Answering God's Call - Chapter 8

So that’s why he wasn’t saying anything.

Tatyana took a small, deep breath and slowly parted her lips. What was there to hesitate about?

But the one who spoke first was the man who had checked the documents all the way to the last page. Without taking his eyes off the papers, as if there was still something to see, he asked, “A survivor who escaped from the Cherkubo Gulag… Do you believe this?”

“I assume Military Intelligence judged it credible enough to review the defection positively. Unless I see it with my own eyes, I don’t think it’s my place to judge the truth of the information.”

“Well, that’s not wrong, but I’m curious how they managed to escape from there. Most of it’s just rumors, but Cherkubo is said to hold around two million political prisoners, with over three hundred thousand dying every year. Of course, the Lubyanka government denies all rumors about the gulag.”

So what exactly is he trying to say? Tatyana wasn’t naive enough to believe everything, but she couldn’t simply dismiss it either. Even if it all turned out to be lies and she made a fool of herself, she still had to do it.

And right now, that wasn’t what mattered. The priority was to track down the two Military Intelligence employees who had been absent without leave for days.

They had to find them to confirm whether there was more leaked classified information, what they intended to do with what they had taken, whether the Cherkubo survivor was real or not, and whether the war crime evidence he possessed was genuine or fabricated.

After a short breath, Tatyana replied with a hint of annoyance, “If you don’t want to do it, step aside. I can handle it alone.”

“Who said I don’t want to?”

The man lightly rebuked her for jumping to conclusions and suddenly stared straight at her. Startled by the sudden eye contact, she blinked slowly, and he tossed out a remark.

“You’ve gained weight.”

“…?”

“You looked like you’d snap if I tapped you before.”

“…?”

What kind of nonsense is that? Tatyana frowned, doubting her ears.

“Is that one of the many things you said we needed to talk about?”

“For me?”

Ah, so he wants to start from the past. I get it now. Realizing his intention behind the sudden jab, Tatyana smiled brightly.

Back when she was about to defect, she had been locked in a basement and tortured until she had lost all her weight. She barely managed to swallow the blood pooling in her mouth instead of water, her wounds piling up one after another, so compared to then, of course she would look noticeably different… no.

It’s not like I gained that much weight.

The more she thought about it, the more absurd it felt, but no meaningful change showed on her face. She understood how a man who couldn’t speak properly might feel, but she had no intention of showing any reaction to such trivial provocation. Whether he knew what was on her mind or not, the man continued.

“Was it difficult adapting to Lytton after defecting?”

Since she had occasionally been exposed to this culture as part of intelligence training while in Lubyanka, maybe it wasn’t that hard. His murmured aside, almost like a monologue, echoed through the not very large office.

Sitting upright, Tatyana asked quietly, “What are you trying to do? You’re not actually curious about how I’ve been.”

“Hmm? Why do you think I’m not—”

“I heard you were demoted because I defected.”

“Well, as you can see.”

Isn’t it obvious? Cutting his words short, Ruslan stood and drew the curtains. The mass had ended long ago so it was unlikely, but just in case, he made sure there wasn’t a single gaze peering inside.

Even though he had brought her to an office where there was no need to worry about their surroundings, Tatyana didn’t relax easily. She didn’t show any notable change in expression, but the eyes that quietly met his were clearly probing and wary.

Does she really think I’m going to eat her?

Ridiculous. Ruslan swallowed a quiet, incredulous laugh.

Of course, seeing her feign ignorance and act as if she didn’t know him stirred a petty irritation in him that he himself hadn’t realized before. Even so. Not denying that irritation, Ruslan stopped midway as he was about to return to his seat and instead perched on the edge of the coffee table.

Tatyana finally frowned deeply at the bizarre sight of him sitting on the table instead of the perfectly fine sofa. As if even closing the distance like that wasn’t enough, Ruslan leaned his upper body forward.

Until his face filled her emerald eyes.

The moment the crease between Tatyana’s brows deepened further, Ruslan suddenly grabbed and pulled off her veil. As the carefully secured veil and cap came off at once, the hair she had neatly arranged to maintain her disguise as a nun spilled down like a waterfall.

As expected, you were wearing a wig back then.

A strange glint flickered in Ruslan’s eyes. Instead of the rough dark brown hair in his memory, wheat-colored blonde hair shimmered faintly, scattering a peculiar light. The hand that had torn off her veil tightened unconsciously, as if gripping a handful of that hair.

More than what he had imagined on his own—

“You’re pretty. I prefer this over brown.”

“…Hey.”

“If I’d known, maybe you wouldn’t have worn a wig back then.”

“Cut the jokes.”

“Why? I’m just glad to see you.”

With a small smile that suggested disappointment, Ruslan picked up the documents placed beside him. It was the file containing Tatyana’s basic personal information. It was fairly thick, but as a mere courier whose clearance had dropped after demotion, there was more information he wasn’t permitted to see. Ruslan tapped lightly at the heavily redacted sections, as if finding them somewhat regrettable.

“Don’t you have anything you’re curious about?”

“What… am I supposed to be curious about?”

Without even having time to smooth out her brow, Tatyana frowned again and asked slowly. She didn’t know much about the man, but she knew enough.

Codename: Lag.

A Lytton Military Intelligence agent who had carried out operations for nearly ten years since the age of nineteen, and the youngest operations officer. Known for extracting numerous military secrets from Dochen and possessing outstanding analytical skills, he had been considered the most likely candidate to head the vacant Belfast branch. As it stood, he had been demoted and was operating under the cover of an exorcist priest.

Tatyana thought that was enough information to work together. It wasn’t as if they’d be seeing each other for long anyway. But it seemed the other side didn’t think so. The man shrugged as if it were nothing and muttered lightly.

“Just this and that. We’ll be working together now.”

“Temporarily. At most, ten days from now—”

“How can you be so sure?”

“…?”

“Is it that hard for Military Intelligence operatives to run into each other?”

What is he talking about? There he goes again. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, Tatyana jerked her chin at the documents in his hand. He should know if he read that.

“I don’t stay in one place for long. I only came here because there was work from above and things to do. Once that’s finished, I’ll leave for somewhere else.”

“I know. You don’t have a fixed residence.”

“So what about it? I don’t have one because I don’t.”

“Why?”

“I said I don’t have one because I don’t. What do you mean why?”

“I mean, why don’t you have a home?”

“Because I don’t need one.”

Answering curtly, Tatyana leaned her upper body back. The distance between her and the man was too close. If he leaned in any further, she was ready to shove him away, but he didn’t close the gap.

At least he had that much sense, but if they were going to keep exchanging pointless remarks like this, there was no need to continue the conversation. It was a waste of time.

Forcing a bright smile, Tatyana declared, “For now, I have no intention of apologizing. I won’t.”

“For what apology?”

“For switching the agent list. I didn’t know you’d get demoted because of it, but there was no personal grudge. I would’ve done it no matter who it was.”

“Here I thought it was something serious.”

The man let out a short laugh and slowly crossed his legs. As his long legs moved, the hem of Tatyana’s habit covering her knees brushed against them. Reflexively smoothing her disheveled habit, Tatyana’s eyes shot up.

He’s been nudging at me since earlier. Is he doing this on purpose? If it were up to her, she’d grab his hair or throw a punch, but since she had, unintentionally, done something to him, she couldn’t respond recklessly. Watching her silently, the man tilted his head.

“I don’t have any regrets about that either. I was a little surprised when I revealed the film without knowing it had been switched.”

“That makes no sense. You were demoted to a courier right before being promoted to branch chief, and you have no regrets?”

“And you didn’t defect right before your execution?”

Even if he’d become a lowly courier, he could at least see that much, the man said, lightly shaking the document.

“I’m well aware of Lubyanka’s secret police, informants, gulags, torture, and execution methods. They’re famous. Infamous, rather.”

“….”

“If one of the two had to fail and pay the price, I’d say demotion is better than execution. They’re not even comparable.”