Codename Anastasia Novel (End) - Chapter 18

The Bogdanov family mansion truly surpassed all imagination. Its scale and luxurious exterior seemed to rival even the Kremlin.

The blue roof perched atop the white walls boasted a grand yet restrained aesthetic. The harmonious blend of Rococo’s distinctive soft curves and dazzling gold ornamentation elevated its noble grandeur. Precisely carved circular stone steps and massive marble pillars supported the high ceiling. A sense of austere inaccessibility emanated even from the large, heavy main gate. Localized lighting wrapped around the entire building cast a dreamlike atmosphere.

The deepening shadow of the main gate stretched across the lawn. The gate, which had remained closed, quietly opened past midnight. Cars, arriving in a steady stream even at that late hour, crossed the vast garden. The mansion was situated by a large lake, requiring a considerable drive even after passing the main gate. Neatly landscaped trees lining the narrow path discreetly concealed the interior of the mansion, like prison walls.

Given the distinguished status of the guests, security was exceptionally tight. Every visitor had to obtain entry permission twice: once at the main gate, and again after passing the long driveway where the main garden began. Kwon Taekjoo’s car was no exception.

An armed bodyguard approached and knocked. Following the instruction, the window was lowered, and four or five pieces of information were verified: possession of the physical invitation, the name listed on the attendance roster, vehicle number, presence of companions, and even the relationship with said companions. Everything had to match the pre-notified details, and there was no exception whatsoever.

“May I see your invitation?”

He readily complied. The bodyguard brought a reader equipped with a special lamp to the invitation envelope. Soon, a mark invisible to the naked eye was revealed. A clear electronic sound rang out from the device that recognized the mark. Immediately, the bodyguard peered into the car, to confirm the passenger.

It seemed that not only invisible processing to verify the authenticity of the invitation, but also recipient information had been programmed. When the reader recognized the invitation’s serial number, the individual’s personal details were displayed on the monitor. Their determination to thoroughly block uninvited guests was evident.

After scrutinizing the back seat, the bodyguard eventually said, “Thank you for your cooperation,” and stepped back. Because of this, a continuous, almost stagnant flow ensued from the main gate to the garden entrance, and then from the garden entrance to the front of the mansion.

“What kind of grand party is this? they’re filming a spy movie collectively?” Kwon Taekjoo grumbled with a feigned bored expression. “And I’m the only one playing along with this ridiculous charade. Is the world truly fair?”

He glared into the rearview mirror, complaining. His eyes met Zhenya’s, who was sitting in the back. The corner of the bastard’s eyes curved silently.

“Since I’m the one invited, there’s nothing for it, is there? There are only two ways for an uninvited guest to attend a party: act as the guest’s driver, like now, or become their lover. If you don’t like the former, you should have disguised yourself as the latter, shouldn’t you? That would have been something to see.”

“There’s also the method of subduing a guard and changing clothes. With so many of them, they wouldn’t notice if one went missing, would they?”

“Are you the type who likes to suffer needlessly? Unless you’re itching to use your strength, save it for when you need it.”

He wasn’t wrong. He didn’t know how they’d secured it, but with a formal invitation in hand, there was no need to cause unnecessary trouble. It was just disagreeable to have to serve Zhenya like a master, even for a moment.

Unable to contain himself, the bastard told him to close the window. There was clearly an open/close button in the back seat, but he wouldn’t lift a finger. Kwon Taekjoo glared at him through the rearview mirror, then reluctantly rolled up the window.

Soon, they arrived in front of the mansion. He pulled the car over to the side and engaged the parking brake. Zhenya remained motionless throughout.

“What are you doing, not getting out?”

“That’s what I should be asking. Did you forget something?”

When he asked with a bewildered expression, Zhenya gestured towards the back door. Kwon Taekjoo’s incredulous look was met with a nod, as if to say, ‘Exactly.’ There were many eyes watching outside the car. A house employee was also approaching for valet parking. There was no choice.

With a deep sigh, he got out of the driver’s seat. Then, he walked around the car and opened the back door. Zhenya leaned out diagonally and emerged. Perhaps due to his unusually leisurely movements, Zhenya’s gaze seemed to slowly trace Kwon Taekjoo’s face. One corner of the bastard’s mouth was unmistakably turned up.

“Please come this way.”

The waiting employees guided Zhenya with utmost courtesy. Kwon Taekjoo hastily followed behind them.

After ascending a dozen steps, a massive main gate appeared. Its height seemed to be at least 4 meters. The guards pulled both doors open. The interior of the Bogdanov family mansion was finally revealed.

“…”

A world completely different from the outside unfolded. An endlessly high ceiling and an expansive hall, as if an entire cathedral nave had been relocated, overwhelmed visitors from the moment they stepped into the entrance. The spotless white walls and pillars boasted delicate dignity, and the gold ornamentation showcased maximum aristocracy within minimal areas. The light emanating from the lavish chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow, naturally dilating the pupils. The toned-down ceiling frescoes embraced the interior with neither excess nor deficiency. Large and small sculptures were placed on the monotonous walls to eliminate boredom. A small orchestra was actively performing on the balcony-style landing. Lively yet subtle melodies filled the vast space without disrupting conversation.

“I feel like throwing up.”

At his muttered words, Zhenya suddenly looked back at Kwon Taekjoo. One might expect him to be captivated by such an extraordinary, enchanting sight, but he already wore a disgusted expression. Of course, Zhenya hadn’t expected him to offer effusive sentiments like “It’s beautiful” or “I feel like I’ve stepped into a fairy tale.” From the start, he seemed to lack aesthetic judgment and wasn’t the type to indulge in princely fantasies. Even so, for his impression upon entering a place he might visit only once in his life to be merely “I feel like throwing up”… Zhenya stared at Kwon Taekjoo’s impassive face for a moment, then turned his gaze away with a chuckle.

Many people had already gathered in the main hall. They formed groups of three or four, chatting. Among them, one person particularly caught Kwon Taekjoo’s eye: the President of Russia. Although he had seen his face countless times in the media, seeing him up close felt unreal.

“Welcome.”

While he was observing the internal situation, a middle-aged servant approached and greeted him with extreme deference. He seemed to be a butler or the overall manager of the banquet. Zhenya brushed past him without a reply and entered the hall. A man with an upright posture blocked Kwon Taekjoo, who was about to follow him unconsciously.

“The driver, this way.”

He extended his arm and pointed to a side passage. At a glance, it looked like a space primarily used by employees. Kwon Taekjoo urgently looked at Zhenya, but the bastard just went his own way without looking back. It was always like this. He called himself a partner, yet he was completely useless at crucial moments.

“Shall we go?”

The general manager subtly urged him. As a mere driver, it was difficult to resist further. He reluctantly headed to the designated area. The last he saw of Zhenya, he was already mingling with other distinguished guests. Someone who didn’t stick out in Russia’s top royal club… Just what was Zhenya’s true identity?

Suddenly, Kwon Taekjoo’s eyes sharpened. All emotion vanished from his hardened face.

The place they arrived at, guided by the servant, was a storage room next to the kitchen. It was a space for uninvited guests, including Kwon Taekjoo. As soon as he stepped inside, the door closed behind him.

Those gathered in the room seemed accustomed to such treatment, simply looking at their phones. Some were playing chess or sharing jokes. If this was the case, why bother letting employees into the mansion at all? Wouldn’t it be better to keep them in the car? If there was a reason, it would be to be prepared for a sudden call from their employer. He clicked his tongue at the highly inefficient scene. Unlike them, having something to do was a relief.

Now, with the party in full swing, was the perfect opportunity to dig for secrets. To do that, he needed to get out of here and return to the main hall where the key figures were.

But there was no suitable pretext. As a driver, he would probably need permission just to go to the restroom. If he was caught making a sudden move, his identity would immediately be suspected. Should he trust Zhenya and wait? No, that wouldn’t do.

What should he do? He kept pacing near the door, pondering a way to get out. The employees watched his unusual restlessness with curiosity but quickly lost interest. It seemed that if he quietly slipped out, none of them would notice.

Kwon Taekjoo confirmed that no one was watching him and quietly opened the door. He cautiously created a gap, wary of any sound from the hinges. He detected movement through the crack, sensing alcohol and food being carried. He watched for the right timing, then quickly slipped out. He swiftly closed the door again. He didn’t relax until his hand was completely off the doorknob. Only when the door was securely shut did he finally exhale the breath he’d been holding. The bustling corridor was empty save for Kwon Taekjoo.

He had to devise a way to return to the main hall before someone appeared. First, he began walking away from the kitchen. Not far ahead, he saw a corridor that turned sideways. Everything was going smoothly.

“Where are you going?”

Until that unwelcome voice was heard. He paused and turned around, seeing the general manager he had encountered earlier standing tall. A new wariness appeared in his eyes as he looked at Kwon Taekjoo. He had to make an excuse somehow.

“To the restroom.”

He tried his best to look awkward. It was a physiological need that any human would understand. Yet, the general manager’s suspicion didn’t easily dissipate. He silently scrutinized Kwon Taekjoo, piece by piece. Kwon Taekjoo met his gaze without flinching. He even forced a slight smile. Dealing with someone whose job it was to handle people wasn’t easy to trick. His questioning eyes felt like glass shards scraping against his skin.

Before long, he motioned for a waiter who was coming out of the kitchen.

“Escort this gentleman to the restroom.”

He was letting him go because he claimed urgency, but still seemed reluctant. The waiter approached Kwon Taekjoo and said, “This way, please.” Unfortunately, the restroom was in the opposite direction from the hall. He had no choice but to nod respectfully to the general manager and follow the waiter.

The restroom was located near the kitchen. It seemed to be primarily used by employees. While walking there, he thoroughly scanned the ceiling, walls, pillars, windows, and their crevices, but saw no CCTV cameras.

“Here it is. Then.”

The waiter nodded and turned away. Kwon Taekjoo, who had been moving aside to let him pass, suddenly grabbed his shoulder.

“Why…”

“You should take a break.”

“Huh?”

The waiter looked puzzled. But not for long. Kwon Taekjoo had suddenly struck him in a vital spot. The waiter, who had flinched from the impact, quickly lost consciousness. Kwon Taekjoo dragged him into a stall.

A moment later, Kwon Taekjoo emerged, perfectly dressed as a waiter. He kicked open the door of the stall where the original owner of the clothes was. There was a sound of something falling inside. It was the sound of a mop, leaning diagonally, hitting the opposite wall. It would take some time for the waiter to be discovered. He had to take care of everything before then.

Without delay, he headed for the kitchen.

“Whiskey! Where’s the canapé person! You idiots, move it!”

Outside, an elegant banquet was in full swing, but the kitchen was a war zone. The red-faced chef, who had been constantly yelling, thrust a single malt tray into Kwon Taekjoo’s arms just as he entered the kitchen. He shoved him roughly in the back, telling him not to be a slug. Just like that, he was chased back outside.

He was flustered, but it was a good opportunity to enter the hall. Kwon Taekjoo closely followed another waiter who was ahead of him. Thanks to that, he was able to return to the main hall without getting lost. He encountered the general manager again at the hall entrance, but he raised the tray to cover his face.

The hall had grown even more crowded. While occupying the same space, the faces were all different. In one corner, people discussed matters of national importance with serious expressions, while in another, men and women mingled and laughed loudly. Children, unwillingly dragged along, either dozed off, munched on snacks, or sat like dolls. It was hard to find any trace of childish innocence in any of them.

He moved appropriately among the distinguished guests, offering single malts. At the same time, he naturally eavesdropped on their conversations. Perhaps because it was such an open space, there was nothing particularly interesting to hear. And yet, someone who knew Anastasia’s whereabouts was surely among them.

He decided to narrow down his targets. The special lens worn on his left eye briefly displayed a person’s profile if he focused on them for more than three seconds. For example, if he stared at Lomonosov for three seconds, “Valery Antonovich Lomonosov, President of Russia” would appear and disappear in a corner of his vision.

Kwon Taekjoo slowly rolled his left eye, checking each guest’s face one by one. High-ranking government officials, including the President, renowned magnates from around the world, and even notorious mafiosi were mingled in one place.

“That suits you well too.”

He was chuckling faintly at the amusing sight when a familiar voice suddenly spoke. He turned his head to find Zhenya had appeared beside him. Zhenya reached out and took a glass of single malt. Kwon Taekjoo smiled brightly, conscious of the surrounding attention. Occasionally, he offered a drink to those who passed by them.

Zhenya quietly swirled the alcohol in his glass and mumbled. “Isn’t this a strange place? It’s so crowded, yet there are no real people here.”

He almost asked, ‘What?’ It was such an unexpected comment that for a moment, Kwon Taekjoo wondered if he had misheard. Then, he suddenly realized his situation and shut his mouth. His eyes, however, uneasily scanned Zhenya. The bastard leisurely brought the glass to his lips, changing the subject as if his previous mutterings had been Kwon Taekjoo’s imagination.

“The man with Lomonosov now is Bogdanov’s second son, Bajim Vissarionovich. He’s known as one of the President’s closest confidantes. They say he enjoys horseback riding together once a week. And he’s said to have the most influence among Duma deputies? Every public project pushed by the Russian government has to pass through his hands before receiving the President’s approval, so that says it all.”

Come to think of it, wasn’t the head of the Bogdanov family the de facto representative of Gazprom? It made perfect sense that the President’s closest confidant and influential Duma deputy was his second son. It explained the background of the successful energy facility construction contract with Japan and why the Bogdanov family became its biggest beneficiary.

Zhenya quickly emptied his glass and placed it on the tray. He immediately took another glass and pointed to an old man.

“That man sitting in the wheelchair is Vissarion Romanovich, the real power behind the state-owned enterprise Gazprom. The Bogdanov family rose to its current position thanks to that old man’s firm grip on the energy industry. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, abundant resources became a source of funds and an economic backbone, which is why this country has endured until now. The one who governs Russia is the president, but the ones who actually control it are oligarchs like him.”

The true nature of the Bogdanov family was far more immense than he had imagined. At that point, he slowly became curious about the remaining family members. Kwon Taekjoo rapidly scanned his eyes, searching for the Bogdanov family’s eldest son, Vladimir Vissarionovich. When he ultimately failed to find him, he grabbed a single malt and thrust it at Zhenya. Zhenya, understanding the meaning, chuckled. He calmly accepted the glass and said, “Here he comes.”

Kwon Taekjoo turned his head in the direction Zhenya was looking and saw a man descending the stairs, shaking hands with the guests. Unexpectedly, he had a small build and a sensitive impression.

“They say the eldest son, Vladimir, will inherit the family business. When Vissarion Romanovich dies, he’ll become Russia’s foremost energy magnate. Slaves beget slaves, and kings beget kings, after all. He’s already drawing more attention in the industry than his father. Some predict that the family business will prosper even more in his hands.”

“Everyone’s got a position. Then what about Psikh Bogdanov, that bastard? Is he an illegitimate child Vissarion Romanovich had outside? A street thug like him, he really doesn’t fit in with this royal family.”

“Not entirely. Strictly speaking, he’s a civil servant.”

Kwon Taekjoo involuntarily whirls around to face Zhenya. This time, he must have misheard. Or Zhenya was telling a ridiculous joke. However, Zhenya merely met Kwon Taekjoo’s gaze with a perfectly composed expression.

It was absurd. A man who tried to kidnap an innocent foreigner, a civil servant? A bastard who fires a bazooka in broad daylight, in the middle of the city, a civil servant… A passing dog would laugh.

But Zhenya did not correct himself. He merely elaborated further on Psikh Bogdanov.

“He has a deep understanding of the military industry. And he’s quite resourceful. In the underworld, where private arms deals are rampant, there’s probably no one who doesn’t know him.”

The underworld meant the world of mafias. It was already a well-known fact that mafias had rapidly emerged as a new economic force in Russia. In the past, mafias maintained their power through illegal activities such as prostitution, human trafficking, drug distribution, and violence, but in the early 1990s, they turned their attention to the military industry. As a result, they earned profits beyond expectations, and the military industry, along with the energy industry, became the twin pillars of Russian plutocracy today.

Most of the weapons developed in Russia are traded through the mafia. This is because it yields higher profits than going through official and legal procedures. The government could not possibly be unaware of the sales channels for cutting-edge weapons created with state funds. They either turned a blind eye knowingly or willingly cooperated. As long as they provided a powerful source of funds, the mafia were not a nuisance or an enemy, but brothers. The Bogdanov family was the living proof of that.

Before Vissarion Romanovich, the Bogdanov family had not stood out in the business world. Their rapid rise occurred immediately after the collapse of the Soviet Union, a period when new chaebols rapidly grew. It was precisely then, when the mafias of the underworld, a hotbed of crime, expanded their power into politics and economics, taking advantage of social upheavals. It might be an overstatement, but if one assumes that the Bogdanov family shares roots with the mafia, everything makes sense. Even the circumstances that forced them to remain hidden before the 90s.

And he could also guess why Psikh Bogdanov was called Russia’s “nucleus.” The bastard was part of the royal family, yet his feet remained firmly in the underworld. He had effectively become a bridge, allowing the two divided economies to communicate smoothly.

Then, was he also the one who spearheaded the development of ‘Anastasia’? Was Morgan also killed after approaching him with such a suspicion? There was no clear evidence, but he was strongly inclined to believe it.

He was fiercely continuing his deductions when Zhenya suddenly said, “The tray is empty.” Just as he hinted, the tray was indeed full of empty glasses. Any other waiter would have returned to the kitchen before all the food disappeared, to maintain the party’s dignity. But he had been so engrossed in Zhenya’s story that he’d lost track of time. He consciously looked towards the kitchen passage and saw the general manager from before glancing at him suspiciously.

“I need to go back.”

“Before that, listen to this. A little while ago, I saw Psikh Bogdanov go upstairs. Aleksey Perov and Yuri Repin secretly followed him.”

Aleksey Perov and Yuri Repin were the Russian Minister of Defense and Minister of Foreign Affairs. Those two and Psikh Bogdanov were having a secret meeting. He needed to find out what they were discussing.

“I’ll provide cover fire, so keep your comms on.”

He was about to rush back to the kitchen when Zhenya’s parting advice followed. His tone somehow fluttered as if he was looking forward to something enjoyable. He wasn’t sure if he could trust the unpredictable bastard. Shaking his head, he crossed the hall.

“Wait.”

He tried to pass by as if he didn’t hear, but the general manager guarding the passage called him back. He lifted the tray to cover his face.

“Have you forgotten the guidelines? Consider the master’s dignity and move swiftly.”

“Yes, I will keep that in mind.”

“If I were you, I’d take another step instead of answering.”

He was scolding him for no reason after stopping him. Suppressing his rising temper, he walked almost at a run through the corridor. In the kitchen, the chef’s shouts still reverberated. Waiters, as soon as they put down empty trays, were chased out with new food. Kwon Taekjoo also had his empty tray snatched away as soon as he stepped inside.

He quickly scanned the interior. Soon, his eyes fell on a pile of food waste in a corner of the kitchen that was continuously accumulating but not being cleared. While another waiter was dealing with the chef, he approached the counter. The chefs in each section were meticulously preparing ingredients, cooking food, and plating it for decoration. Even if a sauce was mistakenly drizzled at the final stage, the dish was unceremoniously dumped into the trash. As a result, the trash overflowed onto the floor.