Page 101 of Doubts of the Egoist
Whipped up by countless stone rapids, water spray danced in the air and settled on his face and arms. He crouched low so that no garden light would reflect off his pale skin or gray T-shirt.
In the coolness of the rapidly darkening night, beneath a scattering of bleak stars twinkling behind dark clouds creeping in from the west, Kuon changed the SIM cards. The smartphone picked up the signal, and for a long second, he stared at the only number stored in the memory under the name “Good Samaritan.” Another player in the game, which he didn’t understand, piqued his interest. He was tempted to ask for his help to see what conditions Tobias might set for assistance, but not enough to reveal his desperation.
Scanning his surroundings once more, he keyed in Rick’s number.
The phone rang three times… four times… then seven times, breaking the quiet night and joining the soft rumble of the river. He waited.Come on, pick up.
Just as he was about to hit the red icon, the screen flashed and connected. “Yeah?”
Kuon blinked, unable to make out his friend’s voice over the hoarse sound. “Rick?”
The call switched to video. A pale face appeared, bathed in dead blue. Even in the gloom, Rick looked terrible. Heavy eyes, ringed with black circles, were swollen to the point of swallowing his sclera. A white bandage covered the bridge of his bloated nose, and his lips had an ugly wound in the corner. His whole face looked like a piece of rotten meat in a butcher’s shop—green and gray.
The pillowcaseon which the man lay glowed in the bluelight. Kuon couldn’t miss the white plastic frame of the hospital bed behind it.
“Kuon?” Rick’s eyes attempted to widen, and he tried to sit up but winced and lowered his head back onto the pillow, breathing heavily. He dropped his hand to the mattress, and the camera focused on the tight bandage across the right side of his chest, the underside of his chin, and a pale bedsheet hugging his midsection. “Thank fuck, I was worried sick. Are you hurt?”
Kuon shook his head. “Are you in the hospital?”
Shadows rippled over Rick’s face as he lowered his chin to look at the screen, erasing the fleeting relief of the call. “Where are you?”
Red and yellow stains marring the white bandage on Rick’s chest made Kuon’s knees wobble. “Is that blood?”
“Where are you?” Rick pressed. “Did he hurt you?”
Kuon blinked, unable to look away from the rusty splotch.
“Listen, I was shot this morning.” Rick’s cracking voice made Kuon look at his face. “I didn’t see the shooter, but the police said it was a sniper. Do you understand what I’m saying? Wherever you are, you need to leave. Give me your location; Gray will pick you up.”
Kuon’s stomach felt rock hard as it pushed the hastily swallowed food to his throat. He felt sick.
Guilt. Responsibility. Bitterness. Contrition. The river of emotions crushed his chest, and Kuon squeezed the words out of his convulsing throat. “Fuck, Rick, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. This is my fault…”
“Where are you?” The man jerked his cheek as if anapology was the last thing he wanted to hear. “Give me your location.”
Kuon stopped listening. Heavy drums pounded in his ears as his entire being turned into a boiling magma of rage. He couldn’t believe that after that shitshow with the gun, Yugo would dare to break his word. “That motherfucker… Stay safe. I’ll call you back.”
“No, wait…” Rick shouted, but Kuon had already cut the connection. In that moment, he finally understood Yugo, as for the first time in his life, he experienced what he’d so often seen in those gunmetal eyes—darkness. He realized why the Black Duke did what he did with such effortless cruelty. In that pitch-black darkness, no emotion survived but hate.
Tobias’ words, spoken in the middle of the night, echoed in his mind,“When you love something with passion and believe in it with all your heart, disappointment kills. It only takes one step for love to turn into hatred.”
Kuon snorted, thinking how accurate they were, because right now he hated Yugo with a passion.
CHAPTER 28
Kuon burst intoYugo’s office without knocking or asking permission. The cool wood chilled his back as he used his weight to bar the door from further intrusion.
Elbows on the desk, Yugo sat in the wide office chair, fingers tangled in his sleek black hair as he stared at the laptop screen with undivided attention. Realizing he had company, the Black Duke glanced up, dropped his focus to the screen before peering up again.
A flicker of surprise faded from his bruised face. Kuon knew him too well to miss the vivid displeasure etched into the micro-expressions that sharpened the lines around his eyes and mouth.
“I didn’t call for you,” the Black Duke said.
Kuon remained silent, trying to crack open Yugo’s skull with his glare to see if there was anything human left inside. Darkness spiraled within him, demanding revenge and pain. Kuon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control the storm of rage within.
The back of his head hit against the door as he exhaled. He opened his eyes and swept his gaze across the wooden ceiling, then around the room, seeking a distraction. Golden light from a sconce bathed the dark wood in deep orange hues, creating a relaxed atmosphere. The massive desk, two guest chairs, and the towering executive chair positioned by the window that overlooked the night sky, accentuated the stark contrast between Yugo’s white shirt and black leather.
The dominant brown tones in the rest of the room made the leather couch on his left fade into the background. Kuon would have missed it if not for the chinchilla fur throw over its back. An empty water glass stood on a low coffee table nestled next to the couch, suggesting that the master of the mansion had spent the previous night here, perhaps without having left all day. The air tasted sweet and bitter with smoke and coffee… like Yugo’s tongue so often did.
