Icing on the cake - Chapter 1: Part 1

C1. Apple Crumble Cherry Pie

An unexpected visitor arrived.

It was shortly after two in the afternoon. The neighborhood, already quiet, was plunged into absolute silence after lunchtime. A customer who had left his car during the midday break had left, and Yuri Kiselyov was left alone inside the workshop. He looked around; there were about four vehicles that needed repair that day.

The auto shop, which had already been open for more than three years, was run by Yuri and his father. To be exact, Yuri used to help in his father’s business, but since they started getting more clients, the days he had to be present had increased.

Today was one of those days. Yuri realized too late that he hadn’t eaten anything all day and thought it would be better to make something quick.

He had no appetite. But he was hungry.

He took off his grease-stained gloves, blackened with dirt, and left them on a shelf. The white backs of his hands that were exposed weren’t much different from the gloves. The blue veins running across his prominent knuckles were mixed with grease, leaving his hands a mess.

Yuri silently looked at his hands and then decided to go back to the house next to the workshop to eat a peanut butter sandwich. There was nothing more absurd than wasting too much time eating, so a simple menu seemed best.

Once the decision was made, he looked for a piece of paper to leave a note saying he’d be away. When he opened the drawer under the desk, filled with tools, he found a book, a notebook, and a pen neatly arranged. He took out the writing tools, organized according to his meticulous nature, and began writing the note. His fingers, which held the pen in a somewhat peculiar way, traced twisted letters on the paper.

Although his appearance could be considered neat, he had terrible handwriting that was hard to read. He had found out his handwriting was bad when he met his friend. His only lifelong companion and friend always laughed mockingly beside him every time he saw him write.

After silently recalling that laughter, which was now hard to hear, he approached the entrance to lock the workshop door. It was at that moment that the unexpected visitor arrived.

It was a kind of visit hard to define as a customer.

“Hey, hi.”

Following the small voice that sounded outside the workshop, Yuri fixed his gaze. On his pale and particularly expressionless face, a cold severity condensed for a moment before vanishing immediately. Upon confirming the visitor’s identity, his wariness receded. The unexpected visitor was the woman who had left her car the previous Sunday.

Instead of a warm response, Yuri observed her in silence. It was an inevitable habit. A product of a lifetime lived this way, a deeply rooted custom that wouldn’t let go. First he judged whether the other person was armed, what their intentions were in approaching, and after that basic analysis of a stranger, he decided how to act.

It wasn’t common behavior, but Yuri was like that.

“How can I help you?”

A not-so-cordial greeting flowed from his lips. It wasn’t the chivalrous attitude one might expect toward a woman much smaller than him. But Yuri couldn’t be a gentleman, so this was the maximum kindness he could show.

Still, it was an improvement. Social courtesy formulas and direct speech had softened as he integrated into society. Unlike him, his father, who had lived his own way for a long time, maintained a tone not much different from the past. Habits accumulated over years hardened like sediment layers and were hard to break.

“Well… don’t you remember me? I came last week. It was a Sunday.”

It seemed the impersonal greeting had intimidated her, because she added several words. With each word, a wave of the soft and characteristic Omega pheromone emanated from the woman in front of him. Each person’s body odor is different, but the Omega pheromone caused a tickling like a light breeze and gave a soft sensation, as if it would vanish at the touch.

Due to their natural affinity, Alphas like Yuri basically felt sympathy for Omegas. Whether it was fondness or instinctive attraction, Alpha and Omega pheromones were like magnets that drew each other.

That’s why most Alphas were usually kind to an Omega. Unless they were very picky about physical appearance, it was generally like that. Objectively, the woman was beautiful and could attract the gaze of any Alpha anywhere. Probably because of that, Yuri’s brusque attitude had confused her.

Seeing her roll her pretty green eyes to gauge his reaction, Yuri tried to figure out why she was visiting the workshop. He didn’t remember her name but did remember the car she had left: a 2022 Subaru Forester in an uncommon blue color. It seemed she often drove on rural roads because the wheels had mud and the windows had small stone marks. The interior was relatively clean, but there were stiff hairs on the seat, maybe from a dog, and, though uncommon, it had a black box installed.

She seemed like an ordinary person. Her hands, seen in passing, were soft, without calluses or wrinkles, indicating she was far from doing hard work. That was all Yuri remembered about her.

Yuri, who had been reflecting, nodded slightly. It wasn’t a warm response, but it was enough for the woman’s face to light up.

“So you do remember me! What a relief. The car suddenly broke down and it was a real mess. I came because this was one of the few garages open on Sunday. Thank you so much for fixing it so quickly. And well…”

The more she spoke, the redder her earlobes became. She spat the words out as if something were chasing her, held her breath for a moment, and then handed something to Yuri. When he glanced down at the white shopping bag the woman was carefully offering him, a sweet aroma rose from inside. A cloying, strangely sickly smell struck his nose hard enough to numb his sinuses.

“As a thank-you, I made you a dessert. It’s a tart.”

Ah… So that’s what it was.

This year Yuri turned thirty-two. At this age, he had more than enough experience to know what lay behind a show of kindness, and if it was flirting between an Alpha and an Omega, it felt especially familiar. It made him uncomfortable to see her carrying a paper bag that looked heavy, so he silently reached out. His fingers brushed hers lightly as he took the handle. The woman’s hand was so small it would have fit easily in Yuri’s palm.

At the touch, she looked up with a start. Yuri glanced sideways at her pretty face, full of expectation and excitement, then coolly lowered his gaze to examine the tart. The dessert the customer handed him was an apple-and-cherry crumble tart, with a thick, well-baked base.

The tart, topped with a crumbling crust, was filled with fresh cherries and apples that looked appetizing and gave off an aromatic fragrance. The round tart, like those displayed in pastry shops, still gave off a faint warm steam, as if freshly made, and the hands offering it were flushed like cherries. Since it was late June and the weather was starting to warm, it wasn’t the cold that had turned them red.

It looked delicious. Both the aroma and appearance suggested so. But after looking at it for a moment, Yuri handed it right back to the woman.

“No, thank you.”

Since it seemed necessary to give a reason for the refusal, he added the truth.

“I don’t usually eat desserts.”

Yuri disliked sweet things. Not just because even the slightest sweetness made the tip of his tongue ache and ruined his appetite, but because he disliked the particular deception sugar created. The instant pleasure of eating something sweet felt like a way of falsifying reality. So with desserts, he didn’t even pretend to eat them out of politeness.

“Do you have an allergy?”

The woman asked, startled. Unlike where Yuri used to live, this city paid close attention even to allergies like gluten or dairy. She looked uncomfortable, wondering if she had made a mistake.

Yuri considered whether to be more explicit, but decided to wait.

“No. I just don’t eat them.”

“I see. What a shame.”

The woman put the dessert away, looking confused. Seeing that expression, Yuri’s mood also turned awkward. He had never learned how to accept kind gestures—things like consideration or concern.

“Mm.”

A hesitant sigh was heard, and the woman gathered her courage again.

“I know this might make you uncomfortable, but I’ve been thinking about it all week and couldn’t get it out of my head. I swear to God, I’m not the type to make the first move. So… if it’s okay with you, would you like to go out with me?”

There it was—the heart of the matter. It was a brave move, and Yuri didn’t dislike her proposal. Her slender figure, curly brown hair, and intelligent green eyes could, in a way, be considered his type. But Yuri’s answer had always been decided in advance.

“I’m sorry.”

Yuri had no intention of dating anyone. He never had and planned to keep it that way.

“Do you mean you already have a partner?”

“No.”

His laconic answers seemed to frustrate her, because the woman’s face flushed with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. Yuri frowned slightly, smoothed his bangs with his large hand, and, following his father’s advice not to make a lady feel miserable, gave an explanation.

“I’m not in a position to see anyone.”

“What if it’s just one date? Or is it that you don’t like how I look? But I promise, I’m more fun than I seem. Just give me a little of your time.”

Then, in a voice full of genuine affection, she whispered:

“Please.”

There was only one other answer Yuri could give: “A date is difficult, but I could sleep with you once during your heat cycle.” However, it was clear the woman didn’t want that response, and Yuri had no desire to utter those words and risk a slap. Losing his lunch break was already enough.

As the silence stretched on, the woman sighed. As if she didn’t understand, she ruffled her hair and then suddenly raised the paper bag she was holding to point at him.

“Then, do you prefer an Alpha? Or a Beta?”

What nonsense.

As these wild speculations began, Yuri decided it was better to end it there. Dating an Alpha was unacceptable in his world. Maybe in Vancouver it wasn’t so strange, but just hearing it annoyed him.

“You’ll find someone better.”

He apologized while looking into her glassy green eyes, then closed the door. Once locked in the workshop, Yuri let out a sigh. The old wall clock his father had picked up somewhere already showed two o’clock. Lunchtime was over. If he wanted to finish the repairs as planned, he’d have to get to work diligently.

At least he had the modest satisfaction that his appetite had disappeared after smelling the sugar. Yuri touched his abdomen, which remained calm as if anesthetized, then looked at the back of his hand. His white skin, stained with grease, looked terribly dirty. When he thought about it, his hands had never been clean. Never.

***

Not forming bonds with loved ones was one of those promises those who walked this world made to protect themselves. By “this world,” they meant the realm where those who engaged in illegal activities gathered. The contract killers who had a talent for killing, the mafias who chose to exploit others to make money, or the intermediaries and technicians who helped them in exchange for money, all knew this rule.

Yuri Kiselyov was a mobster. That single phrase was enough to describe him. He was far from being a normal person. Yuri Kiselyov was a criminal and a bad guy; his entire past was uniformly terrible and sordid. Not even God could grant him indulgence, and the sins burned into his soul wouldn’t disappear even with death.

That’s why he didn’t date anyone. Yuri had no right.

“Yuri, Alyosha said he’s coming tonight.”

His father, who had returned around five in the afternoon, gave him the news. He had gone shopping and apparently ran into Alexei downtown.

At the mention of his old friend’s name, Yuri’s stoic expression changed. His cold, tense brow softened, and his blue eyes showed a glimmer of joy.

“About what time?”

“Who knows. For that boy, ‘at night’ will probably mean past nine.”

“Then should we eat at that time?”

“Alright. Oh, he said he’d bring a guest.”

Hearing the word “guest,” Yuri pressed his lips together for a moment. Though he was his friend, Alexei was far from having a character that would lead him to bring guests. It was strange.

“Valery?”

In the end, what came to mind was Valery, Alexei’s lover. His father shook his head.

“No. He said it had to do with your work. Let me remember. The boy said to tell you this exactly.”

After saying that, his father imitated his friend’s expression. He arched his eyebrows arrogantly and drew a wide smile on his handsome face while laughing heartily. That image overlapped his father’s face.

“’Buy me some chocolates to offer me.’“

His father laughed loudly and then locked the shop door. Obeying the abrupt urging to go rest, Yuri left the workshop and headed to his car parked out front. He was going to leave immediately to buy the chocolate as Alexei had asked, but seeing his reflection in the car window, with grease on his face and neck, he went inside for a moment.

Grease doesn’t come off easily. He had to scrub with soap until his skin stung for the stains to become barely visible. After washing his face at the sink, he put on a black jacket that looked presentable.

He started the car and headed downtown. To get downtown from North Vancouver, where he lived, he had to cross a bridge. The signs indicated that a trip that normally took 20 minutes would take an hour at this rush hour due to congestion.

As he watched the endless line of cars, Yuri silently listened to the music playing on the radio. Out of habit, he reached to light a cigarette, then realized it was something that could attract police attention. The city where he had spent most of his life was a lawless space where the concept of “illegal” barely existed, so sometimes he made these mistakes.

Had it been three years already?

He had been living with a fake identity for about that long, mixed into society pretending to be normal. His last name was Kiselyov, but his documents listed him as Yuri Campbell. Even the way Yuri was written didn’t follow the Russian form, but the common North American one. His father had gone from being Vasili Kiselyov to Jeff Murray. A truly ridiculous name for someone who spoke English with a thick Russian accent.

Both his great friend Alexei Sorokin and his father had actually been born and raised in a U.S. border zone—a small town called Saratov. It was an arid place where immigrants from the continent had gathered during the turbulent collapse of the Soviet Union.

Saratov was a kind of dump. A vast landfill where the poor and desperate who couldn’t emigrate or go into exile clustered together. Such vulnerable, abandoned people always attract someone looking to exploit them. Saratov was controlled by a Soviet-origin mafia that had decided to treat the land as its own kingdom. In this way, the forgotten little border town became a nest of criminals.

Yuri was born in a place like that. The fate of children born in a city where even dreaming of university was impossible was almost always the same: become exploiters to survive, or be victims and die. Most of the brave who refused that destiny died; the lucky ones escaped the city carrying deep scars.

[… It seems we’ve already talked enough about the new Prime Minister’s policy we mentioned earlier. Well, we have some Vancouver news of interest, right?!]

[Yes. It’s about the injury of Cheriot Goodnight, captain of Vancouver’s Red Maple.]

[They say he’s out for the season with a knee injury during training. Is it true?]

[The exact reason hasn’t been made public, but it appears confirmed that he’s out for the season. The season just started and expectations for Red Maple this year are very high, so fans are hugely disappointed.]

[Considering he’s an athlete with one of the biggest fan bases in all of North America, it’s understandable…]

Absorbed in needless brooding, Yuri hadn’t noticed the music had stopped. The program changed, and he listened distractedly to the conversation when the name Cheriot Goodnight lingered in his ear for a moment. A name as ridiculous as Jeff Murray. Whether the public agreed or not, to Yuri it was an awful name.

Yet that peculiar name—perhaps fake—had the knack of sticking in memory. Though he wasn’t especially interested in world affairs, he remembered it because it was inevitably mentioned by hockey-obsessed people; just one night at the pub during a game and the name stuck.

Cheriot Goodnight.

After murmuring the odd name to himself without much thought, Yuri finished parking. On a weekday evening, fortunately, there was a free spot in front of the chocolaterie—unthinkable on a weekend.

In these small moments, he often realized he lived a “normal” life. Saratov was a place where the concept of illegality had almost vanished, and with its tiny population, he’d never heard of parking shortages.

Getting out of the car, he looked around for a parking ticket. Spotting a meter nearby, he walked slowly toward it. The instant his black boots hit the rain-drizzled cobblestones, he sensed a presence behind him—specifically, pheromones.

Though almost scentless, as if using a neutralizer, they were unmistakably an Alpha’s. Noticing the steps closing in and the pheromones heading his way, Yuri clenched the hand inside his jacket.

Someone approaching in a city where almost no one knew him was usually a bad omen—an enemy from the past, or someone tangled up in Alexei’s work.

Pretending not to notice and staring at the meter, Yuri waited. The steps grew hurried, the presence amateurish, but he couldn’t relax…

“Hey, handsome. Got a minute…?”

The instant the other stopped right behind him to speak, Yuri whipped his torso around and shot out his arm. His left hand lashed like a whip, seizing the man’s wrist as it reached for his shoulder. Twisting in one motion, the stranger yelped a stifled groan and bent double.

“Ow, ow, ow-ow-ow!”

The first thing Yuri noticed was how thick and solid the man’s wrist felt in his grip.

“Damn, hell, God almighty!”

The second was that the man was an easy civilian to subdue, making all tension pointless. Hmm. Not sure he was a civilian—hard to find an Alpha who’d approach another Alpha calling him “handsome.”

So if not an enemy… a lunatic?

The man, wrist twisted and forced to lean his large torso, had an intimidating build, but his exposed weak points and carelessness marked him clearly as a civilian. Of course, some faked weakness to lower your guard…

“Hey, handsome, that really hurts… Aren’t you going to let go?”

Judging by the fact that he didn’t even try to pull away and kept talking while still holding the doll, that seemed unlikely. His way of dressing also pointed to it. He wore jeans, a white jacket, and a white knit cap—an outfit that easily drew attention, far from the clothes someone trying to go unnoticed would wear.

Yuri stared for a moment at the man’s wrist, which he was gripping. He didn’t know why he’d approached, but if the guy was a lunatic, the best move was to let go and keep his distance. Just as Yuri, having made that decision, was about to release the arm and create some space, the man spoke.

“Well, I don’t mind you holding me like this either. I came out dressed like this and was cold, but maybe because your hands are warm, it feels like the chill is fading.”

Yuri couldn’t immediately process the nonsense he’d just heard. He furrowed his thick brows—something rare for him—and looked at the man with a puzzled expression. Their eyes met. The man turned out to be taller than Yuri, but since he was leaning forward from the twist, their eyes were level. At that moment, part of his face, previously hidden under the cap pulled low over his brows, became visible.

The instant their gazes locked, Yuri forgot to step back and stared into the man’s pupils.

A pair of shockingly vivid lime-green eyes stared straight at him. Though he’d seen countless green eyes in his life, he’d never seen a color like this. The man’s irises had an astonishing clarity—a lime green as intense as the skin of a Granny Smith apple.

They weren’t murky or dark, nor a garish green, but gave off an overwhelmingly fresh impression. Yuri was momentarily struck. They were so pure that he forgot this was a stranger who’d suddenly accosted him, and for a second he felt a pang of guilt, like he’d hurt a child.

“Mm.”

The man’s sigh brought Yuri back to reality.

“Up close you’re even prettier, handsome.”

The green eyes looking at him curved into a smile. The moment he saw the corners of the man’s eyes lift into crescents, Yuri abruptly let go of the wrist and stepped back. Frowning, Yuri wanted to believe the stranger’s words weren’t directed at him, but unfortunately, they were.

“Hey, why are you suddenly backing off? You weren’t letting go a second ago. Oh, but can’t you talk? Or did I scare you?”

He glanced around quickly, but no one was there. The man was still addressing Yuri, meaning all the nonsense was indeed aimed at him.

Looks like he really is a lunatic.

Since the world defines as crazy anyone who says incomprehensible things, Yuri quickly came to a conclusion.

Then he deeply regretted the time wasted dealing with this guy. He’d examined him carefully, wondering if he might be a remnant from his past, but if he’d used that time to buy chocolate instead, his dear friend could’ve enjoyed it five minutes earlier.

Knowing that ignoring someone out of their mind is the best response, Yuri moved to carry out his original goal, indifferent to whatever the man said. Thierry’s chocolaterie—only two locations in downtown Vancouver—is so popular there’s always a line; the later he arrived, the bigger the loss.

“Hey, sweetheart, where are you going?”

But the lunatic wouldn’t let him leave in peace. Using a sickening term, the man instantly glued himself to Yuri’s back. For Yuri, who hated drawing attention, it was a situation he couldn’t ignore.

Yuri stopped and spun around to glare. Though faced with cold, expressionless blue eyes, the man stepped closer without hesitation. Now standing, he looked slightly down at Yuri. Those startling lime-green eyes studied him again. This time Yuri noticed half the man’s face was hidden by a mask.

“What do you want?”

There was no need to be polite to someone who’d approached so rudely from the start. Yuri asked in a low voice.

“Wow, so you can talk! And your voice is as amazing as your face.”

“I asked what you want.”

Yuri flatly ignored the man’s nonsense and repeated the question. What he’d like was to punch him in the face and walk off, but they were downtown. He couldn’t cause a scene with so many witnesses.

“Ah, now that you mention it, I was pretty abrupt when I approached you. Sorry. Did I startle you?”

“State your business.”

Cutting off the man’s apology, Yuri pressed. The man knitted his thick reddish-blond brows apologetically.

“Wow, I’ve earned your dislike before even asking your name.”

Three chances were already enough. Yuri shook his head and turned his back. Just ten steps from the store, he had literally thrown his time away on the street dealing with this lunatic.

“Okay, wait, just a moment!”

Yuri kept walking in silence. The man rushed to his side in an instant and, walking alongside him, brought up the main topic.

“I’m really sorry, but could you lend me twenty dollars?”

Ah… Was he a beggar? He knew Vancouver had all kinds of characters, but this was new. His appearance was quite presentable and neat, so he didn’t seem like a beggar. A mocking laugh escaped him at how unbelievable the situation was, and at the same time, he felt a certain relief. At least the objective was clear.

“I was too embarrassed and ashamed to say it openly; the words wouldn’t come out. But I promise I’ll pay you back! I’m in a complicated situation—I left home without being able to grab my wallet. I beg you! Act like you’re saving a person!”

In silence, Yuri took two ten-dollar bills from his pocket. They arrived in front of the store at that exact moment. After glancing at the line of people buying desserts, just as he expected, Yuri handed the bills to the man.

“Is this okay?”

“Wow, thank you so much! If you don’t mind, could you give me your contact info? That way I could return the money…”

“Get lost.”

Yuri scrutinized the man with a skeptical look, unable to clearly discern his intentions. His hand waved the bills threateningly. The man furrowed his brows again with a pitiful expression.

“Won’t you give me your number?”

With what face did he think he would agree to such a thing? Yuri decided not to waste more time with a homeless young man and left the bills on an outdoor patio table with a sharp thud. Leaving behind the man’s sounds of protest, he entered the store.

Inside, unlike the exterior, floated a warm atmosphere permeated with a sweet aroma. When he inhaled the dense sugary scent, he frowned. His head was starting to hurt.

When he took out his phone to check the time, he saw that ten minutes had passed. A short but long time. The nonsense he had heard was spinning in his head and, without realizing it, he looked outside. The man in the white jacket had already disappeared. The two ten-dollar bills weren’t on the table either.

He didn’t know what circumstances led him to that, and he didn’t want to know. He just wished not to get entangled with that type of person again. He never imagined that in life he would meet someone who would tell him such nonsense. And even less an Alpha. His discomfort, already aggravated by the sweet smell, intensified when remembering the man’s words.

After twenty minutes of waiting, when he had bought the chocolates, macarons, and mocha for his friend Alexei, Yuri’s mood improved. By the time he took the car back home, he even came to think that being able to be bothered by such a trivial incident, instead of matters of life or death, was a true luxury.

However, Yuri’s reflection didn’t last long.

“Alyosha?”

Seeing Alexei’s car already parked outside the house, he opened the door hurriedly and entered. The spectacle that unfolded before his eyes was something he hadn’t anticipated at all.

“I’m here, Yuri.”

A response came from the living room to his call. Upon hearing his friend’s voice after so long, Yuri’s face calmed. On his pale skin, cold as the northern wind, a blush tinged with joy appeared. As he headed toward his friend, he raised his voice on purpose to ask.

“What whim brings you before the agreed time?”

His childhood friend always used to arrive after the appointed time. Being meticulous about important matters but somewhat relaxed in less crucial moments was an endearing trait of Alexei. Perhaps that’s why Yuri felt Alexei, despite being the same age, was like a younger brother. For this reason, he had taken care of him almost his entire life.

Walking carefully so as not to damage the shape of the cake he bought for dessert, Yuri headed to the living room. The sound of his shoes echoed in the hallway. As his father Vasili detested “indoor shoes,” unlike people nowadays, they wore shoes inside the house.

“It’s not that I arrived early, but that you arrived unusually late.”

Alexei’s voice approached. Upon entering the small living room that appeared by turning right just after the entrance hallway, Yuri smiled inwardly while imagining his friend’s expression. “Yes, you’re always right.” Swallowing the retort he had prepared, he entered the living room and saw a handsome man sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed casually.

“Finally, Mr. Campbell decides to show up.”

A man who, although sharing the same eye and hair color as Yuri, had a completely different aura and features, greeted him. His casually styled black hair and blue eyes might make them look like brothers at first glance, but his friend was a handsome and playful man who looked like a teenager when he smiled. And at the same time, he was also a very good person, though his way of speaking was a bit crude.

“Here, what you wanted.”

His only friend, who had kept him alive during the hard times, was always a welcome sight. Just as Yuri was about to hand over the chocolates Alexei had wanted so badly, he picked up an unfamiliar scent and snapped his head around. The foreign pheromones—ones he had never before sensed in this house—were coming down the hallway. Immediately afterward, footsteps and a voice followed.

“I guess this house doesn’t use indoor shoes.”

In an instant, Yuri’s eyes narrowed. Unlike the completely unknown pheromones, the voice felt oddly familiar. It sounded as if he had heard it recently. But since Yuri’s social circle was extremely small and he remembered every person in it, he watched the entrance to the living room with suspicion and wariness. Instinctively, his pheromones sharpened, and Alexei calmed him from behind.

“Yuri, relax. It’s the client.”

Ah, right, there was a guest today. Alexei wasn’t someone who acted without thinking, so he must have had his reasons, but Yuri wondered if it was really necessary to bring someone here and expose the location of their residence. Just as he was about to ask Alexei another question full of doubt—

“Huh?”

The presence stopped at the doorway. Yuri looked forward, following the approaching voice. At that moment, their eyes met. Green eyes—so vivid they seemed to light up his entire field of vision—were staring straight at him.

“Well, this is interesting.”

The man standing before him inside looked even more imposing than he had outside. His unusually broad shoulders, reminiscent of an athlete; his impossibly long legs; his large hands and feet… every part of his body radiated an overwhelming presence.

Words escaped him. Forgetting even that he had been about to speak to Alexei, Yuri parted his lips slightly in disbelief. The stranger, watching his expression with eyes as bright as a delighted child’s, hooked a finger under his mask and pulled it down. As the mask slipped off, the man’s face was finally revealed.

Unlike his physique, which proudly proclaimed him an Alpha, his face presented a contrasting image. One might even call it “pretty.” Words like “beautiful,” “elegant,” or “delicate-featured” would also fit. Yet none of them described him accurately.

“Hello, handsome.”

The man in the white cap tugged it off with long fingers. A beautiful mane of blond hair shot through with reddish highlights, hidden beneath the cap, fell like silk, and his rosy lips curved into a cheerful smile.

…Yeah.

For a moment, a dry, absurd laugh slipped out. Acting out of character, Yuri frowned slightly and fixed his gaze on the intruder before him. The suspicion of suddenly running into the same man he had “bumped into” on the street, coupled with the man’s smile that seemed to greet him with genuine pleasure, created a knot of discomfort in his chest. Perhaps that was why the words stuck in his throat for a moment.

In that brief instant, without realizing it, Yuri found himself studying the man’s face. The intense eyes he had seen on the street matched perfectly—eerily so—with the now fully visible face. The man looked like a perfectly sculpted work of art. He finally understood the metaphor he had read in books about what it meant to feel instinctive attraction, independent of intent. It was different from the attraction he felt toward Omegas. This was a matter of essence.

The handsome man with reddish-blond hair before him gave a radiant smile, eyes crinkling with joy. His medium-length bangs, slightly damp; his flawlessly pale skin with a rosy tint; his red lips and straight nose… everything about him was dazzling, as if a flower had been turned into a person. Yet the line of his jaw that held those features was sharp and masculine, his chest sturdy, his shoulders broad.

“Well, you’re more docile than before. I guess you liked my face?”

As if interpreting the brief silence in his own way, the man suddenly stepped toward him. Reacting to the abrupt closing of distance, Yuri snapped back to his senses. He quickly extended an arm to subdue the one approaching without permission, but the man, unlike before, caught Yuri’s arm and instead moved even closer. It took only a second.

“It’s attractive that the first thing you do is reach out your hands, but…”

The man, now looking at him from up close, smiled with mischief. His red lips curved fascinatingly.

“I’d be embarrassed to make a fool of myself again in front of a beauty like you.”

Whether because last time he had approached without thinking, the man’s grip now was too strong to ignore. Noticing that, unlike his previous careless attitude, this guy knew how to use his body, an alarm went off in Yuri’s head. He had been distracted for a moment by the client’s unexpected identity, but now he had only one thing to do.

“Alyosha, you’d better turn down this job.”

This guy is suspicious. Running into him on the street right before coming here and then seeing him again… the odds were too high to be a mere coincidence. He didn’t know what scheme the man had used to approach him on the street to size him up, but the whole thing felt shady to Yuri.

So, Alexei, who had been silently watching Yuri and the man, tilted his head. His playful expression vanished, and his blue eyes took on an alert gleam. Slowly stepping up beside them, Alexei raised one eyebrow in puzzlement and asked:

“Why?”

His best friend had always listened to his opinions. If Yuri truly didn’t want the job, Alexei wouldn’t accept the commission either. No—if he were the usual Alexei, he wouldn’t even have agreed to deal with such a shady character. Now that he thought about it, it was strange. Alexei wasn’t the type to investigate things carelessly.

Having grown up in an environment where one wrong breath could cost you your life, both of them understood too well that a single slip could bring irreversible consequences. That Alexei had made such a mistake today was incomprehensible.

Yuri considered for a moment, then slowly moved to stand between Alexei and the man and spoke.

“I ran into this guy before I came here. The way he approached me was far too suspicious to be a coincidence. And even if it were, I wonder whether someone who doesn’t even have twenty dollars on him and has to borrow from a stranger can pay the commission’s fee.”

The more he replayed the encounter, the stronger his suspicion grew. If everything—from the careless attitude that revealed vulnerability to the nonsense he spouted—was deliberate, then this man was no ordinary person. Among all the kinds of people out there, none are harder to handle than those whose intentions you can’t read.

The man, still smiling, listened to Yuri’s words as though gauging his reaction, and when Yuri finished, he let out a bright laugh. It was impossible to tell what he found so funny.

“Hey, handsome, don’t you know who I am?”

Yuri ignored him and went on.

“If it isn’t absolutely necessary, turn the job down. I’ll handle getting rid of him.”

The best strategy is not to get entangled with suspicious people in the first place. Having his residence exposed was a nuisance, but selling the house and moving wasn’t that difficult. He felt no particular attachment to any place he lived.

But then Alexei, who had listened to Yuri in silence, exchanged a look with the man and asked carefully:

“Yuri, do you really not know who he is?”

At a statement that sounded as if he obviously should, Yuri frowned.

“No.”

Do I need to? As that expression crossed his face, the man laughed again.

“Wow, so you really didn’t recognize me! This is even better.”

Yuri flatly ignored the man’s nonsense. Without even glancing at him, he kept talking to Alexei. The man, feigning hurt, knitted his brows and leaned toward the side Yuri had turned away from, complaining:

“Hey, handsome. Look at me too. Who treats a customer like this?”

“We’re not taking the job, so you’re not a customer. Get lost.”

Resolved, Yuri considered how to break free of the man holding him. Immobilizing him had been impressive, but if he hadn’t subdued him completely, closing the distance only created an opening for a counterattack.

As if sensing his intent, Alexei grabbed Yuri’s other arm. Though Alexei was also an Alpha, his pheromones always had the power to calm Yuri, like a brother’s. Meeting his eyes briefly, Alexei shook his head and explained:

“Yuri, calm down a minute. This man got here on Heather’s recommendation.”

At Heather’s name, Yuri shut his mouth. Heather was a mutual acquaintance, one of the few decent people they’d met in Vancouver. She was the reporter who had helped them with the nasty mess their father had gotten into, and whom they had also helped. He hadn’t known she was the one who recommended this guy. She had an unserious personality, but he couldn’t believe Heather would introduce someone like this.

“Why?”

“I was going to explain that bit by bit.”

Yuri thought it over. Even though Alexei had mentioned Heather, he still didn’t like the situation. No doubt because the first encounter had been too suspicious. Besides, that impertinent habit of calling him “handsome” every other sentence had been irritating him for a while.

After a brief reflection, Yuri stared at Alexei to confirm once more.

“Is it a matter that even requires me? To the point of having to expose this place?”

“About that, I’m really sorry. I tried to take him to my office, but this guy draws too much attention to be seen downtown.”

Alexei had the same nuance he’d hinted at when he’d asked him earlier—an attitude that suggested a lot of people knew the man. Since the reason wasn’t illogical, Yuri nodded slowly.

It’s true that his face is… attractive.

Could he be a model? Or an actor? Whatever he was, it only made Yuri hate him more. Because someone that flashy only brought more complications.

Yuri crossed his arms and pressed his lips together, as if that posture expressed his reluctance. If it weren’t for Alexei, he would have kicked him out a long time ago, but since things had reached this point, he decided that at least he should hear what they had to say.

“Is it really such a difficult matter to resolve on your own?”

“Seems that way.”

“For a case of that magnitude, the fee must be considerable. But as I said, that guy doesn’t even have twenty dollars and goes around borrowing money.”

When Yuri’s dry tone took on a hint of sarcasm, Alexei curved the corner of his lips with an air of surprise.

“Seems you had quite an intense first encounter. It’s the first time I’ve seen you show so much dislike.”

Then the man let out a cheerful sigh and, as if wanting Yuri to look at him, shook Yuri’s arm while fidgeting restlessly beside him.

“Do you already feel something so intense for me?”

The man had the gift of saying only incomprehensible things. Yuri slightly furrowed his brow and warned Alexei:

“That you don’t hate him is even stranger to me.”

“It’s true that he talks a lot.”

Alexei agreed. But he didn’t seem to feel the same repulsion as Yuri.

“But, Yuri, relax. That guy has more than enough money to pay the fee. He might not have other things, but he won’t cause us problems over money matters.”

Rather, Alexei seemed to welcome the man.

“What are you basing that on?”

“Well, because…”

Alexei smiled, showing his teeth, as if the situation amused him. He looked alternately at Yuri and the man and, with a mischievous smile as if observing Yuri’s reaction, said:

“That guy’s name is Cheriot Goodnight.”

Yuri, who was about to ask why he was smiling like that, stopped and closed his mouth when he heard the name. The name he’d just heard was excessively familiar. Then the man, who had been observing him, approached his side and, as before, tilted his head to get to his level. When Yuri, who had coldly ignored him, unconsciously turned his gaze, their eyes met. A radiant, smiling face was etched in his pupils.

“That’s right. That’s me.”

Cheriot Goodnight.

An athlete who appeared in the news at least once a week. Someone that any Canadian hockey lover, or even any American, couldn’t help but know. A handsome celebrity, whom even those who didn’t follow sports would have heard of at least once. It seemed that guy was the same Cheriot Goodnight from the radio.

“From that burning gaze, I see you know my name, handsome. This makes me happy. Since I became famous, I hadn’t found anything good in it, but today I finally see meaning in it.”

While listening to those words that were almost pitiful to call nonsense, Yuri felt two emotions. The relief that, being such a high-profile celebrity, he probably didn’t represent as great a danger as he’d thought…

“Since we’ve introduced ourselves, can I call you Yuri, handsome?”

…and a faint resentment toward Heather and Alexei for bringing as a client someone who caused him such rejection.

Yuri detested this type of person. Talkative people without inhibitions about approaching others. Those sociable characters who burst into the safety distance he firmly established for his own reasons, and then mortified him with words that made it hard to flatly reject them. Without a doubt, it was the personality type that clashed with him the most.

“Since Yuri is so handsome, I’ll grant you the privilege of calling me ‘Cherry.’ It’s a nickname I only allow people I like.”

Ah…

This is the last straw.

Looking at smiling Cheriot, a strong emotion—whether confusion or rejection—stirred inside him. Getting to know someone well takes a lot of time, but certain crucial aspects can be recognized at the very moment of meeting. And judging by the conversation they’d had so far, Cheriot wasn’t the type of person he could get along with.

People like Cheriot, who unreservedly praised physical appearance and dished out intimate nicknames to strangers right off the bat, belonged to a class Yuri preferred not to deal with. A heart that’s won easily is lost just as easily. He loathed that frivolity.

“Enough.”

Yuri firmly scolded Cheriot, who was approaching with a smile. His eyes, which had curved in a knowing, attractive grin, went round with surprise. Cheriot, brows arched like an innocent youth, asked again:

“Huh?”

“That’s enough nonsense. Being famous doesn’t mean I have to take the job. I…”

…have no obligation to accept it.

Yuri swallowed the last part. Though he longed to throw this exhausting man out of his house the moment they met, seeing Alexei’s blue eyes fixed on him, he held back. Suppressing the urge, he warned Cheriot bluntly:

“If you spout any more drivel about nicknames or how handsome I am, I’m walking away from this whole thing. Alyosha, you’d better be clear on that too. You may have brought him here because you need me… but this is becoming unbearable.”

Alexei, arms crossed, nodded. Tilting his thick, sturdy neck, he told Cheriot with a sidelong glance:

“You heard the man, didn’t you, Mr. Client?”

Alexei, who’d been watching Yuri and Cheriot, finally stepped in to restore order. Cheriot, blinking as if he didn’t understand, raised his brows when Alexei finished. Then he muttered, genuinely puzzled:

“But everyone likes it when I talk like that…”

Yuri stayed silent, refusing to play along, and Alexei let out a mocking laugh.

“Ordinary folks, maybe. But we’re not ordinary, which is why you’re here, Mr. Client.”

“Pity. I meant every word.”

Cheriot tilted his head like a puppy—an odd gesture for someone so burly—then stepped back, releasing Yuri’s arm. Noticing Yuri’s cold stare on his hand, Cheriot wiped the smile from his lips and apologized.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. But before you refuse, shouldn’t you at least show the courtesy of hearing what the job is? Even if only out of respect for our mutual acquaintance, Heather.”

Taking a step back and straightening up, Cheriot shifted the mood instantly. His face naturally smiled, his curved eyes giving him a gentle air, but his upright torso, broad shoulders, and firmly sealed lips conveyed subtle seriousness. He looked nothing like the almost ethereal, light image he’d projected moments earlier.

“Well, why don’t we all sit? Talking while standing brings back bad memories.”

Alexei said this, motioning to Yuri. Those “memories” were from their Saratov days—when the whole city was mafia-run and everyone, willingly or not, had to take part in crimes big or small.

Yuri and Alexei had been pawns assigned to major crimes within that system. Their parents had been forced into the organization, and their children followed the same path… Those were the days.

Pawns, unless they were mafia bosses or their kin, never had the luxury of sitting down to chat. There was a time when even standing in an alley to light a cigarette, sheltering from the bone-chilling wind, was a luxury.

“Is it normal for you to be so rude to clients, Mr. Alexei?”

“With the ones who aren’t women, usually, yes.”

Cheriot, heading to the dining chairs at Alexei’s cue, asked a question that could’ve been a joke or serious. Alexei nodded in confirmation, and Yuri reluctantly followed. It felt strange being a guest in his own home. Since lunch, the day had been nothing but bad vibes.

“Ah-ha. So you prefer women? Regardless of phenotype?”

“My preference is only one.”

To Cheriot’s unnecessary question, Alexei gave a firm answer. Yuri knew who he meant. For a long time, there’d been one crucial person in Alexei’s life—a man who was now his partner.

“And asking about phenotype makes me think you, Mr. Client… are you the ‘free’ type? That would also explain those repulsive comments you make to Yuri.”

Yuri frowned at the term “free type.” No matter how often he heard it, he never quite got it—a preference openly respected in big cities like Vancouver. It referred to those who desired someone of the same phenotype, or even incompatible ones, like a Beta wanting an Alpha or an Omega.

“More than ‘free type’…”

Cheriot raised the corner of his lips at Alexei’s question.

“Let’s just say I’m of the opinion that it doesn’t matter.”

“It amounts to the same thing.”

Alexei let out a mocking snort and sat down. Then, with his long leg, he pushed aside the chair next to him and motioned for Yuri to come sit. As had been said before, out of respect for Heather and for Alexei, Yuri decided that at the very least he would hear the proposal.

“I think with all this chitchat it’s enough. Let’s get to the point.”

Yuri, seated beside Alexei, regained his composure. Now that Cheriot had stopped spouting nonsense, his head began to clear, and he realized that he had been wasting time unnecessarily with Cheriot. He should have ignored his words as if they were barking, but instead he had processed them mentally, exhausting himself. It had been his own mistake.

“Alright. This is what I found out from Heather. Like I told you, the client is Chariot Goodnight. Captain of the Vancouver Red Maple, and, as you know, he’s a famous man”.

“Ah, and I’m twenty-eight years old. In my public profile I have one year less, for image.”

Cheriot answered a question no one had asked him and winked his right eye at Yuri. A brief flash of annoyance crossed Yuri’s white and impassive forehead. As he suddenly got irritated, just when he was regaining his calm, his pheromones rippled. As if they had sensed it, the other two turned their gazes toward him.

“Isn’t even winking an eye allowed?”

“It’s not common for an Alpha to like another Alpha winking at him.”

Alexei spoke for Yuri.

“Even if it’s an Alpha as handsome as me?”

Alexei ignored the shameless remark and continued with the explanation.

“According to Heather, the client faces grave danger. She says he’s earned himself a very powerful group as an enemy and that his life is at risk.”

Cheriot nodded with an expression that in no way matched someone in danger.

“That’s right. That’s why I was looking for someone to solve this problem. Heather heard about my situation, that I needed to find a competent fixer, and she told me about you.”

“Hmm.”

Alexei, who had leaned back against the chair, crossed his arms and asked:

“Isn’t this a matter for the police? If it’s a celebrity case, all the more reason they’d handle it well. Or you could report it to the press.”

“The thing is, there’s a complicated circumstance…”

Cheriot, who had leaned toward the table, rested his chin. He gently tapped his cheek with his long white fingers while speaking.

“I have a trust fund. It has very strict conditions and I haven’t inherited it yet, but one of those clauses is precisely not to create scandals. Specifically, scandals that ‘cause social controversy and damage family honor.’”

A trust fund.

Since Yuri had never been interested in the private lives of celebrities, of course he didn’t know that Cheriot Goodnight came from a family with an inheritance to receive. Hearing the concept of “trust fund,” something he only knew from movies or books, he once again realized that this man was a stranger who should never have crossed his path. If only they had lived each on their own side, separated by an invisible but clear wall, never meeting. He didn’t know how such a being had ended up sticking his feet into this mess.

On the other hand, if he thought about it, it wasn’t that strange. Alexei was no longer in the same situation as him. He had a job he did for fun, and his good friend, who was kind by nature, had expanded his influence thanks to his great skill. So it was something that was bound to happen sooner or later. The problem was that he was involved in it.

“The thing is, if I ask the police for help, I might end up violating that condition. If I have to explain to them why this is happening, it’s obvious it’ll end up in the news. Just going to the station, the paparazzi will already be following me.”

While Yuri was lost in thought, Cheriot continued his explanation. Faced with a somewhat vague explanation, Alexei raised an eyebrow.

“Do you mean that you did do something that ‘causes social controversy’?”

Cheriot was silent for a moment and then put on the same expression of innocent youth he had shown before. He looked like a big puppy.

“I swear, I didn’t know anything.”

“This doesn’t look good.”

“Really. If I had screwed up badly, a straight-laced person like Heather wouldn’t have recommended me, don’t you think?”

Heather, their mutual acquaintance, was a journalist who exposed corruption and crime, someone who bravely investigated even cases that put her life at risk. Given her upright character, it was unlikely she would have brought in a bad person, but for some reason, Cheriot’s words unsettled those who heard them quite a bit. Yuri, who had been listening in silence, spoke.

“Speak.”

That word, spoken in a low voice, carried a threatening weight. It would have made anyone step back, but Cheriot turned his head to look at Yuri. As if he were happy to be spoken to, he smiled and finally revealed the reason for his visit.

“Please, listen to me without prejudice. You see… it turns out that the person I dated for several months turned out to be the partner of the leader of a well-known criminal organization in British Columbia. Basically, I’m the person they cheated on their criminal partner with.”

Trash.

He wasn’t someone you couldn’t deal with, but he certainly wasn’t trustworthy. Even Heather could run into indecent people from time to time. After evaluating him with indifference, Yuri glanced sideways at the old alarm clock on the table. Thinking he had wasted twenty minutes listening to this nonsense, he suddenly felt hungry. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t eaten anything all day.

“My ex told me this over the phone the day before yesterday. While confessing the truth, they said their partner had sent people to kill me. In fact, today, before coming here, I was in danger. I went for a run, and when I came back, there were several men who looked like criminals loitering in the lobby of my building. That’s why I ran out without even grabbing money for the bus.”

Alexei, who had listened to the story with a deeply furrowed brow, uncrossed his arms. As if thinking the same as Yuri, he also checked the time and then, in a tone of bluntness he hadn’t used in a long time, responded to Cheriot.

“I understand you’re in a dangerous situation. But… we help people who are truly in trouble, we don’t clean up stupid messes you caused yourself. I’m sorry about the trust fund, but surely you’ve made a lot of money as an athlete. Why not just settle for that?”

Luckily, it seemed Alexei also thought the case wasn’t worth it. Relieved, Yuri stood up to prepare to throw Cheriot out, but then a cold and calm voice rang out, very different from before.

“I don’t want to protect the trust fund for the money.”

His pale face, now completely devoid of a smile, stared fixedly at Yuri and Alexei. His green eyes, once gentle and bright, had turned cold like an evergreen tree in a storm. Along with his deep voice, Cheriot’s pheromones, which had until then subtly filled the air, became aggressive. The scent, which had been faint due to the neutralizer, quickly intensified.

Discomfort, old anger, heavy emotions that didn’t match his appearance… everything mixed and rippled in his pheromones. He smelled like damp wind in a storm-battered forest. In Cheriot, now without a smile, there was an overwhelming animal stillness, like a beast standing tall in the middle of a hurricane.

The unexpected side of someone they had underestimated as frivolous created a palpable tension in the room. The Alpha’s instinctive vigilance bristled, and Yuri’s expression also tensed. His blue eyes under thick brows locked onto Cheriot, ready to strike at any moment. Alexei, in turn, uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on the table, ready for any contingency.

In the twilight, neither late nor early, a tense silence lasted for several seconds. The one who broke the tense atmosphere was Cheriot himself, who had created it. He slowly leaned back in his chair and relaxed his cold face into a small smile.

“So, how about considering that I have my reasons too? I guarantee a generous reward. As Alexei said, besides the trust fund, I’ve made a lot of money as an athlete.”

As Cheriot’s expression relaxed, the dense pheromone that had filled the room also gradually lost intensity. I thought he came here without thinking because of his frivolous behavior, but it seems he has his own circumstances. Though that didn’t drastically change his opinion of the young celebrity.

…But it was better to hear the story to the end.

Remembering that everyone has their reasons in life, Yuri reflected on having judged the other so one-sidedly. Though, to be fair, Cheriot had brought that impression on himself.

“Hmm.”

Alexei cleared his throat and gave a quick glance. When their eyes met, his friend tilted his chin toward Cheriot as if asking for his opinion. Yuri nodded.

“Let’s hear everything first and then decide. But why did you come to us? If the pay is good, there must be plenty of people willing to solve any problem.”

Alexei asked as if he didn’t understand, and Yuri thought the same. Hearing this, Cheriot smiled softly and replied:

“Because Heather said you’re good people.”

At the unexpected answer, Yuri frowned.

“I don’t want anyone to get seriously hurt because of me. Skilled mercenaries don’t mind getting their hands bloody. Even killing people.”

Cheriot’s smiling face as he explained this had a peculiar coldness. A flash of disdain crossed his eyes, and Yuri sensed an old hatred in his words. The contempt that showed didn’t seem to be just a rejection of those who live in crime, but came from a more personal reason.

Suddenly, his hands grew cold. The word “good” always stuck in his throat like a candy he couldn’t swallow. He had been a sinner since birth and decided to crawl on the ground to survive. That’s why Yuri Kiselyov wasn’t someone who could hear such a word, not even as a meaningless joke.

He clenched his jaw. The hand resting on his thigh closed into a tight fist. His short-trimmed nails dug sharply into his palm. A cold ache spread from his skin, ran through his veins, and pierced his heart with a stab of guilt. His soul whispered that not denying those words was the same as lying to himself.

But the one Cheriot had ultimately sought out was Alexei. His great friend truly was someone who deserved to be called a “good person,” and Yuri didn’t want to betray that reputation by meddling where he didn’t belong. Still, he couldn’t just sit there, so he searched for an excuse to step away.

“Alyosha, I’ll go get something to drink.”

He slowly pushed his chair back and stood up. As he turned, Yuri thought that, since he was treating Cheriot as a guest for now, he should offer him something as well. In a low voice, he asked, “Anything in particular?”

He knew that deliberately avoiding eye contact would look odd, so as he spoke, he briefly met Cheriot’s gaze. Those light-green eyes, like glass beads, stared back at him. Holding that gaze, he felt as if his lies were being laid bare, and it made him nauseous. It had been a long time since he’d felt that—shame in front of ordinary people.

I thought I’d already grown shameless enough.

“Anything that comes from Yuri’s heart will be welcome.”

But apparently, he hadn’t reached that level of shamelessness. Yuri erased the self-critical thought and twisted the corner of his mouth. “Say something sensible before I serve you bleach.”

“Is that a metaphor for coffee?”

Alexei corrected Cheriot’s misunderstanding. “Unlike me, Yuri doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.”

“Sincerity is one of humanity’s virtues. Isn’t it attractive?”

Just as Yuri seemed to relax a little, Cheriot started spouting nonsense again. Yuri was about to point out that he seemed to have forgotten the earlier warning but decided it was probably just his nature and chose to ignore it. “I’ll serve black tea.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Cheriot didn’t know when to shut up. Letting him ramble on, Yuri told Alexei, “Black tea for you too.”

“Delighted, if you add a splash of whiskey…”

“You sound like an Englishman.”

Knowing Alexei’s taste for adding alcohol to any drink, whether coffee or tea, Yuri cracked a light joke before leaving the room. Peace finally came when he stepped into the kitchen at the end of the hallway. Fatigue hit him late, and Yuri shut his eyes tightly, exhaling a weary sigh.

He rubbed his face roughly with his dry hands several times, then reached out and opened the cupboard door. Inside was an old metal tin where they kept the tea bags. His father always reused it after finishing the Russian cookies his late mother had loved.

Staring at the lid with its matryoshka doll design, Yuri suddenly felt a pang of strangeness. Unlike his father, whose identity as someone born in the Soviet Union was solid despite spending more time in North America, Yuri had never felt a sense of belonging to anything. He wasn’t American, Canadian, or Russian.

And certainly not a good person.