Icing on the cake - Chapter 2: Part 2

Yura, my little pearl.

Yuri’s mother called him by many affectionate nicknames. She used so many terms when she spoke to him that, as a child, Yuri was often confused about what his real name was.

The Kiselyov family had a happy time, too. Their happiness wasn’t something grand or materially splendid, as people usually describe such things, but it held enough gratitude to give meaning to each day. They were happy to have a family to love. Even though life outside was miserable and exhausting, when they came home, their mother welcomed them with warmth, and that gave them the strength to keep living.

If you think about it, Yuri’s family wasn’t unfortunate from the beginning. After Katia and Vasha formalized their mutual promise and became husband and wife, like any couple starting a new life, both held hopes for their own home.

Their marriage began during Gorbachev’s reforms. The two young people, who until then had lived quietly, dutifully fulfilling their work, were swept up by a current of sudden changes. A coup d’état broke out and failed, and in the midst of chaos and confusion, the world transformed. It was a cruel world for people like Katia and Vasha, who had always lived honestly.

The rationing system was completely suspended, and with the money they had, they couldn’t buy anything. Even spending all their savings amid inflation that multiplied by the hundreds, they could only afford a few kilos of sausages and bread. Those who had nothing went out to the street to sell themselves, while smugglers and a few privileged people hoarded all the wealth.

They saw no future in that country. Days passed when, with luck, they ate only once, and everything was obtained only through connections. It was then that Katia conceived a precious life.

Vasili thought he couldn’t keep living there for his wife’s sake. Just the day before, he had seen a drunk homeless man grab a woman on the street and abuse her. Rumors spread that in the neighborhood orphanage, abandoned children were so numerous that a newborn had died of cold. He feared a life where every night on the way home, he had to worry that something bad might happen to his wife.

And it wasn’t just that. Every two days, tragic news arrived that someone from the neighborhood, unable to bear a miserable future, had decided to take their own life. Rumors kept accumulating about new criminal groups appearing in the city to exploit people.

Thinking there was no hope in that land, Vasili decided to leave the country. For Katia and for their child. To be a good father.

For months they thought about it and looked for a place to go. They saved money and gathered information to choose the best for their child. It was said that many were going to the United States. That there, they could earn money according to how much they worked and were free to do what they wanted. Rumor had it that among the neighbors who had already crossed, some had bought a house.

Katia took Vasili’s hand and told him they should go to the United States. She was elated with the expectation of a life where, instead of waiting their turn for years, they could work hard to buy a car. She sang about a future where they could buy their own house, plant flowers in the backyard, and make jam with their child. How beautiful was the black-haired woman, showing her white teeth while smiling! Vasili swore in his soul he would do anything for her.

Vasili got the money at the cost of receiving slaps from his father. Katia’s parents opposed her leaving, so Vasili had to do all this alone, with only his own effort. The money Katia had saved working as a nurse would be used as settlement funds. Thus, they prepared for emigration and, sacrificing all their possessions, arrived in the United States.

There, Vasili met Mikhail, Alexei’s father. Mikhail and his wife Nina, a few years older than Vasili, had arrived before the collapse of the Soviet Union and therefore had false identities. But in exchange, their early arrival allowed them to know several sources of work. Thanks to that encounter, Vasili got a job at a butcher shop.

Coincidentally, Nina had just given birth. Katia, with her delivery approaching, felt an immediate closeness to Nina for having a baby the same age. Thus, the two families became intimate friends. For a time, everything seemed to be on track. They had found compatriots in a foreign land, and Mikhail, being older, helped him like an older brother. It seemed they could settle in New York, form a common family that could buy their provisions with money, and live well.

“Have you chosen the name yet, Katia?”

“I’m still thinking about it. I don’t know what my little pearl will like.”

“You shouldn’t give the child too special a name. If the gods notice him, he won’t live long.”

The day they decided on Yuri’s name, Katia was sitting on the steps in front of Nina’s apartment. As they shared a small two-story house in Brooklyn—the ground floor for Katia’s couple and the first floor for Nina’s—they often sat on the stairs to chat.

The house, attached to the street and noisy with passersby, had no space for a garden. Katia looked at Alexei laughing with a clear laugh in Nina’s arms. Hearing her words, she fell into a deep dilemma. Contemplating the outside with an absent air, Katia suddenly seemed to have a revelation and clapped her hands.

“It’ll be Yuri. Because Vasha’s family were originally farmers.”

“Wow! Are you sure it’ll be a boy?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a girl or a boy. In the United States, names aren’t that different. If it’s a daughter, I’ll raise her to be strong so no one dares treat her lightly. If it’s a son, I’ll raise him to be kind and affectionate with everyone.”

That idea struck Nina as peculiar, but she didn’t want to object. She only wanted to give her blessings to a pregnant woman about to give birth.

Katia smiled radiantly and gently caressed her swollen, round belly. Although the baby moved often, it never gave a noisy kick. Later, Katia would tell Yuri that he had been a very good child. She didn’t even have the usual nausea, and on the day of the birth, he caused no trouble and came out quickly. She said that from the time he was in her womb, he was a quiet, calm child.

“Yuri, you will be the seed that guides us to begin a new life on this land.”

Ekaterina gave the news to Vasili when he came home from work. The soon-to-be father rejoiced and smiled brightly when he heard the name his wife had chosen. Leaning down to kiss his wife’s belly, the man whispered in his heart to the unborn child.

I’ll do anything for you and your mother.

A few months later, when the state government began to pursue illegal immigrants, all the migrants on the outskirts of Brooklyn left for Saratov under Igor’s direction. Indebted to Igor Volkov since arriving in the United States, they obeyed out of fear of deportation. Isolated in Saratov, they soon became Igor’s slaves, shackled by debt.

Vasili, who had gotten a job at Igor’s butcher shop thanks to Mikhail’s recommendation, also became involved with illegal funds. Igor warned him that if he revealed this fact, he would become a criminal. Ironically, to avoid becoming a criminal, the man ended up submitting to one.

People who have something to protect fall into the trap all too easily. Vasili was diligent but not clever enough, and so he took the wrong path. The same happened to Mikhail. The world treated a lack of intelligence as a crime, and indeed it was.

Any man with a conscience would have fled, risks be damned, but he couldn’t. Now he had a newborn son and a wife who had just given birth. He felt the duty to keep them alive, no matter what.

The man kept the promise he made to his son. He prolonged his existence by staining his hands with human bl00d instead of animal bl00d. To preserve the last shred of his conscience, he said he didn’t want to deal with ordinary people. And from then on, Vasili became Igor’s hunting dog.

He began to fight criminals from other groups who threatened Igor. On days he came home wounded, Katia hid her reddened eyes in the shadows and tended to her husband with the experience and knowledge she had gained.

It was from then that Ekaterina began to treat the wounded. Atoning for her husband’s guilt, she cared for the poorest without charge. Whenever someone was hurt by Igor, she visited their house at night to help heal them. In that small town with no private clinics, Katia was the only one who treated people without asking questions.

When one part of the world lights up, darkness falls elsewhere. Saratov was a neighborhood in the shadows, and the deeper the gloom grew, the busier Katia became. When moonlight filtering through broken windows served as a lamp and Yuri was left alone at home, she would leave a medovik on the table for him.

Seeing off her mother, who went out with a wool cap pulled down to her eyes, Yuri was hugged tightly. She kissed the top of his head and whispered:

“If we strive to live righteously, the gods will save us. My little pearl.”

From her lap came the scent of honey from making the medovik.

“Sleep well, Yura.”

Yuri believed his mother’s words as he breathed in that sweet, fragrant aroma that made all sorrow disappear. Someday the gods would help erase the sadness that lived on his parents’ faces.

Yuri also had nights when he prayed and prayed again.

In exchange for not falling asleep easily, Yuri rarely dreamed. Whenever Alexei complained about having a nightmare, Yuri would only smile in silence. He experienced dreaming vicariously through his friend.

Alexei’s nightmares usually had happy content. For example, that he reconciled with Valery—his detested younger brother—and together they made a napoleon, or that Igor was caught by the police and died.

Since the content didn’t sound bad, Yuri asked why he disliked it. Alexei lit a cigarette and gave a simple answer.

Because when you wake up, reality is miserable.

He was right. From then on, Yuri never asked about his dreams again, and Alexei never voiced the future he longed for. So they became mutual support. Instead of uttering vain hopes, they chose to understand and support each other in the reality they shared.

They also felt no desire to explain their lives to anyone else. They knew that to others, Yuri was nothing more than a common criminal.

As if he had been plunged into the depths of the sea and then dragged out, Yuri woke suddenly. He felt the sting of sunlight on his eyelids, and the sounds he had blocked out rang in his ears. He heard birds singing and people talking in the distance.

…When did I fall asleep?

Until a moment ago, he had been on a dark, empty highway, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself at a brightly lit service station. Startled, Yuri straightened up from the reclined seat and quickly scanned his surroundings. It was a gas station with a convenience store and a Tim Hortons, with a parking lot so spacious it could fit ten trucks.

It was absurd. He had only meant to close his eyes for a moment, but when he woke up, it was already daytime. Even when he slept, he rarely managed more than four hours at a stretch. From the position of the sun, it was clearly past eight in the morning. When he pulled out his phone to check, he saw it was just past nine.

Since he had forgotten to charge it, the battery was about to die. Checking the phone on the verge of shutting down, he saw two missed calls from Alexei and a mix of messages from him and Heather. Staring blankly at the screen, he opened the glove compartment to get his charger. He didn’t find the cable he always kept there.

And Cheriot wasn’t there either.

The empty driver’s seat and open window gave him a headache. As the price for having slept so deeply, Yuri was now faced with several questions. Where was he now? Why had the cable and Cheriot disappeared? Unanswered questions piled up in his mind.

First, he checked the back seat. The passenger seat was reclined almost 180 degrees, so he had a clear view of the rear. Cheriot’s suitcase was still behind the driver’s seat. Concluding that it didn’t look like she had run off, he noticed the jacket on his thigh. It was the black jacket Cheriot had been wearing.

…And what’s this?

If she wanted to take it off, she could have left it on the back seat. Why had she placed it over his body? Maybe so it would be in plain sight? As he narrowed his eyes to fold the jacket, Yuri spotted a stocky man approaching in the distance. He wore a cap and sunglasses, but Yuri knew it was Cheriot just by looking at him.

Cheriot walked toward the car with a light step, as if returning from a stroll. In his hands, he carried two red cardboard cups, and a large paper bag swung from his wrist. For someone who had nearly died from a gunshot wound nine hours ago, he looked far too carefree. Yuri was at a loss for words.

As if he had seen Yuri sit up, Cheriot waved the hand holding the cup toward him. It wasn’t a close enough relationship to greet each other from afar, but Cheriot, not content with just waving, picked up the pace. With a few long strides, he quickly reached the car.

“Did you wake up, my sleeping prince?”

Cheriot leaned in abruptly through the open driver’s window to greet him. As he extended his arm to hand over the coffee, Yuri took it without thinking. Hearing the nickname “sleeping prince,” Yuri realized he had indeed fallen into a deep sleep and that Cheriot had seen him. Frustration washed over him at the thought of having exposed his weakness to a stranger like Cheriot, with whom he didn’t even have a long-standing friendship.

“…You haven’t forgotten I’m a criminal you hate more than anything, have you?”

“Deep down, all royalty are criminals. In the past, they punished people for things that weren’t even crimes.”

A rich, roasted aroma rose from the coffee in his hands. After sleeping and shaking off the fatigue, the smell made him feel alive again. Yuri resisted the urge to take a sip right away. It wasn’t that he distrusted Cheriot, but he couldn’t relax without knowing what was in the cup.

…If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it already.

Seeing Yuri silently frown after receiving the coffee, Cheriot misread his reaction and corrected himself.

“No choice. If you don’t like ‘prince,’ I can call you ‘wolf.’”

“What?”

“It’s a nickname I came up with because you act like a lone wolf. Thinking about it, only you use my nickname in public, so I figured I should come up with one for you too.”

“Call me Campbell.”

Yuri gave the surname on his fake ID. Cheriot let out a mocking laugh, opened the car door, and got in.

“I’m telling you, we should use nicknames.”

The moment Cheriot sat down, the car shook with a thud. The previously empty interior suddenly felt crowded with his presence. At the same time, the quiet surroundings began to fill with noise.

“‘Wolfie’ suits you perfectly. Turns out my favorite picture book is Wolfie the Bunny. You should read it when you get the chance. It’s a really wonderful book.”

“My name, Campbell, is enough.”

“Wolfie, here’s your breakfast. Unfortunately, there’s no red meat, so for now you’ll have to make do with this.”

Cheriot ignored Yuri’s request, set his own coffee in the cup holder, and pulled a muffin and a bagel from the paper bag.

“Since it’s early, this was all they were selling at Tim Hortons. I bought a muffin and a bagel. I skipped the wraps because they’re messy and stick to your hands.”

Cheriot extended the food toward Yuri as if asking which he preferred. Yuri was about to insist on his ignored request, but the aroma in the air made him lower his gaze to the food. Since either option was fine with him, he said to Cheriot:

“I don’t care, so you choose first.”

“Really? Then I’ll take the bacon muffin.”

“Alright.”

Why does he ask for my opinion on this when he insists on forcing the nickname? With a feeling of disbelief, Yuri took the bagel from his hand. Cheriot, retrieving the muffin, hummed under his breath as he had while driving. Then he pulled a hash brown from the bag. His hands were so large the hash brown looked like a tater tot.

Yuri, who had silently watched Cheriot devour the hash brown in just two bites, hesitated a moment and decided to drink his coffee first. Ah, now that was living. As the drink slid down to his stomach, the empty cavity gave a slight pang, so he immediately bit into the bagel.

He thought he’d gotten used to hunger, but apparently, the relatively manageable years had reduced his tolerance for sleep and starvation. He’d barely tasted the bagel when hunger hit him like a freight train, and in the blink of an eye, Yuri had devoured it completely. Having gone the entire previous day without eating meant even a bagel couldn’t satisfy his appetite.

Since they’d stopped at a rest area, Yuri decided to go buy more food. As he carefully folded the bagel wrapper to put it in the paper bag, his eyes met Cheriot’s, who was staring at him intently.

“What?”

His voice, still hoarse from the morning, came out low. At Yuri’s question, Cheriot, instead of answering, held out the muffin he was holding.

“I’ll give it to you. It’s a special gift.”

“No need.”

“No, it’s just that I don’t really like cheap brands like Tim Hortons.”

And he’d just wolfed down the hash brown in one go. Yuri let out a dry laugh and pushed his hand away again.

“Forget it. I’ll buy more myself.”

After all, for alphas with builds like Cheriot’s or his own, one or two muffins weren’t enough.

“Ah, right, that was an option. I forgot because I was trying to minimize time out of the car.”

At Yuri’s words, Cheriot’s eyes went wide, as if he’d had a revelation. At his innocent expression, Yuri felt the same sensation as the day before. Seeing Cheriot humming as if nothing had happened, despite having nearly been shot, Yuri glimpsed a naivety that was hard to ignore. Whether it was his innate temperament or just how ordinary people were, Cheriot seemed not to grasp the gravity of their situation.

Though on the other hand, the fact that he’d admitted to being afraid suggested the opposite…

It wasn’t that he completely lacked situational awareness, nor that he had no crisis-handling ability, but seeing him act this way made it hard to evaluate him clearly. Yuri decided to postpone his judgment and opened the car door.

“Stay here and be quiet.”

He was about to close the door and leave but paused for a moment and then approached Cheriot, who was following him with his eyes. His green pupils moved restlessly, tracking Yuri’s every gesture.

“Close the window. If you leave it open like that, anyone could easily overpower you.”

“But it’s hot. Besides, no one’s recognized me.”

“Then turn on the air conditioning.”

“The AC gets too cold, and I don’t like it.”

Cheriot grumbled. Yuri stared at this guy who’d called him trash and was now complaining, and thought he needed to rebuild the wall between them. Between alphas, it was more manageable to clearly establish a hierarchy.

“I’m not your babysitter. If you don’t want to die, do what I say.”

Cheriot raised an eyebrow at that.

“You don’t need to talk like a thug; I already know exactly what kind of person you are.”

“Then how about showing a little more caution? Your attitude is overly familiar.”

Cheriot locked eyes with Yuri. Faced with those green eyes shining intensely under the strong sunlight, Yuri thought that to protect the naivety Cheriot still retained, he needed to be firm.

“You trust people too much. The hotel incident was an example: your identity leaked because of that conversation with that omega. Did you know he posted your photo on his social media stories? Don’t accept food from just anyone, and don’t leave the car door open like that. There are people everywhere who’ll point a gun at you, steal your car, or threaten you, and you don’t even have to be a celebrity.”

At Yuri’s warning, Cheriot’s youthful, petulant expression vanished and he pressed his lips together hard. He’d eaten the hash brown so quickly that a tiny piece of potato had stuck under his lip, making him look even younger. In truth, he was five years younger than Yuri—well, four. His public age was one year less than his real age.

But Cheriot’s youth didn’t mean he wasn’t an adult. Yuri had started working among adults at twelve and learned that criminals committed crimes without caring what kind of person stood in front of them. To them, the weight of their victims’ lives meant nothing. All that mattered was whether they could be exploited.

Therefore, the gangs chasing Cheriot wouldn’t care what kind of person he was. They’d only see a target to eliminate.

Yuri wanted Cheriot to reconsider his own situation. He believed that only if both of them maintained tension—not just Yuri—could they minimize the danger.

“…Do you… plan to kill me?”

As soon as Yuri finished speaking, Cheriot asked an unexpected question.

“What are you suddenly saying?”

“I’m asking if you plan to kill me.”

“…I’m with you now to protect you.”

“Right. You’re my bodyguard. Although I terminated the contract, because of my situation, you’re here at Heather’s request. Ah, well, in any case, you work for me, so of course I’ll pay you.”

Cheriot paused. The expression on his always-carefree pale face faded until it was blank, lost in thought. He lowered his gaze, which had been fixed on Yuri, and spoke quietly.

“As Heather said, I hate criminals with all my soul…”

Sunlight cast the shadows of his lashes onto his cheeks, tracing their outline.

“…but at the same time, I’m afraid of them.”

His long, fine, copper-red lashes trembled. When Yuri heard the word “afraid,” he flinched for a moment.

“Those people do without hesitation things I could never do. No matter how strong I am or how well I can fight, there’s a line I’d never cross.”

Everything Cheriot said was true. The boundary between an ordinary person and a criminal was as thin as a line. The difference between human and beast lay in striving not to cross that line or giving up and taking the easy path.

“So don’t worry. The reason I talk nonstop is simply an attempt to keep you by my side, not because I’m attracted to you like the first time we met. Since you and I have ended up together inevitably, what I want is for us to be a little more comfortable while we’re together.”

Cheriot had eased Yuri’s unnecessary worry. It wasn’t that he wasn’t tense. He felt fear inside, but he didn’t let it show.

Yuri had been wrong. He thought Cheriot was innocent and young, that he didn’t understand danger, but perhaps the dangerous person for Cheriot was Yuri himself.

In that case, it was a relief.

“What? Do you feel sorry that, as an alpha, I don’t live up to my build?”

If he had the presence of mind to be aware of what Yuri was like, he probably wouldn’t be led docilely by dangerous types. It seemed Yuri had judged him only by his outward attitude.

“No.”

Though he’d learned from experience never to judge people by appearances, he’d made that mistake with Cheriot. Yuri shook his head and apologized.

“If that’s the case, I apologize.”

That Cheriot didn’t meet the standards Yuri wanted didn’t mean he wasn’t doing his best.

“I didn’t understand your position and judged you by my own standards.”

He had nothing more to say to someone who, faced with an unusual situation, felt uneasy. Yuri hadn’t wanted this situation either, but if they measured the scale of discomfort, Cheriot was definitely worse off.

He decided to give in a little for him. After all, they wouldn’t be together long, and adapting to Cheriot wouldn’t cost him anything.

When Yuri apologized, Cheriot slowly raised his head. The blink of his long lashes showed a hint of surprise. Yuri deliberately held his gaze. He remembered his mother saying eye contact helped calm people, and that the more anxious the other person was, the calmer the one reassuring them should be.

“You’d better wipe your lips.”

Yuri indicated Cheriot’s mouth with a glance and then slapped the car body with the palm of his hand.

“Leave the window cracked. I’ll be back in less than ten minutes—don’t move from here.”

If something was going to happen, it would have happened already. He had been unconscious and asleep for a long time—more than enough for a disaster to strike. The fact that he was still unharmed meant Cheriot’s judgment wasn’t entirely wrong. It was enough that he himself stayed alert.

As Yuri turned and headed for the rest area, Cheriot watched him, then slowly brought a hand to his own lips. Staring at the bit of hash brown stuck to his fingers, a puzzled, unreadable expression crossed his face.

***

Surprisingly, even though he’d been in Canada for a while, Yuri had never visited a Tim Hortons. He’d occasionally tasted what Timac or Alexei brought him, but that was it. He felt neither curiosity nor desire to try the experiences everyone else sampled at least once.

Yuri only performed the bare minimum acts required to survive. For instance, he went to the supermarket only when he ran out of groceries and left the house only to pick up car parts.

His close friends dragged him outside, but each had their own life and they didn’t meet often. If he missed them, he settled for hearing their voices on the phone. That was Yuri’s entertainment. He lived with extreme austerity.

It was the first time he’d seen a major commercial chain since arriving in the big city. Saratov was a vast state with a tiny population. The extreme climate—winter temperatures dropping to –40 °C—deterred immigrants, and on that land, a ruthless Soviet criminal had taken root, keeping Saratov underdeveloped and under Igor’s control for a long time.

Though, just before he left, it seemed Saratov had also begun to change.

Unlike Yuri’s world, which always felt stagnant, the outside changed quickly. What seemed eternally immutable sometimes transformed overnight, and people you thought would always be there one day vanished without a trace.

Yuri was one of those who stayed in place and watched the world change, leaving him behind.

The wall that enclosed him was only wide enough for his closest friends to rest against briefly before moving on. He was a creature who must not cross that wall, and even he found peace inside that small space. Behind his wall were his daily tasks, the minimal food to quiet his hunger, the cigarettes he occasionally smoked, and the books his mother used to read.

Having lived like that… it was the first time he’d come to a place like this of his own free will.

Yuri completed his first clumsy order at a Tim Hortons where baby-faced young employees bustled about. Disliking eye contact, he bowed his head and recited what he wanted in a flat voice. The cashier flinched at his face but masked her confusion and quickly prepared the food. His battle-scarred appearance seemed to have startled the girl, which made him uncomfortable.

After ordering the same things Cheriot had bought, Yuri stopped at a convenience store. He had intended to buy only water and cigarettes, but then he thought it might be good to pick up some snacks. Was it for Cheriot, who’d said he was scared? Unconsciously, he paused in front of the chocolate section he’d almost walked past.

The shelves were packed with snacks: jellies that looked like candy from their colors alone, Twizzlers, assorted chocolate bars, caramels, and more—a dizzying display.

I have no idea what’s what.

Because he’d barely tasted candy growing up, Yuri couldn’t imagine the flavor of those sugar blocks. As a child, he had no money to spend in shops, and the taste of the Medovik cake his mother made was his only memory of dessert.

After his mother died, even Russian desserts disappeared from his life. Sweet flavors became a trigger for remembering her, making him feel the absence of the precious person no longer beside him. At some point, sweet food stopped being a pleasure and turned into a symbol of loss.

Unable to guess the tastes of a sports star five years his junior, Yuri ended up grabbing random bags of candy, potato chips, and a protein-labeled chocolate bar. As he paid, he wondered if it was right to stuff such a valuable body with these things.

Outside, the sky was bright. A cool wind blew just enough to feel pleasant, and the scent of vegetation hung in the air. The noon on the strange highway he’d found after only shuttling between home and the auto shop felt beautiful—almost frighteningly so.

The moment he thought that, Yuri lowered his gaze from the sky. As he tilted his head, the paper store bag he held swayed clumsily. He stared at it uncomfortably, and to return to reality, he slipped his hand into the left pocket of his coat. He felt the two burner phones he’d taken from the intruders the night before.

Before calling Alexei, Yuri considered where to hide them. It would be better to leave the phones somewhere Alexei could find them before they moved farther away. He had originally planned to hide them when leaving the hotel…

The memory of gunshots snapped his wandering mind back to reality—to a place steeped not in the fresh scent of grass, but in the smell of gunpowder mixed with grease and the stench of dried bl00d in his nostrils.

After thinking it over, Yuri turned off the burner phone and headed to the men’s restroom. The bathroom, located between the Tim Hortons and the gas station, was fairly clean and well-maintained. Taking advantage of the fact that no one was around, he discreetly checked the interior and then rummaged in the paper-towel disposal compartment, placing the phone at the bottom.

If Alexei retrieves this and traces the other party’s contact info, some clues will surely turn up.

After handling the urgent matter, Yuri stopped at the sink before leaving. The pale-skinned man in the mirror wore clothes as gloomy as the life he’d led. The bruise on his cheek, from the beating, had darkened while he slept, turning a reddish-black hue. Quite a look for walking around. Yuri smiled ironically and left his bag by the sink. When he turned on the faucet, cold water came out. Slowly sliding his fingers under the stream sent a shiver through him.

He finished washing his face with the cool water, which contrasted with the heat outside, and left the restroom. About fifteen minutes, he figured. He hated having gone over the promised ten minutes, so he quickened his pace.

Luckily, Cheriot was safe inside the car. He hadn’t run off, nor was he chatting with a stranger. In fact, he’d obediently followed instructions: he’d rolled the window up almost completely, leaving only a tiny gap through which barely a finger would fit.

Seeing Cheriot, who glared at him with a sulky expression, felt both strange and funny. It was a sensation he couldn’t explain logically, like witnessing something that shouldn’t be in a certain place—a lion in an apartment, or a pink balloon in the middle of a lush forest. It was odd that someone so alien to him was in his car, though he couldn’t define it precisely.

He also looked a bit like a big, grumpy dog whose owner had gone out without him.

Cheriot didn’t take his eyes off Yuri from the moment he appeared in his field of vision. As soon as Yuri opened the passenger door, Cheriot’s expression brightened slightly, and with his usual unpleasantly cheerful tone, he said:

“I almost suffocated waiting for you.”

He exaggerated quite a bit, but not to the point of being inaudible. Or maybe Yuri had gotten used to him in just one day.

“I said you could leave a crack so you could breathe,” Yuri replied indifferently.

“I have good lung capacity, so this amount of air isn’t enough.”

Yeah. Yuri nodded slightly and motioned.

“Let’s switch seats. I’ll drive from here on.”

“And do you know where we’re going?”

“The GPS isn’t there for decoration. If you give me the destination, it’ll show the route.”

Cheriot let out a “hm,” hesitated for a moment, and got out of the driver’s seat. Though he complained, since he was starting to obey pretty well, Yuri thought dealing with him was easier than before.

After switching places, Yuri tossed the paper bag toward Cheriot, now in the passenger seat. Seeing the bag on his lap, Cheriot leaned forward.

“Huh? Why so much?”

Tilting his head like a child and peering into the bag, his voice grew animated. Before Yuri could explain, Cheriot grabbed a chocolate bar and stared at it.

“That hungry, huh?”

Yuri hesitated, unsure how to explain. He wanted to just drive off without answering, but figured he’d have to find the charging cable too, and that Cheriot wouldn’t shut up until he got an answer. He had no choice but to glance quickly at the bag, stare straight ahead, and mutter:

“It’s for you.”

“For me?”

Cheriot, a bit bewildered, rummaged through the snacks in the bag and then gave a little laugh.

“All this? Even though I eat well, it’s not enough for this amount.”

Had he bought too much? Since Yuri didn’t eat snacks, he had no way of knowing how filling a tiny chocolate bar could be.

“Did you… buy everything because you didn’t know what I like?” Cheriot asked jokingly.

Yuri gripped the steering wheel and hesitated for a few seconds. It felt awkward to admit it, so he confessed the closest thing to the truth he could.

“Sweet things calm the nerves.”

It was his way of saying, eat it and shut up already.

“…Ah.”

Cheriot pressed his lips together like someone surprised by an unexpected gift, and an awkward silence filled the car. In the heavy quiet, Yuri stayed stiff, staring at the harmless steering wheel. As the silence deepened, he grew curious about what Cheriot was doing and, after hesitating, turned his head.

Their gazes met.

Cheriot stared at him intently with his green eyes. His soft pupils, framed by reddish lashes that looked like a velvety carpet, made him appear more innocent than usual. His transparent eyes, which sparkled with the reflection of the light, moved slowly when he noticed Yuri looking back.

“Thank you.”

As he gazed into those almond-shaped eyes, the feeling he’d had before when looking at the sky washed over him again. Just as that landscape was too beautiful for him to dare admire, the image of that man thanking him seemed like a scene from another world that was forbidden to him.

He hadn’t expected to hear thanks from an ordinary person. And certainly not twice.

He could understand being thanked for saving him—they had been in a life-or-death situation, so someone ordinary like Cheriot might feel indebted. But thanking him for some insignificant snacks was different, especially from someone who could leave a few hundred dollars on a table without flinching and forget about them.

And even more so, knowing what kind of person Yuri was.

Perhaps because he was receiving thanks that shouldn’t be directed at a criminal, the inside of his ears tingled with an unbearable, stinging sensation. Yuri abruptly averted his gaze, slowly turned his head, and responded with indifference to strip Cheriot’s words of any special meaning.

“After all, I’m your employee now.”

Those words of gratitude kept echoing in his ears, and he wanted to silence them.

“I’d prefer you didn’t thank me from now on.”

As someone who knew how large the void left by something warm and soft could be after it disappeared, he didn’t want to allow anything similar to enter his life ever again.

Though Yuri’s voice sounded like a suggestion, it also carried a hint of coercive threat. If he had used the tone he usually used with the thugs he injured, it would have been a warning before taking action. But with Cheriot, this was as far as he would go. He had already been lenient with him for being a civilian, but since seeing the fear in his eyes, it had become harder to deal with him.

Yuri felt uncomfortable with weak beings. Most people fear those stronger than them, but for him, it was the opposite.

As if holding the wings of a butterfly that would crumble at the slightest touch, ordinary people hurt easily and feared the environment that was familiar to him. His mother had taught him that what happened every day in his life was very uncomfortable for normal people. And then Katia had repeated it over and over:

“Even if not all the weak need your help, you must always respect them. The fact that you’re a strong person isn’t because you’re better. It’s by the grace that God has granted you, allowing you to walk on earth with your two feet.”

Yuri no longer believed in God, and though he no longer blindly agreed with his mother’s words as he once had, those prolonged teachings remained engraved in his chest like an epitaph.

But Cheriot was an ambiguous case. He was an alpha male, an athlete with an excellent physique who didn’t need anyone’s help. Physically, he wasn’t weak at all, and he had the temperament to subdue a criminal who had broken into his hotel room by himself.

However, the memory of his expression when he said that people like Yuri, who had crossed “the line,” scared him, wouldn’t leave his mind, and it made it difficult to treat him with the same severity as before.

“No.”

And as if he had perceived his thoughts, Cheriot gave him exactly the opposite answer to what he wanted to hear. When he rejected him without even thinking about it, Yuri’s brow furrowed slightly.

“As you said, I’m the employer, so I’ll do as I please.”

Not satisfied with that answer, Cheriot pointed at the Tim Hortons food Yuri had bought and added:

“And I’ll also enjoy my breakfast. Thank you.”

Really…

An irritation rose up his throat, as if he had swallowed lint that made him itch. Yuri understood that continuing with the topic would only bring him problems, so he decided to change the subject to something practical.

“There was a phone charger connector in the glove compartment. Did you use it?”

And he decided that after this necessary exchange, it would be better to avoid more words. Even if he treated Cheriot carefully, he didn’t have to please him every time.

“Yes, your colleague gave me an external battery but forgot the cable. Since you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, I looked for one and used it.”

He says I scare him, but he had no problem rummaging through my car. Yuri found it somewhat ridiculous, but he didn’t mention it.

“Hand it over.”

At the request, Cheriot nodded and suddenly leaned toward the driver’s seat. Startled by the abrupt movement, Yuri grabbed his shoulder hard.

“What are you doing?”

They were so close they were almost in an embrace, and Yuri frowned. Cheriot, blinking his long lashes, stared at him and gestured with his head past Yuri’s shoulder.

“I put my battery in the door compartment. The cable’s plugged in there too. I was going to pull it out myself.”

Yuri immediately looked to his left. Sure enough, the battery and cable were in the lower door pocket. How had he missed it? He mentally scolded himself for not paying attention, then pressed his hand harder into Cheriot’s shoulder—a silent warning to back off.

“I don’t get why you have to do this instead of using words.”

“I already told you. I want us to be as comfortable as possible in this situation.”

“And this… is your way?”

Cheriot nodded, as if he’d read the childish question in Yuri’s blue eyes.

“I usually like physical contact. All my friends know. Feeling body heat makes me feel alive… and close. But only with people who don’t mind, of course.”

“I mind.”

Yuri made his dislike clear without hesitation. But Cheriot didn’t retreat.

“You’re different. You want me to feel safe.”

“When did I…?”

“Isn’t that why you bought me snacks?”

Yuri was speechless. He couldn’t deny he’d stopped at the shelf because of Cheriot.

“Snacks are fine, but I prefer contact.”

Only two knuckles of space remained between them when Cheriot whispered that. The closeness drew Yuri’s gaze to the other’s lips—vibrant pink, unusual for an alpha. A color that clashed with words like “man” or “alpha,” making him wonder if there was gloss on them.

Yet it wasn’t repulsive. The peculiar shade sparked an irrational urge to touch. Yuri jerked his gaze away and frowned. What’s happening? How was he letting an alpha he’d met yesterday get this close?

Too close. A distance he’d never allowed anyone—not even Alyosha, whom he’d known for years.

Maybe because of those sweetly unsettling words, the strength left the hand trying to push Cheriot away. Sensing it, Cheriot glanced at Yuri’s hand on his shoulder, then slowly raised his arm and laid his own hand over Yuri’s. Cheriot’s palm was warm and firm. The calluses from years of training spoke of another side of him.

Cheriot’s hand, stroking Yuri’s, slid down to grip his wrist. Though Yuri’s wrists weren’t thin, they fit easily in Cheriot’s grasp.

Letting himself be led, Yuri found his hand pressed to Cheriot’s chest. Through the moderate thickness of his hoodie, he felt hot, firm muscles. The tangible sensation of another body unsettled him. Touching another alpha like this felt strange, and feeling the area where the heart lay made him tense.

What trust did it take to expose such a vulnerable spot?

Cheriot, watching his wavering eyes, lowered his head slowly. He looked at Yuri’s pale, scarred hand on his chest and whispered:

“My heart’s been racing since last night. Like before a match. I wish it were excitement, but it’s not.”

Cheriot’s breath brushed the back of that pale, scarred hand.

“Calm these beats. Make it so I’m not afraid to be by your side.”

Who in the world would ask to be treated gently so they wouldn’t be scared?

Cheriot was like a wild beast baring its belly. A lion that, having lost its ferocity, chose to reveal its weakness and ask for protection rather than fight.

“Give me the assurance that when you touch my body, you’ll never strangle me.”

Though some might sink a knife into that exposed belly, waiting for the chance, Yuri hated hunting, detested bl00d, and didn’t want to witness suffering.

In the end, he couldn’t push Cheriot away. He narrowed his eyes, fixed his gaze on his hand resting on Cheriot’s chest, and held his breath until he thought he could feel the heartbeat echoing beneath those sturdy muscles. It was a tense, constricted pulse, like that of a frightened child.

He felt sorry for this man, who lived a life far more valuable than his own. Ah, yes—he’d forgotten. Ordinary people feared bloody situations.

No matter how resilient an alpha was, that didn’t mean they were immune to the fear of evil and depravity.

“Even if it’s just for a few days.”

Cheriot added this last part and let go. Yuri slowly picked up his freed wrist, turned away, and pulled the power bank from the door compartment. He unplugged the cable, handed over the battery, and without meeting his eyes, asked:

“Exactly how long do you mean by ‘a few days’?”

“Ten days at most. While you were asleep, I contacted my family in the U.S.”

“…But you said this matter shouldn’t reach your family because of the trust.”

“Specifically, scandals that ‘cause social controversy and damage family honor.’”

That’s what Cheriot had said.

“True, when it comes to the extended family. But my immediate family is different. I didn’t want to worry my mother; I tried to handle it myself… but things got complicated, so I have no choice.”

Yuri fell silent for a moment at the mention of “mother.” Maybe it was because Alexei, Timac, and everyone around him had grown up without parents. It had been a long time since he’d heard that word.

Luckily, his own father was still alive, but he referred to his mother as “Katia” and… rarely spoke of her in front of Yuri. Perhaps because the day she died had left too deep a wound in both of them.

Yuri plugged the cable into the car’s USB port, connected the phone, opened the destination window on the GPS, and then spoke.

“I suppose, unlike me, they’re good people you can trust.”

“Of course.”

Cheriot’s answer was immediate.

“In my childhood, they were my bodyguards, and after I moved to Canada, they kept protecting my mother. They’re like family. More trustworthy than my bl00d relatives.”

Yuri nodded without pressing further. Somewhere he’d heard that all families are unhappy in their own way. Everyone had their own circumstances.

“Alright.”

Ten days at most. That shouldn’t be a problem.

“During those ten days, I’ll adjust to you to some extent. But you’d better be careful about suddenly getting close like you did earlier. Sometimes I can’t control my reflexes to a surprise attack.”

“I know from experience.”

As if Yuri’s affirmative answer had relieved him, Cheriot smiled brightly again, just like when he received the snack bag, and leaned back in the passenger seat.

“But why would it take up to ten days? One day is enough to cross from the U.S.”

“It’s… adult business.”

The answer was evasive. If it was something he didn’t want to talk about, Yuri understood from personal experience, so he didn’t press.

“We’d better get going. Tell me the destination.”

Cheriot reached into the snack bag, pulled out a chocolate bar, bit the corner of the wrapper to tear it open, and replied:

“To paradise.”

“What?”

“Let’s head to Paradise.”

There was no way a city with that name existed in the world. When Yuri stared at him, Cheriot let out a low laugh.

“Try Big Fox. There won’t be tourists or nosy neighbors.”

It was a city he’d never heard of. From the way Cheriot spoke, it sounded like a small town. When he entered the name into the GPS, a route of about an hour and a half appeared. They weren’t far.

After setting the destination, Yuri started the engine and drove off without hesitation. As soon as the car began moving, Cheriot rolled the window all the way down as if he’d been waiting. A violent gust of wind swept through the interior, tousling their hair and fully exposing Yuri’s pale forehead.

“Ah, right. There’s one more thing I have to tell you.”

Since none of the news Cheriot had given him so far had been good, Yuri responded with silence.

“I connected my phone to your car’s Bluetooth. So, can I play music during the trip?”

“…What?”

“It makes me sleepy if I just drive; I had no choice. On the highway, there’s almost no signal, so the radio doesn’t work.”

He didn’t like that this was the second time Cheriot had messed with his car without permission, but since it was also his fault for having fallen asleep, he could let it slide. The music, however, was a different matter.

“No.”

“Okay.”

Against all odds, Cheriot gave in immediately.

“Then, instead, I’ll sing the whole way.”

God…

Yuri floored the accelerator. The car shot forward, and Cheriot’s body was thrown back, his head hitting the seat. But instead of complaining, he started singing and laughing like a child.

Tastes like strawberries on a summer evenin’

And it sounds just like a song

I want more berries and that summer feelin’

It’s so wonderful and warm

Breathe me in, breathe me out

I don’t know if I could ever go without

I’m just thinking out loud

I don’t know if I could ever go without

Though the pitch wavered between laughs, Cheriot’s voice was sweet and soft. It was the first time Yuri had heard someone sing with such natural skill, and for a moment, he felt disconcerted. It felt strange, even embarrassing, that a non-professional could carry a tune so well.

He would have preferred it if Cheriot had been a terrible singer. Then he could have endured it. But the sight of him, reclining in the seat and laughing while singing, was so effortlessly charming it made Yuri’s skin prickle. Feeling that irritation rise in his throat, he swallowed dryly and, with effort, managed to speak.

“I’d rather you put on music. I can’t stand listening to you.”

“Oh, what a shame! I was just getting to the spectacular part!”

Yuri turned his head to look at him seriously, and Cheriot shrugged mischievously as if to say, sorry.

“Well, there’s no helping it. The show will be next time.”

In the end, Cheriot got what he wanted. He tapped his phone a couple of times and then reached for the volume knob. His well-formed fingers turned the dial, and music began to flow through the car. Yuri feared it would be a cloying pop song like the one he’d just heard, but what filled the space was the serene and cheerful sound of an acoustic guitar.

Almost Heaven, West Virginia

Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River

Life is old there, older than the trees

Younger than the mountains, growin’ like a breeze

The music sounded familiar, like something heard long ago. The car was already leaving the rest area and entering the highway, now bathed in splendid light. The daytime landscape of Highway 1 welcomed them with a vista Yuri had never imagined.

Immense, lush mountains flanked both sides of the road like a fence. After passing through vast meadows, coniferous trees rose toward the sky as if measuring the length of countless hours. In the distance, the gigantic mountain peaks that awaited them were formed by rocks so white and jagged they looked covered in snow.

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads

Under an intense blue sky without a single cloud, the sunlight stung his eyes. Faced with the glare that forced him to squint, Yuri frowned without realizing it. The fresh breeze rushed in through the window Cheriot had opened wide, filling the car. The music blended with the atmosphere, and the sweet aroma of the chocolate bar floated beside him.

Ten days.

As he absorbed the imposing landscape before his eyes, Yuri whispered to himself:

If I can just hold out for ten days, I can go back to being myself.

His blue eyes, fixed on that thought, held a transparent and beautiful tone like the sky above his head, perhaps because of the sunlight. It was the original color of his pupils, one that couldn’t be seen in the shadows.

***

Translator’s Notes:

The first song Cheriot sings is Watermelon Sugar by Harry Styles.

The song played in the car is Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver.