“Haa... Ugh,” Taekjoo panted.
He saw himself in the mirror on the ceiling, gasping for breath and weak. With every inhale and exhale, the ceiling seemed to zoom in and out. Taekjoo felt sick from the dizziness, and his body gradually grew hotter. His brain felt like it was boiling, scorching blood surging through his veins to his fingers and toes. The heat overwhelmed him, lingering and growing worse every second. Taekjoo’s mind was clouded yet razor-sharp all at once. All his senses had become so sharp that even brushing the bedsheets made him jolt.
His mind flooded with countless thoughts. When he got the first mission. When he first met Zhenya. When he ran into that jerk again in the hotel restroom, even after wishing he’d never have to see that monster again. And when the bad news came right after. Zhenya wavered between being a lively, playful partner and a serene, cruel killer. Despite everything, Taekjoo had trusted Zhenya because headquarters had assigned him as Taekjoo’s partner.
Whenever Taekjoo got wary, with his guard up, Zhenya created situations that forced Taekjoo to trust. Zhenya was the one who led Taekjoo deep into the Bogdanov residence. It was also thanks to him and his wiretapping that Taekjoo discovered the existence of SS-29. When needed, Zhenya even willingly shared classified intel meant only for people like them. Zhenya’s contributions to the hunt for SS-29 were substantial. In fact, it was ridiculous to think it was all just to mess with Taekjoo.
Where did it all go wrong? When? Maybe the problem started at headquarters, with their decision to pair him with Zhenya. Or maybe Zhenya had never been his partner to begin with. Maybe the whole mission had been doomed from the start. Taekjoo had no way of knowing. All he knew was that things had gotten so twisted and tangled that he was now trapped in this mess.
Taekjoo studied Zhenya slowly. He looked the same as always, yet completely different. It was a paradox lodged in Taekjoo’s mind the moment Zhenya went from partner to threat. Logic and reason, this situation, Zhenya’s behavior—everything pointed to one truth. Still, there were so many things Taekjoo couldn’t understand.
“Why did you let me live? Why didn’t you just kill me?”
“I let you live?”
Zhenya didn’t bother hiding his smirk.
“You’re deeply mistaken,” he continued.
His condescending tone made Taekjoo’s blood boil. Thinking back, maybe Zhenya had been trying to get rid of him from the start.
The hotel he was staying in was bombed right after he learned Zhenya was his partner. His whole room was blown apart, along with all his belongings. He lost contact with headquarters. If Taekjoo hadn’t been trained to survive bombings, he might not have made it out alive.
What about when he had been chased by the man he thought was Psikh Bogdanov? Zhenya had shown up in a helicopter and opened fire with a Minigun, spraying bullets without hesitation. It was sheer luck that the moving vehicle plunged straight into the river. Otherwise, everyone inside—including Taekjoo—would have been riddled with bullets. Zhenya kept firing even as his so-called partner was drowning in the water. He didn’t even try to save his supposed partner.
That wasn’t all. At the Bogdanov residence, a deafening noise blasted from the very radio Zhenya had given him, leaving Taekjoo incapacitated. Later, while searching for Zhenya on the Trans-Siberian train, Taekjoo was ambushed.
Looking back, the whole thing was completely absurd. The man had tried to take Taekjoo out at every turn. But Taekjoo had mistaken it all for help.
Yet at the same time, a new question formed in his mind. If Zhenya had really been trying to kill him, Taekjoo would’ve been a dead man long ago. He hadn’t survived by luck—he survived because the jerk never actually meant to kill him. And that same jerk summed everything up in one simple sentence.
“It was amusing watching you struggle to stay alive.”
Zhenya said it with a smile, his eyes and lips curving in amusement. Indeed, that had been the case every time. Every time Zhenya disappeared, Taekjoo ended up in danger. And whenever he was struggling, he’d always spot Zhenya watching from a distance. Even in life-or-death moments, Zhenya stayed calm, almost relaxed. To him, Taekjoo’s life was nothing more than a plaything.
“Son of a—”
Taekjoo gnashed his teeth. He clenched his fist so tightly that his nails dug into his palm. He wanted to smash that smug grin off Zhenya’s face. It was the only way to tame the fire raging inside him. He had to make sure that the bastard could never look down on him ever again—Taekjoo promised himself as he threw his punch.
It was a full-force attack, but Zhenya caught it effortlessly with his palm. Taekjoo’s fist trembled in Zhenya’s grip. He poured every ounce of strength into his fist, but the bastard’s hand didn’t budge. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Instead, it was that look Taekjoo knew well—the one that surfaced whenever something annoyed him, no matter how trivial.
“If only you knew when to pick a fight, right?”
With a sharp crack, Taekjoo’s head snapped to the side. The pain on his left cheek was indescribable. For a second, his vision went black, and stars exploded in his sight. He couldn’t even manage a groan. The left side of his face throbbed and began swelling almost instantly. Something burst deep in his nose, blood dripping out. He could taste blood in his mouth. There must be a tear on his gums. It wouldn’t have surprised him if the punch had just given him a concussion.
At this rate, Taekjoo would die at Zhenya’s hand. His emotions and personal grudge gave way to pure survival instinct. He didn’t let the pain slow him down. He moved at once without hesitation. But Zhenya stopped him cold with a single chokehold.
“Ugh.”
Zhenya’s grip was precise, cutting off his air. Taekjoo grimaced, struggling against the strangulation, and scratched the back of Zhenya’s hand, but it did nothing. Zhenya simply tightened his grip around Kwon Taekjoo’s neck, like he meant to break it. His pupils had contracted into pinpoints—he must have lost all reason again.