DM Chapter 90
“He’s different from us.”
“Is he, really?”
Pavel said to Kirill, who sat with his back to him, as if to assure him that the child who would soon arrive was not like “them” who grew up here. Kirill responded sarcastically, thinking it didn’t matter whether he was different or not.
It was a story of a world different from his own anyway, and he wasn’t curious about whatever Nikolai was up to.
Kirill, who had been leaning against the window sill, was the first to notice the car entering the driveway from afar. Soon, he heard the children gathering in the parlor, one by one, curious.
Knowing that he wouldn’t stand out in this crowd, Kirill nonetheless felt pleased to hear Pavel’s anxious voice after a long time and walked with the other children.
Standing in the middle of the spiral staircase connecting the second and first floors, he looked down below.
He saw a boy in a suit being led by Yuri into the entrance hall from the car. The boy seemed uncomfortable in his clothes, as he repeatedly adjusted his collar in a short span of time. His slightly disheveled tie and dark hair, falling messily, caught Kirill’s eye.
After scanning, the children looked at him, and the boy looked up.
At that moment, his eyes locked with Kirill’s. As Kirill furrowed his brow, the boy quickly looked away.
As Kirill furrowed his brows, the boy quickly averted his gaze.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Pavel.”
Pavel reached out his hand to the boy, who bore a striking resemblance to himself, with a clean and beautiful face, without hesitation.
Leaning against the railing of the staircase, Kirill recalled the sound of Pavel just now talking about the child of a prostitute. The boy’s hand slowly rose. The scars on the back of his hand and the missing fingernails suggested that his life hadn’t been easy.
As soon as they shook hands, Pavel’s face twisted.
“What’s that smell? Why does it smell like rotting corpses?”
Hastily letting go, Pavel took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hand as if he had touched something dirty.
“If you’re done with your greetings, Pavel, step back. The old man is waiting.”
Yuri said coldly, his face clearly showing impatience. The child stood there silently, his hand still hanging in the air as if lost without its owner.
“Do you have a mouth? I greeted you first, so you should introduce yourself too. Or did your mother cut out your tongue?”
Pavel tilted his head mockingly, not hesitating to throw a veiled insult while holding his nose with a handkerchief.
“Pavel.”
Yuri warned him that he had crossed the line, grabbed the boy’s arm, and ascended the stairs to the second floor. When he spotted Kirill at the top, he nodded slightly. The face of the boy, hidden behind Yuri’s large frame, gradually came into view.
A face covered in scars, raw and unrefined.
His golden eyes, which Nikolai favored, were sharp. No wonder Pavel seemed determined not to let him go. Perhaps he was worried about saving another child with those eyes. Kirill pressed his tongue down.
As the boy passed by, the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, disappearing the moment Kirill noticed it.
Kirill’s grip on the railing tightened. Pavel was nothing compared to him.
It’s better not to clash with him.
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Boarding procedures for the flight to Moscow began.
To delay reporting his departure to Owen or Nikolai as much as possible, he opted for a commercial flight instead of the private jet he usually used. Since it was a fake passport, it would take some time to confirm his departure.
Despite it being night, Pavel, wearing sunglasses, nervously checked in for first-class boarding before entering the plane and walking through the aisle.
It was good to be away for a while. While Nikolai was preoccupied with Owen, he needed to go to Moscow to secure liquid assets and hide himself somewhere in Europe or the United States.
While he was away, Pavel decided to follow his instincts, as thoughts of him pressing some kind of switch kept dominating his mind.
“It’ll be over by the time I get back.”
Nikolai will never forgive Owen.
He didn’t want to know what Owen had up his sleeve. He just wanted to calculate where he stood after their fight. As long as Nikolai was still standing, Owen would eventually back down.
As the stewardess kindly guided him to his seat, Pavel scanned her from head to toe. Not bad.
“What are you doing in Moscow?”
Come to think of it, he hadn’t been close to a woman since arriving in Eden City. There hadn’t been time for such thoughts. But now, the idea of leaving this damn city has brought back his natural inclinations.
The stewardess stood a few steps ahead of his seat, waiting for him.
“Hello, Pavel.”
His seat already had an occupant. Owen, who was running his finger over the rim of an untouched champagne glass, greeted him.
“Why are you here?”
Pavel asked naturally, hiding his surprise with a smile. Owen picked up the untouched champagne glass with his hand and brought it to his lips. It’s too quiet in the plane’s cabin, where no one else has boarded yet.
“I think I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
“Is it okay for you to leave that woman like this? Do you really think Nikolai is going to leave her alone?”
Both had grown up under Nikolai’s wing, seeing what kind of man he was. Pavel had inherited his most devious traits.
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Make a deal with me. I’ll give you the list of the contract killers Nikolai commissioned.”
The contract killers were already in Eden City, answering Nikolai’s call. They’d worked with Nikolai for years to rule Russia. Pavel had seen them up close. He was willing to turn over the list to get out of here.
“Well, your little concoction is useless to me. Do you have anything else of use?”
Even when told that the contract killers would kill the woman, Owen remained unfazed.
Pavel slowly scanned the entrance with his eyes. With no one coming in yet, there’s no telling what’s out there. Still, he thought it was better to be out there than here with Owen, so he quickly headed toward the exit.
“Where are you going?”
There was a much larger figure than the entrance itself, leaning slightly with its head down, waiting for Pavel.
“Pavel.”
The voice from behind was firm, devoid of any emotion. Pavel turned around. Owen’s impassive face, right in front of him, scanned him like a mirror.
“You were pretty brave when you were younger, doing whatever it took to survive.”
His hand, without a ring, encased Pavel’s cheek.
Owen found Pavel fascinating at times. Something identical to himself moving around, spewing words he’d never utter. But that was the extent of Owen’s sentiments toward Pavel; he no longer harbored any merciful feelings, not even a fraction, as he did toward Sarin.
He couldn’t even compare to her in terms of sentimentality.
He wondered if losing his other half like she did would tear a hole in his heart.
But looking at Pavel, it seemed unlikely that he would suffer such a fate. He almost wanted to test that thought.
“If only it weren’t for you, you sneaky, despicable bastard.”
“You’re the sneaky one. Did my seat look so sweet to you?”
Owen tilted his head and stared at Pavel’s face with disdain. His hand wrapped around Pavel’s cheek, tapping it lightly enough to make the pale skin feel uncomfortable.
Pavel knew exactly which day Owen was referring to. It was one of the days he’d touched the woman who’d given birth to his child.
It was the day when Pavel had briefly tasted the absolute power of Eden City, directing his actions in Owen’s absence.
“…You should have gotten your revenge then. What are you doing now?”
Back then, Owen graciously let him off the hook. Yet here was Pavel, bringing up that old story again. When Pavel roughly brushed off Owen’s hand, he shot him a threatening look.
“After that day, you kept quiet, as if you were waking up from a daze. Come on, Pavel. Tell me.”
“What bullshit….”
“How did it feel when you killed our father?”
Father.
Owen’s eyes narrowed slightly at the words. The simple utterance left him with an uncomfortable feeling clinging to his body.
The blood drained from Pavel’s face. He hesitated, then stepped back, leaning against Yuri, who was standing behind him, and pushed Pavel forward again.
“I… No. You did that. You did it!”
He pointed his trembling finger at Owen. Owen reached out and grabbed the finger that pointed at him, bending it upward.
“Aaahhh!!!”
“Say it again.”
Pavel bent at the waist. He tried to wrap his broken finger with one hand, but it was already bandaged where the finger had been cut off, so he couldn’t do much.
Owen grabbed Pavel’s hair and lifted his face, urging him to speak silently. Trembling with pain as if struck by lightning, Pavel gritted his teeth.
“You… You! You lied to me! You told me you were going to donate your liver to our father. That’s why!”
“Back then, I was probably a gibberish-speaking idiot who couldn’t speak English or Russian very well, so maybe the message didn’t get through properly.”
Pavel tried to shake his head, but Owen didn’t release his grip on him.
He still remembers the day as if it were yesterday. It was because Pavel, who had stopped taking drugs in preparation for the transplant, was intoxicated by drugs every night. Owen approached him, sneaking up on him as he was taking his nightly fix.
He was brought from Ireland to use his liver, but he had heard clearly from the hospital that Pavel was the suitable candidate. Still, he had to tell him to prepare himself as his brother. He said so with a foolish look on his face.
His mind was clouded with drugs.
