Russian Roulette /̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿
CHAPTER 18
“It’s gone.”
— What?
“What you gave me… it’s gone. I left it right there.”
No matter how hard she searched, there was no sign of the gift Alex had given her. The realization that she had lost something so precious made her want to cry all over again.
That gift had been proof that the Bureau hadn’t forgotten about her. And now, it was gone. She had left it on the shelf—so why had it disappeared?
— Tessa, don’t worry about that. It wasn’t anything important.
“You sent it to me. How can I not care?”
— I’ll send you another one next time. You must be going through a lot if you’re this fixated on something so trivial.
Unlike other items from the Bureau that had to be discarded immediately after receipt, Alex’s gift had been different. She had intended to keep it. But now, it had vanished.
Tessa had never been particularly attached to material things. She found greater joy in saving money than in spending it, because back then, she had believed in a future worth preparing for.
But now, the future meant nothing to her.
All she wanted was for the Bureau to take her back.
— Did you activate the anti-wiretap device?
“…I don’t know how useful it is, but yeah.”
— This number is a one-time-use line. No one should be listening in on us. So say whatever you want, Tessa. I’m listening.
Alex was unusually gentle that day.
So unlike him—the same man who usually barked orders at her, telling her to just focus on her mission.
Tessa noted the contrast, but she couldn’t bring herself to reject his kindness.
Because the truth was, Alex was right—she was mentally backed into a corner. And what she needed most wasn’t a mission or an escape plan, but simply a friend to talk to.
Of course, Alex was more of a colleague than a friend, but still.
He was the person she trusted most.
The only one she believed would eventually get her out of this hell.
“My old apartment… it’s still there, right?”
— It’s being taken care of. Don’t worry.
“Nothing’s happened in the capital?”
— I told you to talk about yourself, not ask about other things.
She couldn’t.
There were things she could never bring herself to tell him.
Like how Vicente had been revealed as her Guide. How she had been forced to accept his guidance after being gravely injured.
How, at least once, it had happened on his desk.
And worst of all—how, for a brief moment, she had liked it.
Tessa wanted to believe it was just because she had been in the city for too long. That she had lost her mind, even if only temporarily.
Because the truth was too horrifying.
Instinct was a terrifying thing—because it couldn’t be controlled.
Even now, despite barely surviving that explosion, her body still craved Vicente.
“About the explosion at the hotel… were there any civilian casualties?”
— No civilian deaths. So don’t worry about that.
“Of course, I’d worry.”
— You always do.
“I’m a Sentinel.”
— …
If a Sentinel’s instinct was to crave a Guide’s body, then their desire to protect people was something instilled in them.
Tessa never thought of that as a bad thing.
Being born a Sentinel meant being used as a national asset. That was just the way it was. Those with power had a duty to use it for the right cause.
For an orphan like her, developing Sentinel abilities had been a blessing.
For the first time in her life, she had a purpose.
“Now that I think about it… I don’t know how I survived that explosion.”
— What do you mean?
“I remember someone holding me…”
— Who do you think it was?
Tessa tried to recall the memory, but soon shook her head.
“It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I survived.”
— That’s right. You’re good at surviving.
“What are you trying to say?”
— Just that. It was a compliment. You’ve got the instincts of a proper agent.
As they talked, the heaviness in Tessa’s chest began to lift.
The tears that had threatened to spill earlier faded, replaced by the faintest hint of a smile.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like herself again.
And yet…
There was a lingering ache. A quiet disappointment.
Why didn’t you call me like this sooner?
— What about that bastard Vicente? He’s not using the whole guiding thing as an excuse to put his hands on you, is he?
Was he worried?
If only Alex knew.
The situation was the exact opposite of what he feared.
Vicente never initiated contact.
It was always Tessa who begged.
When she swallowed her pride and crawled to him, Vicente would grant her what she needed—as if bestowing a favor.
And when he did…
He was unlike anything she had ever known.
On that first night, Tessa had seen a completely different side of him.
For the first time, she had wondered—
Could Vicente possibly feel something for her?
* * *
When it was over, Vicente cooled just as quickly as he had burned.
At the very least, Tessa would never misunderstand.
He was simply thorough in bed. Nothing more, nothing less.
She still couldn’t understand it. Why did he go so far for a spy?
“It’d be weirder if Vicente Zermo was actually trying to seduce someone like me.”
— He’s already kept you alive. Nothing would surprise me anymore, Tessa.
“That’s true, but… Alex.”
— What?
“Do you have any idea why Zermo spared me? Even a guess?”
Alex was silent for a moment. He was probably considering Vicente’s erratic whims. But there was no real answer. No solid clue.
— One thing’s for sure, Tessa. That man never shows kindness without a reason.
“Yeah. I know.”
— Keep doubting him. Don’t get caught in his web. The only ones who will ever be on your side are us. Never forget that.
Tessa nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see it.
“I won’t forget.”
— I trust you, Tessa.
With those parting words, Alex ended the call.
Left alone in silence, Tessa slowly lowered the receiver.
Then, she got up and started searching for the missing gift again. She looked through every corner, but no matter where she checked, it was gone.
And then a thought hit her.
Did someone come into my home?
But there were no signs of a break-in. Nothing else had gone missing except for the bath salts.
And, really, what kind of thief would target her place?
She had nothing of value.
Besides, despite its reputation as a city of debauchery, Saint Leroi was surprisingly well-maintained. People assumed crime ran rampant here, but that was only because they didn’t know who owned this city.
Vicente didn’t tolerate disorder in his domain.
Crime did happen—but only with his permission.
It was strange.
Eventually, Tessa gave up the search and collapsed onto the couch.
I should’ve just used it that night…
A few hours of sleep did nothing to ease the hunger.
She was starving.
She had no food in the house. Not even canned goods. Since she was always away on missions, she never stocked up.
Tessa was about to leave to find something to eat when she hesitated.
House arrest.
Vicente’s words hadn’t been a suggestion.
If he said she was under house arrest, it meant she could not leave.
God, I’m an idiot.
This wasn’t just about staying indoors.
Until Vicente decided otherwise, she wouldn’t even be allowed to eat.
The last meal she had in the hospital had been her final chance.
Letting out a deep sigh, Tessa collapsed back onto the bed, deciding to sleep off the hunger.
She had wanted time alone, hadn’t she?
At least now she was getting exactly that.
She forced herself to think positively and closed her eyes.
* * *
Three days passed.
Sentinels had enhanced physical abilities, but they weren’t superhuman.
Especially not a C-rank Sentinel.
Three days without food was not something she could just brush off.
Hunger was a different kind of pain. In some ways, it was worse than being shot.
Tessa spent most of the time curled up in bed, drifting in and out of sleep.
Still, there was no word from Vicente.
She knew better than to disobey him.
If she dared to break his orders, things would only get worse.
Her stomach churned painfully, but all she could do was shut her eyes.
Sleep.
That was the only way to escape it.
The sun had already begun to set outside, and yet her ‘punishment’ had yet to end.
Tessa, resigned, was fast asleep when it happened.
The soundless arrival.
A tall figure in a long coat stood in the cramped space of her apartment.
Vicente.
Holding a paper bag filled with food, he looked down at his Sentinel—his pathetic, starving Sentinel.
