Icing on the Cake Chapter 6

Yuri, who had been about to ask why he was smiling so broadly, froze and fell silent the moment he heard the name. The name he had just heard was too familiar to ignore. Then the man who had been observing him from the side approached Yuri and, as before, bent down to meet his eye level. Yuri, who had been coldly ignoring the man, unconsciously glanced to the side, and their gazes met. A white, smiling face reflected in his eyes.

“That’s right. That’s me.”

Cheriot Gutnight.

A sports athlete mentioned in the news at least once a week. Anyone who loves hockey in Canada—or even in America—would know him without fail. Even those not interested in sports would have heard his name somewhere, as a handsome celebrity, and it seemed that the very Cheriot Gutnight from the radio was that man.

“Judging by that heated gaze, you do know my name, handsome. This feels good. Nothing’s been particularly good since I became famous, but today, for the first time, I feel it was worth it.”

Listening to words that weren’t even worth dismissing as nonsense, Yuri felt two things. Relief that someone at least this famous wouldn’t be as dangerous as he’d feared, and…

“Now that we’ve exchanged names, can I call you Yuri too?”

A faint resentment toward Heather and Alexei, who had brought in a client who was this off-putting.

Yuri disliked this kind of person. Someone with glib words, who approached others without hesitation. A sociable personality who would suddenly cross the safety distance he had firmly established for a reason and bother him with words that were awkward to coldly refuse. Without a doubt, this was the type of person who suited him least.

“Since Yuri is handsome, I’ll let you call me ‘Cherry’ specially. It’s a nickname only people I like can use.”

Ah…

He’s insane.

Looking at the smiling Cheriot, a strong emotion—whether embarrassment or repulsion—writhed inside Yuri. It takes a long time to truly know someone, but there are certain important things you can recognize the moment you meet them. And from the conversations they’d had so far, Cheriot was not the kind of person Yuri could get along with.

Someone like Cheriot, who freely dispensed compliments about appearances and casually introduced a nickname meant for precious people to a complete stranger, was exactly the type Yuri deliberately avoided. A heart easily given is easily lost, isn’t it? Yuri hated that kind of flippancy.

“Enough.”

Yuri firmly stopped Cheriot, who was approaching with a grin. The eyes that had been curving in a self-satisfied smile, as if fully aware of his own prettiness, widened in surprise. Cheriot, dropping his eyebrows like an innocent young man, asked back.

“Yes?”

“Cut the nonsense. Even if you are a celebrity, that’s no reason to take on your commission. I…”

Have no reason to take this commission anyway. Yuri swallowed his last words. He had a strong urge to throw this man, who was exhausting just to be around, out of the house immediately, but seeing Alexei’s blue eyes watching him intently, his mouth closed. Suppressing his impulse, he warned Cheriot with sincerity.

“If you call me by a nickname one more time, call me handsome, or spout any other nonsense, I’m pulling out of this job. Alyosha, you remember that too. It seems you brought him here because this is something that requires me… but it’s hard to tolerate.”

Alexei, who had been listening with his arms crossed, nodded. Tilting his thick, sturdy neck at an angle, Alexei spoke to Cheriot with a crooked gaze.

“You heard him, Client?”

Alexei, who had been observing Yuri and Cheriot all along, finally stepped in to rein things in. Cheriot, who had been blinking and staring at them as if he had no idea what was going on, raised his eyebrows after Alexei finished speaking. Soon, a mutter of genuine puzzlement followed.

“Everyone usually likes it when I say that.”

Yuri remained silent, no longer willing to engage with him, and Alexei let out a snort.

“Usually, sure. But we’re not usual people, which is why you’re here, isn’t it, Client?”

“That’s a shame. I meant it sincerely.”

Cheriot, incongruent with his large frame, tilted his head like a puppy and stepped back. Soon, the hand holding Yuri’s arm also fell away. As Yuri’s cool gaze touched his hand, Cheriot erased the smile from his lips and apologized.

“I apologize for making you uncomfortable. But before you refuse, shouldn’t you at least have the courtesy to hear what my commission is? If only out of consideration for our mutual acquaintance, Heather.”

After stepping back and straightening his posture, Cheriot changed the atmosphere in an instant. His naturally smiling face and gently curved eye corners made him look amiable, but his erect posture, broad shoulders, and straight-closed lips carried a peculiar weight. It was completely different from before, when he had seemed so light as to be fluttering.

“Now, how about everyone sits down? Standing around and talking like this reminds me of the old days, and I don’t like it.”

Alexei said this and shot Yuri a look. The “old days” he referred to meant their time in Saratov—the days when the entire city was ruled by the mafia, and everyone, whether willingly or unwillingly, had to participate in crimes large and small.

Among them, Yuri and Alexei were chess pieces tasked with the biggest crimes. Forced by the circumstances that their fathers had been compelled to join the organization, they too had been made to walk the same path… those times.

Chess pieces—not mafia bosses or their close associates—never had the leisure to sit around and chat idly. There were times when even a moment to duck into an alley and light a cigarette, escaping the bone-chilling wind, was a luxury.

“Is Alexei always this rude to clients?”

“Unless they’re women, usually, yes.”

Walking toward the dining table chairs as Alexei guided, Cheriot asked a question that was hard to tell whether it was a joke or serious. Alexei nodded in affirmation, and Yuri reluctantly followed behind them. This situation, where he felt like a guest in his own home, was strange. From lunchtime onward, today had been a rough day.

“Aha. So women are your type? Regardless of their designation?”

“I have only one type.”

To Cheriot’s unnecessary question, Alexei gave a firm answer. Yuri knew who that answer belonged to. There had been one uniquely important person in Alexei’s life for a very long time. He was now Alexei’s lover.

“But since you’re asking about designations, Client… are you what they call a ‘free type’? With all that cloying praise you keep throwing at Yuri.”

At the phrase “free type,” Yuri squinted. This was one of those concepts he could never understand no matter how many times he heard it—some kind of preference openly respected in big cities like Vancouver. Wanting the same designation, or wanting a completely mismatched one—like a beta wanting an alpha or an omega—was called being a free type.

“Rather than free type…”

Cheriot curled the corners of his mouth in response to Alexei’s question.

“I’m of the persuasion that it doesn’t matter at all.”

“That sounds like the same thing.”

Alexei let out an amused snort and sat down in the chair. Then, using his long leg, he nudged the chair beside him and pushed it back, signaling Yuri with a glance to come and sit. As mentioned earlier, out of consideration for Heather, and for Alexei’s sake, Yuri decided to at least hear the story.

“Enough small talk. Let’s get to the point.”

Sitting beside Alexei, Yuri regained his composure. Now that Cheriot had stopped his nonsense, his head began to clear, and he realized he had been needlessly engaging with Cheriot. He should have just let it wash over him like a dog’s barking, but instead, he had been exhausting himself by processing Cheriot’s words in his head. That was his own mistake.

“Good. What I heard from Heather is this. As introduced earlier, the client is Cheriot Gutnight. Captain of the Vancouver Red Maple, and as you know, a very famous man.”

“Oh, and I’m twenty-eight. The age on my public profile is for external use—I’m actually a year younger.”