Icing on the Cake Chapter 27

Yuri gestured toward Cheriot’s lips with his eyes, then tapped the car body with his palm.

“Leave the window just a crack. I’ll be back within ten minutes, so don’t go anywhere.”

If something were going to happen, it probably would have happened already. He’d been unconscious and asleep for a long time—more than enough time for an incident to occur—and yet he was still alive, so Cheriot’s judgment probably wasn’t wrong. It was enough that Yuri himself stayed tense at all times.

Having finished speaking, Yuri turned and walked toward the rest area. Cheriot, watching him go, slowly raised his hand and brushed his lips. As he stared at the bit of hash brown that came off on his fingertips, a strange, flustered look flickered across his face.

∞ ∞ ∞

Surprisingly, even though a fair amount of time had passed since he’d come to Canada, Yuri had never visited the famous Tim Hortons. He’d occasionally eaten things that T-Mac or Alexei had bought, but that was all. He simply had no particular curiosity or desire for the kinds of experiences everyone else seemed to have at least once.

Yuri only performed the bare minimum of actions essential for survival. For example, he would visit a large grocery store only when his food supplies were nearly depleted, and he would go out only to pick up car parts.

It was his friends who dragged Yuri out of this routine, but they all had their own lives, so he didn’t see them often. Occasionally, when he missed them, hearing their voices over the phone was Yuri’s idea of entertainment. He lived an ascetic life to the core.

Places like chain stores were something he’d only seen after arriving in a big city. Saratov was a state with a large area but an extremely small population. Because of the harsh winters that dropped to minus forty degrees, migrants didn’t gather there, and on top of that, a vicious criminal from the Soviet Union had made his nest on such land, so Saratov had long remained undeveloped, tamed under Igor’s grip.

Still, he thought that just before he left, Saratov had started to get a few things here and there.

While Yuri’s world always seemed frozen in place, the outside changed quickly. Things that had seemed like they would never change would suddenly shift drastically, and people who seemed like they would always stay in place would disappear.

Yuri was the type to hold his ground and watch the world change, leaving him behind.

The wall that confined him was built just wide enough for his friends to occasionally stop by and rest. He was a bad existence who must not go outside the wall, and he himself found peace within that small space. Inside his wall were the work he was given, the bare minimum of food to stave off hunger, the occasional cigarette, and the books his mother used to read often.

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

At Tim Hortons, where young, fresh-faced employees bustled about, Yuri awkwardly finished his first order. He didn’t like making eye contact, so he kept his head down and recited what he wanted in a gruff voice. The cashier looked at Yuri’s face, startled for a moment, then quickly hid her agitation and prepared the food. The battered state of his appearance seemed to have frightened the young girl, and he felt a little uneasy.

After ordering the same food Cheriot had bought, Yuri stopped by the convenience store. He was about to buy only water and cigarettes and leave when the thought crossed his mind that buying some snacks might be a good idea. Was it because of Cheriot, who had said he was scared? His feet paused at the chocolate section he was about to walk past without a second glance.

There were plenty of snacks on the shelves. Gummies that looked sweet just by looking at them, Twizzlers, various chocolate bars, candies—enough to make his head spin.

I don’t have a clue what any of this is.

Because he had hardly eaten any junk food growing up, Yuri found it hard to imagine what those lumps of sugar might taste like. As a child, there was no spare change to spend at convenience stores, so the cakes his mother made him, like medovik, were the only desserts he remembered.

After his mother passed away, he even stopped eating Russian desserts. In that way, sweetness became a reminder of his mother, making him feel the absence of the precious person no longer by his side. Sweet foods had, at some point, transformed from a pleasure into a symbol of loss.

Unable to guess the tastes of a sports star five years younger than himself, Yuri ended up grabbing a bag of candy, potato chips, and protein bars that claimed to contain protein, taking whatever caught his eye. He hesitated, wondering if it was really okay to stuff this sort of thing into a body worth so much, but he finished the purchase anyway.

Stepping outside, the sky blazed brightly. The breeze was cool, blowing at just the right pleasant temperature, carrying the scent of green foliage. The midday on this unfamiliar highway, after spending all his time shuttling between home and the auto shop, looked almost frighteningly beautiful.

As soon as that thought came to him, Yuri lowered his gaze from the sky. With his head bowed, the convenience store bag in his hand dangled awkwardly. Staring at the bag with an uncomfortable feeling, he reached into his left coat pocket to ground himself back in reality. His fingers closed around the two disposable phones he’d recovered from the intruders the night before.

Before calling Alexei, Yuri considered where to hide them. It would be best to leave the phones somewhere Alexei could find them before he got too far away. Originally, he’d planned to hide them while escaping the hotel, but…

Recalling the gunfire brought his wandering mind back to where it belonged. Back to the place where the scent wasn’t fresh grass but greasy gunpowder, the smell of blood trickling through his nose.

After a moment’s thought, Yuri turned off the disposable phones and headed for the men’s restroom. The restroom, located between Tim Hortons and the gas station, was fairly clean, apparently well-maintained. Taking advantage of the empty space, he quietly surveyed the interior, then rummaged through the bin for paper towels and placed the phones at the bottom.

If Alexei retrieved these and traced the contacts, it might turn up some leads.

Having taken care of urgent business, Yuri stopped in front of the sink before leaving. The pale-skinned man in the mirror was dressed as drab as the life he had lived. The bruise on his cheekbone from the beating had darkened while he slept, turning a dusky red. Quite a sight to be walking around in. Yuri gave a faint, self-deprecating smile and set the bag down beside the sink. When he turned the faucet, cold water flowed out. Slowly dipping his fingers into the stream sent a shiver through him.

After washing his face with the cool water—so different from the warm outside—Yuri left the restroom. About fifteen minutes, roughly. The delay beyond the ten minutes he’d promised bothered him, so he quickened his pace. Fortunately, Cheriot was still safely in the car. He hadn’t run off, nor was he chatting up a stranger. On top of that, he’d obediently followed Yuri’s instructions, rolling the window up almost all the way, leaving barely a crack wide enough for a single finger to squeeze through.

Seeing Cheriot glaring at him with a somewhat sullen expression felt both unfamiliar and oddly amusing. It was a feeling he couldn’t logically explain—the sensation of spotting something that shouldn’t be in a certain place. Like seeing a lion in an apartment, or a pink balloon in the middle of a dense forest. It was hard to describe precisely, but having such a incongruous person in his car felt strange.

And also a bit like a large, sulky dog whose owner had gone out alone.

Cheriot hadn’t taken his eyes off Yuri from the moment he appeared in his field of vision. As Yuri walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, Cheriot’s face brightened somewhat, and he spoke again in that annoyingly cheerful tone.

“I almost suffocated waiting for you.”

He sure exaggerated a lot, but it wasn’t unbearable. Or perhaps Yuri had gotten used to it within a single day. He let the remark pass without reaction.

“You left an opening.”

“My lung capacity is too good; this amount of air isn’t enough for me.”

Right. Yuri gave a small nod and gestured with his eyes.

“Switch seats. From here on, I’m driving.”

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Navigation isn’t there for nothing. Just tell me the destination, and it’ll find the way.”