Icing on the Cake Chapter 25

Vasily began fighting criminals from other groups who threatened Igor. On the days he came home wounded, Katya would hide her reddened eyes in the shadows and then tend to her husband with the experience and knowledge she had learned.

It was from this time that Yekaterina began treating the wounded. She went out to nurse the poor and penniless in place of her husband’s sins, and whenever someone was hurt because of Igor, she visited their homes late at night to help with their care. In a small town with no private hospital, Katya was the only one who treated people without asking any questions.

Wherever one part of the world brightened, darkness fell elsewhere. Saratov was a neighborhood in the shadows, and as the darkness grew, Katya became busier. Using the moonlight streaming through the shabby window as her lamp, whenever Yuri had to stay home alone, Katya would make medovik for him and leave it on the table.

Watching her son see her off as she went out wearing a fur hat, Katya would hug him tightly, kiss the crown of his head, and whisper:

“If we strive to live rightly, God will save us, my little bead.”

From her embrace came the scent of honey used to make the medovik.

“Sleep well, Yura.”

Breathing in that sweet and fragrant smell that made you forget all your worries, Yuri believed his mother’s words. That someday God would help wash away the sorrow etched on his father’s and mother’s faces.

There were nights when Yuri, too, prayed and prayed.

Unable to fall asleep easily, Yuri instead usually did not dream. Whenever Alexei grumbled about having a bad dream, he would quietly smile and experience what dreams were like vicariously through his friend’s words.

The bad dreams Alexei talked about were usually happy ones. Things like reconciling with his detested younger brother Valery and making Napoleon cake together, or Igor getting arrested by the police and dying—situations like that.

Since the content didn’t sound bad, when Yuri asked why it made him feel bad, Alexei would light a cigarette and give a simple answer.

Because waking up makes it miserable afterward.

That was true. After that, Yuri stopped asking about Alexei’s dreams, and Alexei stopped speaking aloud about the future he wished for. In this way, they became each other’s supports. Instead of voicing vain hopes, they chose to understand and uphold the reality they were in.

And with anyone other than Alexei, Yuri had no particular desire to explain his life. After all, he knew that to others, he was nothing more than a mere sinner.

As if being pulled up from the depths of the sea, Yuri suddenly woke from sleep. The harsh sunlight stabbing his eyelids came next, and the sounds that had been blocked out rang in his ears. Birds chirping and the distant murmur of people chatting reached him.

…When did I fall asleep?

Just a moment ago it had been a dark road with nothing in sight, but when he opened his eyes, the scene before him was a brightly lit gas station. Startled, Yuri straightened up from where he had been leaning against the seat and quickly surveyed his surroundings. A parking lot large enough to fit ten freight trucks, with a store and a Tim Hortons attached to the gas station.

He had only meant to close his eyes for a moment, yet he had woken up to morning—an absurd situation. He usually didn’t sleep more than four hours even when he slept long, but judging by the position of the sun, it was clearly past eight in the morning. Pulling out his phone to check, it was indeed just past nine a.m.

He had forgotten to charge it, so the battery was running low. Glancing at the phone just before it died, he saw two missed calls from Alexei, along with texts mixed in from Heather and from him. Staring blankly at the screen, Yuri opened the glove box to charge it. The cable he always kept there was nowhere to be seen.

And neither was Cheriot.

Seeing the empty driver’s seat and the open window made his head ache. As the price for sleeping so deeply, Yuri was confronted with several questions. Where was he now, why had the cable and Cheriot disappeared—questions he couldn’t immediately answer flooded in.

He checked the back seat first. The passenger seat had been reclined nearly 180 degrees, so the back seat was clearly visible, and Cheriot’s suitcase was still behind the driver’s seat. Deciding that he probably hadn’t run off, Yuri noticed a jacket draped over his thighs. It was the black jacket Cheriot had been wearing.

What is this now…

If he wanted to take off his clothes, he could have left them in the back seat, so why had he specifically placed them on top of him? Was it so he’d see them? Frowning, Yuri was about to straighten Cheriot’s jacket when he spotted a large-built man walking toward him from a distance. He was wearing a beanie and sunglasses, but it was clearly Cheriot at a glance.

Cheriot approached the car with light steps, like someone out for a stroll. In both hands he held red paper cups, and a fairly large paper bag dangled from his wrist. For a man who had nearly died from a gunshot about nine hours earlier, he was far too at ease, and Yuri was at a loss for words.

Noticing Yuri had sat up, Cheriot suddenly waved the hand holding the cup toward him. They were clearly not close enough to greet each other from that distance, but as if that weren’t enough, Cheriot quickened his pace. With those long legs, he soon reached the car.

“Awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

Cheriot ducked his upper body through the open driver’s side window and greeted him. Reaching inside and holding out the coffee cup, he left Yuri no choice but to take it. The nickname “Sleeping Beauty” made Yuri realize belatedly that he had indeed slept very deeply, and that Cheriot had seen him asleep. The thought that he had exposed his weakness to a stranger like Cheriot—not even an old friend—filled him with dismay.

“…You haven’t forgotten I’m a criminal you’re supposed to despise, have you?”

“Royalty are all criminals when you think about it. In the past, they punished people for things that weren’t even crimes.”

The rich aroma of roasted coffee beans wafted from the cup in his hand. After sleeping off his fatigue, smelling coffee made him feel alive. Yuri resisted the urge to take a sip right away. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Cheriot, but he couldn’t be sure what was in it.

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

As Yuri frowned in silence after taking the coffee, Cheriot apparently misunderstood and corrected what he had said.

“Fine then. If you don’t like ‘prince,’ I’ll call you ‘Wolfy.'”

“What?”

“You act like a lone wolf, so I thought of that nickname. Come to think of it, only you get to use my pet names, so I figured I should come up with one for you too.”

“Call me Campbell.”

Yuri mentioned the surname on his fake ID. Cheriot snorted and opened the car door to get in.

“I said I need to call you by a nickname, didn’t I?”

The moment Cheriot sat down, the car gave a heavy lurch. The empty vehicle was suddenly filled by Cheriot’s presence. At the same time, the quiet surroundings began to grow noisy.

“I think Wolfy is perfect. Coincidentally, my favorite storybook is Wolfy the Bunny too. You should read it sometime if you get the chance. It’s a really great book.”

“My name is Campbell. That’s enough.”

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

Ignoring Yuri’s request, Cheriot placed his own coffee in the cup holder. Then he pulled muffins and bagels out of the paper bag.

“It was morning, so this was all Tim’s had. I got muffins and bagels. I skipped the wraps because getting your hands dirty is a hassle.”

Cheriot held out the food as if asking which one Yuri wanted. Yuri was about to repeat his unheeded request when the smell wafting up made him look down at the food. He didn’t care what he ate, so he asked Cheriot:

“…I don’t care either way. Take what you want.”

“Really? Then I’ll have the bacon muffin?”

“Yeah.”