RURO Chapter 24

Russian Roulette /̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

CHAPTER 24

 

Tessa was his Sentinel.

And Vicente was the only Guide who could heal her. Nothing could change that. When Tessa Ambrose was moments away from being dragged off and executed by the intelligence agency she had once loyally served, Vicente made a decision. He chose to spare her life.

He had even exposed his own weaknesses to do so. An ordinary man wouldn’t have gone that far. But Vicente was no ordinary man. He had long since bid farewell to a normal life.

Seated in the middle of a darkened room, he leaned back into a wide leather chair, settling in comfortably. As he closed his eyes, memories surfaced from the darkness. He was back on the battlefield, the same war that had taken Tessa’s parents. He had been young then, too.

How old was I? Seventeen? Eighteen?

The ground was damp with rain, the mud clinging to everything like decay. Walking across it, his boots occasionally kicked against the bodies of fallen soldiers. Vicente moved through the frontlines of one of the war’s fiercest battles as if taking a casual stroll.

He wore no uniform. Not even a bulletproof vest.

It seemed word had been slow to reach them, because when the allied forces caught sight of a boy in a black coat, panic spread immediately.

“You—what the hell are you doing?! Get down from there! Right now!”

Beyond the trenches, past the sandbags and wooden fortifications, lay enemy territory—the very heart of the battlefield. That was where Vicente needed to go.

“Hey, kid! Get down! Have you lost your damn mind—?!”

A commanding officer barked at him, reaching out to grab him. The moment Vicente turned, the man froze. Against the bloodstained ground and the filth of war, Vicente’s face was unnervingly pale, almost inhumanly untouched.

Several rifles lifted into the air, moving as if weightless. Their barrels pointed directly at the officer.

The man stood there, stunned. Vicente simply smiled.

Without a word, he turned back and walked past him, heading straight for enemy lines.

The moment he stepped beyond the trenches and into open ground, the enemy forces reacted.

At first, they hesitated—thrown off by the sight of a lone, unarmed boy. But hesitation didn’t last long. A harsh, commanding voice rang out in a foreign tongue.

“Halt! Take another step, and we will open fire!”

Vicente did not stop.

He kept walking, as if he couldn’t understand them.

In war, nothing is harmless. Not even a boy. The enemy wasn’t foolish enough to believe otherwise.

“Fire!”

With that order, dozens of bullets tore through the air.

Vicente’s steps came to a halt.

But not a single bullet reached him.

Before they could even graze him, they lost momentum, dropping uselessly to the ground. As if an invisible barrier stood between him and them.

Vicente exhaled, then slowly extended his hand. At a glance, it almost looked like he was reaching out for help.

And then—

A violent gust of wind erupted, swirling wildly around him. His coat flared chaotically, caught in the storm.

Boom!

The trenches collapsed in an instant.

Screams rang out as soldiers were buried beneath the debris. Vicente clenched his fist, and the ground itself gave way beneath them. The enemy forces, those who had been stationed beyond the trenches, fell into the abyss like stones sinking into water.

Then, another sound cut through the chaos—one that did not belong to the wind.

A thunderous roar filled the sky.

Aircraft.

Enemy fighter jets, dark against the storm clouds, approached swiftly.

Vicente lifted his gaze, watching their formation tighten as they closed in.

And then he smiled, bright as the sun breaking through a storm.

Slowly, he reached toward the sky, as if he could pluck them out of the air with his own hands.

The recollection ended there. Vicente opened his eyes and stared at the tangled mess of wires before him.

His experiences on the battlefield had taught him many things—what he was capable of, the magnitude of what he could achieve. But with that knowledge came an overwhelming sense of boredom. Everything was too easy. Nothing challenged him anymore.

He needed something bigger, something riskier.

Perhaps it was inevitable. Over time, he had become obsessed with increasingly dangerous pursuits, and that obsession had led him to where he stood today.

After the war, he had immersed himself in games of chance, drawn to the thrill of the unknown. The beauty of gambling was that no one could predict the outcome.

To him, Tessa was the same.

She had been the government’s most loyal dog, so much so that even he couldn’t be entirely certain whether she would betray them.

That was why he had chosen to spare her.

Because for the first time in a long while, he had found someone who entertained him.

Vicente put on his headphones and flicked the switch.

A soft, steady rhythm filled his ears. Breathing. No other sounds, no movement.

Was she asleep?

Listening to the quiet rise and fall of Tessa’s breath, he felt a strange sense of peace.

Tessa Ambrose—the one person who might one day put a bullet through his head.

He hoped she wouldn’t disappoint him too soon.

Because if she chose him too easily…

He might have to kill her himself.

* * *

The early morning sunlight woke her. As Tessa’s eyes fluttered open, she found herself staring blankly at the cityscape before her. Beneath the overcast sky, the city seemed as if it had fallen into a deep slumber.

The moment she registered the unfamiliar texture of the sheets, she shot upright. Her eyes darted around the room. Ah, right. She had fallen asleep in Vicente’s bedroom.

Regret hit her instantly. She should have insisted on going home, no matter what. Now that she was awake, everything around her felt not just foreign but hostile, like sharp thorns pressing in from all sides. There was nothing she could touch without feeling on edge.

As expected, Vicente wasn’t there.

The thought that he could appear at any moment sent a jolt of urgency through her. She quickly climbed out of bed and smoothed the sheets. She didn’t want to leave behind any trace that she had been there.

What should she do next? On any other morning, she would wash up and eat breakfast. But… should she really use his bathroom? The mere idea of using anything that belonged to Vicente Zermo made her skin crawl.

Maybe she should just leave.

The thought crossed her mind suddenly. She still had a few hours before she had to report to work. Right now, she longed for the comfort of her own space more than anything.

But Vicente might not like that.

She had been by his side for a long time, yet she still couldn’t claim to understand him. He was unpredictable. A man who made his preferences painfully clear and followed only his own whims.

And Tessa had survived purely because of those whims.

Which meant her life still depended on his mood.

“…Damn it.”

With a resigned sigh, she made up her mind. She couldn’t go without washing, so she had no choice but to use his bathroom.

Shedding her clothes one layer at a time, the cool air sent a shiver down her spine. She moved quickly, an unshakable feeling creeping over her—almost as if someone was watching.

Just hurry up and get out.

Stepping into the large bathtub, she turned on the shower. Hot water cascaded down over her, instantly drenching her dull blonde hair, darkening it to the point where it almost looked light brown.

Steam curled into the air around her.

Lost in thought, she let the water pour over her—until suddenly, her vision blurred.

Her hands fumbled, and she quickly shut off the water.

What…? What’s wrong with me?

Anticipating the worst, she crouched down in the tub, trying to steady herself. But her body wasn’t listening. The world tilted, and a feverish heat spread through her.

Now that I think about it… I haven’t been guided even once since I was discharged from the hospital.

The realization struck her just as everything started to spiral out of control.

And by then, it was already too late.

* * *

Vicente had barely slept more than an hour, yet there was no trace of exhaustion on his face. Staying up all night was nothing new. Insomnia had little effect on him, and considering the nature of his work, skipping sleep had even proven to be an advantage at times.

Seated in his office, Vicente felt something was missing.

He turned to his secretary.

“Tessa?”

“She hasn’t reported in yet.”

“You’re monitoring the feed, aren’t you?”

“Well… At some point, the audio cut out entirely.”

The moment he heard that, Vicente stood up without hesitation.

It didn’t take long to reach the hotel.

He stepped into the elevator, rode up to his suite, and opened the bedroom door.

The bed was neatly made. His sharp gaze swept over the spacious room before settling on the slightly ajar bathroom door.

Crossing the floor in measured strides, he pushed the door open.

A thin layer of condensation clung to the bathroom surfaces.

He reached for the damp shower curtain and pulled it aside.

And then—

“…Hah.”

A breath of disbelief escaped him as he let out a short, incredulous laugh.

His precious card lay unconscious in the tub, wearing nothing at all.