersby in front of the police station.

Grace thought of her mother’s letter and couldn’t pass by. She opened her wallet and handed over a bill to the woman—a small way to atone for past blindness and ignorance.

“Thank you. I hope God’s blessing stays with your family.”

“May you have a warm Christmas.”

As she turned to leave, Ellie tugged Grace’s hand.

“Mama.”

Speaking Norderian again.

“Mama.”

Grace corrected her and followed Ellie’s gaze. Inside the police station, a loud argument was underway. A young woman was pleading with an officer in a rapid stream of unfamiliar language.

“Please calm down. Do you not speak our language at all? I can’t understand a word…”

Even though Grace couldn’t understand the words, the accent sounded familiar—Norderian. Before she could react, Ellie shouted.

“That auntie dropped her baby!”

Everyone in the station turned to Ellie, who was now chattering in Norderian. The woman’s face lit up as she rushed over.

“Both of you—me and the man—have blond hair and blue eyes…”

Ellie began translating the woman’s words, and the moment she mentioned the blond boy her own age, Grace recalled the child from the department store. Without a guardian, he might be the same boy.

“Ellie, isn’t the boy from the department store?”

“Hah, mata!”

Grace led the child to the officer and explained the location. The officer and the woman rushed to the department store to search for the child. Grace prepared to leave when an older officer pulled a bag of candies from his drawer.

“The little interpreter solved the case. A child who does good deeds deserves a reward.”

“Waa!”

As the officer stood, Grace’s breath caught.

KIDNAPPING

A wanted poster caught her eye. The description of the suspect, the abducted girl’s appearance, and the phone number for Winsford. She realized it was a poster targeting her.

“How old are you?”

“Two.”

“What’s your name?”

While the officer bent down to ask the candy-sucking child, Grace quickly lifted Ellie into her arms.

“Suzie. Thank you, officer.”

The child gave Grace a confused look before thanking him politely after being urged again.

“Thank you.”

Damn it. I should have worn sunglasses.

Grace turned toward the door to hide her eyes from the officer and asked.

“May I ask you for one thing?”

“Of course.”

“Could you spare a cup of warm tea? There’s an old woman outside who looks cold.”

“Ah… yes, of course.”

While the officer chatted about the beggar woman’s story and led them to the break room, Grace quickly set Ellie down and approached the desk. She tore off the poster and shoved it into her bag. As she prepared to return to Ellie, the officer emerged with a steaming cup.

“You should have one too, madam.”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“It’s my duty. Safe travels, little one.”

Grace slipped out of the station while the officer offered tea to the old woman.

“I’m heading home.”

“Yes.”

Grace held Ellie tighter on the train. She had almost fallen into the man’s trap for doing a good deed. Her heart still raced.

Because she had done a good deed, Santa should have given more gifts, the dollhouse… Ellie murmured as she fell asleep. Grace pulled out the wanted poster from her bag.

Blond girl with dark blue or teal eyes. Birthdate listed at the bottom.

The suspect was a woman in her late twenties with teal eyes. Highly armed—report immediately upon sighting.

Grace clenched her teeth as she looked at the photo-less poster.

Kidnapping.

The poster crumpled in her hand.

Impossible. My daughter—kidnapping?

Thanks to this insane madman, she had become the woman who kidnapped her own child.

Anger and satisfaction warred within her. He was still looking for her, after all. Tomorrow he would come here. The thought of him unaware of her location brought a smile to her face.

Grace tucked the crumpled paper away and closed her bag. She would burn it at home. The poster had to be taken so no one would report the number later.

He wouldn’t suspect a thing. He wouldn’t remember such a thing.

The poster had aged, its paper yellowed. Like the missing-person flyers he had once scattered on every street, people had grown desensitized to repeated long-term exposure. Perhaps the officers had forgotten about the poster entirely. After all, they had let her roam Winsford like her own home, yet she had never been caught.

It would be fine.

Grace tried to calm her growing anxiety. In the past, she would have fled immediately. But Ellie had grown; moving now would be too risky. She held her daughter close, praying for peace.

“How was it?”

The officer, holding an empty cup, asked when his subordinate returned from the department store.

“It was the right child.”

“Good.”

The officer nodded and turned toward the break room, then stopped.

“What happened to that poster?”

“Which poster?”

“The one about the kidnapping suspect. A woman and a child with teal eyes… wait…”

The officer’s eyes widened as realization hit.

When Leon arrived at Prescott Central Station, staff from the film company greeted him. He stopped as he prepared to board the sedan.

“Kyaa! Daddy—!”

The child’s voice rang out. Leon’s heart hammered as he turned toward the sound. He must be going insane.

A strange woman was pulling a stroller from the station. The child inside was not his daughter. She was still too young to sit in a stroller or babble.

The child had already grown.

“Leon?”

He had been searching frantically around him. Suddenly he snapped to his senses. His mother, already seated in the car, watched him with suspicion. Feeling the eyes of his brother, the duke’s daughter, and the staff, he climbed in as if nothing had happened.

Leon stared out the window and smiled at his reflection. He had been looking for that child like a madman.

It was madness. She couldn’t possibly be here.

“Ah… then there’s nothing for it. Yes, thank you.”

Grace ended the call with a long sigh. She had called everywhere on her way to work, even the circus management office, only to hear the same words: “fully booked.”

Last night, Ellie had sung about wanting to go to the circus and hidden her stuffed rabbit in Grace’s hat. If Ellie found out, she would be disappointed. Grace had planned to buy tickets in advance, but when she glanced at the guest list on her desk, she gritted her teeth.

Who do you think you are, accusing me of being a kidnapper?

The more she thought about it, the angrier she grew. She wanted to punch the man’s face the moment she saw it at the hotel. The phone rang. She answered the one on the side table.

“Grant Pictures executive office.”

[Sally?]

“Anna here, Mrs. Tate. Sally is stepping away for a moment.”

[Oh, I see.]

[What’s the matter?]

[It’s… I won’t be able to come in today.]

Grace had assumed Mrs. Tate would head straight to the Paramount Theater. Hearing the news surprised her.

[…She broke her leg from a fall during morning horseback riding.]

“Oh my, are you all right?”

[I’m actually feeling wonderful. Floating on a cloud made of morphine—best feeling ever.]

Her boss cracked a joke and passed the message.

[So please tell Mr. Grant that I’ll be represented by Sally today. He was singing about wanting to meet Winston. It looks like Sally got her wish.]

“Ah, yes. Haha… I’ll pass that on. Rest well.”

[Sure, thank you.]

Grace left a memo on her colleague’s desk and returned to her seat. She stared at the guest list again and sighed before picking up the phone.

“Grant Pictures executive office.”

She gave the hotel number she had looked up in the directory. After a long, tedious wait, someone finally answered the suite.

[Yes, who’s speaking?]

A voice Grace had never heard before.

“Grant Pictures executive office. May I speak with Mr. Stanley Pierce?”

In the hotel suite, a lavish late-morning meal had been prepared for dinner. Leon sat alone at the bar, staring at his coffee cup.

“Hah…”

Head propped on his hand, cigar in the other, he sighed. His head throbbed—the side effect of the medication. His pulse pounded in time with his heartbeat. Every beat was torture.

The screening was at seven. Nine hours of rest had been arranged, but it meant nothing to him. There was no peace outside the grave.

He had decided to abandon the circus show designed to lure her and return to the Annex.

“Your Excellency.”

Pierce entered and handed him a small envelope.

“A telegram from Lieutenant Campbell.”

“Campbell?”

Leon took the envelope. His personal maid appeared and called for Pierce.

“Mr. Pierce, there’s a call for you.”

Pierce left immediately. Leon set the envelope down and asked about the cigar.

The contents had him even more annoyed.

Something urgent had happened at the task force. He had no thought of reports about her. He had vowed to stop hoping for anything.

Only after finishing his coffee did he reluctantly open the envelope and read the paper.

[Woman and child. Sighted at Prescott Station yesterday.]

That was when his heart began to beat with meaning again.

[Yes, this is Pierce.]

A long moment passed before the voice on the other end replied.

“Hello, this is Anna Snyder of Grant Pictures.”

Pierce could never have imagined Grace was speaking to Sally Bristol from the estate. Grace recited her prepared greeting.

“We are deeply grateful that you attended the special screening at the Winston residence despite your busy schedule. I hope your journey to Prescott was comfortable.”

[Yes, it was.]

“I’m glad to hear that. Is there anything you need from the hotel?”

[No, nothing yet.]

[Excellent. If you require anything, our staff in the lobby is always available…]

After the formal pleasantries and reminder of today’s schedule, Pierce was about to end the call.

[Pierce! Bring the phone here now!]

A familiar voice came from the other end.

“Anna.”

The moment the executive office door burst open and someone called for her, Grace unconsciously furrowed her brow and pressed the phone closer to her ear. She even gave a silent shooing gesture to hang up.

For the boss.

[The woman definitely took the poster.]

The informant was a police officer in Prescott. He had searched other stations and found the number after the woman took the poster.

[Report everything about the woman—from the moment she entered the station until she left, no matter how small.]

[There was a woman in the station…]

Leon listened intently. When the officer mentioned the child speaking Norderian, he frowned.

[Then she gave the child candy. The child’s eyes were teal.]

His guess was correct. Leon smiled and moved the receiver away.

[She said her name was Suzie when asked.]

Suzie. Leon rolled the name on his tongue. Was it his daughter’s name? With so many aliases, he could not be certain.

“Who asked and who answered?”

The officer was confused by the question but answered after a pause.

[I asked the child… ah, now that I think about it, something seemed off. As soon as I asked the name, the child hugged me and the woman replied.]

Leon exhaled a hollow sigh. Alias confirmed. At that moment, she had already found the poster.

“Then she asked for something? An errand that required her to leave.”

[Er… yes. She asked the old woman outside for a cup of tea.]

He laughed quietly. Turning the officer’s attention elsewhere and stealing the poster was exactly what he expected.

“Did she have sunglasses after that?”

[Eh… how did you know?]

Leon laughed louder. His instinct about the woman had not died. Thrill ran through his fingertips.

In the car heading to Paramount Theater, Grace recited Mrs. Tate’s schedule from her notebook.

“After lunch, there is an interview at three with the editor of Prescott Tribune at the executive lounge.”

“I will follow your orders, Mrs. Snyder!”

The boss, seated beside her in the back, struck a formal salute and teased her. Grace’s face flushed once more.

“Truly…”

Grace felt trapped.

“It was a mistake, Mr. Grant.”

She had gestured for him to leave after annoying her all morning. The boss had continued mocking her even in the car.

“It’s a pity the old boss is interfering with the young count’s wish to hear his voice, Mrs. Snyder.”

A driver’s chuckle came from the front. Norman’s expression in the passenger seat was far from pleasant.

Embarrassing. Grace turned her gaze to the window. She had forgotten Norman always accompanied the boss.

She had discarded the memo to her colleague and decided to come to the theater. After all, the man would only arrive at night, and she would be gone before then.

“Anna, since you’re covering for Mrs. Tate, why don’t you attend the party too?”

The boss proposed seriously, as if the teasing had been forgotten.

“Introduce you to Winston. Since you’re hearing his voice, seeing the face is better.”

“That bastard…”

Grace nearly made another mistake and corrected herself.

“I wasn’t trying to hear his voice.”

Why had I done that?

Grace pressed her throbbing temple and sighed.

No, the incident at the station yesterday had rattled her. Had he learned something about her? She had only been listening in. But Pierce had cut the call exactly as the man commanded, so she had missed everything.

[Pierce! Bring the phone here now!]

His temper hadn’t changed. As Grace continued to replay the voice in her mind, the boss asked while wearing dark sunglasses that made him look entirely brown.

“Speaking of which, why wear sunglasses in winter, as if you’ve gone skiing?”

“My eyes hurt.”

“You’re not even thirty yet, and you’re already doing this?”

“Exactly.”

There was no other reason. She had disguised her eye color so people in Prescott wouldn’t recognize it.

“Hiding an actress’s eyes is one less joy for me.”

Grace playfully rolled her eyes at the boss, who often boasted about her seductive gaze revealing true actress talent.

“Listen, Anna. I know you think movie producers throw lines at any woman, but I’m serious. Unlike Virginia Roche, who is only a one-night lover, you could be the first love that every man remembers for life.”

Grace rolled her eyes again, treating it as a joke. The boss shook Norman’s shoulder.

“Norman, what do you think? Doesn’t it sound right?”

“Ah, yes. Yes…”

“See? Norman agrees. Anna, don’t worry. You’ve been married and have children—hide it. Since you’ll use an alias anyway.”

As the proposal grew more serious, Grace’s smile faded.

“Mr. Grant…”

“I’m sincere. If you have time today, go to the department store and buy evening dresses with my name on them. You’ll come to the party from head to toe. I’ll introduce you to an agent.”

“I’m fine. I just want to live quietly and normally.”

“Then come see your count.”

The boss tried to lure her to the party to tie her to an agent. She had no idea he was spreading insecticide instead of bait.

“You have to see him in person. He’s incredibly handsome. The kind of face women love. More suited to an actor than a soldier…”

Grace pressed her temple and swallowed her sigh. If only today would end. Then she wouldn’t have to suffer any more of that man’s stories.

Staff scurried frantically across the theater preparing for the screening. Everyone else was busy, yet Grace felt embarrassingly idle.

Until the interview, Grant would chat with the theater director. The interview would be handled by Norman. Still, she couldn’t leave far, so she wandered the theater with a cup of coffee.

It was natural to head toward the screening hall.

Empty.

The thought crossed her mind as she entered the second-floor balcony. A cough echoed from below. A man in blue overalls stood alone in front of the stage, adjusting the lights at the back.

Is the preparation almost finished?

As she turned to head downstairs, the buckle of her handbag clinked against the railing. The worker raised his head briefly before pulling his cap lower. When Grace reached the first floor, the worker had finished and was leaving with his tool bag.

The persistent coughing worker had finally gone. Silence fell over the vast theater. Alone in the screening hall, Grace sat on a stool between the spotlight beams at the back and sipped her coffee. Her gaze rested on the middle seat in the first row, labeled Leon Winston.

You have no idea I was ever here. Tonight, you will face my traces.

She stared at the man five hours from now and grinned.

Annoying.

Irritatingly so.

Clicking sounds came from somewhere. Grace pressed her watch to her ear, then scanned the seats. She realized the source was the clock embedded in the lighting fixture.

Was a repairman missing his watch inside the lights?

She unscrewed the bulb and froze. Inside the cylinder were nails, a small clock, and a dynamite stick planted in the center.

A bomb.

Police cars and military vehicles rushed to the front of Paramount Theater. Soldiers with metal detectors entered the building, watched anxiously by everyone.

“The Winston family’s security team is here too.”

Grace, watching from the café across the street, muttered as she saw the sedan stop at the curb. She pulled her scarf higher under the sunglasses. The men who exited were Winston family bodyguards. She was relieved none had recognized her, but she could not relax.

This is the work of Blanchard remnants. Who could it be? One of my acquaintances?

She kept her face hidden, just in case someone was watching from nearby. Fortunately, the man who planted the bomb had not seen her face. Late to realize, he had fled in panic.

Successful.

The police cleared the theater and gathered the staff as per Grace’s description. None matched the description she had given, nor the coughing worker.

“Amazing how the rebels were almost wiped out… but some survived.”

“They must have been thrilled by the film. Besides, the revenge target himself attended. A perfect opportunity for revenge.”

Grace watched Roger Grant and the theater director chat seriously, her eyes narrowing. How could they be so careless with security, knowing what it was?

“Anna, are you all right?”

“Huh?”

Norman startled her. Grace pulled her gaze from the executives. He had not noticed. His eyes were on her trembling hands holding the napkin.

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Roger, your staff look pale.”

“Anna must be terrified.”

The boss ordered brandy for the waiter, thinking she was the one in fear.

“You did well, Anna. Everyone here tonight… thanks to you, we avoided disaster. Although Mrs. Tate’s situation didn’t turn out as hoped, coming here as a substitute was perhaps divine will.”

“Isn’t rewarding employees who save lives the boss’s decision, haha?”

“Of course. Anna Snyder will receive the largest Christmas bonus from Grant Pictures this year. Thank you, truly.”

Of course you should thank me, you cheapskates in cheap suits.

Grace tilted the brandy glass and waited for the search to end. Then the bottoms of the glasses appeared. The police chief and bomb disposal commander joined the executives.

“Only four priest bombs filled with nails were found in the central seats of the first row. No others were discovered, so it seems the target wasn’t the entire audience.”

“Only the count.”

Grace’s head snapped up. She knew the blast radius of those nails better than anyone. If they hadn’t been found, that man would have died in unbearable, agonizing pain.

As the conversation shifted to whether to proceed with the screening, Grace spoke up.

“There might be another bomb.”

The executives dismissed her, but the boss finally agreed to a second search.

“We’ve already searched thoroughly, but humans aren’t perfect. If a bomb explodes during the screening, the damage would be enormous—possible box-office failure. Who would come to see a movie that might blow up?”

“Then cancellation is best. We’ve searched, but perfection is impossible. Honestly, if a high-ranking military officer is assassinated during the screening, we’ll be in serious trouble.”

“Even if the assassination attempt is reported, the damage would be great.”

Norman glanced out the window. Several suited men were taking photos of the theater and military vehicles with flashes. The media was already twisting the story.

“Is this God’s sign to save lives, dooming the investors?”

The boss sighed and rubbed his temples. With the production cost astronomical, bankruptcy would ruin the company. That was not Grace’s concern.

“Since the assassination attempt with the bomb failed, the perpetrator knows there might be a sniper…”

“We will search all surrounding buildings. We’ll maintain security until the screening ends.”

“But one small gap could destroy everything. No, even driving past during the red carpet and spraying bullets would work.”

The discussion failed to cancel the screening, but they agreed to move the red carpet event inside. When the police left, the boss looked at Grace in surprise.

“Anna, why are you so knowledgeable? About the bomb and everything. Were you a gang member?”

A former gang member. Not entirely wrong. Grace had lived among rebels her entire life and knew their methods better than anyone.

“My husband was in the military.”

Grace answered calmly. Again, not entirely false.

“Then I’ll head to the hotel to persuade the count.”

The boss stood and gestured for her to rise.

“Anna, come on. Seeing the count’s face will erase the shock from earlier.”

“Ah, I…”

Grace’s hands trembled.

“I can’t stand up yet—still too shaky.”

“Oh… waiter! Another brandy!”

The moment the executives and Norman left, the trembling vanished.

7:50.

Leon stood before the mirror, fastening his shirt cuffs. When his wristwatch caught his eye, he turned toward the window. The theater two blocks away still flashed its sign.

No bomb found.

The remnant-planted bomb was a timed explosive set to detonate at 7:30, the height of the screening.

They had agreed to delay the screening by an hour and a half. If the bomb exploded, the screening would be canceled automatically.

“Did Roger Grant call?”

Leon asked Pierce while putting on his suit jacket.

“Not yet.”

“Pity.”

Leon had lost interest in the screening after the morning news. Staying at the hotel to monitor progress was pointless; there would be no gains.

The officer had described the box in Grace’s hands as a gift. In the morning, Leon had sent someone to the toy section and searched for staff who remembered selling a mother-daughter pair matching the description. Fortunately, one staff member recalled the sale. Unfortunately, Grace had taken the toy herself without delivery. That blocked the easiest way to the address. The staff also couldn’t remember whether the check or cash had been used.

In other words, his options were two: scour Prescott and surrounding areas like a needle in a haystack, or check every check deposited at the department store yesterday.

Neither was optional for a man in his position.

His personal staff alone could not handle it. He summoned Campbell and core task force members from Winsford. While they worked, Leon’s personal staff called every nursery and pediatric clinic in Prescott asking about blond girls with teal eyes. No leads.

Tomorrow, when the sun rose, the search would expand to every city and town nearby. Hundreds of locations. If they found nothing, thousands would be searched without hesitation.

Leon straightened the handkerchief in his jacket pocket and looked out at the city lit by streetlights and neon.

Where are you, my daughter?

The king’s quiet encouragement to disband the task force amid the resurgence of rebel remnants was good news. Leon needed the task force commander’s authority to retrieve Grace and the child.

But the remnants and Grace appearing in the same city one day apart was ominous.

Perhaps she had been captured by the remnants and had no news. That made no sense. They could not live with a child if they were hostages, nor shop happily at the department store. If captured, there was no reason to steal the poster. It would be smarter to escape with his help. The remnants had no reason to take her to the station.

No, that was impossible.

The woman planting the bomb was also impossible. She was not merciful enough to give him a quick death.

Leon buttoned his jacket and looked up. His reflection in the window was that of a man who, after two years, finally had news of Grace and the child—far from happy.

This was his first opportunity in two years. The next might be ten years away. If there was a next.

Leon warned his reflection.

If you miss this one too, you will not be a living corpse but a rotting one.

He had lived three years of long despair following short hope. Hope no longer felt like hope.

The woman who took the poster knew he was tracking her. Please let the child slow her down. Leon left the suite with his staff.

“Send people to the theater the moment new information arrives.”

“Yes, Major.”

He dismissed Campbell with a salute and stepped out of the suite.

Half the task force was searching for the woman-issuer check matching the toy price. The other half tracked the rebel remnants. Dividing the manpower summoned for Grace and the child between remnant tracking was not welcome.

Devoting my entire life to chasing someone. The thought crossed his mind. In the past he might have laughed, but now even laughter was impossible.

Grace stood in the corner of the theater lobby, eyes fixed on the entrance. She was still armed with sunglasses and scarf, hand gripping the pistol grip in her coat pocket.

Military personnel searched incoming visitors thoroughly. Grace watched nearby, pretending to wait for the boss while checking their faces. She knew rebel faces better than anyone.

Fortunately, no unpleasant faces appeared yet.

That bastard—why is he even coming?

All day she had resisted calling the hotel to warn him not to attend the screening.

Do you have ten lives?

She had been insulting him silently.

“Anna!”

Sally, who had just been searched, approached after recognizing her.

“I waited for you. From now on, I’ll handle Grant’s staff. You can go.”

Grace kept her eyes on the entrance and shook her head.

“I want to watch the movie too.”

“Not the movie—what you really want is to see the count?”

Grace’s brow furrowed.

“No.”

That face—I see it every day at home. An angel’s face. I have no need to see a demon’s.

At eight, the publicity team began gathering journalists behind the red-carpet barriers. The two women had no place to stand and climbed the grand staircase to the second floor.

Leaning on the balcony, they chatted with colleagues when flashes erupted from the entrance.

“Huh, is it the count?”

A colleague peered down and groaned in disappointment.

“It’s Mr. Grant.”

The boss, arriving with his wife, spotted Grace and called out.

“Anna, weren’t you leaving?”

Grace had actually left, dropped Ellie at Lucy’s house, and returned.

“I wanted to watch the movie.”

“The count?”

“I don’t want to see him.”

The boss laughed heartily at the quick reply.

“Enjoy the movie. After it ends, you must come to the party. Your outfit is fine.”

As the boss continued useless chatter, cheering erupted below. Grace’s face turned cold as she looked down.

Leon Winston walked into Grace’s view for the first time in two years.

With one arm extended to the duke’s daughter.

The refined black tailcoat reminded Grace of the day he had made her serve him during the engagement.

It had been like this then too.

Grace suppressed the unfamiliar emotion that surged and searched for a familiar one.

Her platinum hair, perfectly styled despite the overwhelming flash, glowed brighter. Because he stood directly below, his face was not visible, but it was clear he was smiling.

He looked exactly as the media portrayed him—happy and perfect.

How is this possible? How can this be?

Grace’s hand trembled on the railing. As the man and the duke’s daughter reached the landing, she turned away.

“Oh my, Mrs. Tate was telling the truth. If I were the duke’s daughter, I would have tripped over my own feet staring at his face.”

Her colleague chattered on obliviously.

“Your Excellency, this way.”

Because of the earlier incident, the guest seats had been moved to the second floor. Following Grant’s guidance to the center of the first row, the audience below rose to applaud Leon.

He accepted the praise with his usual relaxed demeanor and sat. His mother, wearing her elegant noble mask, began complaining.

“The red carpet in a hall smaller than our estate entrance. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.”

Why was the red carpet now inside instead of outside? The boss had asked Grant directly, yet here she was. Dementia?

Leon had assigned his brother to his mother during the red carpet to avoid her nagging, but the seats were adjacent. Whoever arranged them had clearly set the stage for the worst time possible.

Still, as long as outward manners were observed, Leon would remain silent until the lights dimmed.

Yet even after the lights went out, peace eluded Leon. The moment his mother fell silent, the king spoke.

[Dear citizens, and the hero of Blackburn, Major Leon Winston.]

Grace had not expected a congratulatory video from the king.

Reporters on both sides flashed, competing to capture Leon’s stunned reaction to the “unexpected gift.” Leon reluctantly stood and bowed toward the screen.

No clown needed.

Back in his seat, he endured the endless flow of insincere flattery from his mother’s face while quietly picturing the day this cursed kingdom would fall.

He had heard from Grant that the king interfered with the script and synopsis from the film’s early days, inserting his own video at the beginning. The king was desperate to claim the spotlight cast upon Leon.

[As we bid farewell to this year and welcome the new one, may God’s blessing accompany all our people.]

Grace prayed to him for her. Because of that woman, he still ruled the throne.

Grace entered the screening hall only after the film began. In the same space, she briefly watched the man’s back as if he belonged to a different world, then sat in the empty seat at the very end.

The film company staff assumed Anna Snyder, the new assistant in the executive office, had no idea she was the heroine of the Blackburn conquest. The thought made her laugh.

[Father!]

The film began with a story of Leon Winston’s early life before his tragic father’s death. The young Leon on screen bore little resemblance to the adult Grace remembered. She stared at the back of his head instead, impatient for the childhood story to end.

She did not want her few happy childhood memories tainted.

[The one who laughs last is the ultimate victor.]

When the line appeared, Leon furrowed his brow. His father had never said that.

The one who laughs last is the ultimate victor.

On the day this war ended, with everything they held at stake, who would be the ultimate victor? Leon wondered, unaware that the woman who had posed the question in the same space was the same one.

[Blow! Quickly blow!]

[Ugh!]

Grace and Leon closed their eyes at the scene set in Abington Beach. Grace covered her ears too, but the horrible sounds only grew clearer—her ears ringing with the exact noises she had heard that night.

She had tried to cover the screams in her head with outside sounds.

[Father!]

The boy’s heartbroken cry echoed.

Would the boy have screamed like that upon first seeing his father’s cold corpse? Perhaps he had come searching for the absent mother and discovered the corpse.

Grace’s heart lurched when the realization hit late. The boy’s face pleading before his father’s body overlaid with Ellie’s, and her breath caught.

Once a child was born, one viewed the past through new eyes. The twelve-year-old boy who had seemed adult now looked like a child. The child, overwhelmed, would become a monster driven by revenge. She understood why that revenge had been aimed at her.

We were all immature. Adults even more so.

The two who had not grown at all from that day remained immature. She had wanted to grow but did not know what maturity meant. So she had fled as immaturely as that night.

Grace, stop. That boy is gone. The boy you loved is dead.

Who killed him?

I… I didn’t do it.

When the innocent blue eyes in the darkness stared at Grace, she gritted her teeth. She blinked and glared at the man’s back.

Why do I still suffer guilt and pity for something that monster did to me?

Do not forget what that monster did to me. You cannot forgive by understanding monsters.

[Our Western Command’s youngest domestic intelligence chief…]

Only after the screen leaped years into adulthood did Grace finally cast off her stubborn thoughts. He was no longer the boy; it was easier to hate him.

[Winston Captain, I trust you.]

The king’s sudden appearance twisted Grace’s face. The king was portrayed as Leon’s long-time supporter and benefactor. The film, meant as entertainment, now felt like propaganda.

Real people who did not exist in reality appeared. The events leading to the conquest of Blackburn were almost fictional.

Completely fake?

While everyone else held back tears, Grace and Leon fought to keep from laughing. To the hundreds of viewers in the theater, the film was tear-jerking and grand drama. To them alone, it was comedy.

But as the plot intensified, laughter became impossible.

[Born as the son of a hero, I will die as a hero.]

p>Grace recalled the line the man had whispered to her ear the last night he had locked her in the interrogation room.

“Darling, do you know?”

On the narrow bed, the man had held her body and said.

“I was born a noble and will live as a monster, then die as a hero.”

Then he had whispered against her ear.

“After that, I want to live as an ordinary man.”

Poison had followed.

“Insane talk.”

“You know me well?”

Madness from alcohol. From death to the next life. Completely unlike Leon Winston.

Anyway, today’s Leon Winston had achieved his dream of becoming a hero. Was it now his turn to die to reach the next goal of living as an ordinary man?

Was I supposed to let you die?

Grace sneered at the unmoving back.

You are a hero, but what am I?

Naturally, the film did not feature her. At the celebratory party honoring the hero who had liquidated the past and opened a new era, the nameless hero was merely an uninvited guest. Grace stood and left.

The film was not fake solely because of the king’s interference. The prologue Leon had given the screenwriter was twenty percent truth, eighty percent fiction. And in that prologue, Grace had no place. As far as records were concerned, she did not exist.

People would never know the true hero of that day was Grace Riddle. And the true defeat was Leon Winston.

Despite the ridiculous film, the village of Blackburn was recreated with terrifying accuracy. When the bus stop where she had disappeared came into view, Leon’s vision blurred.

If I had caught him then, everything in the past three years would have changed.

[Do you know what the cruelest revenge is?]

Leon answered himself on screen.

Love.

Love that forever turns its back on the one you love. A love she had known and successfully executed. A genius tactician.

As the battle erupted in gunfire, the excitement in the theater crackled with the heat of the crowd. To him, this triumphant revenge was a tragic nightmare.

Soon, the “Leon Winston” who had completed his revenge would smile. To him, it was mockery and torture.

It became unbearable. Leon ignored the curious stares and left.

The simple, clear moral of an entertaining film focused only on superficial lessons and sensational thrills had no place for the story of a boy and girl whose lives were shattered by the tragedy at Abington Beach. That was natural. Their ordinary young love had become tangled with betrayal, death, misunderstanding, and hatred; it could never be defined simply and clearly.

Leon walked toward the end of the quiet corridor and suddenly thought.

If our story were a film, it would be the most vicious, longest, and strangest romantic drama in history. No one could predict the ending, yet Leon alone foolishly hoped for a happy one.

But now he could not claim a happy ending. He only hoped it would not end as a tragedy without warning.

“Hoo…”

Grace sighed deeply while wandering the empty guest lounge. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have seen it. I need to leave. She repeated the thought as she picked up a bottle of expensive champagne from the table.

This is not stealing. After the screening, the guests would head straight to the hotel party. The drinks and food in the guest lounge would inevitably be consumed by staff.

It was the job of the person who noticed first. So it was hers.

She had stopped in the lounge on the way home because she needed fireworks to celebrate the eve of Christmas—the three-year anniversary of her escape from that man.

The ultimate victor…

Grace stuffed the champagne into her bag and saw the poster on the wall. She smiled bitterly. History is written from the victor’s perspective, but the film was written from the perspective of those who funded it.

Even the man who believed he was the ultimate victor might call this film a ridiculous hack from his completely different viewpoint.

Anyway, from whose perspective was this decision made?

Grace wondered, a little happier that the rebels in the interrogation scene were all men. Who had decided not to include Angela Riddle in the film? If it was that man’s decision, was it out of pity or to protect her father’s honor?

Whether she appeared or not was also a question.

Grace smiled hollowly as she recalled the man she had seen today. The satisfaction of still searching for her and Ellie had vanished like a mirage the moment she saw Leon Winston’s carefree posture on the red carpet.

Why did I distort him in my head? There was no dangerous aura, as if in a dream or nightmare.

If he had become a corpse, I would have laughed heartily.

Instead, I wanted to confirm the nonexistent thing with my own eyes and ended up remembering only the engagement. From the small incident on his father’s memorial day, to the moment I met my biological father, to the day I finally had Ellie. Looking back, that was the turning point.

“I have to give our daughter back…”

Grace muttered to herself, feeling gloomy. She took the juice bottle, cookies, and chocolate from the table and placed them in her bag. Imagining Ellie’s delighted face made her feel better.

She was about to leave, bag heavy enough to tear her shoulder, when a voice came from outside.

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

The security guard at the door.

“The lounge is this way.”

Grace quickly hid behind the folding partition in the corner. The door opened. Despite three years without hearing those footsteps, the familiar sound still made her hold her breath.

Please don’t come this way.

But he walked straight toward it. She had forgotten he had never refused to come when invited. As the footsteps grew closer, wild thoughts raced through her mind.

If he catches me, he might take Ellie and me.

Behind the partition, Grace smelled his cologne as well as his presence. It was the end. The footsteps stopped one step behind the partition, and the sound of a phone being picked up echoed.

“Room 2101, Bellevue Hotel.”

Relief flooded her, but she could not relax. Between her and that man, there was only a thin silk partition. She prayed the beautiful embroidery on the expensive silk would hide her while she listened to his call.

[Change to Campbell.]

Campbell is here too? What’s going on?

[Yes, progress is…]

After a long silence, the man sighed heavily.

[Tomorrow morning, prepare for a full search of Prescott and its outskirts by tonight.]

Grace’s heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out even the man’s voice. She could not listen to Campbell’s reply.

[Yes. Focus on those two places.]

Even without hearing, the content was clear. He was tracking the remnants who had planted the bomb in the theater.

The man ended the call and left. But the sound of him collapsing onto the sofa stopped him. Grace whispered to herself.

Please go.

“Please…”

Behind the partition, the man suddenly muttered to himself and sighed deeply. The strange sound that followed made Grace’s heart stop.

Impossible.

She slowly turned her head. Through the narrow gap of the folding partition, she saw the man alone on the leather sofa. Again, his face was hidden by white cloth.

That…

A pink-ribbon and lace-frilled bonnet. More shocking than the fact that Ellie’s two-year-old bonnet was in his hands was the way his shoulders rose and fell.

“Please…”

Grace ignored the trembling in her voice and repeated.

He is smiling. That is a smile. It must be a smile.

“It’s good, isn’t it, Ellie?”

Grace stared at Ellie’s sleeping face in the darkness. The officer hadn’t recognized us. If he had reported us, that man would never have done this in the lounge.

Then I can live here.

“It’s good.”

It’s over. Now sleep peacefully. Grace scolded herself and closed her eyes, but soon opened them again, groaning as she rolled over.

Suddenly she remembered the nails packed tightly inside the bomb. Whether his or not, he had been one step late. That man already had Grace Riddle’s nails deep in the roots of Ellie’s existence.

She had wished to become an unremovable nail in that man’s heart forever. Then she should be happy.

“Hah…”

The sound that came out might have been a sigh, not a laugh.

Grace, be happy. You must be happy.

Jazzy piano music played, and the clinking of crystal glasses blended into the melody.

At the center of the party hall, people danced nonstop—dances that his mother would have despised as vulgar. At the head table, the film company boss chattered endlessly.

“If not for that female employee, everyone here would be listening to a funeral march instead of jazz tonight. The remnants got their way, but we survived. The military and we won again, didn’t we?”

Leon’s whiskey glass was refilled before he could finish. Grant poured the bottle with the speed of a waiter.

“Tomorrow’s papers will report that the screening ended without incident. Ah, speaking of which…”

He set the bottle down and gestured to a young woman chatting with a man by the window.

“Hey, Norman!”

As the man and woman approached, Grant introduced them.

“Norman is my public relations manager.”

Leon, bored, had been sitting with legs crossed the entire day, nodding only to businesspeople and actresses without shaking hands.

“A capable professional. Norman will soften up the journalists so they cause no noise. It won’t affect the box office—don’t worry.”

Whether the film succeeded or failed, Leon did not care. His head nodded mechanically until the boss introduced the female employee.

“And here is Sally, Mrs. Tate’s secretary.”

When Leon looked up and met her eyes, “Sally” flinched. The woman slowly extended her tongue to moisten her lips and smiled, lifting the corner of her mouth. Leon finally spoke.

“My guess was wrong.”

“Eh?”

“The first time I saw you at the theater…”

“You remember me?”

The woman’s voice trembled childishly as she stamped her feet and clapped.

“I imagined a name more mature than Sally—like Eva.”

“Oh my, you asked about my name? Goodness, maybe I like it. It feels like a dream. Actually, I wanted a less rural, more sophisticated name because ‘Sally’ sounded like a country girl or maid.”

“Please don’t forget Eva in your list of name ideas.”

“Yes! It’s an honor, Your Excellency.”

Yes, given how you’ve been using my name freely, this is an honor.

Leon raised his glass again. Grant scanned the two employees and asked.

“Speaking of which, where is Anna?”

The staff shrugged, not knowing.

“Oh, she ran away. Well, at least she knows how to slip out.”

Leon tilted his glass, then smiled. He knew a woman who was exceptionally good at slipping away.

“Anna is…”

As the staff left, Grant leaned on the table and continued with more pointless chatter.

“She’s a wonderful employee who begged the boss to let her hear Your Excellency’s voice. Actually, she’s more suited to acting than office work—a rare talent. I wanted to bring her today to introduce her to agents…”

Grant clicked his tongue in disappointment. Leon continued with disinterest.

“This young lady… I mean, this friend has the eyes of an actress. The only pity is that the subtle light in those eyes cannot be shown on screen…”

At that moment, the teal eyes reflected in the tilted crystal glass shone with new light. Leon set the glass down and said.

“Teal.”

Grant’s face froze.

“How did you know?”

But from this moment, the questions were no longer his.

“The employee who discovered the bomb first today, right?”

“Yes, yes. That’s her.”

“And she has a daughter around two years old.”

“Ah, no, how did you—”

Because I am still unable to look away from those mysterious eyes.

The woman who knows how to make priest bombs.

My daughter.

Leon finally answered silently and curved his eyes.