The room was uncomfortably small. There was a coffee table right in front of the door, with a bed squeezed in beside it. That was it. There was no minibar, closet, drawer, or any space to store personal belongings. Taekjoo’s only comfort was that the bed was a bunk bed, making it technically two separate beds.
The two sat in silence, facing each other but avoiding each other’s gaze. Instead, their eyes stared at meaningless corners of the room.
Taekjoo had been sure he wouldn’t have to share space with Zhenya once they got off the train. Taekjoo had told himself to be patient, that this would be over soon, that they would get separate rooms. Taekjoo thought he would never have to share space with his infuriating partner again—he had no plans to take another transcontinental train journey. Yet here he was, stuck with Zhenya for several more days. Taekjoo was mentally and physically drained, and all he wanted was some shuteye. But he couldn’t let his guard down enough to fall asleep—not with that bastard around.
Their cups had long gone cold, but neither of them spoke. What had started as awkward silence now felt heavy, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Taekjoo knew what he had to do to be comfortable. All he had to do was simply trust Zhenya and believe that despite Zhenya’s bizarre actions and speech, despite his unpredictability, he would not betray Taekjoo. He tried to reason with himself, but it was easier said than done. In the end, he just shook his head and gave up.
Taekjoo’s primal instinct sent all of his senses into overdrive. Before he was even aware of it, Taekjoo was already observing and analyzing everything Zhenya said and did, which was precisely why Taekjoo always ended up mentally drained and exhausted around his partner. Rationally, he knew Zhenya was on his side, that they were working toward the same goal. But for some reason—maybe it was because Taekjoo had never been able to overpower Zhenya—his stomach sank every time Zhenya acted unpredictably. For now, Zhenya was Taekjoo’s partner, but no one knew when he would drop the façade.
Taekjoo had met various people over the span of his career as an intelligence officer. Some of them became his enemies, but that was because of complex circumstances involving multiple stakeholders, not personal corruption. Everyone had their own beliefs that they acted upon. It just so happened that their justice was injustice for others.
But not Zhenya. He claimed that he was after the gains Anastasia would bring him. However, in reality, he didn’t seem interested in money or power. He always looked amused—whether bullets were flying or the mission dragged on with no rest or reward. Like a kid playing spy, completely absorbed in the game. He had no regard for the cost of his little games or the number of lives at risk. He was a hedonist who lived solely to entertain himself.
Once the game stopped entertaining him, he would walk away without a second thought. For a clean break and a fresh start, he wouldn’t hesitate to aim his gun at Taekjoo. That was why every moment Taekjoo spent with Zhenya set his nerves on edge.
“I can hear your gears turning all the way over here.”
Zhenya hit a home run—he nailed exactly what was going on in Taekjoo’s mind. Taekjoo tried to hide it, but he flinched at being called out.
“There’s too much going on in my head. I’m just trying to make sense of it all.”
Taekjoo feigned innocence and offered a flimsy excuse. Zhenya let out a dramatic ah and nodded, the same smug still tugging at his lips. His face was disarmingly pretty—one Taekjoo couldn’t look away from. But unlike his face, Zhenya’s eyes gave Taekjoo an uncanny feeling. It was those searching pupils. Zhenya’s pupils would contract like a reptile’s as he carefully scrutinized a person’s expression, eyes, and actions. If Taekjoo let Zhenya keep watching, it felt like Zhenya could see right through him—into his very thoughts.
Taekjoo had to change the subject if he wanted to avoid falling for this trick.
“Do you recognize the place Hong is staying?”
“Kind of. I saw the symbol on the gates.”
A symbol. Taekjoo recalled the gates in his head. There had been something on them, just as Zhenya said.
“Every Russian would recognize it. It’s the symbol of House Bogdanov.”
If what Zhenya had just said was true, then they had come to the right place. Taekjoo had felt like he was wading through murky waters, unable to grasp the truth behind SS-29, let alone Anastasia. Finally, he felt like he was making some progress. Now, all he had to do was break into the residence, then he’d know whether SS-29 was Anastasia.
It was a small win, but a win nonetheless. Taekjoo felt relieved, so much so that the past trials and tribulations he had faced now seemed like minor mishaps. Feeling good for the first time in a while, Taekjoo proposed their next steps.
“Great. Then let’s keep watch day and night and figure out a way to sneak in.”
Zhenya nodded this time as well.
“Done talking?” he asked Taekjoo.
Taekjoo nodded, and Zhenya stood up, heading straight for the door as Taekjoo watched him. Did the stare bother him? Zhenya paused and looked back.
“They have a banya here. Would you like to join me?”
Banya was a Russian steam bath. Taekjoo was about to decline the offer, as he always had, but he stopped himself. He’d been cooped up in a small train carriage for several days. His body ached from stiffness, and he could feel the sluggishness in his blood—probably from the injury. A hot, steamy sauna in the midst of the piercing cold sounded wonderful. It was a very tempting offer. But there was a catch—Zhenya would be there.
Taekjoo desperately wanted to avoid being trapped in a small space with Zhenya. He could always use the banya after the jerk was finished. Yet, Taekjoo didn’t refuse the offer immediately, weighed down by a morbid suspicion that had been nagging at him.
Zhenya had never let Taekjoo see him fully naked. Even during sex, he would undress the woman completely, while he only unzipped his fly—maybe loosened his belt. Taekjoo was curious. He wanted to know what Zhenya was so eager to hide underneath his clothes. And Taekjoo wasn’t the type to let a question go unanswered. He always had to know.
“Sure.”