Page 37 of Doubts of the Egoist
He wished he could get out of the mansion for at least a few hours, but with his foggy, distorted vision, driving byhimself wasn’t an option. The thought of calling someone was immediately crushed by the realization that even if he knew Rick’s and Gray’s numbers by heart, he couldn’t use the phone here for fear that his calls would be traced.
Having nothing else to do, Kuon sank into his thoughts. The humiliating remarks Yugo had used to put him down sparked anger. Still, he couldn’t deny there was a grain of reason in Yugo’s blistering tirade. He’d also found his reflection indecent and couldn’t even look at himself fully dressed without seeing reminders of passionate encounters on his skin.
He couldn’t help thinking that if Yugo had phrased his concern differently, Kuon wouldn’t have argued. But he hadn’t, and now Kuon was annoyed that he had to wear extra layers because Yugo couldn’t keep his lips to himself. His resistance wasn’t fueled by childish stubbornness alone, but by a sense of injustice.
Kuon had never been self-conscious. Using communal showers at the police academy had never fazed him. Walking shirtless in a dorm was as natural as breathing. Yugo changed everything.
In Afghanistan, he had to lie during psychiatric evaluations, claiming it was a consequence of his undercover mission and that the information was classified. He also used the communal showers at night so he wouldn’t have to lie over and over.
He hated feeling ashamed of something the Black Duke had done to him for his own amusement. If Yugo couldn’t respect his wishes, Kuon didn’t see why he should be the one to always make concessions. If things went on like this, he would soon be forced to wear a burqa all the time while Yugo did whatever he wanted with his body. He couldn’t swallow that.
He also wanted a home. A safe place where he could relax without always looking his best. This place would never be home if he had to put on extra layers to hide the passion marks Yugo carelessly left on his body from prying eyes. If he had to lock himself in Yugo’s bedroom to feel the air on his skin, how was that better than before?
Nevertheless, he understood Yugo’s concern and desire to introduce him to his social circle. He was a little flattered, since he doubted that Yugo did it with everyone he slept with, but that didn’t change anything. He’d already met Tobias and didn’t like him. He didn’t want to know the others, especially now that he couldn’t find his place in Yugo’s house. Yet, there was no point in keeping it a secret. Gossip had already started circulating. Sooner or later, everyone would know, Rudolph, Mio, and Gray included.If they don’t already know…
So he bounced off the walls, once again limited to the confines of Yugo’s bedroom.
That night, Yugo returned when the moon was high in the sky. Leaving a trail of dirty garments on the floor, he climbed into bed without showering. The mix of scents—smoke, road dust, sweat, tobacco, and alcohol—washed over Kuon.
“Kuon?” A whisper brushed against his ear as a strong arm wrapped around his chest. “Are you asleep?”
Kuon forced himself to keep his breathing slow and steady. He had nothing to say. This wasn’t how he’d imagined his relationship with Yugo. There should have been no lies, secrets, pretenses, or outright insults. He should never have taken the damn SIM card.
Neither wanting to apologize for this morning’s incident nor expecting Yugo to do so, Kuon lay still, unwilling to startanother argument with the tipsy man.
He wanted to get mad at Tobias but couldn’t, understanding well that this avalanche was triggered by his own paranoia and mistrust.
The longer he watched the pale moonlight play with the crystals of the chandelier, the harder it became to breathe.Am I the only one with doubts, stuck in the past? Perhaps I should trust Yugo more? There’s no need to sneak behind his back. He’ll understand if I explain everything, right? Because… if I can’t trust him, what am I even doing here?
He took a deep breath and said, “I have something to tell you.”
Yugo groaned and rolled onto his side. His hand wrapped around Kuon’s fingers and squeezed them, but he said nothing.
“You’re awake?” Kuon whispered. Yugo’s fingers tightened again as his cold nose brushed against the side of Kuon’s neck.
I’m the worst…Kuon pressed Yugo’s forefinger into the warm lump of clay, imprinting his fingerprint on its surface. The rims of his eyes burned from lack of sleep as he watched the sunrise filter through the curtains. After a while, Yugo’s phone chimed, prompting another groan. Yugo rolled out of bed and headed into the bathroom.
Kuon stayed still, clutching the clay with Yugo’s imprint. He hated himself. The urge to crumple it in his fist choked him. Yet, he did nothing. Only when the sun streamed into the room through the gaps in the curtains, and Yugo left the room, did Kuon get up, take a deep breath, and look down at the half-dried piece of clay in his hand.
It took threemore hours before Kuon’s impatience got the better of him. He snuck into a storeroom, found a tube of silicone sealant, and applied a thin layer over Yugo’s finger imprint. The transparent substance had hardened within two additional hours, leaving a perfect copy of Yugo’s fingerprint in Kuon’s hand.
His heart felt stone-cold in his stomach as he returned to the empty room and pressed the fingerprint copy to the metal plate on the lamp’s arm. The lock activated. The wall hissed and slid aside, revealing a dark room filled with electronic equipment, glowing faintly with dead neon light.
I’ll delete the footage and leave. That’s it. Then, I’ll tell Yugo about Gray. No more lies.
With this determination, he entered the room.
CHAPTER 12
Yugo crossed hisarms over his chest and leaned away from the screen with the copy of the customs declaration. The leather chair reclined, easing the pressure on his neck and back. It was early, but he didn’t feel rested. He longed to return to bed, hug Kuon, maybe even fuck him, then go back to sleep. Instead, he was forced to deal with this… whatever it was.
“A transit of a dozen caterpillar tractors from Poland to Armenia,” he read aloud, certain his eyes were deceiving him. He looked up at the brutish face of his subordinate, hoping Greg would correct him, then back at Mio’s name listed among the other drivers delivering the equipment.
Silence stretched. The faint aroma of bitter black coffee made his mouth water. Habitually, he lifted the cup to his lips but only inhaled the air. He scowled, unable to remember finishing his coffee.
“More coffee, Boss?” Greg inched closer to the door, as if he’d rather be anywhere but in this room. He always acted this way when he didn’t have answers for Yugo.
“No.” Yugo raised a hand to stop him, then set the cup back on the desk. “Better tell me why the hell Mio is delivering tractors to Armenia? Have you found out anything about those companies or his fellow drivers?”
