Answering God's Call - Chapter 3

⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁠⁣⁠⁣⁠⁠⁣⁠⁣⁠⁣⁠⁣⁠⁠⁣⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁣⁠⁣⁣⁠⁠⁣⁣⁣⁠⁣⁣⁠⁣⁠⁠⁣⁠⁣⁠⁠⁣⁣⁣⁠⁣⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁠⁠⁠***

Not long after the bathroom door slammed shut, the loud rush of water could be heard. Only then did Ruslan seem to relax, letting out a deep breath. He slowly got up and went out to the balcony, taking out a cigarette and putting it between his lips out of habit.

The heavy rain, showing no sign of letting up, fell over the railing. Ruslan cast his gaze far beyond the place not obscured by the hazy trail of cigarette smoke.

It was dark, and with the rain falling late into the night, there were not many people left on the streets. There was no sign of anyone tailing him to the hotel, nor any watchful eyes keeping a distance.

Even so, if he had to pick one thing that bothered him, it would be the companion currently washing in the bathroom. In truth, it wasn’t so much that she bothered him as that he felt awkward about himself for bringing her here on something close to impulse.

Even to him, asking if they had met somewhere before sounded like a line filled with impure intent, so he had nothing to say. That made the woman’s look, not just taken aback but even somewhat disdainful, and her reaction, entirely understandable. Even if he swore it was the first time he’d ever said it, she clearly wouldn’t believe him.

So, since he was going to be misunderstood anyway, Ruslan wanted the woman to at least wash her cold, drenched body in warmth. Just for today, he wanted her not to feel the cold or the pain anymore.

It wasn’t love at first sight. Absolutely not.

He knew anyone would see his kindness as sudden and excessive. It might sound like an excuse, but he wasn’t the type to offer gentle words or comforting platitudes, so this was simply the best he could do.

Ruslan evaluated his own actions from an entirely objective standpoint, like a third party. Of course, those deep emerald eyes were beautiful enough to seize one’s gaze in an instant, but…

That was all. If he were the kind of man to fall for looks alone, he would have loved himself first, more than anyone.

‘Get up. The supervisor isn’t coming. Hurry!’

He concluded calmly that he simply disliked seeing someone exposed to violence without any defense, that just as he had once been able to stand again by taking someone’s hand that day, all he had done was offer enough warmth for her to keep walking forward. As he reached that conclusion, the sound of water from the bathroom began to subside.

To keep the cold air from coming in, Ruslan firmly locked the balcony door and leaned slightly against the curtained glass. The woman who came out of the bathroom was wearing the thick shirt dress he had given her to change into.

As expected, the waist was loose and the sleeves were a little short, exposing her thin wrists, but it suited her well enough without anything looking off, as if it were her own clothes. The woman, awkwardly clutching her wet dark brown hair, met his gaze.

“Where’s the medicine?”

Ruslan’s lips parted slightly as he stared at her flushed cheeks. As the pale chill washed from her rain-soaked face, her injuries stood out more starkly.

It might be his imagination, but the wounds seemed worse.

As his gaze brushed over the injuries on her legs visible beneath the shirt dress, a part of his chest tightened as if something were stuck. When he quickly took out the emergency medicine he usually carried and gestured, the woman shook her head and only held out her hand.

“You should go wash up too. I’ll apply the medicine myself.”

“Suit yourself.”

At her rather firm attitude, Ruslan said nothing more and gathered his clothes before going into the bathroom.

***

When Ruslan came out after thoroughly washing away the cold and fatigue from the rain, the woman was sitting in front of the fireplace, drinking beer. Startled by his presence as she took a sip from the bottle, she quickly wiped her mouth.

“Ah, this is….”

“You applied the medicine well.”

Under the bright light, her face, carefully treated with ointment, looked glossy. After briefly checking the bandages stuck here and there on her scraped arms and legs, Ruslan lightly shook the moisture from his hair.

“Are you hungry?”

At his question, the woman waved her hands awkwardly. “No, it’s not that.”

That’s not it? Ruslan let out a small scoff. There was no way a bastard who swung his fists at a woman who looked like she’d snap if you tapped her would be feeding her properly.

Ruslan, who had been so focused on getting her safely out of the rain-soaked street, clicked his tongue as if at a slight miscalculation. There wasn’t really anything to eat besides alcohol. It was too late to order anything.

“I’m fine with this.”

Sensing his hesitation, the woman shook the long beer bottle as if she truly didn’t mind. Ruslan watched her cheeks and lips regain color between wounds that hadn’t yet healed, then gave a small nod.

Right. This is enough.

Even as he thought it was more than enough, his hand was already picking out whiskey and two glasses. After checking the empty beer bottle, Ruslan set the glasses down on the small tea table.

“Can you drink whiskey?”

“I’ve had strong liquor once or twice.”

“Good. It won’t fill you up, but a drink should help you sleep.”

While he poured whiskey into the two glasses, the woman didn’t take her eyes off him. What was she thinking this time? Glancing at her, now lost in thought again, Ruslan asked casually, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What’s your name?”

At the sudden question, Ruslan’s brow tilted. “Now you ask?”

“Come to think of it, I should at least know your name in case something happens later—”

“Vicente.”

“Vicente?”

Ruslan chose one suitable name from the several aliases he used and gave it. It was also the name he had written in the hotel register today. He didn’t mention a surname, but the woman seemed satisfied with that much and nodded.

“I’m Yvonne. Yvonne Valois.”

Yvonne. The name rolled on the tongue, soft like her dark brown hair. Handing her the whiskey glass, Ruslan turned his body slightly. Taking out a freshly opened pack of cigarettes from his briefcase, he offered one to her first.

“A promise is a promise.”

After sipping her whiskey, the woman, as if she had been waiting the whole time, quickly took a cigarette and put it between her lips. The moment he lit it for her, her slender cheeks hollowed as she drew in deeply, and Ruslan found himself watching her closely without realizing it.

Only now did she seem able to breathe. Her body slackened into the armchair, languid. The way she lowered her eyes and slowly exhaled smoke was like a cat that had just finished a full meal, and it drew his gaze. The firelight from the fireplace flickered over her deep green eyes like a gem.

In the quiet, as she replaced breath with cigarette smoke, Ruslan watched her in silence and then took a sip of his own whiskey. The oak-scented liquor spread sharply, then went down smoothly with the fatigue that had built up through the day.

Only after emptying nearly half his glass at a leisurely pace did Ruslan put a cigarette to his lips and tilt his head, as if he had waited long enough.

“Don’t just think about it. Ask, Yvonne.”

“…Ask what?”

“Don’t stare like that and pretend otherwise.”

At his teasing reproach, her large eyes narrowed slightly. Even narrowed, the vivid emerald gaze met his calmly.

Tapping ash into the ashtray once, twice, she asked, “Why did you bring me here? Are you always this kind?”

Kindness, huh. At the first compliment he’d ever heard in his life, Ruslan’s expression turned vague. He idly scratched his brow and drained the rest of his whiskey. It felt awkward, but the slight tension in his lips wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“I hate violence inflicted on someone who can’t defend themselves.”

Ruslan chose his words from thoughts he couldn’t neatly organize, his lips parting slowly. There was no need to say everything, but….

“Being on the receiving end, and seeing it happen to someone else.”

“….”

“Unless I’m hitting them back too. It really gets on my nerves. It’s disgusting.”

That much should be fine. Ruslan swallowed the words that were about to go on longer along with a drag of his cigarette. It was the cigarette burning a dark red, yet his ears felt hotter. Quickly stubbing it out, he rubbed his earlobe. It tingled as if a spark had landed on it.

Someone who can’t defend themselves…. The woman quietly turned his words over in her mind as she crushed out the rest of her cigarette. Looking at Ruslan’s empty glass, she gave a small nod.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

With a faint smile, Ruslan stood up. The drinks were finished, and it was late. It seemed like a good time to wrap things up. He set the bedroom key on the table and added a brief word of advice.

“Lock the door well and get some sleep. I’ll be leaving on the first train tomorrow morning, but you can rest here as long as you like. Don’t worry about the room fee.”

“The first train tomorrow?”

“Yes, it’s past midnight now, so today—”

As Ruslan pulled his robe closed, his body suddenly swayed. His knees buckled sharply, and he grabbed the table in a hurry, instinctively looking at the empty whiskey glass.

No way.

Without a hint of surprise, the woman stood up leisurely and supported his slackening body. Through his drooping eyelids, her satisfied smile filled his vision.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

“You… what did you….”

“Relax. It’s just a regular sleeping pill, so don’t worry. You’ll have to get a new train ticket, though.”

Holding him fully in her arms, the hand that patted him was calm and gentle, like soothing a child. It was hard to believe she had slipped a sleeping pill into his drink while he had turned away for a moment.

“Hey, Yvonne….”

“Thanks for the cigarette. I meant it.”

Sleep well, Vicente.

The moment her soft whisper brushed his cheek, Ruslan’s vision went completely dark.