Icing on the cake - Chapter 2: Part 1

C2. Cherry Whiskey Sour

Unlike Saratov, where some places stayed open past midnight, downtown Vancouver grew quiet after ten at night. Most shops were closed, and the streets stood empty. Aside from the occasional drunk vagrant or rowdy group, everyone had returned home, leaving the city in peace.

While Cheriot bathed, Yuri stepped outside to smoke. Though it was June and summer approached, the night remained cool—in this country, the temperature difference between day and night remained sharp until July arrived.

Cigarette smoke dispersed in the dry, fresh wind brushing his cheeks. Yuri liked that icy air. He hated the small border town where he was born, but he loved the cold climate where snow fell more than half the year. Alexei and his other friends constantly complained about hating the cold… yet strangely, Yuri loved winter.

The biting wind that froze his skin reminded him of the pain of being alive, and the clothes that hid his scar-covered body felt comforting.

As he silently observed the closed shopping district, he finished his cigarette. He was debating whether to light another when he saw a car stop across from the hotel. It was a familiar vehicle—Alexei must have finished searching Cheriot’s house from top to bottom.

Unable to shake his Saratov habits, Alexei parked diagonally and got out, pushing the door open roughly. Yuri smiled slightly at the scene before tossing his cigarette butt into the hotel’s ashtray.

“Did you know I was coming, even though I didn’t call?”

Alexei spotted him immediately and waved. He crossed the street directly instead of using the crosswalk, carrying a travel suitcase. Yuri, watching for traffic, called out briefly:

“Alyosha, car.”

Though he saw the headlights approaching, Alexei didn’t flinch. Yuri moved toward him as he reached the sidewalk with long strides. Alexei handed him the suitcase first.

“These are your follower’s things. He asked for so much I almost forgot to pack it all. Tell him to buy his own underwear—I don’t want to touch an alpha’s underwear. His wallet and phone are inside.”

“Follower?”

“He couldn’t take his eyes off you for a second. That’s what you call a follower.”

Yuri took the suitcase with a mocking laugh. Of course, Alexei hadn’t seen how that man had started flirting with an omega in his absence.

“Everything okay on the way?”

“For now. Next comes the investigation.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Alexei turned to cross back but stopped to add:

“Heather’s decided to stop by. I told her you were here, and she wants to check on Cheriot. She says she’s looked into that problematic group, so you should hear what she has to say.”

Yuri gave a brief nod.

“Roughly when will she arrive?”

“Let’s see.”

Alexei checked his phone.

“Looks like she’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Then I’ll wait here.”

“Can I give her your number? In case they miss each other.”

Since Alexei had rescued Heather in the past, he’d exchanged contacts with her, but Yuri only communicated with her indirectly through his friend. For someone who avoided expanding his relationships, contacts weren’t something to share lightly.

The question initially provoked resistance, but Yuri nodded silently. This matter involved Heather, so it was probably necessary. Besides, she didn’t seem like the type to bother him unnecessarily.

“I’m leaving. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Instead of pointing out that the date had already changed, Yuri said something else.

“Eat something first. You’ve only had chocolate and alcohol so far.”

“It’s the first time in ages you’ve scolded me, and honestly, I don’t mind. But don’t worry—Valery must have left something ready at home.”

Ah, right. Yuri realized he’d worried unnecessarily; his friend had a partner who took care of him like nobody else ever had. Alexei responded with a joking wink before leaving without hesitation.

Only after watching Alexei’s car drive away did Yuri reenter the hotel. Someone standing on the street at night with a suitcase attracted attention—better to wait inside.

The lobby had fallen silent, unlike before. With midnight’s arrival, the hotel bar had closed, leaving only the receptionist. In the absolute quiet, Yuri sat on the sofa and closed his eyes for a moment. He’d woken at five that morning and had been active nearly all day. His eyes felt dry, and fatigue was finally setting in.

Come to think of it, the sleeping arrangements were problematic. He couldn’t be separated from Cheriot—perhaps he should have booked two rooms from the start. No, the lodging rates here were too expensive for their budget.

Since this was his first time taking on this kind of job, he hadn’t thought it through properly. Although he’d guarded many crime bosses before, the assigned bodyguards usually took rotating shifts, watching from outside the door or in the hotel lobby. He had never been stuck to someone this closely before, so he hadn’t considered the lodging details.

As he lay with his eyes closed, wondering what to do, sleep began to take hold. He considered rubbing the back of his neck and buying coffee before going upstairs when a voice called out from behind.

“Mr. Yuri?”

It was a female voice stored in his memory. He didn’t hear it often, but it was familiar enough to recognize. The visitor he’d been waiting for had arrived. Rising from the sofa, he saw a woman approaching—a simple beauty with brown hair tied back and round glasses, just as he remembered. Heather Parsons, CTV reporter.

“You’re here.”

He made an effort to sound unintimidating. He usually tried to be kinder to women and omegas than to alphas, but softening his tone felt forced given his nature. He wasn’t sure the effort was necessary.

“Yes! Did you wait long? I’m sorry you’re tired.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m more concerned about you being out this late.”

“I came by car, so it’s okay. I finally passed my driving test and can get around on my own.”

It had been almost two years since he’d last seen her, but Heather chatted naturally without any shyness. The information wasn’t particularly relevant, but Yuri nodded anyway.

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

Heather made a very different impression from when they first met. When she’d asked for their help while infiltrating dangerous places to investigate an illegal case, she’d been desperate and full of resentment. Though small, he’d thought that beta woman overflowed with courage, and he found it admirable. But apparently, in daily life, she was cheerful and lively.

“But Mr. Yuri, are you here alone?”

“Yes. My client wanted to shower.”

“Hmm, should I wait a little longer, then?”

“No. We can go up.”

Since he’d been outside for about thirty minutes, that was plenty of time. After saying that, he headed for the elevator, taking the lead. Hearing Heather follow with small steps, he gradually slowed to match her pace until they walked side by side.

“You must have been surprised when I introduced Cheriot out of nowhere. I’m sorry. In my life, I’ve only known two people who throw themselves into dangerous situations without asking for anything in return, so I thought you were exactly who Cheriot was looking for. Besides, Cheriot has plenty of money and will pay well, so I thought it would help you too.”

Yuri, who had listened silently while pressing the elevator button, decided to ask something he’d wondered from the start—something that had bothered him since accepting the job.

“A person can help another without asking for anything in return without necessarily being kind. If you think that makes someone good, that seems very naive.”

“But I have a good eye for people! Maybe because I’ve met all kinds. Some people, though polite and well-spoken, give off a strange coldness, while others, though rough in word and deed, are kind and sincere. You can’t judge everything by appearances, but I trust my intuition. After all, I’m a journalist!”

The more he listened to Heather’s explanations, the more uncomfortable Yuri felt.

“Do you know what I do for a living to say that?”

“That’s private—I can’t know. But is it necessary?”

“Yes.”

Yuri’s answer was firm.

“When you look for someone to take responsibility for another person’s life, you don’t check their background on a whim. It’s crucial to verify their criminal record and what kind of past they’ve had. You can’t tell at a glance whether they’d betray for more money or abandon the client to save their own skin.”

“But isn’t that something no one knows until it happens?”

Heather’s reply left him momentarily speechless. Just then, the elevator arrived. Yuri stood motionless even as the doors opened. Heather stepped in first and motioned for him to follow.

“Hey… maybe I’m an optimist, but I believe there are many things you can’t understand just from a past written on paper. When I interview people, I discover so many hidden stories. Even people who’ve always acted consistently sometimes make unexpected emotional decisions because of some trigger. That’s why I trust what I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

Heather gave a clear answer to his question. However, her explanation didn’t dispel his doubts; instead, they transformed into deeper skepticism, disturbing him even more.

“Can you really judge me based on having seen me just once two years ago?”

“You only saw me that once, but I’ve met Mr. Alexei several times since then. Plus, he’s quite well-known in online communities for helping people in trouble at absurdly low prices. I also know he doesn’t work as a fixer primarily for money. You’re friends with that person—lifelong friends.”

Yuri fell silent, feeling that speaking further would only tangle his mood worse. He pressed the button for the 12th floor. When it didn’t light up, he reached into his jacket pocket for the key card. He repeated the motion he’d been shown earlier—swiping the card through the sensor before pressing the button. The light came on. Suddenly, an image of Cheriot stretching his arm behind him flashed through his mind. A strange memory to surface now.

“Did it bother you?”

“No.”

He wanted to say that unlike Alexei, he wasn’t that kind of person, but it seemed absurd to make such a confession to a virtual stranger.

“I just believe that for Mr. Goodnight’s safety, competent people will be more useful than simply kind ones.”

“That’s possible. But Cheriot…”

Heather hesitated, lost in thought. Yuri left her in silence. Just before the elevator reached their floor, she spoke carefully, as if having reached a decision.

“He especially hates criminals. From what I’ve heard, his family situation was quite complicated. Some of his bodyguards have mercenary backgrounds, but never actual criminals.”

The more Heather spoke, the colder Yuri’s chest felt. His fingertips grew numb and his throat tightened. The sound of his heartbeat echoed irregularly in his ears, and for a moment he felt dizzy—despite standing firmly on the stable elevator floor.

“Ah, we’re here! Shall we get out?”

The elevator doors opened upon reaching their destination. The hotel’s silence flowed in, wrapping around Yuri’s neck like a ghostly hand. The specters of his past whispered that this wasn’t a place for him, their shadows pooling at his feet.

He should reject this job immediately. Surely they could find someone else to recommend. What he’d thought was a simple matter of character compatibility turned out to have a clear criterion: Cheriot didn’t want simply a “good” person, but specifically someone who wasn’t a “criminal.” Yuri represented the exact opposite of that requirement.

“Heather, wait a moment…”

Yuri urgently grabbed Heather’s arm as she moved to exit. He never touched women without consent, but his head was spinning wildly, his hand moving without conscious control. His grip was huge and firm compared to Heather’s slender wrist, and the force made her stagger slightly.

“Ah, yes?”

“I need to tell you something. Before we enter the room.”

She looked at him with surprised eyes. Her expression bewildered, Heather glanced down at her wrist once, her earlobes reddening for no apparent reason. As she moved her lips to respond and nodded to step back into the elevator, the sound of a door opening echoed with a dull thud from down the hallway.

“Heather?”

Hearing the now-familiar male voice, Yuri frowned. Recognizing the voice, Heather turned and greeted cheerfully.

“Cheriot!”

“What brings you here so late?”

“I came to check on you! They told me suspicious people came to your apartment today. Mr. Alexei mentioned it.”

“I’m fine for now. How kind of you to visit in person, Heather.”

His footsteps, muffled by hotel slippers, whispered across the hallway carpet. Within seconds, Cheriot approached Heather, slightly inclined his torso, and spotted Yuri inside the elevator.

“Yuri, why aren’t you coming out?”

Cheriot wore only the hotel bathrobe. Damp from his shower, his reddish-blond hair clung to his pale cheeks and forehead, creating a peculiar atmosphere. The robe’s opening revealed firm pectoral muscles, giving him the appearance of someone who’d just risen from an intimate encounter.

“…I’m sure I told you to stay in the room.”

Stunned that Cheriot had come into the hallway dressed like that, Yuri simply pointed at him, lost for words.

“I only came out because I heard the elevator. You left me alone for too long.”

“I understand. But first, get back in the room. I need to finish speaking with Heather.”

Then Cheriot’s gaze shifted. He stared fixedly at Yuri’s hand holding Heather’s, lifted the corner of his lips, and asked:

“What kind of conversation requires holding hands?”

“Huh? That sounds weird, Cheriot.”

“It’s a natural question.”

Cheriot kept his eyes locked on Yuri’s hand.

“I thought Yuri hated prolonged contact with others.”

As Heather’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Yuri released her wrist. He didn’t understand why Cheriot was spouting such nonsense, but it seemed better to speak plainly in front of both of them.

“Enough. Get in the room. We’ll talk there.”

“Are you sure, Yuri?”

Heather asked again, visibly concerned, but Cheriot—as if he’d been waiting—gently circled her shoulder and guided her toward the suite.

“Let’s not talk outside. I may not look it, but I am in danger.”

“That’s true. But you look very good for someone in trouble, Cheriot.”

“You’ll change your mind when you hear what happened.”

Having easily diverted Heather’s attention, Cheriot entered the suite first, chatting animatedly with her. As Yuri followed, he scanned the hallway for any eavesdroppers. No sounds of closing doors or hidden observers…

Finally, Yuri stared at the security camera facing the elevator, suppressed a sigh, and turned his back. It bothered him that his face had been captured so clearly, but they could change hotels tomorrow.

When he entered the room, he found Cheriot had seated Heather in the living area and was taking a bottle from the minibar. Out of the corner of his eye, Yuri noted the miniature bottles and snacks—things never seen in cheap roadside motels. Everything here was expensive. The nightly rate alone far exceeded the monthly rent Yuri could barely afford in the past.

“I went through a tough time, but I’m fine, Heather. You should go home—it’s dangerous to be out so late. Do you want me to accompany you?”

“It’s okay, I have my car. I should get to sleep since I work tomorrow, but first I need to tell you what I found about the group that’s after you.”

“Really? What an unexpected gain.”

Cheriot responded with a pleased laugh and poured whiskey, placing a glass before Heather first. Seeing her full glass, Heather let out an incredulous laugh.

“I thought you’d be scared, but you have time to drink?”

“That’s because I have that impressive, handsome, and competent man you introduced me to as my bodyguard.”

Both their gazes turned to Yuri. Heather, perhaps still embarrassed by what happened earlier, suddenly blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Mr. Yuri is really competent. Do you remember what I told you? He defeated several thugs who attacked him at once, like in an action movie.”

Cheriot, who had been staring at Heather while playing with his glass, let himself fall heavily into the chair across from her. Stretching out his long legs, he looked at Yuri with an interested expression.

“Are you kind to women, Yuri? He twisted my arm the moment he saw me.”

“Oh, really?!”

Heather looked back and forth between them in surprise, then pointed at Cheriot.

“I bet you provoked him first!”

“Now you’re taking his side instead of mine?”

“I’ve known you for a long time—that’s how I know what you’re like.”

They seemed to get along better than expected. Neither Heather, who appeared unbothered by Cheriot’s exposed chest, nor Cheriot, who complained about her lack of defense, acted unnaturally with each other.

“…It’s late. Why don’t we focus on what we need to do?”

Yuri made the suggestion politely to Heather, then dropped the suitcase Alexei had given him onto the floor with a sharp thud.

“Your things are here. Heather, I heard you looked into the group that’s stalking this person. It would be good if you shared a summary.”

“Ah, that’s right! Being with Cheriot distracts me so much I forget myself sometimes. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry.”

As Heather straightened up and apologized, Yuri shook his head. Cheriot, who had been listening with his legs stretched out in an awkward posture, showed his displeasure when Yuri finished speaking.

“This “person,” huh? You should’ve called me “Cherry” like before.”

“That was out of necessity.”

“There will be many situations like that in the future, so you’d better get used to it.”

He wasn’t wrong. But there would never be such an occasion between them. Yuri fell silent, deciding it was better to reveal his true identity now rather than waste more time. Once resolved, he considered how to phrase it.

I’m sorry, but…

No, perhaps an apology wasn’t necessary. He had never intended to accept this kind of job from the start. But he did owe Heather an apology. After all, she had believed Yuri was a good person and recommended him. Although he hadn’t created that trust himself, if he had given that impression, then he shared responsibility.

With Yuri remaining silent, both pairs of eyes turned toward him. It suddenly became agonizing to meet Heather’s intelligent brown eyes—eyes that revealed an honest upbringing—and Cheriot’s transparent green ones that seemed to hide nothing. He was overwhelmed by the shame he always felt when facing “ordinary” citizens who lived in a completely different world from his. His stomach burned.

“Heather, earlier in the elevator you mentioned something. That Cheriot hates criminals.”

“Ah, yes.”

Heather replied with a puzzled expression. Cheriot, though tilting his head at the sudden change of topic, narrowed his eyes and smiled.

“Were you talking about me? If you were curious, you could’ve just asked me directly.”

“No. I thought Mr. Yuri seemed uncomfortable, so I brought it up.”

“Oh really? Heather, always so considerate.”

Yes, that seemed to be the case. That’s why, before causing more trouble for someone truly good like Heather, he had to reveal the truth quickly in his own words.

“If that was the reason you recommended me, I don’t think I’m a suitable candidate.”

Yuri decided it was better not to mention Alexei. That was a matter between Alexei and Heather, and the immediate problem was his own presence next to Cheriot. Besides, Alexei… was in a different situation from his.

Yuri had simply endured the dirty work assigned to him in order to survive, whereas Alexei had been forced to join a criminal organization because they had leverage over him. Alexei’s parents had tried to escape the organization to avoid killing innocent people and were executed in the process. Alexei was also the one who had destroyed the organization with his own hands. That Yuri could now be in this country was thanks to his friend. He owed Alexei a lot.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Yuri, you already decided to accept the job earlier. Instead of just rejecting it, sometimes you have to compromise so I don’t end up hurt.”

Cheriot, as if not taking it seriously, continued with his nonsense. Heather looked uneasy, but more than worrying about Yuri’s true identity, she seemed to think he was blaming himself. Yuri decided to define himself clearly so there would be no more confusion.

“I’m a criminal. I’ve committed countless vile acts in the past.”

His own voice sounded so strange and chilling in his ears that he clenched his fists. Hearing his past spoken aloud was horrible.

A heavy silence fell. Heather, stunned, covered her mouth with her hand. Cheriot, who had been looking at Yuri, blinked, his face still frozen in a smile. Enduring the silence that pressed against his throat, Yuri breathed so softly that even he couldn’t hear the sound of his own breathing.

“…Is this a joke?”

After a short but eternal silence, Cheriot parted his lips. He still wore a smiling face, but unlike before, his eyes were cold and hard.

“No. You don’t seem like the type to joke. Mmm…”

He murmured to himself and reached for the glass on the table. Heather watched Yuri’s face, trying to gauge his words. Yuri waited silently for them to process the revelation.

Cheriot pressed the glass to his rosy lips—darker than those of a typical alpha—but didn’t drink, only moistening them with the liquid. Lost in thought, he then let out a mocking laugh.

“How awkward.”

His voice, usually tinged with a light, playful tone, had disappeared, replaced by a flat, dry one. After speaking, he slowly drank the whisky. The knot in his white throat moved up and down, and the sound of swallowing echoed loudly.

Heather still couldn’t speak. Yuri felt deep regret for putting her in this situation, but decided not to make the mistake of opening his mouth to comfort her. All that pretense of being polite, kind, considerate… it all lost meaning once his true nature had been revealed.

“Misdemeanors? You mean, like… drunk driving? It’s not good, but that’s all, right? Or theft?”

Cheriot asked about the nature of his crimes, as if trying to find some justification. Hearing the question, Yuri silently recalled his past.

I never targeted ordinary people.

It was true that his organization supplied drugs to common folk and trapped them in debt, but that wasn’t Yuri’s role. His mother had fallen out of favor with Igor Volkov, the boss, and after certain incidents, Yuri was marked. He didn’t know why that scum—the lowest of the low—put on airs of class, but Yuri became the most despised among them.

Igor never let Yuri handle money. Instead, he assigned him all kinds of dangerous jobs. If he had to define his role, he was an attack dog. He risked his body for his master and in return received scraps. So Yuri didn’t commit crimes to make money; he simply had a leash around his neck.

Typically, Yuri faced off against rival criminal groups that threatened their interests. Or he stood guard during negotiations. When not doing that, he managed his boss’s club and threw out drunk troublemakers.

No one could match him in physical strength, but Yuri, unlike the others, was always treated as inferior for his “traitor bl00d.” He remained poor, surviving on whatever money Igor occasionally tossed his way. Even Alexei didn’t know these details. They were best friends and comrades, but they didn’t share every misery—some wounds only infect others.

Yet all this felt like miserable excuses. Just thinking it seemed hypocritical and disgusting, almost laughable. When Yuri encountered something truly repulsive, he often responded with a mocking laugh rather than anger. Sometimes he laughed that way at his own reflection.

“No.”

Interrupting his useless memories, Yuri firmly denied the implication. He only drank when he had to stand for hours in the cold, and even that was forbidden on driving missions. There were times he was so hungry he ate discarded food from trash bins, but he never stole.

However, he had done things far worse than any of that.

“…Things worse than that?”

Cheriot’s voice grew gradually more serious. Any trace of benevolence or attempt to see him favorably had vanished, replaced by an expression both strange and familiar. An uncomfortable distance settled between them. Gone was the man who begged for cute nicknames and joked around. Cheriot’s brow furrowed, his expression hardening.

“I have no reason to tell you.”

Yuri’s response put a final point to the situation. At his cold tone, which made it clear he wouldn’t offer anything usable as a confession, Cheriot fell silent.

Then, the air in the room changed. Just as when he had spoken of trust earlier, Cheriot’s pheromones grew heavy and dense. Though his face showed no expression, his pheromones—now sharp and aggressive—revealed that his mood had hit rock bottom. Heather, being a beta, seemed unaware, but Yuri felt instant nausea from the rising hostility and rejection.

Yes, this is how alphas normally feel around each other. Not smiling foolishly and clinging with affection—this is the correct feeling.

No one moved. Amid the standstill, Cheriot set his glass down on the table with a dry thud. Following that sound, his pheromones spilled out abruptly, cornering Yuri. A silent accusation resonated in the air.

“I understand.”

Cheriot gathered his long legs and sat up straight. He silently closed his bathrobe, then slowly leaned on the armrests and stood. Yuri raised his head slightly to follow the height that now towered over him. Cheriot walked forward and looked down. Shadows fell along his long nose, and his green eyes under blonde lashes stared fixedly.

After several seconds of silence…

“So you were trash, Yuri.”

From those thin lips that seemed incapable of saying anything cruel, cutting words flowed. Though the delivery was softer than expected, Yuri’s lips went dry. A small panic surged through him, then settled heavily.

It’s always like this.

Criticism from people who weren’t despicable filled him with shame. The intense emotion pressing in from all sides tormented him more than fear or terror. He had learned to overcome fear, but he couldn’t find a way to escape shame.

There was only one thing he could do now: endure Cheriot’s criticism in silence. Though he didn’t believe he had specifically wronged him, it felt natural to be condemned for what he was.

“Cheriot!”

But it was Heather who intervened. She had been observing the situation, choosing her words, but upon hearing Cheriot’s verdict, she immediately stood. Her face clearly distressed, she approached, took Cheriot’s arm, and pulled him back.

“How can you say that to him so suddenly? Even so, Mr. Yuri…”

Heather hesitated, making eye contact with Yuri. Her searching gaze seemed deeply apologetic, which made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t wanted Heather to feel embarrassed because of someone like him—that was why he’d spoken up earlier—but now things had turned out this way.

“I’m sorry, Heather. I didn’t mean to scare you. But if Yuri really is a criminal, then this is a huge load of crap for me, isn’t it? I chose this complicated path precisely to avoid people like him.”

Cheriot apologized to Heather calmly, his face blank and expressionless.

“I understand that. But Mr. Yuri must have his reasons too.”

“Is there anyone in the world without reasons?”

A mocking smirk formed at the corner of Cheriot’s lips at Heather’s careful defense.

“That’s nothing more than an excuse.”

Cheriot stared straight at Yuri, challenging him to refute it. His warm green eyes, which had shone just moments before, were now completely cold. The anger in his gaze only intensified. Yuri decided it was enough and prepared to leave.

Just as he was about to apologize to Heather and say goodbye, Cheriot spoke again, clearly displeased that Yuri remained standing there silently. Furrowing his beautiful eyes, Cheriot approached with long strides. He leaned his tall torso forward, brought his face close to Yuri’s, and demanded in a threatening tone:

“Are you listening to me? I’m telling you to get lost. I don’t care about your reasons. If you had any tact, you would’ve left already. What are you waiting for?”

Without giving him a chance to respond, Cheriot added sarcastically:

“Are you expecting me to thank you for being honest, even now?”

It seems this is enough.

Yuri decided to give this arrogant young man the answer he wanted before he caused more of a scene.

“That would be impossible.”

“Then leave. Don’t be here.”

Yuri turned on his heel indifferently. He wanted to apologize separately to Heather, but thought even that might be inappropriate, so he suppressed the impulse. Just as he turned to leave the suite, Cheriot called out.

“Wait a moment.”

Though he didn’t want to respond, Yuri stopped to avoid further trouble. Cheriot, arms crossed, looked at him for a moment before turning to grab Yuri’s suitcase in one swift motion. Though it seemed heavy, he lifted it as easily as a paper bag.

“I forgot to pay you.”

A dull thud echoed through the room. While Heather watched anxiously, Cheriot unzipped the suitcase and retrieved a wallet. From the expensive-looking leather, he pulled out a thick stack of bills.

“Here. Take it. For the hotel.”

Ah, so that’s what it’s about, Yuri thought. Cheriot was referring to the hotel cost Yuri had paid. He stared at the money being offered—clearly more than twenty crisp $100 bills. It far exceeded what Yuri had paid, even after deducting his own contribution.

As if sensing his hesitation, pale fingers with blue veins waved the bills in a seductive motion, urging him to take them.

Watching the mocking gesture in silence, Yuri understood the truth behind Heather’s words. He had wondered how much Cheriot hated criminals, and now he saw it was a deep, visceral disgust. Though Cheriot had seemed boundaryless and frivolous before, he hadn’t been this rude until now.

Seeing how immediately he erased any previous sympathy and completely changed upon learning Yuri’s nature suggested deep personal issues. Though not a particularly strange reaction—it was natural for normal people to feel aversion toward someone like him.

Being called trash wasn’t new to Yuri.

Worse than a dog. Dirty bl00d that should’ve died at birth. A wretch who’d do good being beheaded and left in the forest as beast food. A demon. A horrible person. A cold, cruel being without a tear. Someone who doesn’t even deserve to be called human.

Throughout his life, he’d been called many things. Among all those insults, “trash” could be considered polite.

“Keep the change.”

Having almost never been treated as human, acts of contempt didn’t faze him. He took the money Cheriot offered without flinching, avoiding those cold green eyes that now mocked him, and slowly counted the bills.

One, two, three… Twenty.

Wasn’t this excessive for a payment made out of spite? The hotel fee had been about $700. Yuri counted out seven bills—what he was owed—and placed them in his inner pocket. Cheriot narrowed one eye at him, as if wondering what he was doing. The expression was almost funny. No matter how harsh his words had been earlier, he hadn’t blinked—yet now he made that face just because Yuri was breathing.

“It seems you’re good at exercise but weak at sums. I’m leaving the change.”

If it had been anyone else, he would have thrown the bills in their face, but out of consideration for Heather, Yuri held back. Instead, he walked past Cheriot—who showed no intention of taking the money—and left it on the table. With that simple gesture, his relationship with Cheriot Goodnight was settled.

Immediately after, Yuri left the room, leaving Cheriot glaring after him. Alone in front of the elevator, he could finally breathe. His chest burned from within, heat rising as if a thorn lodged near his heart had been pulled out.

Disgusting.

This revulsion wasn’t directed at Cheriot or Heather, but purely at himself. A strong sense of humiliation—one he hadn’t felt in years while avoiding ordinary people—slowly surfaced. It was like an inescapable leech clinging to his conscience, tormenting him.

For the first time in a long while, he felt like going home and drinking. With impatient agitation, Yuri pressed the elevator button. Just as the doors opened, the suite door burst open to reveal Heather.

“Yuri, come down to the lobby for a moment. I need to talk to you.”

She quickly approached and slipped into the elevator before he could refuse. After a moment’s hesitation, Yuri followed without a word. As the doors closed, Heather spoke.

“That was an overly explosive revelation, Yuri. Even I didn’t know how to handle that situation.”

She adjusted her glasses and looked directly at him, her voice lowered. Unlike before, when she’d been paralyzed between Cheriot and Yuri, she now seemed quite bold.

“You don’t need to defend me, Heather. I’m sorry I kept this from you, though I hadn’t planned to meet him again.”

“No, it’s just… you don’t have to apologize. On the contrary, you listened to me and… told the truth. But!”

Heather brushed her hair back with mixed feelings, disheveling her once-neat ponytail.

“The Yuri I saw isn’t someone who would hurt Cheriot…”

She murmured dejectedly while untangling her hair.

Seeing her, Yuri twisted the corner of his lips in a silent gesture, then instantly erased the expression.

“You saw me fight the day we met. Someone who can subdue others like that doesn’t have an ordinary background.”

Yuri remembered meeting Heather two years earlier. He’d been helping his father Vasili at the time. The shop of the benefactor who helped Vasili settle in Vancouver was being threatened by thugs, and while Yuri and Alexei tracked down those responsible, they found Heather in trouble. She’d been investigating who hired the thugs and ended up in danger after recklessly following them.

Even then, instead of being frightened when she saw them beating people, Heather thanked them for helping and asked if they could assist her further. That’s why he sometimes wondered if she suspected their true identities.

“I… thought you were something like retired military. Or maybe aspiring police officers.”

Since a civilian wouldn’t recognize what martial art I practice, that’s possible, he thought. He laughed mockingly to himself at the idea of an identity so far removed from his own.

“But Yuri, you’re not a fugitive, are you?”

Seeing his silence, Heather asked again carefully.

“If you were, as a citizen I’d have to report you. I’m asking hoping that’s not the case.”

“There’s no arrest warrant for me. I negotiated with the police.”

Since he didn’t need to explain all the details of his past, Yuri ended there. Learning he wasn’t a fugitive, Heather looked visibly relieved, her expression brightening.

“Then you must have your reasons. If you explain even a little of your situation, I’ll try to speak with Cheriot again.”

“Trust is already broken; it would be impossible. Nor is it something I want. There’s plenty of competition—no need to use my services.”

“That’s true. But there’s no guarantee others won’t sell Cheriot’s information.”

“I don’t offer guarantees either.”

Heather kept insisting on a topic that no longer mattered. As the elevator reached the lobby, Yuri spoke firmly, not wanting to waste more time.

“Heather, you need to sharpen your judgment of people. The fact that I—whom you believed to be a good person—turned out to be a criminal proves it. You should go back. You came all this way to give Cheriot the information he needs.”

After speaking, Yuri left Heather behind and walked through the lobby. The fatigue and hunger he had forgotten suddenly overwhelmed him, and he felt a genuine desire to rest. He wanted to get out immediately.

But…

As he crossed toward the exit, his gaze landed on the reception desk. A short-haired blonde man in a neutral-colored jacket was speaking with a hotel employee—perhaps he had called the night-shift staff. It could have been an ordinary scene to ignore, but Yuri habitually checked the man’s waist and hands.

The man’s right hand remained inside his jacket pocket. He wore boots with rigid soles, and at his waist… Yuri couldn’t make out the outline clearly.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Yuri pretended to search for something in his jacket while lowering his head. He quickly glanced around and spotted another man sitting in the lobby seating area. A brown-haired man in a khaki jacket and black cap appeared to be comfortably using his phone, but his gaze was fixed on the reception desk.

As if sensing Yuri’s stare, the man slowly looked up and met his eyes. Yuri, pretending not to notice, turned back toward the elevator and called to Heather, who was watching from a distance:

“Chelsea, did I give you my car keys?”

Heather’s eyes widened when Yuri suddenly called her “Chelsea.” Before she could respond, he quickly closed the distance between them, positioning his body to block her from the lobby’s view, then leaned down and whispered in her ear:

“Please follow my instructions from now on. I’ll explain outside.”

“Eh? Oh, yes, okay.”

Fortunately, Heather caught on quickly. Though confused, she looked at him with questioning eyes. Yuri gave her a slight smile, then reached out and loosened her hair tie. Her brown hair fell in disarray.

“Uh.”

Heather shrank back, her face flushing at the sudden contact. He regretted alarming someone he was supposed to protect, but there was no alternative.

“Sorry for the trouble.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Yuri wrapped his arm around Heather’s waist. Her eyes widened as she trembled, pulled tightly against his side. Then he began walking back through the lobby.

Heather moved stiffly beside him. The height difference was so pronounced that Yuri practically carried her, his long strides making her stumble as she struggled to keep pace.

As they passed the lobby sofa, Yuri tousled Heather’s hair further with his free hand. The watching man stared for a moment, but after a few seconds, as if losing interest, looked away.

Without stopping, Yuri continued straight outside. Still holding the tense Heather close, he asked:

“Where did you park?”

Heather, lips pressed tight, pointed toward the far left end of the avenue in front of the hotel.

“Over there!”

“We’ll go together.”

They walked in silence for several minutes. Only when they reached Heather’s car parked near the pedestrian crossing did Yuri release his arm. A quick glance back confirmed no one was following them.

“Hey, Yuri, what was that about?”

“There were suspicious people in the lobby. Definitely not guests—most likely here for Cheriot. Hopefully we were wrong, but better safe than sorry.”

“Ah…”

Heather looked at him dazed and nodded. Yuri scanned their surroundings once more before saying:

“Get in the car.”

At the instruction, Heather jumped like a startled rabbit and quickly opened the passenger door. Confused, she sat down, then hurried back out. As she circled to the driver’s side and opened the door, she hesitated and asked:

“But why did you put your arm around my waist?”

“If we’d left separately, we might have drawn attention. But appearing as a couple returning from a night together? Nobody looks twice. Plus, you’re known to Cheriot—if they recognized you, you could have been dragged into this.”

Since he had shielded her almost completely, the chances of recognition were minimal. Though acquainted with Cheriot, they weren’t particularly close, and if she avoided further involvement, she should remain safe.

Yuri briefly considered the identity of the men in the lobby. They definitely weren’t police—far from being undercover officers, they carried themselves more like mercenaries.

That was the puzzling part. Hadn’t Heather said the group pursuing Cheriot was a biker gang?

Those types usually acted directly. Most members sported visible tattoos as identifiers and made no effort to blend in. Yet the man at reception seemed skilled at avoiding attention. His nondescript clothing and ambiguous appearance—making it impossible to tell if he was armed—marked him as professional.

“Ah, that makes sense. It must have been for that reason, but I misinterpreted it…”

Heather murmured to herself before quickly slipping into the driver’s seat. As the engine started, Yuri weighed his options. He didn’t need to protect Cheriot if the man didn’t want his help, leaving was certainly an option, but…

“Yuri, you’re going to help Cheriot, right? It’s impossible to find someone else at this hour.”

Hearing Heather’s voice through the lowered window, he had his answer. With no guarantee the reception staff wouldn’t leak information, extracting Cheriot was the only responsible choice. Resigning himself to an unpleasant task, Yuri leaned toward the window. Heather had released the steering wheel and was leaning across the passenger seat, watching him anxiously.

“Does he have very bad eyesight?”

“Huh? Eyesight? It’s not terrible, but I have astigmatism, so I usually wear glasses.”

“Can you drive without them?”

“At night, more or less…”

Yuri nodded and reached toward Heather. Though confused, she remained still, instinctively flinching as his hand approached but stopping herself. Yuri carefully removed her glasses.

“Then I’ll borrow these.”

“Hmm?”

“If the person who just left comes back, it’ll draw attention. Consider it a disguise.”

Heather’s eyes widened in surprise. With an excited expression, like someone watching an action film, she whispered:

“Mr. Yuri, right now you look like a movie protagonist!”

“Save the compliments for later and go home now. Take a detour instead of your usual route, and if you have someone who can meet you, ask them to. Once I get Cheriot out, I’ll contact you. Meanwhile, look for a replacement security agency.”

Heather nodded repeatedly. As she prepared to drive off, she called out through the window as he stepped back:

“Yuri, I was going to tell you this earlier. The gang chasing Cheriot is called ‘The Hell’s Guardians.’ They’re a biker gang—smuggling and drug sales are their main income. They’ve killed many people and have been established in Vancouver for years. Rumor says they have high-level connections. Despite the childish name, they’re extremely dangerous, so tell Cheriot to be very careful. I’ll investigate further.”

Heather shifted gears and added one final warning before leaving:

“Ten years ago, they killed a famous hockey player. They won’t spare someone just for being famous.”

After delivering advice she should have given Cheriot herself, she drove away. Yuri mentally noted that Cheriot wouldn’t listen to anything he said anyway, and remained watching until her car disappeared.

Finally, Yuri retraced his route. Walking quickly with long strides, he reached where he’d parked his car—on the back avenue, a block from the hotel. After scanning the surroundings from the corner of his eye, he opened the trunk. Inside, a coat he kept for emergencies was neatly folded.

He removed his black jacket and changed into the coat. Then he stared at the trunk’s floor. Beneath the ordinary-looking mat, he’d hidden a small tactical case. Considering the pistol and cartridges inside, he weighed whether he’d actually need to go that far.

A gun in the city center… Not a good idea.

A shootout in Canada—unlike the United States—and especially in a quiet city like Vancouver, would attract immediate attention. Hopefully these “Guardians” had enough self-control not to attempt something so brazen in the urban center.

After brief consideration, Yuri took only the coat. The optimal scenario was extracting Cheriot without drawing attention, so avoiding conflict remained the priority. He shouldn’t create a situation requiring weapon use.

After closing and securing the trunk, Yuri put on the coat in a camera-blind spot he’d noted earlier. He retrieved a military knife from the inner pocket and slid it into his sleeve. Finally, he put on Heather’s glasses. Though the prescription lenses felt uncomfortable, they wouldn’t hinder his movement.

Taking a deep breath, Yuri ruffled his partially styled bangs. He wished he had a pheromone blocker, but since he never carried one, there was no helping it. In a busy place like a hotel, pheromones mixed together and became hard to distinguish, so he would probably be fine.

Everything was ready. Yuri decided to hurry and make up for lost time. Returning quickly to the hotel, he scanned the lobby as soon as the automatic doors opened. Fortunately, the man in the seating area was still there, but the one from the front desk had vanished.

A bad feeling ran down his spine. Yuri headed straight for the elevator without looking toward the lobby seating. The seated man’s gaze turned toward the late-night visitor. Yuri felt the stare linger longer than before. He walked cautiously, worried about being followed, just as a couple of tourists stepped out of the elevator.

“But you know, honey? Elizabeth just shared a story saying a famous hockey player is staying here.”

“Cheriot Goodnight?”

“How did you know?”

“If he’s famous enough for Elizabeth to post about, in Canada it can only be Cheriot Goodnight. Plus, he’s from Vancouver. Oh, and I remember you mentioning how handsome he is several times.”

“Haha, are you jealous? I only have eyes for you, so don’t worry. But if we see him, let’s take a selfie. I hope we run into him at breakfast!”

“Wouldn’t a celebrity like that order room service?”

The laughing couple not only distracted the watcher but also provided crucial information. Though Yuri had hoped the strangers weren’t targeting Cheriot, this confirmed it. They had come knowing he was here.

How had the information leaked? If Cheriot had a tracker, they would have found him earlier, but there’d been no tail until now. The conclusion was clear: his identity had been discovered after he arrived at the hotel.

Yuri had checked in, and Cheriot had kept his face covered. The only time he’d removed his mask was before entering the room—when he drank that cocktail at the hotel bar. Though brief, it was enough time for someone to recognize him.

Ah.

If he couldn’t wait a few minutes without flirting with that Omega, he should have known this would happen. His face was too distinctive to hide with just a cap, so of course that Omega had recognized him. Swallowing his disgust, Yuri entered the elevator the couple had just vacated. As he quietly pressed the close button, no one else entered. It seemed he’d fooled the watching man.

As soon as the doors closed, he reached for the 12th-floor button but remembered he needed the keycard. Frowning, he checked his pocket—fortunately, it was there. After selecting the floor, Yuri slipped his right hand inside his coat and gripped the knife hidden in his sleeve. The blade clicked softly as it deployed.

Watching the floor numbers change, Yuri hoped Cheriot hadn’t opened the door for a stranger. But most privileged Alphas—especially those who’d never known vulnerability—rarely learned caution.

The elevator doors opened. Before stepping out, he scanned the hallway—empty. An ominous feeling crept over him.

Holding his breath, he moved as silently as possible toward Cheriot’s room. Pressing his ear to the door, he heard nothing. For a moment, Yuri imagined Cheriot Goodnight lifeless. They’d only known each other a few hours, and the man had been rude to him, but still, his fingertips turned cold.

I don’t want to see anyone die.

Though he’d witnessed countless deaths since birth, Yuri never grew accustomed to it. The people around him were trash who deserved to die, and so was he, but the metallic smell of bl00d and the stench of decay were things he could never forget.

Every life was unique. No matter how wretched a person might be, their existence was undeniably a miracle from the moment they were born. Yuri firmly believed some people deserved death for the trails they left, but the moment a living soul’s light extinguished carried an indescribable misery.

I don’t want to see that misery in someone like Cheriot.

Cutting off the dark thoughts, Yuri moved into action. He swiped the keycard; a beep sounded. With his left hand still holding the card, he turned the doorknob, opened the door quietly, and hid behind it. When no bullets flew, he slipped inside.

“Heather? Is that you, Heather?”

Hearing the familiar voice calling for Heather, Yuri held his breath and closed the door. Cheriot, luckily, hadn’t been foolish enough to open the door for a stranger. Relieved, Yuri removed his hand from his pocket. The knife blade had retracted.

“I thought you’d only talk for a moment, but you took so long. What could you possibly have to say to that criminal that you’d leave me alone and go out? No, maybe it’s better this way. Actually, while you were gone, something surprising happened. You almost saw me in a pitiful state.”

Cheriot kept chattering without receiving any response and emerged from the living room. Wondering what the “surprising” event could be, Yuri moved toward him. As their footsteps met, their voices rang out simultaneously.

“What are you doing here?”

“And why is he like that?”

The two frowned upon seeing each other. Spotting Yuri, Cheriot immediately demanded in a cold, altered voice, while Yuri’s brow furrowed as he looked at the floor. On the living room carpet lay a man face-down, completely still—either unconscious or dead.

“I asked first. What are you doing here? Where’s Heather? And your clothes—what is that? Aren’t those Heather’s glasses?”

Cheriot stepped closer menacingly. Yuri quickly assessed him: the bathrobe, previously properly closed, now hung open, revealing red friction marks on his skin. Evidence of a physical struggle.

“Did you kill him?”

“Do you think I’m like you?”

Without responding, Yuri sidestepped him and approached the fallen man. Kneeling to check his waist, he found a stun gun instead of a firearm. Thank goodness these “Guardians” had enough sense not to cause a major scene in a hotel. Their plan appeared to be kidnapping rather than murder.

“Answer me. What are you doing here?”

Cheriot grabbed Yuri’s arm as he examined the man. Though not caught off guard, the grip was strong enough to make him stagger—Cheriot’s strength far exceeded that of an average Alpha, as expected from a professional athlete.

Turning while still restrained, Yuri saw Cheriot’s pupils contracted. His body temperature felt dangerously high, penetrating through the coat fabric, and his pheromones churned erratically. Though uncertain what had transpired, Cheriot was clearly agitated from the confrontation.

“There’s another man in the lobby who appears to be this one’s partner. The situation is dangerous, so I sent Heather home. I didn’t want to come back either—it was at her request.”

“I can handle this alone, so get lost. You can tell just by looking at that guy.”

Cheriot remained guarded, clearly resenting Yuri’s presence. Yuri stared back impassively.

“Could you say the same if he’d been armed?”

Cheriot hesitated. A flicker of doubt crossed his clouded green eyes.

“Opening the door for a stranger was a mistake from the start.”

Seizing the opening, Yuri pointed out Cheriot’s error. Though accurate, Cheriot refused to concede.

“But I can’t call the police. Did you forget what I’m running from?”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t flirted with that Omega.”

“What?”

Cheriot, who hadn’t backed down, blinked in surprise. Yuri had hoped he’d recognize his own mistake, but received an unexpected reply.

“Are you still thinking about that? You rejected me so bluntly, but it seems you ended up liking the attention after all.”

Cheriot released Yuri’s arm with a mocking laugh and stepped back.

“Damn, I do like your face, but I don’t associate with criminals. If I’d known Samuel had gang ties, I wouldn’t have gotten involved with him either.”

Speechless, Yuri stared before deciding to prioritize their escape over correcting this nonsense.

“Change clothes and pack your things. They might track us, so we’ll get cash on the way and ditch the cards. You should change phones too.”

“Wait, I already told you I’m not hiring you.”

“Do you want to keep wasting time here, or get out and hire whoever you want?”

Fortunately, Cheriot wasn’t completely unreasonable. Though frowning at Yuri’s words, he began repacking his suitcase. Meanwhile, Yuri searched the unconscious man’s pockets and found a burner phone—no identification, but password-protected.

He decided to hide the phone where Alexei could retrieve it later and turned to hurry Cheriot along. The man was out of sight—likely in the bedroom—but Yuri spotted the closed suitcase and the $1,300 still on the table.

He almost threw it away.

With mild annoyance at his wasteful yet fortunate companion, Yuri collected the money. This would cover gas and lodging for now. All that remained was their escape.

As Yuri entered the bedroom with the suitcase, Cheriot’s naked form appeared before him. From thick thighs tapering to toned calves, to soft buttocks and a broad, imposing back—he wore nothing at all.

Damn it.

Cheriot was completely nude. Stunned by the unexpected exposure, Yuri stepped back abruptly. The suitcase hit the wall with a dull thud. Hearing the noise, Cheriot turned, and Yuri unwillingly witnessed what he’d rather not have seen.

Something absurdly large swung beneath Cheriot’s waist. The heavy shape cast such a shadow between his thighs that Yuri’s gaze was momentarily trapped. Mentally cursing, he sharply turned away.

What a thing I’ve had to see.

Another Alpha’s body wasn’t something he’d willingly look at, but it had to be this man’s. The involuntary sight left him speechless.

“Were you spying on me?”

Though he’d just exposed himself, Cheriot seemed less disturbed than Yuri. His voice remained surprisingly calm, as if accustomed to such situations.

“…Change quickly. There’s no time for this.”

Recovering his composure, Yuri spoke with strained control. He felt Cheriot’s gaze on him as he rigidly avoided eye contact. Ignoring the intense stare, Cheriot responded with mild mockery:

“If you’ve already seen everything, why look away? You don’t strike me as the innocent type.”

His joking tone eased the tension. Yuri, who had stiffened, gradually relaxed. Perhaps because Cheriot had behaved this way since they met, Yuri was growing accustomed to his casual attitude. However, the real Cheriot he’d have to deal with long-term wouldn’t be this carefree version.

“Let’s go. We need to leave quickly so I can get away from you.”

Cheriot dressed instantly—different clothes from what he’d worn to the hotel. A discreet gray hoodie, black pants, and a black knit cap. Though muted, the colors somehow drew more attention to his vibrant presence, unlike the white cap and jacket that had helped him blend in.

“And the mask?”

“I threw it away.”

“Retrieve it.”

“Too late. I spilled Coke in the trash earlier—it’s ruined.”

Who spills Coca-Cola like a child? The excuse was absurd.

“Don’t you carry a spare?”

“Until today, I never needed to hide.”

Cheriot shrugged shamelessly. Apparently, he didn’t mind recognition, as shown by his bar interactions—something Yuri found incomprehensible. He preferred to remain unnoticed.

Rather than argue pointlessly, Yuri opened the suite door. Cheriot followed closely. As they moved, Cheriot’s pheromones washed over Yuri’s shoulder. Perhaps due to prolonged agitation, his scent was intense—sharp like liquor with a sweet undertone, reminiscent of whisky without the alcoholic edge. Unique pheromones.

Realizing he was analyzing another Alpha’s scent, Yuri frowned and redirected his thoughts. En route, he hid the attacker’s phone in a hotel trash can. Their priority was to reach a less populated area.

He didn’t know the full extent of the Hell’s Guardians’ network, but they should avoid cities large enough to dispatch people immediately after checking social media. Somewhere with little interest in hockey would be ideal… though such places scarcely existed in Canada.

Lost in thought, Yuri barely registered the elevator’s arrival. When Cheriot moved to enter first, Yuri stopped him out of habit. As Cheriot turned with a disgusted expression, the doors opened. Through the widening gap, Yuri spotted someone—the man from the lobby.

The man’s eyes swept past Yuri and locked onto Cheriot. The moment he confirmed Cheriot’s identity, his hand moved toward his back. Seeing the motion, Yuri shoved Cheriot aside.

What followed lasted three seconds.

Bang.

A gun equipped with a silencer fired, the bullet grazing the spot where Cheriot had been standing before embedding itself in the floor. Yuri saw Cheriot stagger from the push, his eyes wide with shock. Without hesitation, Yuri hurled the suitcase he was carrying directly at the assailant.

Thud!

The man blocked the suitcase with his forearm. Yuri lunged into the elevator, shouting at Cheriot:

“Get down, now!”

He kicked the fallen suitcase toward the man again while repeatedly stabbing the close button. The man raised his arm, aiming the gun once more. Yuri delivered a sharp kick to his wrist, sending the weapon spinning through the air before it clattered to the floor. Their eyes met, and both men moved simultaneously.

Dodging a punch aimed at his stomach, Yuri drove his elbow directly into the man’s face. A dull pain radiated through his arm. Staggering but not falling, the man leaned against the elevator wall and charged back.

He rammed Yuri with his full weight, using the moment Yuri spent regaining balance to land a punch on his cheekbone. The impact shattered the glasses Yuri wore, sending them falling to the floor. As Yuri yielded under the consecutive blows, the man locked both arms around his waist and delivered a ruthless punch to his side.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Yuri didn’t struggle to break free. Instead, he twisted the man’s ear violently.

“Aaah!”

Attacked at a vulnerable point, the man faltered, his grip loosening. Yuri seized the opportunity, striking his face hard before grabbing him from behind. He wrapped a thick arm around the man’s neck and pressed his body against the elevator wall.

His pulse raced uncontrollably from the brutal, condensed fight. Feeling his lips dry and heart pounding, Yuri tightened his hold. The man struggled, driving an elbow hard into Yuri’s abdomen, but he refused to yield.

Should I kill him?

Yuri considered it, remembering the knife hidden in his sleeve. This man had clearly tried to shoot Cheriot. That was attempted murder.

But…

This wasn’t what Cheriot wanted. He’d sought out Alexei specifically to avoid unnecessary complications.

If he left the man alive, others would surely follow. Having seen Yuri’s face, he could testify. Their efforts to protect Cheriot would be severely limited. Someone would recognize him.

Yuri knew from long experience that escaping while leaving witnesses was far harder than eliminating them. Especially when facing opponents who shot without hesitation, the risks multiplied. Him getting injured wasn’t the main issue—the problem was that those he spared never returned the favor.

As Yuri deliberated, the man finally lost consciousness. Slowly releasing his hold, Yuri let the body collapse heavily to the floor. Suppressing a rough gasp, he stared for a moment before searching the man’s pockets as he had done earlier. He found a phone and pocketed it.

Without glancing at the security cameras, Yuri removed the magazine from the fallen gun and kicked the weapon into a corner. He wouldn’t provide unnecessary clues for the inevitable investigation.

Seconds later, the elevator reached the lobby. Swallowing his fatigue, Yuri straightened, alert to whoever might be waiting. The doors opened to reveal the tourist couple he’d seen earlier, holding convenience store bags from a nearby Seven-Eleven.

“…Uh?”

The pair flinched and stepped back. Yuri gave them a quick glance before slowly retrieving the suitcase from the floor. Stepping over the unconscious man, he advised:

“You’d better call the police. He was drunk and caused a scene.”

With a gun fired in a luxury hotel, police involvement was inevitable. Having unrelated witnesses report it was preferable, and Yuri decided to use them. The startled couple hurried toward reception, avoiding him.

Just then, the other elevator doors opened. Cheriot rushed out, and Yuri felt a wave of relief. At least he’d had the sense to follow directly.

“What the hell happened?”

Cheriot approached with long strides, whispering urgently.

“Exactly what you saw. We have no time to waste. We need to leave now.”

“I know, I know, but-”

Yuri pulled Cheriot toward him with his free hand. As he applied pressure, a hot, burning sensation spread across his upper arm. It was a familiar feeling—one he associated with bullet grazes. He’d thought he dodged successfully, but apparently the man’s shot had skimmed him after all.

Walking at a near-run through the lobby, Yuri saw the couple speaking with the reception clerk turn and say something. The woman had spotted Cheriot, as he’d previously hoped might happen, but in the current chaos she seemed too distracted to recognize him.

Quickening his pace, Yuri left the hotel and turned down an alley until he reached his parked car. He swiftly opened the back door, threw the suitcase inside, then opened the passenger door. Cheriot immediately slipped in, and Yuri started the engine the moment he entered the driver’s seat.

Neither spoke for a long time. Yuri drove at a moderate speed without a fixed destination. Heading east toward Highway 1 north seemed reasonable for now. After nearly an hour of silent driving, the urban landscape had vanished, replaced by dense forests.

Only then did Yuri breathe slightly easier, having constantly checked the rearview mirror to confirm they weren’t being followed. No pursuers appeared. It seemed the hotel operatives were the only immediate threat, and even if the incident was reported, the police would likely detain the armed man first, buying them time. Without hallway cameras and with only elevator footage to review, Cheriot’s presence might remain undetected.

“Did you avoid the elevator cameras?”

As long as he didn’t look directly at them…

“What?”

Cheriot broke his silence, his voice low and controlled. Yuri glanced over briefly—he appeared unharmed.

“I’m asking if you looked up in the elevator.”

“…No. I’m on the run, remember? I know how to avoid cameras.”

Following Yuri’s gaze, Cheriot turned his head. His green eyes, which had reflected constant disgust after learning Yuri’s identity, now held the same serenity as when they first met. Perhaps he seemed slightly scared, somewhat anxious—understandable, given the circumstances. For a civilian, this was far from ordinary.

As Yuri considered how to explain the situation, Cheriot’s sudden frown gave him pause. What’s bothering him now? he wondered, just as Cheriot leaned abruptly toward him.

Is he going to hit me?

People in stressful situations sometimes acted irrationally. In a way, Yuri was responsible—if he’d controlled the situation better from the start, no one would have posted Cheriot’s location online.

But Cheriot’s words surprised him completely.

“You’re hurt.”

Before Yuri could react, Cheriot’s hand touched his cheekbone. Warmth spread across his cool skin, followed by a throbbing pain. More startled by the contact than the discomfort, Yuri tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

It had been years since anyone touched him like that. Not since his mother’s gentle caresses in a distant past.

…What an embarrassing way for Alphas to interact.

For Yuri, face-touching was overly familiar. He found it disconcerting that a stranger would do something even family members avoided. While the warmth brought unexpected comfort, the sensation itself felt so alien that his body tensed. He turned his head slightly, causing Cheriot’s hand to fall away naturally.

“Don’t exaggerate.”

By Yuri’s standards, “injured” meant serious harm. If he could still sit and drive without issue, he was far from truly hurt, and he didn’t want attention for minor matters.

“Better get some sleep. We have a long drive ahead.”

Yuri focused ahead while consciously relaxing his grip on the wheel. But Cheriot wouldn’t drop it.

“The passenger is supposed to sleep, right?”

With that response, Cheriot suddenly unbuckled his seatbelt. He turned on the interior light and snorted upon seeing Yuri’s face clearly illuminated.

“What the hell happened to your face? Stop the car. I’m asking you to stop.”

His previously withdrawn hand shot out again, this time gripping Yuri’s jaw. The impossible-to-ignore strength made Yuri frown. As he’d noted before, Cheriot possessed tremendous physical power despite his delicate appearance—perhaps even enough to surpass him in raw strength. Yuri twisted his jaw in protest.

“Stop bothering me and let go.”

“If you saw your own face, you wouldn’t say that.”

Cheriot pressed firmly near the cheekbone with his fingers. Sharp pain radiated under the thin skin, making Yuri’s eyes narrow.

“See? It hurts.”

Without needing to look, Yuri knew the impacted area would be bruised and discolored. Though it seemed excessive for a wound without broken skin, concern about causing an accident made him decide to stop.

“I understand, so let go. I’ll pull over when I find a shoulder.”

Highway 1 offered few shoulders, most of the road carved into steep mountains. Cheriot withdrew with a displeased expression, crossed his arms, and fixed his gaze on Yuri. Annoyed by the intense scrutiny, Yuri drove for another five minutes before finding a clear area to stop temporarily.

As soon as Yuri turned off the engine, Cheriot leaned toward him. His expression serious, he asked:

“Do you carry a first aid kit? We should treat this, even if it’s just with ointment.”

Medicine for a bruise? Yuri’s lips twisted as if he’d heard the most absurd joke.

“Are you done checking?”

“No. I think you’re hurt elsewhere too. Take off your coat. That bastard earlier…”

Cheriot paused, hesitating. His pupils darkened momentarily, as if recalling the gunshots.

“…He fired a gun.”

Cheriot fell silent, watching Yuri with thoughtful eyes for several minutes. Exhausted, Yuri used the calm moment to relax, leaning back in the driver’s seat as fatigue washed over him. The car clock showed 3 a.m.—he’d been awake all day.

In the past, he’d gone two or three days without sleep, but after a period of relative peace, his body now felt the strain. Deciding they should rest for a few hours before continuing, he told Cheriot:

“We’ll set off again soon. When we find a rest area, I’ll get cash and you can contact your preferred security. I’ll stay with you until they arrive. Ultimately, it’s my fault for not preparing thoroughly and letting things escalate this far…”

Yuri silently swallowed a tired sigh and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes felt dry and gritty.

“I’ll ensure there are no more dangerous situations like at the hotel.”

He considered apologizing but remained silent, thinking it would sound hypocritical. Cheriot, who had been listening quietly, responded immediately:

“Why would it be your fault?”

His low, restrained voice resonated softly in the confined space.

“The fault lies with the scum who came to kill me.”

Cheriot sighed, reclined his seat, then turned toward the back to reach his suitcase. His large frame made his shoulder bump against the roof with a soft thud. He retrieved a water bottle and handkerchief, opened the cap, and dampened the cloth. Soon, the wet fabric touched Yuri’s face as he watched in silence.

“The one who decided to cheat was your Omega, but the real villain is the gang leader who tried to kill me. I thought they just wanted money—I never imagined they’d shoot on sight. Whether it’s about love or honor, I don’t know. Honestly, I was terrified.”

Contrary to his initial assessment, the handkerchief came away stained with bl00d. Yuri clenched his jaw, more uncomfortable with the intimacy than the stinging sensation. Instead of grabbing him as before, Cheriot simply followed Yuri’s face as he tried to pull away.

“Thank you for saving me. Regardless of what kind of person you are, I should thank you for what you did.”

Yuri, who had been avoiding contact, stilled completely. The gratitude was unexpected. He’d only done what was necessary, but he was surprised Cheriot would show courtesy toward someone like him.

As Yuri stopped resisting, Cheriot finished cleaning his face. Whether from Cheriot’s body heat or something else, the damp cloth felt warm rather than cold, and its moisture wasn’t unpleasant.

The scent of fabric softener, Cheriot’s pheromones, a faint trace of skin lotion. Breathing in another person’s intimate smells at close range, Yuri blinked rapidly. An unnecessary tension filled the air, making movement feel awkward.

If there’s bl00d, it’s better to clean it.

Thinking it wiser to let Cheriot finish, Yuri tried to remain still. But enduring someone else tending to his bl00d proved difficult, and he finally spoke.

“I’m probably not very different from the guys who chased you.”

Cheriot shrugged.

“I know.”

His casual response left Yuri momentarily speechless.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want to touch bad people?”

“Hating you and touching you are two different things.”

They were words Yuri couldn’t comprehend. People naturally avoided what they found disgusting.

“If something disgusts you, you wouldn’t want to touch it either.”

“Since you’re my type, it’s fine.”

Cheriot mentioned his “type” again. Yuri decided to question his strange preference.

“…I don’t understand why you keep saying these things to another Alpha.”

“I’m just telling the truth. Don’t you like hearing it?”

At Yuri’s question, Cheriot looked at him with a slight smile. His guard seemed to have lowered somewhat. Does he drop his defenses just because I saved him once? Humans can betray you at any moment. Yuri worried internally about his naivete.

“It’s not pleasant to hear.”

“It’s a compliment.”

“Maybe I’d want to hear it from an Omega, but not from an Alpha.”

If he analyzed it honestly, he wouldn’t want to hear it from an Omega either, but regardless, this kind of talk between Alphas defied Yuri’s understanding of normalcy.

“Alpha or Omega, we’re all people in the end.”

“Alphas don’t touch each other like that. With an Omega, perhaps, but not like this.”

Cheriot laughed at his stubborn response and put away the handkerchief.

“Haha.”

His laughter resonated deep and low. With just a slight curl of his lips, he tossed the bl00d-stained handkerchief into the back seat. Then he opened the passenger door and declared:

“It seems you don’t know how incredible the experience between Alphas can be.”

At the sudden action, Yuri frowned and straightened up. Cheriot got out and gestured to him.

“Let’s switch seats. I’ll drive. I won’t have you driving while injured.”

“…Nonsense. Get back in your seat.”

Cheriot, who had been somewhat obedient even during danger, had already reverted to his usual willful self. He walked to the driver’s side, leaned his arm on the car, and tilted his torso to look inside. When Yuri didn’t move, Cheriot gestured for him to roll down the window.

“I at least rested a bit at the hotel, but you haven’t stopped. It would be more dangerous if you fell asleep at the wheel. Don’t you think?”

The words were hard to refute. More than sleepy, he felt utterly exhausted, and the desire to close his eyes even briefly suddenly overwhelmed him. As he hesitated, feeling himself yielding to the need for rest, Cheriot spoke calmly:

“Honestly, you’re tired, aren’t you? You can rest.”

On the silent mountain highway, empty of traffic, only Cheriot’s voice resonated. Yuri’s hands remained on the steering wheel as he moved his lips silently. He knew he should refuse, but the words wouldn’t come. Finally, he released the wheel. Cheriot, as if waiting for this, opened the driver’s door.

They switched places. As Yuri closed the passenger door, Cheriot started the engine and took out his phone.

“So, where are we going?”

Yuri, sinking into the seat, rubbed his tired eyelids. He’d been driving with the sole aim of getting away from the city center, without any specific destination in mind. He rarely had to make such decisions.

“Wherever you want.”

Something Yuri didn’t possess—something only someone like Cheriot could have.

“Kelowna?”

“Too many people there.”

Cheriot pursed his lips. Resting his arms on the steering wheel, he looked over and asked:

“Then what kind of place would work?”

“Somewhere with few people… and young people who wouldn’t post on social media even if they saw you.”

“Does such a place still exist?”

As they conversed, exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed Yuri and he fell silent. Noting this, Cheriot began driving without another word.

He didn’t fully close the window Yuri had opened, leaving it slightly ajar to let in a gentle breeze as he drove with remarkable stability. Yuri, still mentally preparing for potential danger, tried to stay awake by staring fixedly outside.

Under the dark night sky, devoid of streetlights, the car’s headlights illuminated scattered, towering trees. Following the sound of whispering wind, tree branches danced, and Yuri’s watchful eyes began to close without his realizing. Beyond his gradually darkening vision, he could hear Cheriot humming softly.

How carefree.

His final thought before sleep claimed him was that someone who’d narrowly escaped death changed moods remarkably fast. This man who appeared dignified when angry, who made you want to hit him when acting foolish, and who showed affection with kind words—he possessed multifaceted colors Yuri had never encountered in his life. Like a red cherry that, when bitten, reveals complex flavors.

***

Translator’s note: Dividing the chapters in this novel is a bit tricky. I usually try to split them at scene changes, not in the middle of a sequence. But there aren’t many scene changes in this story, so the chapters are ending up really long. Looking at it this way, we might only end up with about 10 to 15 chapters in total.