Having checked the floor plan of the room in advance before coming here, Yuri carefully examined the interior. Though there were no records of interior renovations, he didn’t rule out the possibility that a secret space had been separately created and hidden.
Since he’d blocked the electromagnetic waves in this space through his subordinate Esper, Yuri’s steps sweeping through the interior were unhesitant. Even if Chris had installed surveillance cameras or bugs in preparation for when he was away, they would be completely disabled.
Entering the bedroom, Yuri’s gaze turned to the foot of the bed. The books he’d handed over on the first day Chris entered Magnolia were neatly stacked there.
Yuri’s gaze carefully descended following those first letters.
I-D-I-O-T
‘How ridiculous.’
Yuri clicked his tongue. The situation was absurd—he’d blatantly told him he was an idiot like this, yet he was using them as a footrest without even noticing.
There were no hidden documents, and nothing Yuri was looking for. Most of all, it was unclear whether anyone he knew even existed.
The rough-textured sheets at first glance, the bed with an awkward length for the tall Chris, the thin mattress and bed frame that creaked just from pressing it lightly…
Even the space without a trace of warmth left since the owner had been away for a long time was irritating.
The thought of Chris sleeping crumpled on a bed that didn’t even fit his height in this shabby room twisted his insides.
Was this all he was enjoying after leaving everything behind?
After the day he ordered Anastasia’s disposal, he never saw Chris again.
Yuri remembered the day his dog disappeared.
At the drug dealer’s hideout that he’d worked hard to find over several months, that old man was found dead. Along with enough blood that it wouldn’t be strange to call it exsanguination.
Because of the gunshot, the neighbors reported it to the police. Yuri, who intercepted it midway, checked the scene directly.
Because Chris, who had successfully carried out the order, hadn’t returned.
From the moment Yuri saw the scene with his own two eyes, he had doubts. Chris Danil was an Esper who used telekinesis. Though it wouldn’t be impossible to extract blood from a person’s body, he preferred cleaner methods than that.
Yuri had to confirm who the blood belonged to. Though there was a bullet hole in Anastasia’s head, the person who had actually shed that blood was none other than Chris Danil, Yuri’s faithful dog.
If the blood had flowed from just one person, it was an amount that wouldn’t be strange to call exsanguination.
‘All of this came from your body.’
So his dog had finally died—he thought that, unable to show his dying form, he must have crawled to somewhere no one knew and met a lonely end.
Chris knew very well how important a piece he was to Yuri. Being found dead and going missing were completely different things. Yuri’s enemies weren’t just one or two. If the guardian of the Winter Continent met an irreversible death, they would slip through that gap to target Yuri.
Yuri moved quickly during the time Chris had earned him.
Sometimes he would suddenly remember Chris, who must have crawled alone to a snowy field where no one was and died alone.
Even though he knew that picking up such hypotheses—useless and not even verifiable—was itself a waste, sometimes such thoughts sprouted up sharply and knocked on Yuri.
It was quite an annoying experience.
Yuri hadn’t shared faith or affection with Chris. They were simply in a one-sided subordinate relationship.
So while he could discuss betrayal, there were no sweet emotions mixed in there, yet Yuri was often forced to recall Chris’s empty space.
Because the life Yuri Sobolev had built and Chris Danil were in an inseparable relationship.
Chris had cast his footprints alongside Yuri’s life. Since coming to the Winter Continent, this was the first time Chris had been absent from Yuri.
Looking down at his palm, he felt like he could see the marks from gripping Chris’s leash. Even though it had never had substance.
In the end, Yuri had no choice but to acknowledge his loss.
If the dog had been tamed by the leash, he himself had been tamed by holding that leash.
The fact that he couldn’t take it back even though it hadn’t been precious gnawed at Yuri’s nerves like a hangnail under his fingernail.
It had always been a solitary life and would continue to be so, yet Yuri couldn’t understand why he couldn’t erase Chris when it wasn’t such a great change.
Perhaps that was why. On the day a man with platinum hair and blue eyes walked into Magnolia, Yuri thought it was an unpleasant prank.
Originally, the Chris Danil that Yuri knew was a man far removed from jokes. He was excessively upright and kept his promises to Yuri like his life.
So that man standing shamelessly before him as if he didn’t know who he was—that wasn’t ‘Chris Danil.’ At least he wouldn’t have participated in this cheap theater of his own will.
While maintaining an elegant smile on his lips, Yuri greeted him.
“Welcome.”
He even casually mentioned the name Yuri Sobolev to test him, but Chris didn’t recognize who he was at all.
Nevertheless, because the gaze that stubbornly followed only him remained the same, Yuri recalled the day they first met. It had been like that then too. Yuri, pushed to a place of death, looked at the platinum-haired boy who would become his reaper. In a hell where tree roots stretched toward the sky, snow fell upside down, and the earth screamed while exposing its red insides, Chris was the only intact living being.
With exactly the same blue eyes blindly following him as back then—what had he thought?
At least it was clear that the impression from that time had made Yuri move here directly.
Swallowing his thoughts, Yuri fumblingly slid his fingers along the wall. Right now he was gauging suitable places to install bugs. Even though they were ultra-small, it would be troublesome if they were caught by an Esper’s five senses.
After installing one bug under the bed, he came outside and installed one more under the chair. Unlike under the dining table, a person’s hand rarely reached under a chair.
Entering the bathroom as well, Yuri felt along the wall behind the toilet and found a crack between the tiles. After inserting a bug in that gap too, Yuri turned to the sink. Because the sink itself had a roundish shape, there was a place to install a bug behind it.
Since the pipes were complexly twisted, even if he installed one among them it wouldn’t be visible, but the noise generated every time water went down the drain would cover up the surrounding sounds.
Brushing off the plaster dust showing white on his glove tips, Yuri looked around the interior one last time. The Dracula he’d given as a gift was placed by the bedside. He noticed traces of a folded page corner, as if he’d read it before sleeping.
Still diligent.
Despite coming here on a Northern Light mission, at his single question about whether he was reading books, he was attempting to read by folding the corners of antiquarian books that would easily cost six to seven hundred Credits per volume.
Nevertheless, Yuri couldn’t let go of his suspicions.
As a result of his secret investigation, ‘Chris Northern Light’s’ ability wasn’t telekinesis. He was registered as an enhancement-type Esper.
An Esper’s innate ability had never changed. A single Esper had never used more than two abilities. So it was correct to judge that the enhancement-type Esper Chris Northern Light and the telekinesis-using Chris Danil were different people.
In the first place, Chris wasn’t even an existence born like an ordinary human.
Yuri first met Chris at the very bottom of Northern Light. In fact, the ‘Chris’ he saw wasn’t just one person.
That’s why when a man who looked exactly like Chris walked into the bookshop, Yuri thought it was Rosenhower’s doing. Wasn’t he the kind of person who would do anything to confirm whether Chris Danil had really died?
Nevertheless, a part of Yuri kept wanting to conclude that Chris had come back alive.
Even if he was registered as an enhancement-type Esper, if he operated telekinesis, he could pretend to be temporarily strengthened. Hadn’t Chris dealt with Yuri’s enemies that way several times?
Even while mocking himself for such a convenient distortion, Yuri couldn’t give up that threadlike possibility.
The information in hand was insufficient to determine the truth. Because the place where Chris was first discovered and where he was active using his abilities were both on the June Continent.
What was fortunate was that Chris had come directly to the Winter Continent. If he had only stayed on the June Continent, he wouldn’t have even known of his existence until he gained some fame.
What Yuri had to do was simple. Assign his subordinates to investigate Chris Northern Light, gather clues, and then draw a conclusion. Rather than stepping directly into murky waters, wasn’t it wiser to watch until the sediment settled?
Nevertheless, the reason Yuri was personally stepping in on this matter was probably because he wanted to think that his dog, who he thought must have died somewhere lonely in this winter, was alive.
Yuri had to create several reasons to come to this place. More than for anyone else, it was to convince himself.
Chris was drawn to Yuri. Even now, when he appeared to have lost his memory, he still remained entranced, so it was safer to step in personally rather than sending in other subordinates. It would be a waste for carefully cultivated subordinates to die at Chris’s hands.
The Magnolia bookshop that Yuri had recently been putting effort into was near Chris’s residence. Even if he left a bit late or happened to run into Chris, there was room to make excuses that he was just passing by.
Most of all, Chris Danil was a hound who had single-handedly forced Northern Light to retreat from the Winter Continent. Such a dangerous dog couldn’t be left to wander around without a leash.
Yuri was feeling responsible as befitting an owner.
