2. New Mission #13
Zhenya could’ve taken off his coat and offered it to Taekjoo, but no such camaraderie existed in his world.
Taekjoo quickly gave up and turned his attention to hailing the approaching taxi. It seemed to slow down at first, then sped right past him. The driver might have been worried about getting the seat dirty. Or he could’ve been scared of the state his soon-to-be passenger was in.
Three or four more taxis passed by Taekjoo in the same way. Every time he failed to get in one, Zhenya burst into laughter. Everything he did was getting on Taekjoo’s nerves, let alone being of any help to him. Taekjoo couldn’t feel his extremities anymore.
“Don’t you see? It’s because of that, obviously.”
Zhenya made fun of Taekjoo after watching for a while, and when Taekjoo shot him a glare, he tapped his cheek.
“Is there a reason you’re being so stubborn?” he added.
Taekjoo didn’t have a reason—he was too cold to care about the mask.
Zhenya’s attention to the mask made Taekjoo aware of it too.
He touched the fake skin that was flapping in the air.
And in that exact moment, something flew toward his face.
Taekjoo’s body reacted first, swatting the thing away before he even realized it.
Zhenya’s hand was blocked mid-air, stopped from touching his face.
Their eyes met across the space between them.
Taekjoo saw that Zhenya no longer had the cheeky expression from earlier.
It was now replaced with a look of great curiosity and interest, his eyes narrowed.
“What’s holding you back?”
“And what’s pushing you forward?”
Taekjoo snapped back, but Zhenya didn’t falter. He reached for him again. Stop—Taekjoo grabbed Zhenya’s wrist, jerking his head back, but in the next instant, Zhenya’s other hand appeared, seizing his jaw.
“...!”
Taekjoo didn’t even have a chance to react.
The dangling mask was ripped away from his face, and his real skin prickled from the sudden loss of adhesive.
Taekjoo frowned from the stinging pain, briefly closing his eyes before reopening them while cursing.
Right in front of him stood Zhenya, looking as if he had just discovered one of the world’s mysteries.
The jade-green eyes moved slowly, scrutinizing every part of Taekjoo’s face.
After a long stare, the man’s eyes drifted down to scan Taekjoo’s body before returning to his face.
A curious smile appeared on Zhenya’s face, and the reaction only confused Taekjoo more.
Zhenya must have seen his real face in photos.
Of course, Taekjoo knew that people looked different in person.
Or maybe Zhenya just found his face strange after being so used to seeing him as Sakamoto Hiro.
But was it really necessary to stare at his face for so long?
The man was seeing only Taekjoo’s face. Yet somehow, Taekjoo felt as though he was standing there completely naked before Zhenya—as if Zhenya could see not just his bare skin, but his thoughts and feelings beneath it as well. And it wasn’t a pleasant experience.
Zhenya mumbled something Taekjoo couldn’t quite catch. It sounded like, I prefer this.
The piercing wind blew again. Taekjoo hunched his shoulders and squeezed Zhenya’s hand, which was still in his. Then, realizing what he had just done, he slapped the man’s hand away.
Taekjoo turned to face the road again. Change of plans—he was gonna try to hitch a ride this time. But no one was kind enough to help a foreigner who looked suspicious and very wet. Many cars sped past him coldly.
Just as the cold began to numb him, something touched Taekjoo’s shoulder. He turned to find Zhenya holding a sleek credit card between his thumb and index finger, tapping its corner against Taekjoo’s shoulder.
“What?”
“They might keep tabs on you. I suggest you dig a little burrow to hide in.”
“Dig a little burrow?”
Did he hear that right? Was the phrase some kind of Russian metaphor like a lion’s den or a wolf’s lair?
Just about then, a phone started ringing. It was Zhenya’s.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking the call after checking the caller ID. His voice sounded different from the one Taekjoo had been hearing. It had never been warm or kind, but now it was even colder and drier. The change in tone made him seem like a completely different person.
“Right. I’ll be on my way.”
Zhenya listened for a moment, gave a curt response, and ended the call.
Taekjoo looked at him, expecting at least a brief explanation.
They were colleagues, after all. Surely, Zhenya would say something about who had called and why.
But Zhenya didn’t say anything. Instead, he raised his arm toward the road.
Soon, a taxi pulled up in front of him, and before Taekjoo could ask where he was going, Zhenya got in, closed the door, and the taxi drove off.
“...”
Taekjoo was left speechless. His clothes were soaked and frozen, even his underwear.
At this point, being naked might’ve been better.
His hand was red from the cold, clutching the credit card Zhenya gave him.
Taekjoo had no idea where he was. He also had no idea where he should go for safety.
Taxis sped by Taekjoo, choosing to ignore him rather than pick him up.
The Moscow winter wind howled relentlessly.
Taekjoo didn’t even have the strength to curl up against the cold.
As he watched the passing cars, his stomach grumbled.
He realized he hadn’t had breakfast yet.
What am I doing here? he thought. All this for what?
Taekjoo felt sorry for himself, a complete mess, thousands of miles away from home.
***
He got a room near the riverbank. The shabby hostel was a stark contrast to the five-star accommodations provided by the Russian government.
Oddly enough, even this place offered different types of rooms.
Taekjoo, in desperate need of a hot shower, chose the most expensive one.
But once he was inside, he couldn’t understand why it was pricier.
Did they charge more simply because the room had a window?
The bed was old and so narrow it could barely fit a person.
There was also a small table with a broken leg.
The room also had a teeny tiny TV, but Taekjoo doubted it would even turn on.
He suspected there wouldn’t be Wi-Fi either.
But none of this would matter as long as hot water was running.
Taekjoo struggled to peel off his clothes, which had stuck to his skin.
Once they were off, he stood under the showerhead, desperate to warm his body, to thaw it.
He turned the tap all the way and waited for the hottest water to come.
But, of course, the hot water he longed for started running just as he finished his shower.
Taekjoo had to settle for a cold shower.
There wasn’t even a bathrobe, so he wrapped a large towel around his waist instead.
Then, startled by the sudden presence of a human, something scattered across the floor—roaches. At least three. It seemed cockroaches could survive in any condition. They probably mated even in the -50°C cold of Siberia and laid eggs there.
Taekjoo shook his head and threw himself onto the bed.
A fine layer of dust puffed up, and he got the feeling it had been a while since anyone had cleaned this room.
His nose and throat itched, and he started coughing.
It didn’t stop. But Taekjoo didn’t have the energy to get up and leave the bed.
He was dead on his feet, too exhausted to lift a finger.
Every time he shifted, the bed squeaked.
It wouldn’t surprise Taekjoo if it collapsed under him at any moment, but still, it was a bed.
He decided to get some sleep. His body felt like it weighed a ton, and his mind was too muddled to think straight.
He figured he’d be clearer after some rest.
His eyes fluttered open and shut lazily.
Taekjoo slowly closed his eyes and recalled today’s date.
His mother would be calling any moment now, but he had lost everything—including his cell phone.
Falling into a light sleep, Taekjoo tried to picture what his mother would do if he became completely unreachable.
She would let a day go by, but after a couple of days, she would march out of the house in search of her son.
And when she found out that Taekjoo wasn’t just an ordinary desk jockey for the government, she would surely clutch her heart and pass out.
She might even cry and insist she’d rather die first than sit back and watch Taekjoo follow the same path as his brother and father walked down.
I can’t do that to her. I can’t. Taekjoo sat up and picked up the room phone to call the front desk.
For some reason, it didn’t ring. He put the phone down and tried again, but it still didn’t work.
Hoping he was wrong, he pulled the phone cord to check.
But he was right. Just as he had guessed, the cord had teeth marks—likely gnawed through by a rat.
Taekjoo was losing his temper. The telephone hadn’t done anything, but he chucked it at the wall out of frustration. Not a single thing was going his way today.
What am I going to do?
Taekjoo ran a frustrated hand through his hair. But no matter how long he thought about it, only one option remained. He couldn’t possibly bring himself to put his still half-frozen clothes back on. Instead, he wrapped the towel around his waist again and trudged down the stairs to the first floor.
Luckily, there were no other guests, and no one witnessed Taekjoo. The only one around was the hostel owner, dozing off in his chair. Taekjoo knocked on the front desk to wake him, and he jolted upright right away.
“Yikes, what is it?”
“I’d like to make an international call.”
“It’ll be quite expensive. Are you okay with that?”
“It doesn’t matter. You accept cards, right?”
The owner nodded. Then, he pulled out the phone for international calls from beneath the desk in the far corner. It wasn’t just dusty—it hadn’t been used for so long that the dust felt like part of the phone itself.
Taekjoo quickly learned how to use it and picked up the receiver. He first entered his payment information, then dialed the country code and the number back home.
It began ringing, and it didn’t take long for his mother to pick up. Hello?—her voice sounded grave. No doubt, she had been worrying about her son day and night.
“It’s me, Mother. Did you call me?”
Taekjoo asked, already knowing the answer.