Her Graceful War Song novel Chapter 1339

After two days of careful observation, Carissa decided on her target: Miles Grant, the deputy head of the Waterworks Department.

He was 35 years old and had served five years in the Ministry of Infrastructure. Born to a family of farmers and scholars, he lost his parents at a young age. To secure his education at the most prestigious academies, he drained his older brother of every last resource.

After passing the last level of the national examinations, Miles entered government service. His obsession with wealth and his miserly nature were well known. He had long since severed ties with the brother who had once supported him, casting him aside like an old shoe.

If that weren't enough, Miles had also discarded his first wife, citing jealousy as the excuse. Then, he remarried the only daughter of his former mentor, who was the headmaster of Whitecloud Academy. His mentor had since passed away, and while Miles' second wife came from a noble background, she was treated no better than the first.

He was scum. An ungrateful scoundrel.

Still, men like him were useful—too consumed by greed and too selfish to hide their weaknesses. Once one had control over them, they would spill everything.

That very night, Carissa ordered Travis to act. Miles was seized and taken to a secluded estate on the western edge of the city. There, he was locked in a woodshed and left to stew in the dark for the night. Fear and hunger would soften him up before the real questioning began.

Ambushed on his way home, Miles had been thrown into a burlap sack before he could cry for help. When he awoke, he found himself in a pitch-black room that offered no clues about his location. He assumed he had been kidnapped for ransom.

He wanted to shout out, but then realized not only were his hands and feet bound, he had also been gagged. All he could make were muffled sounds.

Hours passed. Alone in the dark, his thoughts spiraled into panic.

By the time the door opened the next morning and light poured in, he instinctively turned his head to avoid the blinding glare. He hardly waited before turning his head back, staring intently at the figure in dark clothing.

The person was dressed as a man, but Miles immediately recognized who it was—someone he had seen before.

It was the Hell Monarch's princess consort, Carissa Sinclair.

He was shocked. He had thought he had been kidnapped by bandits, but to his surprise, it was Carissa.

Hoarse and strained, Miles' voice quivered as he spoke, "Your Grace, I don't understand how I've offended you."

Carissa didn't answer. Instead, she sat down on a chair that Travis had brought over, her gaze steady and unreadable as her men worked behind her. One by one, they carried in an assortment of tools: an iron brazier, tongs, whips, wooden stakes, and a rack, its surface mottled with rust.

The sight of those items drained all color from Miles' face.

His breath hitched. "W-what is this? What are you planning to do?"

Finally, Carissa said, "There's no need to panic. I only have a few questions for you. Answer honestly, and you'll walk out of here unharmed."

Miles noticed her calm and even tone. She didn't sound like someone ruthless. For a moment, he tried to regain some composure, forcing a harsh tone as he spoke.