Page 25 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)

Mio will be pissed, and Gray… he will not accept it.

Both thoughts drove a severe headache through his skull.

He remembered Gray’s confession that he had bribed Rudolph, one of Yugo’s business partners, two years ago to get Kuon out of captivity.

If Yugo introduced Kuon to them, Gray would be the first to know.

What would Gray do if he found out Kuon was sleeping with his enemy?

Would he start a war or try to use him? What would Yugo do if he found out about Gray?

It would be a disaster. Yugo would never trust me again.

I have to tell him, but first, I must erase the recordings.

Kuon lifted his chin as he looked into Yugo’s eyes.

“I don’t see any reason why I should get to know them better.

The fewer people who know about my existence, the better. ”

Ice settled in the depths of Yugo’s eyes. “Isn’t it too late for that?”

When Kuon didn’t answer, Yugo grabbed a jacket from the chair and walked out, leaving behind the lingering scent of vanilla cigarettes.

“Damn… Why does it have to be so complicated?” Kuon sighed, wondering if his refusal had hurt Yugo’s feelings, but he couldn’t see any other way to get out of this mess. His hand slipped into his pocket to find the warm lump of clay. Anyway, I have to fix this, or there will be no future.

“Why the hell did it take you nineteen hours to find that out? Don’t we pay the customs officers enough?

” Yugo growled as he entered his office.

Though he hadn’t seen Greg yet, the overpowering smell of menthol aftershave in the room informed him of his presence.

The bulky figure parted from the wall and followed Yugo to the desk.

Greg clasped his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders. “Mio left by car through Bulgaria, so we didn’t get an immediate notification. We only get information from there by special request.”

“By special request?” Yugo asked absent-mindedly while the genuinely surprised look on Kuon’s face lingered in his mind.

It felt as though Kuon had never intended to be part of Yugo’s world beyond the bedroom.

To be fair, Yugo had never given much thought to their future either.

But he had no intention of letting Kuon go again, so introducing him to his business partners seemed inevitable, natural.

Obviously, Kuon didn’t share his plans, which only deepened Yugo’s frustration.

He sank back into his chair, fingers drumming restlessly on the polished desk, veins pulsating with irritation.

He glanced around and patted his pockets, longing for the familiar poison to fill his lungs and ease the tension gripping his heart.

Finding no immediate distraction, he rummaged through the desk drawers.

A brown cigarette pack crackled under his fingers, and he pulled out a cigarette, then lit it.

His gaze caught a dirty smudge on his cuff as he lowered his hand. He scratched at it with his nail, but the stain didn’t budge. Rubbing harder only made it worse. “Why did you make the request? What made you think he left Europe?”

“It wasn’t me. Tobias did it.”

Yugo glanced up, momentarily forgetting both the dirty smudge and Kuon.

“Motherfucker… he surely knew more than he told me yesterday.” Yugo tossed the lighter on the desk. It rattled as it spun. “If Tobias finds the brat before you do, you are fired. Am I clear?”

Not a single muscle in Greg’s face tensed. “Crystal.”

“You said Mio left by car. Alone?”

Greg shrugged.

“He can’t be driving alone, can he? It’s a twenty-four- hour drive at best.” The cigarette smoke dampened his irritation, switching him into a working mood.

Greg broke from his stance to rub his bushy brow. “That’s not all of it, I’m afraid. He was driving a rented truck and filed a transit customs declaration.”

“What is he transporting and where to?”

Greg shrugged again. “Tobias requested a copy, but it hasn’t arrived yet.”

The usually sweet tobacco turned bitter. Yugo crushed the barely smoldering cigarette in the ashtray so violently that it crumbled under his fingers. “Is Tobias in Kabul?”

“He should be.”

“Put him on speakerphone…” After a second of hesitation, Greg placed his smartphone on the desk in front of Yugo. Two long rings preceded the click.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Tobias droned.

“Are you in Kabul?” Yugo asked, ignoring the mocking tone.

“Why are you calling me from Greg’s phone?”

“Obviously, so you wouldn’t ghost me,” Yugo replied.

“I would never… How could you even think that? I’m hurt.” He chuckled.

“Are you in Kabul?”

“No. I got sidetracked and am in Germany now. Why? Miss me already?”

“No, but I want to see Mio’s stuff, especially his laptop,” Yugo said before Tobias began distracting him with incessant questions. “Be home in two hours, or I’ll break in.”

“Oi, Yugo, since when did you become this savage? It doesn’t suit you at all,” Tobias teased, though his voice held a chilling edge.

“Two hours,” Yugo repeated.

“Geez, I heard you, but I can’t make it.” Tobias’ voice lost all traces of amicability. “Don’t you dare vandalize my place. Greg has emergency access. He’ll let you in.”

The call ended.

Yugo arched a brow. “I didn’t know you two were so close.”

Greg shrugged, his face unreadable.

“Hmm…” A part of Yugo wanted to press the issue, but he suppressed his curiosity. “Whatever. Get the car ready.”

For the whole day, Kuon couldn’t concentrate on anything but thinking about the lump of clay, wrapped in plastic, he left under the bed.

Yugo seemed either busy or angry, as he hadn’t returned to the bedroom all day, which made Kuon hate every moment of his solitude.

Apart from Greg, he didn’t know anyone else in the mansion and wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

The cleaning staff knew too much about his private life for him to feel comfortable striking up a conversation.

Even making eye contact was a challenge.

Remembering how Yugo’s subordinates looked at him, he had no desire to get to know them better.

In this big house, he was once again alone and lonely.

He wished he could get out of the mansion for at least a few hours, but with his foggy, distorted vision, driving by himself wasn’t an option.

The thought of calling someone was immediately crushed by the realization that even if he knew Rick’s and Gray’s numbers by heart, he couldn’t use the phone here for fear that his calls would be traced.

Having nothing else to do, Kuon sank into his thoughts.

The humiliating remarks Yugo had used to put him down sparked anger.

Still, he couldn’t deny there was a grain of reason in Yugo’s blistering tirade.

He’d also found his reflection indecent and couldn’t even look at himself fully dressed without seeing reminders of passionate encounters on his skin.

He couldn’t help thinking that if Yugo had phrased his concern differently, Kuon wouldn’t have argued.

But he hadn’t, and now Kuon was annoyed that he had to wear extra layers because Yugo couldn’t keep his lips to himself.

His resistance wasn’t fueled by childish stubbornness alone, but by a sense of injustice.

Kuon had never been self-conscious. Using communal showers at the police academy had never fazed him. Walking shirtless in a dorm was as natural as breathing. Yugo changed everything.

In Afghanistan, he had to lie during psychiatric evaluations, claiming it was a consequence of his undercover mission and that the information was classified. He also used the communal showers at night so he wouldn’t have to lie over and over.

He hated feeling ashamed of something the Black Duke had done to him for his own amusement.

If Yugo couldn’t respect his wishes, Kuon didn’t see why he should be the one to always make concessions.

If things went on like this, he would soon be forced to wear a burqa all the time while Yugo did whatever he wanted with his body. He couldn’t swallow that.

He also wanted a home. A safe place where he could relax without always looking his best. This place would never be home if he had to put on extra layers to hide the passion marks Yugo carelessly left on his body from prying eyes.

If he had to lock himself in Yugo’s bedroom to feel the air on his skin, how was that better than before?

Nevertheless, he understood Yugo’s concern and desire to introduce him to his social circle.

He was a little flattered, since he doubted that Yugo did it with everyone he slept with, but that didn’t change anything.

He’d already met Tobias and didn’t like him.

He didn’t want to know the others, especially now that he couldn’t find his place in Yugo’s house.

Yet, there was no point in keeping it a secret.

Gossip had already started circulating. Sooner or later, everyone would know, Rudolph, Mio, and Gray included. If they don’t already know…

So he bounced off the walls, once again limited to the confines of Yugo’s bedroom.

That night, Yugo returned when the moon was high in the sky. Leaving a trail of dirty garments on the floor, he climbed into bed without showering. The mix of scents—smoke, road dust, sweat, tobacco, and alcohol—washed over Kuon.

“Kuon?” A whisper brushed against his ear as a strong arm wrapped around his chest. “Are you asleep?”

Kuon forced himself to keep his breathing slow and steady. He had nothing to say. This wasn’t how he’d imagined his relationship with Yugo. There should have been no lies, secrets, pretenses, or outright insults. He should never have taken the damn SIM card.

Neither wanting to apologize for this morning’s incident nor expecting Yugo to do so, Kuon lay still, unwilling to start another argument with the tipsy man.

He wanted to get mad at Tobias but couldn’t, understanding well that this avalanche was triggered by his own paranoia and mistrust.

The longer he watched the pale moonlight play with the crystals of the chandelier, the harder it became to breathe.

Am I the only one with doubts, stuck in the past?

Perhaps I should trust Yugo more? There’s no need to sneak behind his back.

He’ll understand if I explain everything, right?

Because… if I can’t trust him, what am I even doing here?

He took a deep breath and said, “I have something to tell you.”

Yugo groaned and rolled onto his side. His hand wrapped around Kuon’s fingers and squeezed them, but he said nothing.

“You’re awake?” Kuon whispered. Yugo’s fingers tightened again as his cold nose brushed against the side of Kuon’s neck.

I’m the worst… Kuon pressed Yugo’s forefinger into the warm lump of clay, imprinting his fingerprint on its surface.

The rims of his eyes burned from lack of sleep as he watched the sunrise filter through the curtains.

After a while, Yugo’s phone chimed, prompting another groan.

Yugo rolled out of bed and headed into the bathroom.

Kuon stayed still, clutching the clay with Yugo’s imprint.

He hated himself. The urge to crumple it in his fist choked him.

Yet, he did nothing. Only when the sun streamed into the room through the gaps in the curtains, and Yugo left the room, did Kuon get up, take a deep breath, and look down at the half-dried piece of clay in his hand.

It took three more hours before Kuon’s impatience got the better of him.

He snuck into a storeroom, found a tube of silicone sealant, and applied a thin layer over Yugo’s finger imprint.

The transparent substance had hardened within two additional hours, leaving a perfect copy of Yugo’s fingerprint in Kuon’s hand.

His heart felt stone-cold in his stomach as he returned to the empty room and pressed the fingerprint copy to the metal plate on the lamp’s arm. The lock activated. The wall hissed and slid aside, revealing a dark room filled with electronic equipment, glowing faintly with dead neon light.

I’ll delete the footage and leave. That’s it. Then, I’ll tell Yugo about Gray. No more lies.

With this determination, he entered the room.