Page 55 of Doubts of the Egoist
Kuon frowned. “At all?”
“At all. We lost our last lead when the man died. He received money through an offshore account in the Cayman Islands, opened under a false name. It wasn’t unusual in those days, when passports were traded as easily as commodities.The money sender was a shell company established by elderly residents of a retirement home in Bratislava[5]. Needless to say, neither they nor the staff knew anything. The internal Interpol investigation yielded no results.”
“Surely you reviewed the suicide investigation? Was anything missing?”
“We found no evidence of that. The man hanged himself in an empty house, locked from the inside. He left a note. There were no signs of struggle, suspicious fingerprints, or stray hairs.”
“But?”
“All his mental checkups proved he was healthy. He had no debts, no family drama, and he was about to get a promotion. His browser history suggested he was looking to buy a yacht. His colleagues saw no signs of depression, and his wife insisted he couldn’t have killed himself. She hired a private investigator, but as expected, he found nothing. In an off-the-record interview, she said their financial situation had recently improved. This happened around the time when the rumors began to circulate and the first report was presumably filed by Flavio.”
Kuon glanced at the autopsy reports again before reaching for the leather box. It contained photographs of various people jumbled together with handwritten notes in Italian, alongside old, crumpled, and stained newspapers and police reports.
Kuon leaned in, absorbing everything Greg said. His mind had already sketched the family ties, but something still bothered him. “Didn’t you say you don’t speak Italian?”
He jabbed a finger at the screen, where a video showed Greg interrogating a victim in fluent Italian.
“Oh, I speak it now. I didn’t spend eight years in Italy for nothing. Milana found teaching me amusing. When she got married, her husband wanted someone from the Scarci family to protect her. Someone who lived by Omertà, followed the Ten Commandments, and swore allegiance to him. She managed to retain the freedom to choose her bodyguards for another four years. Then, I became Yugo’s bodyguard, and I’d lie if I said he wasn’t foul-mouthed. With his help, my Italian became quite fluent.”
“Why did you follow Yugo?” Kuon ventured the question, not hoping for an honest answer. “I can’t believe you didn’t have better options. Someone with your talents surely could have secured a brighter future.”
“Didn’t you listen to my story? Yugo is family.”
Family…
Silence fell. Kuon had questions, a lot of them, but struck by a sudden realization, he sealed his lips. With every answer Greg provided, a mental noose tightened around his neck, anchoring him to this place, to Yugo. It made him more and more involved in Yugo’s life.
“Kuon?”
“Hm?” Kuon lifted his gaze to meet the impenetrable black eyes.
“Why did you come here?”
“Why?” It was the same question Yugo had asked him, so Kuon chuckled as the answer came to mind, making the following words even truer. “Because I had no choice.”
“I thought better of you.” For the first time, Greg scorned him. “You either lie to me or to yourself. Spare us both thehypocritical excuses that you had no choice, or that you didn’t know what kind of person he was. He didn’t force you, not this time.”
“That’s not what I meant…” Greg’s reproach only made Kuon shake his head and lower his chin. “He didn’t force me. Still, coming with him was the only option I had. You see, I couldn’t have done differently.”
Kuon didn’t know how to explain it better. Even this tiny confession set his cheeks ablaze. There was no way he could say something as lame asI want to be with himorhe makes me feel good. It was even more embarrassing to admit that after years of depression and months of suffocating darkness, Yugo made him feel alive. He attracted Kuon like a moth to a flame, promising what wasn’t there.
Thankfully, Greg didn’t press for more. His eyes softened, and he sighed. “I see. Then what’s the problem?”
Kuon’s gaze dropped to his nails. Short and rimmed in mourning black from digging in the clay, they couldn’t look more unkempt. He spotted a hangnail and picked at it, staining his fingertips red.
“Tsk… I don’t know how to stay.” Kuon surprised himself with spontaneous honesty. He didn’t expect Greg to solve his problems. Yet, for some reason, he continued, “I don’t know how many compromises I’d have to make to remain by his side, and at what cost.”
“Are you talking about your life?”
Kuon shook his head.
Greg’s explanation made him realize that his morals and principles weren’t as strong as he thought when it came toYugo. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he had no right to blame Yugo. In his place, he’d probably do the same thing. After all, he had shot at the Gardener when he was a policeman, and it hadn’t even been personal. Wasn’t that hypocritical?
“I’m afraid I’d lose myself if I stayed, and I’m not even sure it’s worth it.” He nodded toward the screen. “This is just the tip of the iceberg; I reckon a huge one. I know who he is and what he’s capable of. I wish I didn’t because it makes me wonder how much of him, of this, I can accept and how it would define me.”
“I don’t think anyone expects you to accept everything, least of all Yugo.”
Kuon flinched.
