The echo of the protocol applause from the victory ceremony still buzzed in Aibek's ears as he walked back through the subterranean hallways of the Capital Indoor Stadium. The gold medal—heavy and of an immaculate gold that reflected the glare of the stadium spotlights—hung from his neck over his official Tokyo jacket, but he felt it like a lead shackle. His hands, hidden once more in the loose fit of his elastic sleeves, did not brush against the medal's metal; instead, his long fingers sought the edge of his sweatshirt's blue fabric, pulling it down with a mechanical, obsessive, and absent desperation that betrayed his total submission to the deep sadness encompassing him.
