Chapter 0B
Forty Years Ago…
February 7, 1965 – Moscow, Soviet Union
Light rain fell gently on the aging streets of Moscow. Each droplet shimmered like shards of glass as they descended, their soft pattering against stone echoing like the delicate rhythms of an autumn melody. Slowly, the rain seeped into the cracks of the weathered Soviet architecture, washing the surface of a city that had once stood tall as the proud monument of a rising superpower—yet now bore the cracks of an empire stretched too thin.
On the sidewalks, drunkards staggered, clutching bottles of vodka as if it were their last lifeline. Children darted through the rain, delivering letters from door to door. Mothers hurried to pull laundry in from balconies on the second floors, rushing to save their clothes from the downpour.
And yet, beneath this small bustle, Moscow carried a heavier weight. Though it still glimmered with symbols of Soviet pride—luxurious cars driving past, Red Army soldiers patrolling in their immaculate uniforms with AK rifles slung across their shoulders—the city was also suffused with hunger and fatigue. Behind closed doors, tired mothers rationed every crumb, while children asked questions no parent wanted to answer:
"Mama, what are we eating tonight?"
"Is there anything at all, Mama?"
It was the paradox of the great Soviet capital—splendor and decay, power and desperation—woven tightly together.
But within this gray tapestry, there were three figures who did not belong. Their presence stood out like misplaced brushstrokes in a fading mural. Their hair, their eyes, their very bearing were unlike the typical Muscovite faces around them. These three were Elena, Lucas, and Sora.
Elena slept soundly, sprawled across Lucas's back. Her soft "Zzz… Zzz…" mingled with the rainfall, drool trickling down his shoulder, washed away almost immediately by the rain. To Lucas, though, it was torment. His jaw clenched tight, brow twitching, his arms red and strained from carrying what felt less like a companion and more like a stone statue chained to him. His drenched clothes clung uncomfortably to his body, his golden hair plastered against his head like a drowned rat's fur.
Every drop of rain in his eyes stung. Every muscle screamed. His face twisted with the regret of every decision that had led him to this absurd moment: wandering Moscow in a storm with a half-dead weight clinging to him and a companion who only knew how to complain.
That companion, of course, was Sora.
She shuffled beside him, her back hunched like a ninety-year-old woman with a broken spine. Her yawns stretched so wide it was a wonder her jaw didn't unhinge. Half-asleep, she lazily turned to glance at Lucas, her words dragged out in a tone both tired and teasing.
Sora
> "Hey… why are we even here? And why the hell do we have to wear these stupid Soviet uniforms…?"
Another yawn. She tilted her head toward Lucas again, lips curling into a mischievous pout, her voice adopting an almost childlike whine.
Sora
> "Neee, Oni~chan… let's go home already… Pleaseee… pleaseee… I'm sooo tired…"
She tugged at his sleeve, her big pleading eyes shimmering with faux innocence. To anyone else, she would have looked unbearably cute, like a cat begging for affection. But to Lucas, it was pure torture.
He groaned, eyebrows furrowing, rage simmering beneath the exhaustion of carrying Elena's dead weight. His voice came out harsh, edged with fatigue.
Lucas
> "Alright, Sora. If you've got the energy to whine, or to act cute like that… then do me a favor and at least grab me an umbrella."
He turned, casting a scathing glance at the still-sleeping Elena on his back. His legs trembled under the weight, his face pale with strain, every breath heavy with irritation. Meanwhile, Sora smirked, her eyes narrowing as her voice slipped into a mocking sing-song.
Sora
> "Oh come on, Miss Grumpy. Lighten up. We don't even know how long we'll be stuck here, so why not just… enjoy the view? Kkk~"
Lucas froze, eyes twitching.
Lucas
> "For the last time… I'm a man. A man. Do I have to spell it out? I have a damn—"
But before he could finish his indignant declaration, Sora's eyes snapped toward a reflection in a shattered shop window. Her pupils narrowed. She heard them—boots slamming hard against the wet pavement.
Three men.
Soviet soldiers.
Two clutched AK-47s, their barrels gleaming under the gray light, while the third, a commanding officer, strode with authority that radiated even from a distance. Behind them, massive guard dogs strained against their leashes, muscles taut, teeth bared, snarls echoing through the rain.
Sora's playful demeanor evaporated in an instant. Her eyes sharpened, her tone low and deadly.
Sora
> "Three… two… one… Run."
Before Lucas could protest, her grip clamped around his wrist with bruising force. In one fluid motion, she hoisted him—and Elena still draped over him—up onto her shoulder. Lucas's joints popped with a painful crack, his teeth grinding as agony ripped through his arm.
And then she was gone—blasting forward with speed that shattered the mud puddles beneath her feet, weaving effortlessly between startled pedestrians. Her movements were inhumanly sharp, avoiding every obstacle with terrifying precision.
She vaulted through windows, bounded across alleys, and scaled walls with the momentum of a predator, carrying both her companions as if they were nothing but rag dolls.
From the rooftops of Moscow, the world opened around them. The storm had broken, sunlight piercing through heavy clouds. Eastern European rooftops stretched in tight rows, their damp tiles glowing faintly under the light. Smokestacks exhaled thick industrial fumes, painting the air black, while far ahead loomed the Winter Palace itself—its spires shimmering, the Soviet flag whipping in the cold wind.
For a moment, even Sora's eyes softened, glowing with awe.
Sora
> "Beautiful…"
But the spell broke as Lucas pinched her shoulder hard, his voice rising in panic.
Lucas
> "You crazy idiot—look where you're going!"
Too late.
They slammed directly into a smokestack. The metal groaned under the impact, denting inward as a cloud of thick, choking smoke erupted in their faces, engulfing them in suffocating black.
[To be continued]
Author's secret revealed: Lucas once had a secret crush on Sora