My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 282

Edwin Eccleston wouldn’t feel wronged even if the world pointed at him and called him a mongrel. It was, after all, true.

After realizing that the more honest he was about his sexual desires, the more he was freed from his multiple personality disorder, he loosened the reins that he had kept tightly bound below his waist his entire life. However, to Giselle, who was on the receiving end of that unleashed desire, Edwin didn’t seem to be merely plunging into sex to kill off another personality.

He was a libertine. He was terrifying, the way he had concealed such enormous lust—a lust great enough to develop into a separate ego—all this time. She was confirming with her entire body that Lorenz’s sex addict tendencies were, in fact, Edwin Eccleston’s own, and at the same time, she was paying dearly for having underestimated him as a gentleman, her voice cracked and lost, failing to return.

Of course, Edwin didn’t just attack like a dog in heat, as Lorenz did. Even now, two weeks after she first consented, he would meticulously start by seducing Giselle. Perhaps thanks to that, she never felt he was merely relieving his lust on her. It was always love.

Edwin Eccleston’s seduction was sometimes utterly sweet, and other times breathtakingly provocative, yet he never lost his composure. Like a man who was certain Giselle would give in even before he began to tempt her.

Frustratingly, it was true, and before she knew it, Giselle was inevitably clinging to him, her naked body drenched in sweat, crying out, ‘More, more, more.’

The rule of only meeting on weekends had long since been broken. Could she possibly keep up the nightly cries without damaging her throat?

—Are you sure it’s not a cold? There are colds where only your throat hurts.

—No, sir. It must be because it’s dry in the winter.

—You should go to the hospital anyway, shouldn’t you?

Lieutenant Latimer’s unwitting and innocent concern was utterly embarrassing. She found the man sitting across from her so hateful—the one who, despite being the cause of her trouble, handed her a glass of water and then shamelessly focused on his work without a single change in expression, as if it were someone else’s problem.

—Do you have any mints?

Only then did Edwin lift his gaze from the report to look at her. But Giselle had asked Lieutenant Latimer.

The Lieutenant pulled out a tin of mints and opened it. The man sitting opposite watched Giselle—who picked one out, put it in her mouth, and very slowly melted it with her tongue—intently, without a twitch.

To others, it would seem like an indifferent gaze, one whose true meaning was unknowable. Only Giselle, who had seen that look from him since she was a child, knew the real meaning behind that stare.

Just you wait until we’re alone later.

She used to worry that her uncle would scold her, but not anymore. She continued to play innocent, sucking the candy deliberately, right in front of him.

—I can’t even kiss you during duty, so do you know how agonizing it is when you secretly smile when we make eye contact? I’m not telling you not to smile, though.

According to the principles learned during intelligence officer training, words become a weakness. Taking aim at a weakness Edwin had once revealed, and performing the preparatory motions of a kiss she couldn’t actually deliver right in front of him, was a small act of revenge.

Besides, doesn’t he worry that staring so openly might make people suspicious of their relationship?

‘Director, get back to work.’

Gesturing toward the report would be tantamount to confessing she was above the Director.

—I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. Do you need a mint, too, Director?

When she indirectly shot him a look to stop staring, he finally shook his head and lowered his eyes back to the report.

—Have another. You need to quickly recover that voice of yours, clear and beautiful as a flowing stream.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant Latimer continued to unknowingly dig his own grave until Major Hawkins sharply told him that chatter was forbidden during the meeting, which finally made him stop. Only then did the speed of his hands turning the report pages pick up.

Following her suggestion, it was decided that Lemming had been eliminated, and Giselle would take his place, in order to plant counter-intelligence and carry out a deception operation in Constanz in the long term, thereby strengthening the front lines.

The information Giselle had provided during the Wylmers Bay landing operation had been accurate, specifically for this day, so Constanz welcomed her without suspicion. A little while ago, a new cipher system was successfully delivered to her through the existing double agent managed in Room 303. And so was her mission.

—’Honey Trap’?

The Director read the mission aloud from the report. His brow furrowed deeply, and his eyes narrowed sharply. Everyone, sensing his palpable displeasure, nervously watched him. Giselle pretended to be nervous, too.

As the importance of Operation Weasel grew daily, the information that Colonel Eccleston was actually the Director of Army Intelligence was offered to the other side to make the Constanz forces rely more on Giselle. That, in turn, led to the instruction to seduce him.

—They’re asking for the impossible.

How could she further seduce a man who was already deeply in love with Giselle?

That was the meaning behind his words, but to the others, it sounded like he meant such a thing between the two of them was impossible. Thanks to this, suspicion would certainly be avoided.

—If the honey trap succeeds, the other side will demand increasingly high-level intelligence and worry about Lieutenant Bishop defecting. But if it fails, that’s also a problem for us. Do you have a plan on how to respond to and leverage this instruction?

The Director listened to Major Hawkins’ report and keenly pointed out the potential flaws. After nearly ten minutes of brutally dissecting and reassembling the strategy, a plan so thorough that the initial proposal looked like a child’s sandcastle stood tall. Only then did the Director put down the report.

—Good. It seems smooth sailing so far. Was there any hint of suspicion at all?

—There were no particularly suspicious circumstances. However, the intention behind the codename Constanz gave Lieutenant Bishop is somewhat ambiguous.

—What is the codename?

Someone had to answer, but the superiors, who earned more money and had been around longer than Giselle, were flustered and used their eyes to pass the obligation to answer to the junior officer. Unable to bear the pressure from their three pairs of eyes, Giselle eventually brought the embarrassing title to her lips.

—…Duchess.

The Director’s face hardened rigidly. Everyone held their breath, watching him nervously. The two officers didn’t realize that the rigid face was actually trying to suppress a smile. And Giselle was afraid Edwin might lose control and make a mistake.

—Ah… Duchess?

It wasn’t a monologue. He was calling Giselle. In front of other people.

—What is the Duchess’s opinion on this?

This wasn’t her bed; was this really the time for playing house? Giselle stubbornly hardened her face and replied in a professional manner.

—I think it’s out of the question.

She had aimed for Edwin to be momentarily flustered, but why was Major Hawkins also looking surprised?

—He’s asking how Lieutenant Bishop is planning to react to Constanz.

—Ah.

Giselle’s mind snapped back, and her face instantly flushed. To have been completely fooled by that man’s ambiguous wordplay—this was the ultimate humiliation.

—I plan to protest to Constanz and ask if they are mocking me.

Constanz believed that Giselle was betraying them to take revenge for being manipulated by Duke Eccleston. And yet, they assigned her the codename Duchess. It was practically making fun of her. That was why she had described their intention as ambiguous. Perhaps it was some kind of test.

—Good.

This assessment, delivered by the strict Director with an unexpectedly satisfied smile, was also a piece of ambiguous wordplay. Only Giselle would have understood that he was amused by her repaying a sly trick with a sly trick of her own.

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That day, they had to work overtime to send the protest message to Constanz. As they left after 8 PM, Edwin handed her a paper bag as soon as they got into the car.

Inside was a tin of throat lozenges containing herbs, ginger, and the like. Her voice had largely returned thanks to keeping her mouth mostly closed during duty, so she didn’t particularly need them, but Giselle opened a tin and put a candy in her mouth.

Ugh… it tastes awful.

Isn’t that what a lover is for—to share the hardship?

—Want one?

She shook the tin and asked, but Edwin shook his head, his eyes fixed on the road. As she closed the tin and put it back in the bag, something incongruous caught her eye. All the others were throat lozenges, but one was a tin of mints.

Had he bought his own and forgotten? She reached out to take the tin out and place it in his jacket pocket, but Edwin grabbed her wrist.

—It’s yours.

—I don’t need it. What’s yours is mine.

He usually liked such words, but oddly, there was no change in his expression.

—You carry it.

—Are you perhaps upset because I got one from Lieutenant Latimer earlier?

In that moment, as if she had hit the wrong trigger, he snapped.

—How could you ask another man for a mint?

—Why not? Is a mint a condom, or an engagement ring?

Asure: I know, I know… I know you want more, so let’s try a little dynamic: If I see enough comments—specifically 30 in Spanish and 20 in English—by tomorrow, Sunday, 09/28, you’ll all get five extra chapters. Naturally, the Spanish comments should be posted here, and the English comments should be posted on the English version of the novel on this blog. I’ll be using UTC/GMT -5 hours as the reference time.

P.S.: Comments from the same user won’t count. I’ll be watching 👀. I want to see how many ghost users are out there :v… Let the game begin! :v