Chapter 19

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Listening to Cherriot’s ceaseless chatter, Yuri barely realized when they reached their destination. The navigation system still displayed ten minutes remaining when a large, weather-beaten wooden sign bearing the words BIG FOX appeared on the right shoulder of the highway.

Just as Cherriot had predicted, it seemed unlikely anyone would find them here. The buildings were sparse enough for Yuri to count on one hand. That offered a tactical advantage, certainly, but it also carried a hidden risk. In such a secluded place, residents might rarely cross paths, yet with so few locals, any outsider would stand out like a beacon. A man as conspicuous as Cherriot would be impossible to forget.

Yuri considered making him dye his hair, then dismissed the idea. Cherriot was not a wanted fugitive running from the police. Besides, Yuri could handle the trips into town himself. He swept the surroundings with practiced detachment and returned his attention to the road.

Cherriot, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly broke the silence. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“That expression is no good.” Cherriot leaned over to study his face. “That was your this doesn’t look much like paradise expression, wasn’t it?”

Yuri had not been thinking exactly that, but now that Cherriot had pointed it out, he could not deny the truth. The landscape looked no different from the miles of highway they had just crossed, nothing like the grand, ethereal vision invoked by the word paradise. Then again, Yuri possessed little imagination. He had never attached any particular significance to the destination Cherriot had described.

Paradise is called paradise precisely because it does not exist.

A world without hardship or sorrow belonged to the fiction of the afterlife. Yuri, however, would surely plummet straight into hell when he died, placing paradise forever beyond his reach. No matter how magnificent the scenery, it could never be paradise for someone like him.

“Think whatever you like.”

“That disappointed expression will change in about eight minutes.”

Cherriot made the announcement with all the flourish of a host unveiling his greatest attraction. One corner of Yuri’s mouth lifted despite himself.

After nearly twenty-four hours tethered together, Yuri had begun to adjust to Cherriot’s relentless talking. The man’s eccentricities no longer disoriented him as completely as they had at first.

Perhaps it was possible to build up a tolerance to pure nonsense.

Cherriot immediately made another fuss. “That face says you liked my joke.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Oh, yes, it does. You smiled.”

Fearless bastard.

A low laugh stirred in Yuri’s chest.

In Saratov, no one would have dared trade barbs with him so casually. Men of comparable rank sometimes exchanged vulgar jokes, but when someone aimed that sort of provocation at Yuri, he never allowed it to pass unanswered. A tap to the head, a veiled insult, an attempt to test his limits: among trash like them, every gesture became part of a struggle for dominance. If left unchallenged, the other man would only seize the advantage.

As for ordinary people, they were simply afraid of him. They never dared approach him first.

Unlike Alexei, who possessed a mischievous streak, Yuri lacked the social grace to smile and mingle with civilians. Things had changed somewhat after he moved to Vancouver, but he rarely ventured anywhere he might encounter people, so such trivial social dynamics had never arisen. A man like him had no business among ordinary citizens.

Instead of denying Cherriot again, Yuri closed his mouth. In any case, the more comfortable Cherriot felt, the better. For the sake of the frightened young man beside him, Yuri decided to permit a certain amount of misunderstanding. Whether or not he had actually smiled hardly mattered.

They continued trading remarks that barely qualified as jokes until Yuri finally turned off the highway. Following the signs, he steered onto a winding road, and the forest swallowed the car. Massive trees crowded close on either side, enclosing them as completely as the woods of Stanley Park. Fresh, crisp air flowed through the open window, carrying the scent of earth and damp bark. Newly opened leaves rustled overhead, vivid green beneath the afternoon sun.

At the end of the road, Yuri saw an immense expanse of dazzling water, so deep and crystalline a blue that he first mistook it for a river. Sunlight scattered across the rolling surface like powdered sugar, glittering with an intensity that stung his eyes. The bright ripples made the water appear almost warm. Tall spruces lined the shore, and beautiful cottages appeared at intervals between them.

Only after several moments did Yuri realize it was not a river but a lake. Canadian lakes could be vast enough to resemble inland seas, and the surrounding terrain confirmed what he was seeing. Yet the far shore remained invisible, making the town seem as though it had been built around a small ocean captured among the trees.

“Welcome to Big Fox.”

Cherriot had remained silent while Yuri absorbed the view. Now he spoke in a whisper beside him. The town was tranquil and picturesque, the sort of place where a red-furred fox might dart between the trees at any moment, just as its name suggested. Here, at least, the word paradise did not seem entirely misplaced.

“…Right.” Yuri’s voice came out hoarse. He tore his gaze from the lake, though the water continued to tug at his attention. “But despite how secluded it looked from the highway, this is clearly a resort town. It’s almost July. Tourists must come here in droves. ”

“Tourism is the main source of income, but most visitors are cottage owners or anglers willing to make the drive. Towing a boat all this way for a single fishing spot isn’t particularly economical, so it’s usually people from the surrounding area.”

“Tourist or local, it makes no difference. Locals may be worse. How many Canadians wouldn’t recognize your face?”

“Ah, I forgot how famous I am.” Cherriot sighed dramatically. “You treat me with such breathtaking insignificance that it slipped my mind.”

The car rolled along the well-maintained road. Cottages lined the lakeshore, blocking much of the view of the water. Yuri noted a small church, a café preparing to close, and, by contrast, a bar just beginning its evening service. The town offered little in the way of commerce.

“I’ve never treated you as insignificant,” Yuri said. “Weren’t you the one who decided you were disgusted with me?”

He meant only to correct the record, but Cherriot rubbed his cheek and fell silent. An awkward stillness descended. Yuri wondered whether he had made Cherriot withdraw again.

It had been a long time since Yuri had expended this much effort trying to navigate another person’s feelings, and he found the process exhausting. Everyone currently in his life had known him for so long that he could read their thoughts from their eyes alone. The last person he had known who was delicate enough to concern herself with the hearts of others had been his mother.

Now I understand why Alexei struggled so much while raising Valeri.

Alexei had a lover, and that lover was someone he had lived beside like family for nearly his entire life. At an age when Alexei himself should still have been cared for, he had worked day and night to raise a much younger child properly. The two of them had come from entirely different worlds, and friction between them had been inevitable.

After thinking of them for a moment, Yuri returned his attention to Cherriot and decided to ease whatever discomfort he had caused. Doing so for someone who was not family felt faintly absurd, but Cherriot was his client. Yuri had accepted payment and resolved to accommodate him. Besides, after acknowledging that being shot at and nearly killed was enough to traumatize any ordinary person, Yuri sometimes found Cherriot pitiful.

“I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. I answered honestly, and it came out wrong.” Yuri had never been raised to offer apologies, not even indirect ones. Still, the explanation softened Cherriot’s expression. “I wasn’t deliberately trying to remind you that I’m a bad man.”

“…Will you tell me what you did?” Cherriot hesitated before asking.

Come to think of it, he had wanted the same answer in the hotel room. Yuri had never intended to disclose anything. Speaking those acts aloud could be construed as a confession. Yet Cherriot did not appear to be asking out of idle curiosity; he seemed to want to understand him.

Understanding was the last thing Yuri wanted.

“No.”

The answer came out cold and final.

Cherriot turned toward the window. He did not look angry, as he had in the hotel, only troubled. “People are easily fooled,” he said at last. “A face, a way of speaking, and you start wanting to believe someone must be good. That’s what I’m doing.” He swept back the hair the wind had blown across his forehead. After a brief silence, he smiled again and shrugged. “Anyway, I understand what you mean. It’s true that I hate you, and I’ll accept that you know it.”

“…Good.”

As long as Cherriot was no longer frightened, that was enough. Yuri answered slowly, then parted his lips as an unexpected question rose within him. Why did you come to hate criminals so much? The answer followed almost immediately, accompanied by a bitter surge of self-mockery.

Who in this world likes criminals, Yuri? You hate yourself this much too.

Swallowing the miserable question he could never voice, Yuri looked ahead. The paved road gave way to dirt and disappeared into denser forest. After a minute along a path narrow enough for only one vehicle, their destination came into view. At the end of the road stood a small brick house beside the lake. Compared with the picturesque cottages they had passed, it was plain and even slightly shabby.

“We’re here.” Cherriot unfastened his seat belt. “Let’s get out.”

“Wait. Did you rent this place?”

“No. It’s one of the properties I’ll inherit.”

The word inherit reminded Yuri that Cherriot came from a family wealthy enough to leave property behind. His salary alone must have made him rich, but if he had also been born into an affluent family, then by ordinary standards, Cherriot was undoubtedly an impressive man. Not that Yuri intended to treat him as one.

Remembering Cherriot’s complaint that he had been treated as insignificant, Yuri decided he might later ask whether there was some particular treatment he expected. Since Yuri had been hired and had resolved to accommodate him, that much seemed reasonable.

“My mother is Canadian,” Cherriot said. “She was born and raised here. Apparently, this is where she met my father.

A rich American boy visiting a resort and a Canadian country girl. It sounds like the plot of a Hollywood movie. ”

With that, he opened the passenger door and sprang outside. He stretched like an animal finally released from confinement, then strode toward the house on his long legs. Yuri turned off the engine, locked the car, and followed.

“Stop. I need to check the property first.”

Cherriot glanced back. “You think someone might have broken in?”

“You never know. They found your home address. There’s no reason they couldn’t find this place.”

“There’s a good chance Sam gave them that address. We met there often.”

Sam.

Samuel, if Yuri remembered correctly.

“For someone you claim to be sick of, you still call your affair partner by a pet name easily enough.”

A prick of irritation moved through Yuri. Perhaps it was because giving people pet names appeared to be Cherriot’s habit. The thought made Yuri feel as though he had been placed in the same category as a criminal lover who had deceived his spouse. Strictly speaking, an Omega who had slept with Cherriot for months was naturally more familiar to him than Yuri was. Even so, Yuri had no tolerance for infidelity. It was ridiculous for a criminal to claim he had standards, but there it was.

“Oh.” Cherriot came to a halt. “That’s only habit. But now that you mention it, you’re right.” He stood motionless, staring ahead. “Samuel lied to me about everything, and that’s why things went this far. I never meant to become someone’s affair partner.”