There was music.
Faint… almost haunting. A soft, distant piano playing in broken, uneven notes, like someone fumbling through a melody they once knew by heart. The sound wavered in and out, like it was leaking through walls or underwater.
Then—alcohol. Strong. Sharp. Not fresh, either—aged liquor, the kind that clung to skin, to breath, to regrets. It drifted through the air like a ghost, curling into Rin's nose and pulling him back from the edge of oblivion.
His body felt heavy. Not just tired—submerged. Like he was being slowly lowered into the depths of a freezing lake. Every limb ached, wrapped in pressure, gravity pulling him down. Breathing was effort. Thinking was a crawl.
Rin blinked slowly.
"Am I... dead?" The thought floated to the surface, calm and surreal.
Then, from the void—
A voice. Gentle. Familiar. Fractured by memory.
"Rin… You said you'd come back to me... and your brother."
His eyes widened slightly.
"Okaa-san...?"
That voice—how long had it been since he heard it? A voice tied to warmth, to rice porridge on sick days, to lullabies hummed in summer heat. His chest ached—not physically, not yet—but in that soft, buried place where grief lived.
He wanted to answer. To reach out.
But then—
Fingers. Cold. Unforgiving. Wrapped around his throat.
"You stupid kitten," a voice sneered, familiar and venomous. Then came a chuckle—deep, low, unmistakable.
Kai.
GASP.
Rin's lungs seized. Air shot into him like lightning. His eyes snapped open—blinding light overhead, sterile and white. The sudden clarity burned, stung. He choked, coughed violently, body convulsing like it was rejecting the very idea of life.
The music was gone.
So was the alcohol.
In its place—machine beeps. The rhythmic ping of a heart monitor. Clean linen. Antiseptic. Plastic tubes trailing from his arm. Something tight wrapped around his ribs.
He was in a hospital.
He blinked, forcing his eyes to focus. A pale ceiling. Fluorescent light panels buzzing overhead. A stiff pillow beneath his head. The sharp scent of disinfectant filled his nose.
His head throbbed—deep and sharp, like a migraine born from fire. Pain blossomed in his temples, his spine, even his teeth.
"I'm alive." The words didn't come out of his mouth, but they echoed hard in his skull.
He turned his head slightly—agony lanced through his neck, but he welcomed it.
"I'm alive... I made it."
He scanned the room through blurry eyes. No restraints. No shadows lurking in the corner. No syringes. Just an IV drip. Monitors. A chair pushed up against the wall.
But his body? It remembered. Every nerve still buzzed with aftershocks of trauma. His skin crawled as if Kai's hands were still there, still petting him, still threatening to slice off his fingers one by one.
He clenched his jaw.
"Why am I here? Who brought me here? How long have I been unconscious?"
He tried to sit up. Failed. His arms trembled under his own weight, strength completely gutted. It felt like every muscle in his body had been pulled to the point of tearing. Even blinking hurt.
Rin stared at the ceiling again, breath shallow.
A voice cut through the soft hum of hospital machinery like a blade slipping between his ribs.
"Ah… you're awake."
Rin turned his head slowly, vision still blurry around the edges, and saw him—
A man, seated near the foot of the bed. Left sleeve folded and pinned just above the elbow. His remaining hand clutched a pair of crutches, resting against his shoulder. His skin was pale from blood loss or maybe recovery. His eyes, though—cold steel. Unforgiving. Familiar.
"Wait… that face."
It flickered through Rin's mind like a burned frame in a broken film reel.
"I've seen him before. He was chasing me… the day my hotel room exploded."
Back then, Rin had drawn only one conclusion—
"He had to be Tsar Nochi."
Enemy. Threat. Eliminate or escape.
But now?
The man exhaled and slumped into the chair beside Rin's bed like someone who'd finally sat down after walking through hell barefoot.
"Who are you?" Rin asked, voice low and rough from dehydration and disuse.
The man raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with a bitter smile.
"About time you asked."
Rin blinked slowly. "Never got the chance."
"Right," the man scoffed. "You were too busy running away from your own partner."
That word hit Rin like a quiet slap.
"Partner…?"
The memories clicked into place like a cruel joke unraveling in slow motion.
"Right. The day after Director Kim told me I was getting a partner… HQ sent me two photos. One was of Kai. The other—this man. The one sitting beside me now."
He remembered it clearly—Kai's face appearing before him the same moment he opened the encrypted file. Kai had approached first. Kai had acted familiar. Capable. Helpful. Friendly.
And Rin, so used to working alone, so resistant to the idea of a partner at all… never bothered to double-check. Never questioned. Never suspected.
"I assumed Kai was my partner because he acted like it. I didn't doubt it for a second because the briefing said my partner would contact me first. And Kai... played the part flawlessly. Meanwhile, this guy? He stayed in the shadows. Said nothing. Just chased me, cornered me. I took one look at him and thought, 'enemy.'"
Rin stared up at the ceiling, jaw clenched. The fluorescent lights above burned coldly against his eyes.
"How did things go this wrong?"
"HQ assigned me a partner against my will, then sent me two photos, and didn't clarify who was who. I took the wrong bait. But they—they—put the hook there."
He turned back to the man seated beside him, whose expression now sat somewhere between restrained fury and deadpan disbelief.
"Then why didn't you introduce yourself earlier?" Rin asked, eyes narrowing.
The man gave a hollow laugh and leaned forward, resting his arm on his knee.
"Was there even time for that? Please enlighten me, will you?" he snapped, eyes burning. "You were practically holding hands with that Romanov bastard from day one. How the hell was I supposed to approach you without getting a bullet in the skull?"
"Every time I tried to get close—alone, when you weren't glued to his side—you'd vanish. Gone. Slipping through crowds like smoke. And the one time I did manage to corner you, to pull you aside in a quiet alley and try to explain? What did you do, Rin?"
His voice dropped, low and vicious.
"You beat me unconscious."
The words hit Rin like a gut punch.
The man leaned back again, his breathing shallow—still recovering, still hurting.
"I nearly died trying to keep you from walking into the lion's mouth, and you cracked my jaw open for the effort. So no—don't act surprised. Don't play innocent. You made your choice."
Rin looked away for a moment. Shame. Rage. Guilt. It all twisted together in his gut like rusted wire.
"He's not wrong. I reacted without listening. Without checking. I was arrogant—too confident in my own instincts."
"But what was I supposed to think? I was thrown into the field with no warning, no coordination. My partner was never properly introduced. HQ dropped the ball. Hard."
He exhaled slowly.
"I know it'll sound like an excuse," Rin said, voice steady but low, "but I had my reasons."
"Okay, it really does sound like an excuse," Rin admitted quietly, his voice rasping like gravel. He turned his eyes to the man beside him, serious and unblinking. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. I sincerely apologize for that."
The man blinked at him, caught off-guard for half a second—then scoffed, leaning back with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You apologizing that fast just makes me feel duped," he muttered. "That's it? That's all I get after nearly lying dead for a few days? Damn. Closure's overrated."
Rin gave a small sigh, the kind that said I deserve this.
"I almost died several times too… all because I mistook the wrong guy for my partner," Rin replied evenly. "If you're still mad, I won't argue. You can give me a few punches right here and now. Consider it compensation."
There was a beat of silence.
"Huh??" the guy said, eyebrows shooting up. His hand clenched slightly, his knuckles flexing out of habit, half-ready to take the offer. "As much as I'd love that…" he grunted, then sighed with exasperated amusement, "I'll let it go. Just this once."
He gestured vaguely toward Rin's bandaged body.
"You're already a mess as is. Beating on you now would feel like kicking a limping dog."
Rin gave a dry chuckle that turned into a cough halfway through.
He winced, slowly trying to push himself upright with shaking arms. Pain radiated from his core, his shoulders, his spine. Every single inch of him protested.
"Damn. I really am a mess, huh?" Rin thought, gritting his teeth as he dragged himself upright, head spinning.
That's when he noticed it—his left hand. More specifically, his ring finger. Wrapped tightly in gauze and supported by a stiff splint.
His breath caught.
His heartbeat stuttered.
His eyes locked onto the bandaged digit like it was a threat.
"Wait—what…?"
His mind flashed back violently.
The cigar cutter. The gleam of metal. Kai's calm voice. The deliberate way he'd slid Rin's ring finger into the sharp jaws—
And the sudden jolt of white-hot pain that shot up his arm just before the darkness swallowed him.
Rin stared at the finger in disbelief, trying to flex it. It twitched slightly. Still there. Still connected.
"Wait. That—there's no way..."
"Oh, that?" the man said, noticing his look. "They said it was broken."
Rin's eyes snapped to him.
"Say what??" Rin barked, voice cracking slightly.
The man raised an eyebrow.
"Did you lose your hearing, too? Is this your first time seeing a finger splint?" he asked, deadpan, clearly enjoying Rin's shocked expression.
"It wasn't… cut off?" Rin asked, genuinely confused now. The memory had been so vivid—so final.
The man tilted his head, smirk deepening.
"Was it supposed to be? What, you think you're starring in a mafia flick? Jesus. You are dramatic."
Rin looked back down at the splint, mind reeling.
"But no… no, I remember that pain. It was real. I remember the sound. The cold edge of the cutter. The pressure."
He gritted his teeth.
"I definitely felt it—the moment Kai put my finger in that cigar cutter. I was sure he was going to amputate it. I blacked out thinking I'd never use that hand again. Hell, I felt the break. It wasn't subtle."
He stared harder, as if his gaze could peel back the gauze and reveal the truth beneath.
"I can't believe it was just a fracture. How...?"
"Must've passed out right before the cutter snapped," the guy said casually, as if it were no big deal. "Lucky for you, maybe he changed his mind. Or maybe he wanted you conscious to feel it when it really happened."
Rin's stomach twisted.
"That sounds exactly like something Kai would do. Dangling the fear. Letting me stew in it. Cruel, theatrical bastard."
Still, a small breath of relief left his lungs.
"My finger's still here. I can work with that."
"So… how did you find me?" Rin asked, voice lower than usual, like he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.
Evgeny exhaled through his nose and leaned back in the chair, crutches balanced against his knee.
"I heard you were thrown off near the riverbank around the Kuzova Islands. Middle of nowhere. Not even a village within walking distance. A few Romanov agents were seen heading that way, so our people who were tailing them intercepted. Found you half-dead in the reeds, unconscious, barely breathing."
He looked at Rin, gaze steady.
"According to the doctors, your heart would've stopped if we'd arrived just a few minutes later."
Rin gave a quiet snort and turned his face to the window, though all he could see was a flat, clinical wall.
"That makes sense. There's no way that bastard would've gone out of his way to save me. He could've snapped my spine like a twig and been done with it."
"No. He wanted me to live. Just barely. Long enough to suffer. Long enough to question everything. Maybe… maybe it was his way of saying: 'If you're lucky enough to survive this, keep your head down.'"
A warning disguised as mercy.
Or was it a game? It's always a game with him.
Rin reached up and touched his neck, fingers brushing over the spot where the syringe had gone in. The skin there still ached, a dull throb radiating under the bandages. His brows knit together, pulse climbing with fresh anxiety.
"Wait…"
"But I was injected," Rin said aloud, rubbing at the sore spot. "Tantalex-93. He said that's what it was."
Evgeny blinked, expression darkening instantly.
"No. Who told you that?"
Rin looked at him, confused. "Kai did."
Evgeny's face twisted with disbelief.
"Kai? KAI?? That PSYCHOPATH?? I'm talking about your damn partner—Kaelirian Sven Romanov-Lindqvist!"
The name slammed into Rin's brain like a sledgehammer.
"Kaelirian. Sven. Romanov… Lindqvist?"
His blood ran cold. He stared at Evgeny, mouth slightly open, heart kicking into overdrive.
Evgeny, clearly not done, leaned forward, eyes blazing.
"Really? Kai?? How the hell can you say that with a straight face? That nickname is something no one with a functioning brain would use unless they wanted to die via slow dismemberment. I doubt even his own family calls him that."
Rin's mind reeled.
"Wait… 'Kai' was just what he told me."
He remembered the first encounter like a knife blade.
"The name's Kai," the man had said with that lazy, dangerous grin.
"Of course I didn't think it was his real name," Rin thought, throat tightening. "I assumed it was an alias. A throwaway name he used in the underground arms trade. That made sense. Everyone down there uses masks."
And then—
"Tsar Nochi."
A nickname that followed him like a shadow across every black market wall. A legend. A warning. A walking death sentence.
"I knew that title wasn't official. It was a reputation. A myth built off blood and fear. But I still didn't connect it to a real name. Not like this."
He blinked slowly, eyes narrowing.
"Kaelirian Sven Romanov-Lindqvist. That's not just any name. That's royalty. Romanov. Tied directly to the syndicate. That makes him…"
Rin's jaw clenched.
"That makes him not just a killer. He's the heir to one of the most dangerous arms dynasties in Europe."
Evgeny gave a low whistle, watching Rin's stunned expression with something close to pity.
"You really didn't know."
Rin shook his head slowly, feeling something cold bloom in his gut.
"He kept me close. Gained my trust. Let me believe he was just some efficient merc who had my back. He even got me out of that hotel explosion."
"But that was all part of it. He was planting seeds from day one. Using me. Studying me."
He stared at his lap, fists clenching weakly.
"I walked straight into the lion's den and shook hands with the heir."
Evgeny let the silence hang for a moment, then muttered under his breath, "We should've briefed you better."
Rin didn't answer. His mind was chewing through every second of his time with "Kai."
The warmth. The manipulation. The lies slipped in between carefully chosen truths. The casual cruelty—like it was art to him. And that goddamn smirk.
"He never needed to force me. That's the worst part."
"I followed him willingly."
Rin's breath started coming fast, uneven—his chest rose and fell like he was about to hyperventilate. His hands were trembling—not from weakness, but from pure, unfiltered rage.
He gritted his teeth.
Then, with sudden movement, he grabbed the hospital pillow behind his head and flung it across the room with a strangled growl.
"Fucking bastard—!" Rin hissed, his voice cracking as the pillow smacked uselessly against the far wall and flopped to the floor.
Evgeny didn't even flinch. He raised his one hand slightly, the other arm stump resting awkwardly in his lap, and muttered dryly:
"Hey, hey, relax. You weren't even injected with the Tantalex-93 and you're already acting like a maniac."
Rin didn't laugh. Didn't even look at him. His hands were clenched in the sheets. His jaw was so tight it hurt.
"Who the hell is he?" Rin muttered darkly, almost to himself, voice low and shaking with fury.
Evgeny squinted. "What?"
Rin turned his eyes toward him—sharp, bloodshot, focused like crosshairs.
"That Kaelerina piece of shit—"
Evgeny snorted, nearly choking.
"His name's Kaelirian. Not Kaelerina. Don't butcher it, damn."
Rin shot him a death glare, voice rising.
"I don't give a fuck what his name is! Are you gonna tell me who the fuck he is or not?!"
Evgeny raised both brows at that, clearly realizing Rin was this close to launching the IV stand across the room next. He held up his hand in surrender.
"Alright, alright. You want the truth?" He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Ever heard of the FSB?"
Rin stilled.
Of course he had.
"Federal Security Service. Russia's national intelligence agency. The post-KGB monster they pretend is 'reformed.'"
Evgeny continued before Rin could answer aloud.
"Officially, the FSB's just like PSIA. Counterterrorism. Counterintelligence. Surveillance. Same bullshit on paper."
"Unofficially? It's got blood on its hands from twenty different countries. Disappearances, assassinations, blackmail operations, political puppeteering—you name it. All under the radar. And buried within that, are two elite black ops divisions most agents don't even know about."
Rin's eyes narrowed.
Evgeny went on, voice dropping further, his tone now that of someone recounting a ghost story.
"The Oprichniki and Gruppa Vostok. Sound familiar?"
Rin nodded slowly. Whispers. Rumors. But never confirmations. He'd heard the names once or twice, always spoken in hushed voices like taboo spells. Untouchable groups—spooks among spooks.
"They're divided into five elite units. Each unit has anywhere between 150 to 250 soldiers. Ex-SVR, spetsnaz, mercenaries, the best of the worst."
Evgeny paused—then leaned back, watching Rin closely.
"But here's where it gets crazy, so pay attention."
Rin didn't breathe.
"One of those units only has one member. Just one."
Silence stretched like a noose between them.
"That one member," Evgeny said flatly, "is Kaelirian Sven Romanov-Lindqvist."
The hospital room felt colder suddenly. The hum of the machines faded into background noise. All Rin could hear was the ringing in his ears, like distant bombs echoing through time.
"…What the hell did I get pulled into…"
Evgeny continued, casually now, as if he were telling a bedtime story.
"He's not just a field agent. He's not even a soldier. He's a state-made ghost. An urban legend that just so happens to be real. Code name: Tsar Nochi.
Nobody recruits him. He shows up where he wants, does what he wants, and leaves bodies behind. The FSB built a monster and gave it diplomatic immunity."
Rin's stomach twisted.
"I shared rooms with him. Ate with him. Let my guard down around him. I let him in. He knew everything about me. I knew nothing about him."
His mind was spiraling now, but he kept his voice flat.
"And… the rest? His background?"
Evgeny raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting that question.
"Right. So, here's the fairy tale," he muttered, tone grim. "Kai—Kaelirian—was born from a scandal. His father was a decorated Romanov war strategist. A cold-blooded genius. But his mother? Swedish-German. Celebrity type. Model, actress, musician. Gorgeous. Soft-featured. Totally not the military kind."
He exhaled.
"Rumor says it was an affair. She wasn't supposed to have the kid. But she did. And then she died—some freak accident—when Kai was, like, three years old."
Evgeny gave Rin a look.
"After that? The kid vanished off the radar. Next time he pops up? He's twelve years old and already blacklisted by Interpol for a dual-country cyber-heist. That's when the FSB scooped him up."
Rin sat there in stunned silence.
His fingers gripped the blanket so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"All this time… I was dealing with a weapon, not a person."
"I let him get close. I let him choose what I knew. And all I thought I was doing was working a case. I wasn't just manipulated—I was infiltrated. The enemy walked right through the front door, smiled, and shook my damn hand."
Rin swallowed hard, then muttered under his breath.
"I'm going to kill him."
Evgeny gave a tight smile, tired and knowing.
"Yeah. Good luck with that."
Evgeny leaned back in the hospital chair with an exasperated sigh, his crutches propped against the wall beside him, his remaining hand resting on the armrest with practiced control. Despite the rough bandages across his chest and the obvious exhaustion behind his eyes, his tone was maddeningly casual.
"But like… think about it. Would you really want to be on the same team as him? He's a maniac. A fucking feral dog in a bulletproof coat. You've seen it, haven't you?"
Rin didn't answer immediately. He simply stared, expression unreadable, the tension in his jaw the only sign that Evgeny's words were digging under his skin.
"He doesn't just fight," Evgeny continued. "He reacts. And not like a soldier—like a damn animal. I've heard stories from other agents who crossed his path. The guy doesn't wait for provocation. You brush him the wrong way, he might snap your femur just for breathing too loud."
Evgeny made a chopping motion with his hand, mockingly.
"He's gone off on allies. On superiors. I even heard—and get this—it's all hush-hush, but supposedly, he killed one of his own uncles. Poisoned him. Some messed-up homebrew neurotoxin cocktail he brewed up in a flask like some gothic chemist."
Rin blinked, a flash of something cold running down his spine.
"Allegedly," Evgeny added with a thin smile. "The uncle tried harassing his older sister. Anastasia, I think her name was. So, Kaelirian did what Kaelirian does. No due process. No threats. Just action. Permanent action."
"He killed his own blood for hurting someone he cared about... with no hesitation. No trial. No warning."
"But does that make him a monster? Or just someone who never believed justice existed to begin with?"
Evgeny went on, his tone shifting as he exhaled slowly.
"Some say he's a genius. IQ off the charts. Fluent in over a dozen languages. Strategic mastermind. Reads people like open books. He can kill, manipulate, charm, or vanish depending on what the mission calls for."
Rin finally spoke, his voice low.
"He always says it was self-defense."
Evgeny laughed, a dry bitter sound.
"Self-defense my ass. That man has the emotional control of a landmine and the ego of a dictator. The FSB keeps him on a leash so long as he's useful, but let's be honest—one of these days, he'll even burn them down."
Rin folded his hands in his lap, his knuckles tight again.
"High intelligence, sociopathic charm, a trigger-happy temper, and a body count that's more rumor than record. What was I even doing near someone like that? Why the hell did I let myself trust him for so long? Was I really that blind... or was I just that desperate to believe someone had my back?"