Page 99 of Doubts of the Egoist
“What do you think?” Yugo growled, feeling dangerously grumpy. This wasn’t how he’d imagined his life with Kuon to begin—sleeping on the couch, covered in bruises. He poked his throbbing tooth with his tongue, winced at the jolting pain. “Bring me coffee… and a painkiller.”
“Right away, Boss.”
His cigarette was still smoldering when the office door swung open, and Greg barged in, carrying a tray with a tall glass on it. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and a pressed suit, he was an eyesore to the disheveled Yugo. Greg stopped at the desk, an amused expression tugging at the corners of his wide mouth.
“What?” Yugo gave him what should have been his deadliest look, but Greg just shrugged.
“Nothing.”
Yugo huffed out a puff of steam, but the tiny sound his nose produced must have ruined the angry image as the corner of Greg’s mouth twitched again. “Why do you look so damn happy? You piss me off.”
“No reason.” Greg didn’t bother to hide his grin anymore.
“Then wipe that look off your face, or I will. Where’s my coffee?”
CLANG.A tall glass landed on the desk next to his hand. The yellow liquid swirling inside was cloudy and had something swimming in it. It resembled a poison rather than the invigorating drink Yugo craved.
“Did you bring me your piss?” Yugo recoiled from the desk, the leather creaking under his weight.
“Nope!” Greg’s grin widened, giving him a strange resemblance to the Cheshire Cat. “Something better.”
“Better? What’s that supposed to mean?” Yugo’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “If you don’t tell me what the hell this is, I’ll pour it down your throat.”
The paper-tiger threat made Greg grunt. When he spoke again, he sounded as if the drink made his mouth water, and hewould gladly drink it in Yugo’s place. “Pickle juice. It’s great for a hangover; better than any painkiller.”
Sparks flew out from under his fingers when Yugo crushed the cigarette in the ashtray and leaned forward, fingers steepled over the desk. For a long moment, he stared silently, hoping Greg would take a hint. When the grin widened, but the bulky man didn’t budge, Yugo asked, “Are you feeling suicidal a month before your wedding? Is it pre-marital depression that is driving you to recklessness? If not, think again. I slept all night on a damn couch. I’m this close…” he brought his index finger to a thumb, leaving a hair’s breadth of space between them, “…to killing someone, and the only thing that could stop me from doing so is a nice cup of coffee.”
“Yeah, married life is complicated but also rewarding, or so I heard.” Greg bit his lower lip and turned his face away.
“What’s so fucking funny?” Yugo scowled.
Greg shrugged and gave him a quick, wary look. “Nothing. It’s just… been a while since you cared for someone who isn’t Mio enough to sleep on a couch.”
“I was drunk and passed out…” For some reason, indignation rose in Yugo’s chest.
“Whatever you say, Boss.”
The way his subordinate said “Boss” rubbed Yugo the wrong way. He blinked, mentally returning to his teenage years when Greg had only been assigned to him as a bodyguard. The older man had always called him that, but the nickname had been used in a playful, teasing way, without any recognition attached. It had stuck for years, but over time, the tone in Greg’s voice had changed to respectful, and Yugo stopped minding it. Now it pissed him off.
“Besides, it’s… refreshing to see Kuon’s fairly fine, and you’re the one sporting bruises.”
Yugo’s mood darkened, and he forced the bitter confession through his teeth to wipe the grin off Greg’s face. “I wish I’d hit him, but I did something worse.”
“What?” Greg’s black eyes obscured, and his face lost its cheerful expression. “Abrasions? They’ll heal.”
“No. Something he won’t forgive. Not in this lifetime.”
“Yugo…” The four letters of his name contained so much disapproval that Yugo’s entire soul turned inside out.
“Shut up,” Yugo growled. “I know everything you have to say, but it can’t be undone. Go and bring me some coffee.”
Greg didn’t argue, just paused on his way out. “By the way, Tobias shared his findings. Check your email.”
The door slammed shut, leaving Yugo in a silent room that reeked of pickle juice. Giving the glass a disdainful look, Yugo turned his attention to the screen.
It took him less than two minutes to scroll through the attached files and slam the laptop closed. The muscles around his eyes tightened as a fireball of rage ping-ponged through his ribcage. He automatically grabbed his smartphone and swiped at the screen, humming, realizing that he’d already used it not long ago, but only now noticing that the screen was responsive and not showing a single crack.
Greg sure is efficient. When did he even do that?The moment of appreciation distracted him, but only for a moment because the next second, he was calling Mio.
