Page 35 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)

Kuon didn’t lift his head when someone pulled the mouse from his icy hand. All sounds died away, and silence, too alien to this place, fell over him. There was no point in looking up; he could smell Greg’s aftershave from a mile away.

“What are you going to do now that you’ve seen it?”

Kuon let out a huff of disbelief, which might have turned to laughter under other circumstances, but he was too exhausted for that.

He zeroed in on his visitor. Greg’s deep-set eyes were blank, watching him without a trace of the old mischief that Kuon wished would return.

The man rested his massive palm on the desk, blocking the only exit.

Kuon looked away. “You’re a funny guy. As if I have a choice.”

“What would you do if you had a choice?” Greg’s voice flattened and lost all warmth.

“What would you do if I said ‘leave’?” Kuon winced at the hopeful tone in his voice. Despite everything he’d seen, everything that had happened, he was still stupid, na?ve. Maybe that was incurable.

“Do you wish to leave?”

Kuon wanted to ask why the hell Greg kept asking questions instead of answering them. It annoyed and made him feel insecure. Feeling like he was walking on thin ice, he said, “I’d like to know if I can.”

Greg’s head snapped to the side. His abyssal eyes sent a chill down Kuon’s spine, making him wonder how on earth he had ever joked and laughed with this man mere days ago. “Have you ever wondered why he let you stay here and discover all this?”

“Because I had a gun?” Kuon let out a short, nervous laugh. Greg didn’t smile, and Kuon winced again, realizing the time for friendly chit-chat was over. “Don’t worry, I got the message.”

“Enlighten me?”

“To ensure my commitment. To ensure I understand my situation and behave, because there is no way out of this relationship alive for me.” Kuon folded his arms on the ice-cold desk and rested his head on them.

He didn’t want to talk anymore. Talking wouldn’t change anything.

Nevertheless, bitter words rolled off his tongue, “You’re here to give me another illusion of choice when I never had one.

It’s a familiar game, so spare me the farce.

I understand perfectly well that after what I’ve seen, I can only leave his side feet first. Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself. ”

“Maybe Boss is right,” Greg said. Kuon shot him a wary look, but Greg didn’t elaborate. “If you want to leave, no one will stop you.”

“W-what?” Kuon’s voice faltered.

“So what will it be? Shall I prepare a car?”

“Is this a test?” Anger blazed through Kuon, balling his fists.

Why give me the illusion of choice? He would have expected this behavior from Yugo, not from Greg, who had never been unnecessarily cruel to him. Why start now?

Kuon knew Yugo too well to believe this cat would ever let a mouse escape his claws, so why was Greg trying to deceive him? As soon as I say yes, he’ll lock me up in the basement?

He bit the inside of his cheek, not sure how to play this game.

“Have you ever been told that you have trust issues?” Greg asked, scratching his grayish cheek, puzzled, as if the conversation wasn’t going in the expected direction.

“Why does that surprise you?” Kuon’s eyes burned, so he closed them, seeking relief.

He’d used eye drops only half an hour ago, but they hadn’t helped much.

He needed rest. The stress and exhaustion of the sleepless nights drained his energy, but he couldn’t afford it now.

Fighting the urge to rub his eyes with his fists, he muttered, “I know firsthand what he’s capable of. ”

“I see…” Greg perched on the far corner of the desk, not too far for Kuon’s comfort but not too close to invade his space. “I give you my word, you are free to go. I don’t have to say you’re not allowed to take anything out of this room, right?”

Kuon swallowed hard, trying to detect the deception in Greg’s unreadable expression. He almost believed the man, but that sounded too good to be true.

“I must warn you not to pursue any strange ideas and not to go to the police. Better yet, forget what you’ve seen in this room. Nothing good will happen to you if you mess with the S-Syndicate business again. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

Kuon nodded. He stood up to check Greg’s words, but a hot palm wrapped around his forearm, preventing him from taking a step. A nervous, barking laugh broke from Kuon’s throat as he shook his head and gave the man a sarcastic grin. I knew it…

“Before we go, satisfy my curiosity.” With a lift of his chin, Greg pointed back to his place. “Please.”

Kuon slumped into the chair. He’d spent days in this room, tolerating the cold just fine, but now the draft from the ventilation system made him shiver.

He clasped his hands to stop shaking and hide his distress.

Schooling his expression into the utmost indifference, Kuon gave a short nod, indicating he was listening.

“Why did you come here?” Greg’s deep, gravelly voice and the tranquil gaze of his black eyes hypnotized Kuon.

“Because I’m an idiot. I thought that…” He trailed off, realizing he was about to share his feelings with Greg.

What the fuck is wrong with me? We’re not friends…

He lowered his head to the desk, hoping the cool surface would help him concentrate, then he closed his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter what I thought. The things he did… I don’t think I can unsee them.”

“Weren’t you aware of them?”

“I thought I was. Suspecting that you might have ordered a few murders and watching you cold-bloodedly smash someone’s skull over and over again are two different things. He is a murderer. You both are…”

“Aren’t we all?” Greg’s provocative question hit hard. Kuon’s head snapped up so fast something in his neck popped. “How many people did you kill in Afghanistan? Don’t say none .”

Never expecting this question, Kuon jerked his head back. “This is different.”

“How so? Don’t start with innocent lives and the lesser of two evils.

Death is death. Murder is murder. Did you prosecute your victims?

” When Kuon didn’t reply, Greg continued, “What made you think that you—an outsider from another country with a different morality, mentality, religion, and culture—had the right to go into another country and set your rules, take the lives of the natives, hm?” While Kuon struggled for words, Greg added, “I’m not attacking, just saying that we all had our reasons. ”

Kuon could have argued, but he saw no point. Greg wasn’t interested in his opinion as much as in proving his case.

“Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t; it’s none of my business. Can you promise me that I won’t end up like those guys when he gets tired of me?”

“Don’t betray him, and he won’t,” Greg said cautiously. “But if you do something to warrant it, I’ll do my best to convince him not to. That much I can promise.”

Kuon laughed with an edge. “What’s his definition of betrayal? An attempt to leave him or an opinion different from his?”

Kuon didn’t want to get involved in this senseless sophism.

He knew where it would lead. Greg would play with words and try to mess with Kuon’s moral compass to change his mind.

Not wanting to drag this conversation out any longer, Kuon tapped his fingers on the top of the desk.

“Did he promise you a bonus if you convince me to stay?”

“A box of pismaniye,” Greg grinned.

Kuon snorted with sarcasm. “Sorry, but your promise isn’t good enough. I don’t want to live in fear of brutal consequences every time I do something he doesn’t like.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

“Rationally, I should be. I’d be stupid if I weren’t.” Kuon shrugged his shoulder.

“And irrationally?”

Kuon couldn’t afford to be irrational, so he clicked his tongue. “I didn’t know you were also a therapist. No wonder Yugo keeps you so close.”

Greg laughed, but understanding flickered behind his black eyes as he played along. “Should I ask for a raise?”

“Absolutely.”

“Let me show you something.” The bulky man levered himself off the desk and strolled across the room to pull a box from under the rack. Dust swirled in the air as he slammed it onto the desk by Kuon’s elbow.

A cloud of dust hit his nose. Kuon flinched back and shut his eyes.

Only after the dust settled did he pry one eye open.

The box, made of leather and bound with metal braces, was filled with folders, discs, and photographs.

Greg rummaged through the contents, pulled out a thick, brown folder, wiped it with a sleeve, and carefully placed it before Kuon.

“Open it,” Greg urged, resuming his place on the edge of the desk.

The rough, thick paper folder lacked a label and bore a few coffee stains on the front. With its curled, battered corners, it looked cheap, old, and probably had been stolen from some government facility.

“Didn’t you want to know all about Yugo?” When Kuon didn’t reply, Greg urged, “Come on, this might be your only chance; don’t chicken out.”

Kuon didn’t want to look inside. Something told him he’d already learned enough to spend the rest of his rapidly shortening life looking over his shoulder. On the other hand, what would he lose? One more secret wouldn’t change anything. “Don’t play chicken with me.”

“Why not? Isn’t it working?” The corner of Greg’s mouth twitched.

“It’s working,” Kuon admitted reluctantly and opened the folder. The faint smell of dust tickled his nose, making it itch. He rubbed its tip with the back of his hand, then focused.