"They said the agent's being treated in a small clinic in Irkutsk," Vseslav finally said, glancing toward the untouched reports on his desk. "You should've finished the job. If you were done playing with him, you should've killed him."
Kai barely looked up from stirring his coffee, the spoon clinking softly against porcelain.
"Mmm," he hummed, eyes hooded. "But where's the fun in that?"
He set the spoon down and rested his chin lazily on his palm, legs crossed elegantly as if he hadn't just been accused of attempted murder.
"I wasn't giving him any special treatment. Please. He would've died had they arrived a few hours later. That's not on me. Blame the world for being soft."
Vseslav frowned, pacing slightly. "Still. You kept him alive after you were done. That's not like you."
His voice was low now, like he was talking about something delicate. Fragile. Dangerous.
"Haven't you always had a system? You mark your prey, carve them up until they're hollow, then toss what's left. You've never deviated from that cycle. Why is this one different?"
For a moment, Kai didn't respond. He looked up slowly, the flicker of candlelight reflecting in his pale irises — too light, too cold, like they belonged to something that shouldn't be allowed to feel.
"Why are you so concerned, Vseslav?" Kai asked smoothly. "Worried I'm forming an attachment?"
Vseslav's jaw tensed. "I'm worried you're underestimating someone you shouldn't have touched in the first place."
Kai grinned, the corners of his mouth curling like a cat toying with a dying bird.
"Come on," he said, leaning back in the chair. "He's just barely alive right now. He can't even stand without the hospital monitors throwing a tantrum. His body is wrecked, his mind's probably halfway between denial and dissociation... and you actually think he'll try to come back for revenge?"
He chuckled — low and slow, like it was a private joke only he understood.
"It's cute you think he still has the will for that."
'Will' he said — as if it was a switch someone could flip. Like Kai hadn't cracked Rin's bones with his own hands. Like he hadn't looked Rin in the eyes while he stripped away his dominance, his pride, and imprinted him against his will.
Vseslav's eyes narrowed. "You've never let someone live this long before. Especially not after imprinting them."
"Exactly," Kai replied smoothly. "That's what makes it so deliciously interesting."
He tapped his fingers lightly against the porcelain cup.
"You think I see him as some great exception? You give me too much credit. He was useful. Loyal. Sweetly self-righteous. You know how much I love a self-righteous little soldier."
Kai's eyes gleamed.
"They always fight the hardest when they realize they're breaking. I wanted to watch that. I am watching it — like a flower blooming in reverse, petals tearing away. Beautiful."
Vseslav swallowed down the revulsion in his throat.
"You're playing with fire, Kaelirian. Enigma or not, that man is an alpha — or was. That means his instincts aren't going to stay broken. One day he's going to snap."
Kai leaned forward slightly, the grin dropping for just a fraction of a second, eyes gleaming with something more primal.
"Good," he said. "I want him to."
"Because if he ever finds the strength to crawl out of that hospital bed and come for me..." he whispered, voice silken, "...I'll finally get to break him again. Only this time, I won't stop at imprinting."
He stood, brushing invisible lint off his jacket.
"You think I'm afraid of what he'll do?" Kai murmured. "I hope he hates me. I hope it eats him alive. Because hate, Vseslav, is a leash with far more uses than love ever had."
Vseslav's gaze darkened.
"You're sick."
Kai smirked, unbothered. "That's the most accurate compliment you've ever given me."
"So," Vseslav began, voice clipped, "have you completed Persephone?"
Kai's fingers stilled, the silver ring glinting under the light. He tilted his head slightly, lips curling into a slow, deliberate smile — the kind that never quite reached his eyes.
"Who wants to know?" he drawled. "Dmitry? The President? Some other desperate fossil pretending they still run the world?"
Vseslav didn't bite. "You said you'd consider it, if you became interested. Am I to assume you're still dragging your heels?"
Kai gave a theatrical sigh, stretching out like a bored cat.
"I did think about finally playing with it after the Irkutsk mess was cleaned up." He paused, gaze flicking to Vseslav's eyes. "But then I met you today — and seeing the way your vein twitches when you're stressed... it reminded me why it's so much more entertaining to let everyone sweat."
He grinned, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.
"I mean, look at them... all those little insects buzzing around, whispering Persephone, Persephone like it's some god-tier salvation. Starved dogs waiting to gnaw on the scraps I leave behind. How could I possibly spoil the tension by finishing it now?"
Vseslav's expression remained unreadable, but his patience thinned visibly. He didn't want to ask — he hated having to ask — but he did anyway.
"You killed Ao Takeda, didn't you."
Kai's grin widened like a shark's.
"Which one was he again? Ahh, right—" he snapped his fingers. "The yappy one. Came charging at me like a comic book vigilante. Said something dramatic like, 'You killed my father!' And all the while... he didn't even notice his own arms were being pulled apart like petals off a daisy."
He snorted, laughing to himself.
"You should've seen his face. Big, round eyes, full of betrayal — like I was the one who owed him something."
Vseslav stared at him, unmoved.
"So it was you."
"Mhm. The idiot practically begged for it," Kai replied, his tone light. "I obliged. I'm charitable like that."
There was a pause. Then, from Kai — deceptively calm:
"Tell me, Vseslav... do you regret it?"
The older brother blinked. "What?"
Kai leaned forward slightly, all traces of amusement gone. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, sharp as a knife pressed to skin.
"Sending me there. That day. To the Institute. To him. Do you regret choosing me?"
The silence stretched.
Vseslav's response came low and cold.
"I regret trusting you. And I regret thinking for even a moment that you'd do what you were told — for once in your damn life. Father regrets it too."
Kai gave a slow, mocking clap.
"Touching," he said. "A family reunion of disappointment."
Then, his smile vanished, replaced by something colder — a flash of rage beneath the calm, like embers glowing under ash.
"But let me make one thing clear," he said, voice low but venomous. "Stop drooling over what belongs to me."
Vseslav narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
Kai stood, closing the distance between them in a few unhurried steps. His presence was suffocating — a wolf in perfume and silk.
"It belongs to me now," he said, slowly, deliberately. "I don't plan to use it for anyone else's gain — not yours, not father's, not this bloated government choking on its own lies."
His tone turned sharp, guttural.
"And once I grow bored of it... I'll break it. With my own hands. Because that's my right."
The words hit like a slap — not screamed, but declared.
"So do me a favor," Kai added with a cruel smile, turning back toward his coffee. "Tell your lapdogs to stop circling my door. I've tolerated you all long enough."
"Honestly," he added, "it's such a pain in the ass."...
The tension in the room hadn't even begun to settle when the sharp ding of a notification echoed through the sleek, high-ceilinged space — not once, but twice. Both of Vseslav's phones buzzed simultaneously on the polished surface of his oak desk, the vibration humming like a warning.
Kai's head snapped toward them instantly, grin twitching with interest.
"Ah. Look at that," he said, smoothing down the collar of his silk-lined coat with exaggerated flair. "It seems the world is missing me already."
He rose slowly from the desk like a cat stretching after a nap — unhurried, confident, vaguely predatory. Not a single movement wasted. Kai always moved like he was being watched — because in his mind, he always was.
"Alright, I should be going now," he drawled.
Vseslav narrowed his eyes at him. "What, off to stage your next national scandal?"
Kai gave him a wounded look — overly dramatic, hand to chest like a tragic widow.
"Now now, brother dearest. Don't be cruel."
Vseslav exhaled sharply. "You're spying on family members now? Seriously? One day, I will sue you for invasion of privacy."
Kai's eyes glinted with mischief — the kind that said he'd already read every single file Vseslav had, including that one time he Googled "how to kill your brother and get away with it."
Then, in a deliberately exaggerated, Shakespearean Russian-accented tone, Kai responded:
"Oh, how doth thy noble voice tremble with threat and fury! Dost thou seek to sue thine own blood? Oh! Woe is me, betrayed by mine kin — in the court of law and heart!"
He dramatically clutched his invisible pearls, and then grinned so wide it was nearly unhinged.
"Sue away, dear brother. I'll have the prosecution crying and the judge under my thumb by lunch."
Vseslav looked done.
"Tell Yaroslav I said hi, by the way," Kai added breezily, halfway to the door. "And give kisses to his kids. Can you believe it? I'm someone's uncle now…"
He paused to laugh — genuinely, audibly — like it was the most absurd joke in the world.
"Uncle Kaelirian. Hah. The horror."
Then, without waiting for a reply, he threw open the door and strutted out into the marble hallway like he was leaving a runway. Two guards stiffened as he passed. He winked at one — the taller one — just to be petty.
The soft hum of luxury engines echoed faintly in the stone-cold garage as Kai made his way to his vehicle: a matte black Bentley Continental GT, sleek as a predator at midnight. Every inch of it oozed wealth, vanity, and control — just like him.
He clicked the remote.
Lights blinked once. The beast awoke.
Sliding into the driver's seat, Kai adjusted the mirror, catching a glimpse of his own reflection — and smirking at it like an inside joke.
"What an incredibly boring afternoon," he muttered to himself as he revved the engine — a purr turning into a growl.
There was a glint of something in his eyes. Anticipation? Disdain? Hunger?
"I need new toys," he sighed, resting one hand casually on the gear shift. "This whole damn country is starting to feel like a dollhouse with missing pieces…"
And with that, the Bentley pulled out of the garage with a quiet roar, tires whispering secrets against the concrete.
No destination. No map.
Just Kai — the world's most dangerous enigma — loose on the streets of Moscow again, with too much power and far too much free time.
The Bentley coasted to a stop just outside the iron-wrought gates, its matte-black body like a shadow refusing to fade in the mellow gold of the late-afternoon sun. Kai stepped out, his coat billowing slightly in the gentle breeze, hair tousled from the drive. The usual arrogance in his gait was dulled today — just slightly — like a radio turned down one notch too low to be noticed by anyone but the most observant.
In his hand, he carried a bouquet. Fresh white lilies and pale blue delphiniums, tied together with a silver ribbon — expensive, elegant, and painfully meticulous in arrangement. Not something a person like Kai would typically bother with. But here, at this grave… details mattered.
He walked quietly along the gravel path, every step sounding soft and unnatural — like someone moving through a dream. The towering birch trees surrounding the graveyard whispered gently overhead, their leaves brushing against each other like the rustle of silk skirts at an old ball. This was one of the few places in Russia that still smelled untouched — pine needles, damp soil, and something faintly floral clinging to the air.
And then he saw it.
Astrid Freja Lindqvist
Beloved Mother. Musician. Actress. Dreamer.
1977– 2004
Her gravestone was as simple as it was poetic — polished black granite shaped like an upright violin, the engraving done in an elegant script. No unnecessary embellishments. No grand mausoleum. Just a single candle holder built into the base, and a faded portrait inset into the stone — a black and white photograph of a young woman with wide Nordic eyes, soft waves of blonde hair, and the kind of smile people don't wear anymore.
Kai knelt, slowly. Like the ground itself was different here.
"Hey, Mummy…" he muttered, setting down the bouquet gently beside the stone. "Happy birthday…"
He pulled a small box of long white candles from the inner pocket of his coat, removed one, and lit it with a vintage lighter — a sleek silver thing that sparked with a snap.
The flame flickered, casting a small, warm halo in the growing shadows.
Kai sighed, then slumped forward into a lazy sit, arms resting on his bent knees. His voice was quieter now. Less performative. Still Kai — but Kai stripped down, just a little.
"Sorry I came this late… I was talking to Vseslav. You know how that goes."
A pause. His eyes scanned the grave, tracing the shape of the letters as though memorizing them anew.
"Not gonna lie, Maa… today's been weird. But what else is new, right?"
He exhaled, pressing the bridge of his nose between two fingers — a rare moment of restraint, like he was trying to hold something in. Then he chuckled under his breath. Bitter. Tired.
"You know, sometimes I wonder if I'm turning into Father… or if I was just always like this. You never got to see me grow up, so maybe I was always a little wrong. Maybe Yaroslav was right that day. Maybe I should've died the moment Silver did."
His lips curled upward in a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.
"But you would've never said that. You'd just hum something soft and Swedish and kiss my forehead like I was normal."
The candle crackled softly between them.
"They say I'm a monster now," Kai continued, voice quieter. "They look at me like I'm some ticking bomb wrapped in designer fabric. And they're not wrong. I think I enjoy being feared. Maybe too much. I know it disappoints you."
He looked up at the grave, at her picture — that half-smile that seemed to hold a thousand unsung lullabies.
"But you're still the only one I ever wanted to impress."
And there it was. The confession. Tiny. Hidden in the spaces between his teeth and the folds of his shadow. He didn't cry. Kai never cried. But the silence that followed was wet somehow. Like the air thickened. Like grief had slipped in without asking.
Then, as if catching himself, he let out a sharp exhale and slapped his knees, rising to his feet with the grace of a panther.
"Anyway," he muttered, brushing dirt from his pants. "I'm done sulking. Can't have people thinking I've gone soft, yeah?"
He stood in front of her grave a moment longer, then reached down and adjusted the bouquet slightly — twisting it to face the candle's glow.
"You deserved better," he whispered. "But don't worry… I'll keep burning this world down in your honor."
A pause.
"Happy birthday, Mummy."
With that, he turned and walked away without looking back — the shadows of the birch trees dappled across his face like fractured glass.