Answering God's Call - Chapter 30

Cute…. Tatyana’s face crumpled as if she had tasted spoiled milk. Whatever else, it wasn’t a word that suited his build. It felt like the word itself had been insulted, and she only blinked quietly when Ruslan added with a smile.

“I guess I got a bit petty because it felt like I was the only one thinking about you all this time. I admit it.”

“….”

He’s quick to admit things like that. It leaves nothing to say. How much could he have been thinking about her to talk like that?

Pouting slightly, Tatyana spoke as if she wasn’t particularly curious, but might as well ask now, “Well, if that’s the case. Then why did you do that back then?”

“If you mean then, do you mean the autumn before last?”

“Yes, then.”

Tatyana brought up the question the man who had held an umbrella over her had suddenly asked.

“You asked if we’d met somewhere before, said my face looked familiar.”

“…Yes. I did.”

Ruslan’s reply came a beat late as he opened a worn notebook. Just as Tatyana didn’t want to go into detail about the Holodomor, it seemed Ruslan wasn’t keen on the topic either. Rather than not wanting to talk, he looked somewhat troubled, his eyes fixed only on the notebook.

“We’d never met, so why did you say that? Did you meet someone who looks like me?”

“No, not that. I saw it only in a drawing.”

“Someone who looked like me?”

Slowly nodding, Ruslan glanced at Tatyana, as if gauging her reaction. There was no reason for her to feel offended, yet his face suggested he was being careful with her mood. It was a little unfamiliar, so different from his usual easygoing manner. Finding that uncharacteristic side awkward, Tatyana gave a small, matching laugh.

“So it wasn’t because you took one look at this face and wanted to sleep with me.”

“…Honestly, I told you already.”

Ruslan, who had barely regained his usual composure at Tatyana’s nonsense, got up from his seat. Dropping onto the sofa opposite where Tatyana was sitting, he replied, “Brown hair isn’t my type.”

Tatyana glanced down at her hair that fell past her shoulders. If the hair with the wig wasn’t his type, then what about this hair?

“That hair is my type.”

“….”

“It’s pretty. It looks like sunlight.”

“I… didn’t ask.”

Tatyana barely corrected the words she almost stammered out and steadied herself inside. Ruslan picked up a cigarette from the table and shrugged.

“Do I need to be asked to say it? It’s just my impression.”

“Is it fun to tease like that?”

“I’m not teasing.”

As if. Tatyana took the cigarette he offered and drew in a light breath. As the thin smoke rose, their eyes met without meaning to, and the gaze lingered faintly.

There was no campfire, no empty beer bottles, no glass of whiskey sloshing, yet for some reason, it felt like they had returned to that day. The tip of her tongue, as it swept the inside of her mouth as if scraping away the lingering smell of smoke, felt strangely ticklish.

At this point, breaking eye contact would feel like admitting she was conscious of him, but holding the gaze was awkward as well.

Just as that thought crossed her mind, Ruslan, who had a cigarette between his lips, lit it and muttered, “What’s the point of teasing someone I’ve been looking for all this time?”

“You were looking for me?”

The gaze finally broke, but she had no time to catch her breath. At the question that slipped out without thought, Ruslan replied with a question.

“A pickpocket, an agent?”

“Just… anyone.”

Ruslan took a long drag on his cigarette before lifting only his eyes to give Tatyana a brief glance. It was only a fleeting look, yet as the cigarette smoke drifted through the air, everything around them seemed to slow with it. Their breathing and expressions had settled into the stillness of a deep sleep, but their heartbeats alone refused to keep the same rhythm.

Just as Tatyana pretended not to notice him while remaining keenly aware of his presence, Ruslan was equally conscious of her gaze, her breathing, and every small movement she made, reacting to each one. Neither of them seemed inclined to deny that one was conscious of the other and the other was intentionally paying attention.

With a faint laugh, Ruslan admitted it readily.

“I tried. A lot.”

“….”

“At first, I was curious who the clumsy pickpocket was who took everything, watch, cigarettes, fountain pen, cash, but left the trench coat and umbrella.”

“….”

“And when I realized later the film had been swapped, I was curious about the identity of the one who made me break out in a cold sweat… well, something like that.”

I put in some effort, honestly.

His voice, delivering it plainly without exaggeration, was soft like a breeze warmed by spring sunlight. It felt like a lot had been left unsaid in between, but Tatyana didn’t ask further. Maybe she had caught it from him, but she was asking more questions than usual. What she had learned about him over these past two days was already enough.

Because she hadn’t been smoking properly and had just been holding the cigarette between her fingers absentmindedly, the ash had grown long. As she belatedly tried to shake it off, Ruslan slid the ashtray in front of her and asked, “And you, Sister?”

“…What about me? You mean did I look for you?”

As if. Of all people, why would I go looking for the one I personally tricked? It would be more reasonable to avoid him at all costs. As Tatyana’s expression crumpled as if looking at something foolish, Ruslan quickly added in explanation.

“It’s not like I expected you to go around looking for me.”

“I was hoping we’d never cross paths again in this life.”

“Cold. Didn’t even think about it. Then what about me?”

Avoiding his gaze, Tatyana rolled her eyes and scratched the tip of her chin. Does he really want to hear it as it is?

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“An answer that sounds good.”

What is that? Letting out a hollow laugh as if it were absurd, Tatyana smiled brightly, like it was drawn on.

“Then I have nothing to say. I’m not the type to give empty words.”

“How chilly.”

Chilly, my ass. Looking at Ruslan’s face as he replied without a hint of hurt even while asking for a pleasing answer, Tatyana made a resolve.

Sometimes, very occasionally, really just sometimes, even if she did think of him, she would never say it.

【 Infamy Is Fame 】

Did I get used to wearing neat monastic clothes in just a few days?

When she thought about it, it wasn’t particularly comfortable clothing. It was overly modest and unnecessarily stifling. Tatyana, now dressed not in a habit but in a silk blouse with a faint sheen and tailored pants cut to fit her body, glanced down once while sitting, as if the outfit felt unfamiliar.

Ruslan, sitting across from her, let out a small snort as he looked at her. The corner of his lips, not quite hidden by the small espresso cup, lifted softly. What was so funny? Tatyana’s eyes sharpened, and just as Ruslan’s faint smile deepened a little more….

…As if someone had called her, Tatyana sprang up from her seat and turned. A woman who had been walking slowly behind her widened her eyes in surprise at that almost beastlike reaction speed.

“…You startled me.”

She wore a chiffon dress and a wide-brimmed, bright yellow floppy hat. Lifting the brim at an angle, the young woman revealed her face and looked in turn at Tatyana and at Ruslan, who still sat in his seat.

‘Mid to late twenties, early thirties. On the tall side, average build. A mole on her left eyebrow and another on her chin. She speaks with an eastern Lytton accent.’

It matched exactly the description of Natalia Makarov that Ruslan had once given. They hadn’t even exchanged a simple introduction, but the three who knew who each other were held a quiet standoff for a moment. Then Natalia Makarov, removing her floppy hat, smiled neatly.

“Looks like I made it in time. Shall we sit first and do introductions later?”

Only then did Ruslan stand and move to sit beside Tatyana. Natalia, seated across from them, glanced over the table with only a few small coffee cups and the surrounding area.

“I chose the place myself, but it’s nice.”

The meeting place Natalia had chosen herself was the Bastia restaurant in the central district of Belfast, a coastal city adjacent to Vandenberg. One side of the interior bent like a corner, so outside eyes couldn’t reach it, but there were a couple of ways to slip out if needed, and being in the city center, the surrounding transportation was also convenient.

Straightening her posture, Natalia Makarov pointed in turn at Tatyana and then at Ruslan beside her.

“I spoke with a woman on the phone. Didn’t expect you to bring a colleague.”

“You didn’t say to come alone.”

“…Prickly. Well, now that you say it, that’s true.”

This wasn’t a place they had gathered to chat over coffee, yet the woman’s tone and attitude were completely at ease. Not wanting to exchange more words than necessary, Tatyana lightly tapped the table with her fingertips and showed her palm.

“Don’t drag this out. Put everything you brought on the table.”

“Doesn’t look it, but you’re impatient too.”

“…?”

It was a reproach, as if asking why they were being so sensitive when she had come out to negotiate in good faith. Tatyana and Ruslan stared at Natalia as if she were something unusual, then glanced at each other as if thinking something was off. What is she? It hadn’t even been five minutes since they met face to face, but she was a rather peculiar person.

With her relaxed attitude, Natalia Makarov took out a few photographs and a film canister from her handbag and pushed them forward in front of Tatyana.

After quickly looking through the few photos, Tatyana pushed them back toward Natalia as if there was nothing more to see. She then opened the film canister and spread it out long under the light, but she couldn’t easily smooth out her once-crumpled expression.