Answering God's Call - Chapter 20

Ruslan gently rubbed Tatyana’s cheek with his thumb, her skin still holding a faint warmth, until she fell asleep again. The shoulders that had been tensed high gradually sank, and the faintly furrowed brows relaxed softly.

Only after Tatyana repeated a few even, steady breaths did Ruslan withdraw his hand. Slowly straightening his awkward posture, he moved toward the armchair opposite the sofa.

The aftereffects of moving his body hit him belatedly. Whether he had been covering her with a blanket, cupping her cheek to soothe her, or quietly indulging his own desire while hoping she would sleep comfortably, the pain he hadn’t felt at the time was considerable, but Ruslan smiled as if pleased.

It wasn’t a situation to smile in, but the smile slipped out anyway.

It wasn’t a completely safe place, but the fact that the woman in front of him was sleeping warmly… that fact alone. It would have been better if she hadn’t been hurt at all, but at least the fact that the day had ended without any serious injury… that alone made him smile in the end.

He should be happy.

Even while everything else was good, the fact that he was the only one who could see that sight made him feel a little regretful. Someone would surely feel proud, saying she had grown up pretty and sharp. Thinking of the face engraved in his mind like the scars left on her body, he soon shook his head as if it was useless and scattered the thought.

Swallowing a deep sigh, Ruslan checked his wristwatch. There were about four hours left until dawn.

It looked like tomorrow, no, today would surely be another hectic day, so it seemed best for him to get some sleep as well. Resting a loaded pistol and a military dagger on his thigh, Ruslan settled into a comfortable position.

As if reluctant to close his eyes for the busy day ahead, Ruslan filled his gaze with Tatyana again and again, as if engraving her into his eyes one last time, before his eyelids slowly sank shut.

【 Basic Qualifications of an Exorcist 】

A time closer to dawn than morning. Stepping out of the telegraph office, Tatyana habitually felt for where her pocket should be. But realizing she had neither cigarettes nor a lighter, and that her outfit wasn’t suitable for smoking out on the street anyway, she clicked her tongue.

Shouldn’t have disguised myself as a nun for nothing.

Settling for straightening her clothes, Tatyana turned her steps toward Ruslan, who was sitting in a diner near the telegraph office. It was one of the few places where people could come and go freely regardless of business hours, even in the early morning.

Just as she was neatly dressed in a fresh nun’s habit, Ruslan, dressed in a priest’s cassock as precise as if measured with a ruler, looked far more stable than the night before. It was hard to believe he was hiding wounds on his shoulder and waist beneath that cassock.

Sitting across from him and taking a sip of the coffee he had ordered in advance, Tatyana held out a folded telegram sheet. Setting down the small espresso cup, no bigger than his palm, Ruslan silently unfolded the paper.

[Identity confirmed: Natalia Makarov. Not related to this matter.]

It was confirmation of Rebecca West’s real name and that she was a Lubyanka agent. After scanning the name and the short reply written beside it, Ruslan asked quietly, “Is your contact on the Lubyanka side trustworthy?”

“That’s a pointless question. Who in this line of work is trustworthy?”

Tatyana let out a small, scoffing laugh, as if he was being absurdly at ease.

“They just gave me a chance to defect right before I was about to be executed on false charges, and we’re only working together because our interests align for now. Do you think they trust me completely either? I betrayed my country. Do you think I wouldn’t stab someone in the back?”

Lieutenant Colonel Svetlana Belov didn’t have any grand cause like continental peace or ending the Cold War. Nor had she sold Lubyanka’s secrets for money like a vulgar opportunist. She simply needed a chess piece that would move for her in Lytton to carry out her long-held grudge and revenge.

And just then, there happened to be an agent who was more than willing to defect from Lubyanka’s dictatorship to Lytton, lying in a miserable state in an underground chamber waiting for execution. It must have seemed like perfect timing.

Of course, it’s not like Tatyana felt no gratitude toward Svetlana.

She was genuinely grateful. It wasn’t easy to reveal yourself as a double agent and offer someone a chance to defect. It was no different from Svetlana betting everything she had on a gamble she couldn’t even attempt without considerable certainty.

But gratitude was gratitude.

Nothing was more foolish than an agent placing complete trust in someone else. All she could do was quietly hope they would continue walking the same path for a long time, expecting nothing in return. Like reciting the prescribed prayers during Mass without meaning, fully aware they would never be answered, never reach their destination.

“…Just as she trusted my resentment and long-standing grudge toward Lubyanka when she entrusted this to me, I trust her desire for revenge.”

In a way, it was a shared sense of similarity between people in similar situations that bound Tatyana and Svetlana together.

At the edge of dawn, the boundary where darkness and light meet, Tatyana’s face, which equated trust with carelessness, sank into the dim glow. Ruslan quietly observed the woman who wore deep-rooted distrust and layered caution like armor.

Her face was undeniably cold and barren, yet her emerald eyes glowed strangely as they were dyed by the dawn. It was as if the stubborn persistence and resentment that had clung to the remnants of a life that nearly crumbled in an underground execution chamber were shining through.

Gauging the heavy darkness cast behind that light, Ruslan quietly poured water into Tatyana’s cup and handed her a napkin. Watching her accept it naturally without any sign of refusal, he lowered his gaze back to the telegram sheet.

“No relation to this matter.”

His voice, following the short telegram, sank low.

“…It means that although Natalia Makarov is indeed a Lubyanka agent operating under the alias Rebecca West, she hasn’t been officially assigned any mission related to our case.”

Tatyana, who neatly folded the napkin, passed a fork and knife to Ruslan.

“So they hired mercenaries.”

“That’s right. They need to handle the aftermath, but since they’re acting on their own, they can’t rely on the operations officer and agent dispatched from Lubyanka….”

They hired mercenaries out of pocket. Ruslan nodded as if he finally understood. No wonder. They were excessively rough without caring about the onlookers. As he organized the chain of events from yesterday in his head, a staff member approached carrying plates in both hands.

“Which of you ordered—”

“This one is for the nun.”

Ruslan pointed in front of Tatyana. Fluffy toast, pancakes, golden fried bacon, and mashed potato salad were placed before her.

“Then this is for the priest—”

“No, that’s also for our nun.”

He shook his head and pointed to Tatyana again. A sandwich packed with lettuce, tomato, and salty ham, along with a heap of fries, was also set before her.

“Ah, then this must be—”

“Yes, that’s mine too.”

Tatyana raised her hand slightly. Onion soup simmered for a long time, a fried egg with the yolk running, and plump sausages all went to her as well.

“…?”

The friendly staff member gestured at the one remaining plate and offered it to Ruslan, as if asking whether the buttered baguette, ham and cheese, and omelet filled with onions and peppers was really just one serving.

“Yes, that one is mine.”

Ruslan accepted it with a small smile. Even though it was early morning, there were already three plates in front of Tatyana alone.

When the staff member looked between the nun and priest as if something felt off, Tatyana handed over a basket filled with colorful Easter eggs as if offering a gift. She didn’t forget to add a blessing that a devout nun might give.

The staff member beamed at the unexpected eggs and returned to the kitchen. Holding his fork and knife, Ruslan asked in a low whisper, “If you give away all the eggs like that, are you planning to eat mine for a snack?”

“I’ll gratefully accept it if you offer.”

Tatyana cut into the toast first and smiled brightly. Following her, Ruslan cut into his omelet and let out a quiet chuckle.

“Eat slowly.”

“…I’m not a child.”

Tatyana shot him a glare and stabbed a neatly cut piece of toast with her fork. Even though her response came out curt at being treated like a child, the corners of her lips were clearly lifted as she took a big bite.

Ridiculous, seriously.

***

After finishing their early but hearty meal, they headed not to the church but to Ruslan’s safe house. Since there was no dawn mass that day, they had plenty of time to move freely until the afternoon.

They each took a spot at the sofa table and the kitchen table, going through the documents they had split between them. They were lists of passengers who could be used on ships or trains in Vandenberg and nearby areas, as well as records of those who had passed through checkpoints.

Since the records covered everything from the day Samuel Gilmore disappeared up to yesterday, and the area bordered the frontier, the lists seemed endless no matter how many pages they turned. After going through the lists for two hours, Ruslan finally lifted his head and rubbed his stiff neck.