4. The Trans-Siberian Railway #5
Taekjoo couldn’t be bothered, so he started talking.
“Someone with curves. I prefer chubby over skinny.”
“Such a boring taste.”
“Better than having no taste at all, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean no taste? I’m offended. It might not seem like it, but I’m quite picky.”
“You know what’s offensive? For a jerk like you to reject someone. No, wait—maybe it’s better that way.”
Taekjoo kept mocking Zhenya as he snatched the bottle of vodka. While Taekjoo was pouring himself a drink, Zhenya suddenly started talking about his preference.
“I hate clinginess. Having sex with someone is fun the first time, but after that, doing it again with the same person just gets boring.”
Yeah, I can clearly see that. Zhenya was the kind of man who slept with different woman every day.
He wouldn’t get what commitment meant even if it was spelled out for him.
And it wasn’t just him. Many people prefer casual relationships, like one-night stands or friends with benefits.
They often say they don’t want the burden or constraints of responsibility, especially when sex is just about pleasure.
But most people have something called shame, which prevents them from openly displaying their promiscuity—unlike Zhenya.
Taekjoo knew it was probably pointless, but he asked anyway.
“Have you ever been with someone consistent—”
“No.”
It was an immediate response, which also meant Zhenya hadn’t had any proper relationships.
To be fair, it was quite hard to picture him nursing sincere love for someone and craving that someone’s attention.
Taekjoo recalled everything Zhenya had done since the moment they met—it was like a horror movie.
One woman who receives all his attention and affection?
Just thinking about it made Taekjoo feel sorry for this imaginary lady.
“Who knows, maybe I will if they’re stubborn and rebellious. And if they can take a rough hand without breaking easily, that just makes it even better. There’s something fun about taking control with strength, you see.”
What a sophisticated taste, Taekjoo thought to himself.
But it didn’t surprise him. It seemed impossible, to begin with, for someone like Zhenya to build a relationship and start a family with someone.
A normal life like that didn’t suit an abnormal bastard like him.
Had he been that kind of man, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.
And things weren’t looking much different for Taekjoo either.
What woman would be happy with a husband who kept his job a secret, rarely had days off, and frequently traveled for work?
Unfortunately, there was little chance that Taekjoo would ever make his mother’s wish come true.
He’d already fumbled with the first thing—getting a safe, stable job.
Starting a loving family of his own seemed just as impossible.
“I heard Koreans depend on their parents even after they become adults. Is that true?”
The subject of their conversation was suddenly changed. Zhenya was clearly bored by Taekjoo’s plain preferences. But even so, the question was too out of the blue. Taekjoo looked at Zhenya questioningly, and Zhenya responded by nudging his chin back at Taekjoo.
“You’ve been calling your mother diligently and giving her a daily play-by-play.”
“Is that all? I thought you’d have some other reason. Why are you so curious about it anyway?”
“If you admitted to being a mama’s boy, then there would be nothing left for me to be curious about.”
“My mother is simply overprotective.”
Taekjoo sighed in resignation. He had never told anyone about his family history. Even Mr. Lim had only pieced together Taekjoo’s personal life through observation and guesswork.
And then there was Taekjoo, having a heartfelt conversation with Zhenya, of all people. It wasn’t because of the liquor. More likely, Taekjoo just felt free and unburdened since Zhenya was someone he’d never have to see again after the mission.
“Her father, her husband, and her eldest son. Every man in her family served in the military, and they all died in the line of duty. I’m the only flesh and blood she has left, so she’s worried a lot. She doesn’t want me to drive because South Korea has a high rate of car accidents.
Does that give you an idea of how protective she is? She’s been like that ever since my father passed away, and it’s only gotten worse with time. And after my brother died, she put me in a house arrest.”
Taekjoo was joking, but Zhenya’s expression turned serious.
“All men die but once.”
Is that supposed to be comforting? Taekjoo wondered.
Whatever Zhenya did, nothing was ever ordinary.
All men die—tell that to a mother who couldn’t sleep or eat, worried sick about her only surviving son, and see how reassured she feels.
Looking at a man whose actions, thoughts, and sentiments were out of the normal range, Taekjoo became curious about his family as well.
How much do parents need to neglect a child for him to turn out this way?
Taekjoo had emptied his glass before he knew it.
He waited for a bit, but Zhenya simply sat still.
Taekjoo could’ve poured himself another glass like he had earlier, but he didn’t.
He simply tapped the table with his empty glass.
Ah—only then did Zhenya realize what was happening.
He poured Taekjoo tequila to the brim. Taekjoo downed the glass in one go and licked the back of his hand.
He smacked his lips at the lack of the usual taste.
“A slice of lemon would’ve been nice.”
“Oh, is that how you like it? You should’ve let me know ahead. It would be no trouble for me to prepare a slice of lemon and women for you.”
Zhenya grinned cheekily as if something amusing had just come to mind. He also kept brushing his own collarbone.
“Quit it, and tell me about you.”
“About what?”
“The usual, obvious stuff. Your family, or your interests, something along those lines.”
“Hmm, if you insist. I have many siblings, which is an advantage because I don’t have to attend to my parents’ every whim. When I’m bored, I look for women. I’m not interested in watching others and jacking off. It’s pathetic.”
After mocking Taekjoo twice, a grin of satisfaction appeared on Zhenya’s face. Taekjoo returned the plastic smile.
“Do your parents know you’re running around town doing things you do?”
“What did I do?”
“You’ve been killing everyone that’s ever bothered you.”
“I think there’s a misunderstanding here. I don’t beat innocent people to death. Haven’t I already told you that all my offenses are self-defense?”
“Let’s make one thing clear. What you’re doing is over-defense.”
“If I attack someone who harms me or is planning on harming me, then it’s self-defense. If I were a weaker man, they wouldn’t be the ones dead—it would’ve been me.”
He had the audacity to position himself as the innocent victim, as if he defended himself out of true need, because he had no other options.
He killed a man for being a bit loud. He killed another man for following someone around.
And he was arguing that the killings were justified, which was nonsense.
He might start killing people for stepping on his shadow.
Taekjoo clicked his tongue, but he was not going to waste time lecturing someone like Zhenya—it wouldn’t work anyway. As long as he didn’t cause Taekjoo trouble, it didn’t exactly matter what he did. Lecturing and nagging only make sense when there's care and affection behind them.
The atmosphere had turned cozier, so Taekjoo started bringing up more private topics.
“You don’t seem like you need money. Why are you participating in something like this, then?”
“I already told you.”
“Yeah, you did. You chose to be a part of this purely for the blueprint. Once it is in your hands, you’ll be able to produce a weapon of unprecedented power and swim in money. But the more I think about it, the more I couldn’t understand.
Seems to me you're already swimming in money as it is—even without the blueprint.”
“You can never have enough money.”
“It’s all useless when you’re dead. What, are you dreaming of becoming an immortal? Or do you love money so much that you don’t care if it costs you your homeland and your safety?”
“My, I didn’t know you were so interested in me.”
“I’ve never met anyone like you. Usually, I can guess the reason behind people’s actions—they did it because of this, because of that. But you, I simply can’t figure you out. You have a lot of money. You can have whatever you want. Then why would a maniac like you—oops, excuse me.
The truth slipped out before I could stop myself.”
Zhenya was just described as a rich psycho, and instead of getting offended, the man snickered. He gave his predictable response to Taekjoo’s curiosity.
“Because it looks fun. When something’s interesting, I don’t think. I just do. The sad part is that it doesn’t happen often.”
This wasn’t some extreme sport. This was a matter of life and death, and he used fun and interest as his excuse.
It would have been more reasonable, more human, for Zhenya to say that he did it for the money.
Well, Taekjoo was in the wrong for expecting reason and humanity from someone who casually ripped another human being apart.
Zhenya sat up straight. His hair shone a shade brighter, absorbing the light above it. It was too pale to be gold, but too golden to be platinum. It shone brilliantly even from the smallest movement. Taekjoo couldn’t help looking at it.
“I heard blond Russians aren’t as common as most people think. Your hair color, does that run in your family? Or hair dye?”
Taekjoo asked, ogling at the hair without realizing it. Zhenya suddenly leaned forward, and his platinum blond hair filled Taekjoo’s vision.
“Even among my own family, no one has this hair color. It’s a mutation. Do you wanna touch it?”
“No thanks.”
Taekjoo declined the offer at once. Zhenya, leaning back, chuckled in a good-natured manner.
It felt like they’d been talking only for a while, but the sun was already setting outside the window.
A day spent in a confined space usually felt much longer than one spent outside, but not today.
Today, it didn’t drag for that long. It was likely because a lot had happened since the morning, and there was also the effect of alcohol.