Icing on the Cake Chapter 13

So… even while thinking that this was more than necessary, habit couldn’t be helped. It was because he’d lived too long in a world where you never knew what might happen if you let your guard down.

“Wow, that was just like a real bodyguard just now.”

“Isn’t that what you hired me for?”

“Yuri is different from any bodyguard I’ve seen before. Come to think of it, are you a fixer like Alexei too? You’re his colleague, so that must be it, right?”

Cheriot finally brought up a question he should have asked much earlier. To think he’d come to hire people without even knowing what they did.

…Not that he’d have any way to know.

“Now you ask? If you wanted to check backgrounds before hiring, you shouldn’t have come to us.”

“There’s hardly ever a case where someone like Heather recommends someone with such certainty, so I trusted it.”

Ah, right. He’d said he wanted a good person introduced to him. A good person who was trustworthy and discreet—not just someone with a sealed mouth.

From the moment he’d heard those words, Yuri felt as though thorns sprouting toward the heart inside his chest were pressing deeper and deeper inward. Whatever kind of “good person” Cheriot imagined, it was never a description that suited him. Even his lifelong close friend probably didn’t know what kind of deeds Yuri Kiselov had done to survive.

“How do you know Heather?”

“I met him after I transferred to Vancouver. Heather’s friend is a sports journalist, so we became close, and then Heather was introduced to me as well. Everyone was good company, so we had drinks together and became comfortable with each other.”

Meeting someone through introductions and expanding relationships that could expose one’s vulnerabilities seemed like everyday life to Cheriot. To Yuri, who had to hide himself in closed-off relationships, it all sounded alien.

Having nothing more to say, Yuri fell silent. Even with friends he’d known for a long time, Yuri was usually quiet, and he spent most of his days speaking very little.

“Yuri, isn’t there anything you’re curious about me?”

Of course not. He had a wish for Cheriot to keep his mouth shut, but no curiosity. He wasn’t in the mood for further conversation and was about to brush him off with silence, when suddenly the incident at the bar came to mind. He’d better give a clear warning about that now.

“Don’t drink anything strangers give you like earlier. You never know what might be in it.”

“I’ve never had a problem with that before, though?”

“That was just luck.”

“If anything happens, you’ll protect me, won’t you?”

“If you wander off on your own like earlier, that’ll be difficult.”

Cheriot wrinkled his nose bridge and pouted his lips. A large-framed alpha making such an expression might have been grotesque, but surprisingly, it was bearable. Unlike his build, his delicate features created no sense of dissonance. Before Cheriot could spout more nonsense, Yuri added another caution.

“And earlier…”

Unable to bring himself to say the word “honey,” he phrased it indirectly.

“Don’t use that kind of sickening nickname either.”

“You mean the word ‘honey’?”

Just hearing it made his stomach churn and revulsion rise. Yuri frowned and confirmed it.

“Yeah. And don’t use that weird tone either.”

“You called me ‘Cherry,’ so you have to accept that much.”

“That happened because the name Cheriot Gutnight is overly distinctive. If your identity gets exposed, it’ll only draw attention, so I called you that out of necessity. From now on, I’ll call you by a pseudonym.”

“Hmm.” Cheriot let out a dissatisfied hum, walked past the entrance hallway toward the guest room bed, and tossed off his beanie and mask. Even though his face had been almost completely hidden, the fact that an omega had still hit on him was impressive.

“If you call me by a fake name, I won’t be able to react easily, will I? I’m terrible at acting, so I can’t do that kind of scripted thing.”

“You were pretty good at suddenly clinging to me and pretending we were together, weren’t you? Even speaking informally?”

“Oh, that was half-sincere, actually.”

At this point, Yuri grew curious about just how light Cheriot’s sincerity really was.

“For sincerity, you seem to hit on anyone. You were freely complimenting that omega from earlier too.”

“That was sincere too. He was tall enough to fit right into my arms, and he wore cologne that matched his pheromones—he smelled nice.”

Hah.

Since Yuri had been surrounded by alphas who changed partners daily, the situation itself wasn’t unfamiliar to him. But usually, those types had a primary goal of sexual release—they weren’t the kind to shower others with flattery and keep conversations going long. They’d buy drinks, sleep together, and that was that.

But Cheriot, without ever seeming to tire, would hit on him every time he breathed. Since alphas who went after other alphas were relatively rare, Yuri had wondered if Cheriot was just genuinely attracted to his looks—but now it seemed his standards for liking someone were extremely broad.

He’d heard of people like that. People who fell in love easily, dated easily, and cooled off just as fast. The kind Yuri could never understand even if he were raised from the dead.

“A sincerity that couldn’t be more shallow.”

“Ahaha, I get told that too.”

Even though it was a rude remark, Cheriot laughed cheerfully and brushed it off. Stretching, he yawned and layered his outerwear over the beanie he’d tossed onto the bed. With his jacket off, Cheriot’s black short-sleeved t-shirt revealed his physique in stark clarity. Along his solid, broad chest and shoulders, the contours of muscle were faintly visible here and there.

“But don’t worry. It’s true that I flirt because I like someone, but I’m not the type to cling and ask for a relationship.”

Yuri, who had been unconsciously staring at Cheriot’s upper body, raised his gaze. When their eyes met, Cheriot grinned, his eyes curving, and explained in a calm tone.

“I don’t intend to date anyone. If we’re compatible, a regular hookup arrangement is just right for me.”

It was incomprehensible. Meeting someone regularly meant forming a relationship, and if it went as far as sleeping together, feelings would inevitably develop.

The “sincerity” Cheriot spoke of had a different definition from what Yuri understood. In Yuri’s world, truly caring for someone was like a promise. Putting the other person’s happiness before one’s own desires, finding ways to make them happy. A heart content simply seeing the person you genuinely cherish smile and be happy.

The love Yuri had witnessed was like that. The love Vasily had shown—the man who had only ever loved one woman in his life, Yekaterina—and the love Yekaterina had shown as she desperately tried to endure in a world where her own life was at risk for her husband’s sake, took that form.

“I’m going to take my clothes off now—want to watch?”

While Yuri was mulling over words he couldn’t empathize with, Cheriot asked playfully. Though it was phrased as a question, Cheriot was already lifting his shirt to take it off. The moment his chiseled abs, so different from his beautiful face, came into view, Yuri turned away with an inexplicable awkwardness. Because what had briefly caught in his peripheral vision was a smooth abdomen without a single scar.

Since childhood, Yuri had been covered in scars, so even in front of omegas he slept with, he rarely took off his clothes unless necessary.

Perhaps because of that, his mood felt strange. It was uncomfortable… and unlike his own body, that scarless white skin looked as alien as a statue.

“I’ll step outside.”

“Eh, you have to stay with me!”

“I’ll be in the hallway. Call me when you’ve finished showering.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Yuri opened the door and went out. Standing in front of the closed guest room door, Yuri finally closed his eyes tightly in the silence that had arrived at last. Exhaustion washed over him. His eyelids felt stiff and parched, and his stomach, which had gone all day without anything put into it, was numb and sore.

At the pain coming from his stomach beneath his ribs, Yuri slowly raised his hand and pressed the area. After pressing firmly above his hard abdominal muscles, he paused at the bumpy texture of his skin catching under his fingertips. The white scars he could feel through the thin shirt ran from the edge of his ribs all the way down to his navel.

Yuri’s body had far more scars than that, in sickening abundance.

After quietly tracing the marks for a while, he lowered his hand and headed toward the end of the hallway. Leaning against the corridor wall shadowed by the corner, he felt a craving for a cigarette. But in a glittering, clean city like this, indoor smoking was absolutely out of the question.