Codename Anastasia Novel (End) - Chapter 44
He muffled his footsteps and strode through the passage. After a while, the guard’s communicator crackled. The guards seemed to have realized an intruder was present. He quickened his pace, almost running.
A dead end appeared. He frantically felt along the dark walls. His busy hands brushed against a ring he hadn’t noticed before. He pulled it hard, and the blocked side wall slowly lowered. Behind it, a shallow flight of stairs emerged.
Following the stairs, a manual handle, like one he’d seen in a bank vault, awaited Kwon Taekjoo. He gripped the handle and turned it with all his might. The heavy metal, which seemed unwilling to budge, grinded stiffly, splitting the wall before him in two. The bookshelf that had filled the wall opened, and through the gap, an emergency exit appeared.
The room at the end of the third floor, which he had finally reached, was exactly as he had first seen it. The curtains were still open, and despite it being midday, all the lights were on. It felt out of place.
First, he firmly locked the door. He also closed all the curtains by the window. Next, he tried to turn off the indoor lights, but he couldn’t find the switch anywhere. Meanwhile, the guards stormed into the hallway. There was nothing he could do. He pulled out his Colt and fired at the indoor lights. The next moment, an unbelievable sight unfolded before his eyes.
“This is…”
With all light blocked, the existence he had painstakingly hidden was exposed. Kwon Taekjoo unconsciously gaped. He finally understood why only this room was always lit, and why curtains were installed if they were never closed. Even the reason why Koschei’s heart might or might not be in the jewel box.
Inside the room, long lines made of a fluorescent substance connected seemingly discontinuously, forming a single shape. The room itself was the blueprint for ‘Anastasia.’
In a corner on the second floor of the FSB building, a sign read, ‘Alpha Unit 3 Command Headquarters.’ In reality, it was practically Zhenya’s private office. The facilities were minimal, consisting only of an office desk and a reception sofa. Even those were rarely used by their owner, showing no signs of wear.
Zhenya sat in his chair, constantly gazing out the window. It was a mundane and unremarkable view. Occasionally, people passed by, and cars drove past. In the hallway outside the door, someone’s footsteps and voices approached, then quickly faded. He wasn’t in a position to be idle enough to pay attention to every noise. The phone on his desk had been ringing loudly for a long time. However, as if he couldn’t hear it, he moved his chair from side to side, appearing relaxed.
It was a day no different from any other. Yet, he couldn’t understand why he felt more bored and listless. For a while, he hadn’t had the luxury of such feelings.
“…That was pretty good, wasn’t it?”
Suddenly, he mused about something, breaking into a satisfied smile. Around that time, an untimely presence was felt outside the door. It was a subtle movement, too faint for an ordinary person to notice. Yet, he sensed someone hesitating whether to knock. But that was all; he showed no reaction whatsoever. He merely waited to see how the person outside the door would proceed.
It was much later that a knock finally sounded. When there was no answer to enter, the person knocked again. Again, he didn’t respond. The hesitant visitor mumbled, “I’ll come in,” in a voice as small as an ant’s. The door opened some time after that. Just in time, he turned around in his chair.
It was a low-level employee holding a bundle of mail who had come to his office. Their eyes met, and the employee visibly flinched. He must have intended to quickly deliver the mail and then flee. His reluctant walk towards the sofa resembled a cow being led to the slaughterhouse.
Zhenya watched the man in silence. The man placed the mail at the edge of the desk, as if offering food to a beast. It was slow, like watching a slow-motion video.
“Then, if you’ll excuse me.”
He hesitated, looking for an escape, then immediately expressed his intention to leave. At that moment, Zhenya stood up from his seat. The man involuntarily flinched and froze in place, unable to move.
The Psyche Bogdanov he had only heard about was now close enough to touch. His seniors’ advice, that it was best not to be noticed by him, flashed through his mind. As the distance shortened, Psyche’s distinct heavy scent permeated the air. His throat felt dry, and his stomach churned for no reason.
“Did you see a tiger? Why are you so tense?”
“I-I’m not tense!”
“Really? Then dance for me.”
The man was bewildered by the sudden demand. Zhenya repeated, “Dance for me,” as if he hadn’t misheard. The bewildered man’s face turned pale. He couldn’t refuse. It was a matter of strict hierarchy, but more than that, it felt as though his throat would be torn out if he didn’t do as Zhenya wished immediately.
Even just passing him in the hallway was suffocating, but being confined alone in the room made every hair on his body stand on end. The man regretted his action of closing the door upon entering. Unaware of his turmoil, Zhenya urged him on with an “Mm?” The man cautiously looked up at him. His gaze was nothing short of a plea, as if asking if he would be spared if he complied with the demand.
Zhenya smirked, then perched on the desk and crossed his arms. ‘Let’s see how you do.’ He stared at the employee with a look that clearly conveyed the meaning. The man swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to hypnotize himself, thinking he had just been bitten by a mad dog. He couldn’t end his life so futilely by displeasing Psyche. He just needed to humor him appropriately.
Resolved, he desperately swayed his body. His limbs were stiff with tension, making each movement awkward. It was embarrassing to call it a dance. It was merely a desperate struggle for survival.
Zhenya, who had been watching blankly, said, “Stop.”
“That’s no fun at all. How about you strip naked and dance? Get on the table.”
At the cruel demand, the man’s face looked like he was about to cry. For a moment, he compared the time it would take to sprint to the door with the time it would take Zhenya to catch him and twist his neck. If he was lucky enough to escape, he also considered the repercussions. The man, who continued to imagine the most positive scenarios, soon fell into despair. No matter how he calculated, it was hopeless. He then resigned himself and quickly began stripping off his clothes. Zhenya watched him undress without any discernible emotion.
A man’s body was, after all, a man’s body. This man was no exception. His arms and shoulders seemed quite firm, but he had a lot of fat around his abdomen, perhaps due to frequent drinking. His thighs were thick, but not all of it seemed to be muscle. His skin was pale with a reddish tint, and even without touching it, one could feel its rough texture. No matter how he looked at it, he wasn’t aroused. So why had he ever lusted after such a crude male body?
While he was lost in thought, the man climbed onto the table. His penis, shriveled from tension, swayed. His reddish testicles were particularly wrinkled. His buttocks were so saggy that they only evoked the impression of a lump of protein, nothing more.
Without warning, the man’s head was shoved into the sofa. Zhenya had instantly grabbed his neck and pressed him down. Zhenya’s large body overlapped the man’s back, who didn’t even know what was happening to him. He violently twisted the man’s arm and inhaled his scent. There was no stimulation. No sensation of his brain turning soft, no uncontrollable throbbing in his lower body. Was it because the other person was acting too much like a corpse?
“Hey, aren’t you going to resist?”
He urged the man in an irritated tone. The man only trembled. He seemed to just be waiting for this moment to pass safely.
“Get lost.”
He pushed the man’s head away. The man snapped back to reality, scrambled for his clothes, and fled. The door slammed shut with a loud bang from his hurried movements. As it did, the stacked mail tumbled down. Normally, he would have just ignored them, but for some reason, he picked them up. It was an extremely unusual act, brought on by boredom.
He opened the incoming mail one by one. Most were utility bills, lawsuits, fines, or notices demanding compensation for damages. He scanned them emotionlessly, then suddenly stopped. There was an unmarked envelope slipped in between.
After a moment of thought, he opened the envelope and checked its contents. A single sheet of paper emerged. Written on it was a single message.
“Tic toc. Tic toc. Boom!”
As he recognized the words, the ticking of the clock suddenly felt exaggerated. Tic toc. Tic toc. And soon after, a massive explosion echoed. It was quite far away. Before he could even grasp what had happened, both his cell phone and the landline rang simultaneously. A sense of ominous foreboding crept up his neck. It was also a strange form of anticipation.
He calmly answered the phone. Vladimir’s urgent message poured out from the other end. He listened in silence, then pressed the end call button.
How cute. So, that’s how they played it.
His stiff lips curved into a long arc. A massive surge of adrenaline, enough to make his head spin, shot through him. He threw his cell phone aside and immediately left his office. His blue eyes shone brilliantly, immersed in a new kind of exhilaration.
Parts of the city were controlled. It was immediately after a mysterious explosion occurred at the Bogdanov mansion. Only fire trucks were lined up, passing through the controlled roads.
The explosion occurred in two places in total. Once near the garage manhole, and again on the third floor of the mansion. The damage was limited to one room being completely obliterated and several security personnel being injured. Based on statements that an intruder had been in the mansion, the police sealed off surrounding roads and initiated a large-scale search. Reporters and onlookers flocked to the scene of the terror attack, which occurred in the heart of Moscow, at the mansion of one of the most powerful families. The area quickly became a sea of people.
The bomb disposal squad, who were the first to be deployed, came out, and firefighters went in. Given the mansion’s size, they had to thoroughly check for any lingering embers. The firefighters dispersed in an orderly fashion to their respective assigned areas.
The firefighter, Dmitri, also kicked open a nearby door in response to his captain’s hand signal. The room seemed largely unaffected by the explosion. Yet, he meticulously checked every corner.
It was just as Dmitri’s gaze turned towards the cracked window. Suddenly, the floor he was standing on surged upward.
“Aargh!”
His body, which had been suspended in mid-air, crashed down with a thud. His scream was trapped within his mask, unable to escape. Dmitri, who was groaning in pain, soon felt a dizzying sensation at the back of his head and fainted.
A moment later, it was not Dmitri who came out of the room, but Kwon Taekjoo. He quietly left the building, taking advantage of the confusion. Thanks to the firefighting protective gear, no one suspected him.
Just then, two fire trucks had entered the garden. He climbed into the passenger seat of one of them.
“Dmitri? Why are you slacking off here? Aren’t you going to work?”
Dmitri’s superior, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, rebuked him. Then, he flinched at the unfamiliar face vaguely visible beyond the protective gear. Instantly, he threw a jab, striking a vital point. The firefighter collapsed onto the steering wheel without being able to put up any resistance.
He switched to the driver’s seat. He had to get out of there as quickly as possible. He immediately started the engine and turned the vehicle around. A police officer nearby approached with a puzzled look.
“Where are you going?”
“There’s a problem with the fire hose. I’m going to replace it quickly.”
He smoothly spun a lie. The police officer visually checked the extent to which the flames were contained, then nodded approvingly. He even stepped aside to clear the way. Thanks to him, they were able to leave the scene without a hitch. That is, until they reached the main road.
A police official controlling the road once again stopped the fire truck. After inspecting the vehicle, he suddenly asked an awkward question.
“What’s your name and affiliation?”
He couldn’t possibly know that. As he hesitated, the officer’s eyes grew suspicious. The way he and his colleagues exchanged radio messages, wary of Kwon Taekjoo, was unusual. Slowly, the attention of the police officers converged on Kwon Taekjoo. Soon, they subtly gripped their guns and began to close in, tightening their encirclement. It seemed only a matter of time before his identity would be exposed. He had no choice. He had to push through recklessly.
Making a decision, he pressed the accelerator. The tires furiously spun, emitting a tearing noise from the sudden acceleration. The police officers, who had been cautiously approaching, frantically blocked the front of the car. But as the heavy vehicle swept away even the barricade and moved forward, they had no choice but to clear the way. The fire truck sped off like an enraged bull. Relentless gunfire followed from behind.
The side mirror shattered from the hail of bullets, and the windows completely splintered. He pressed his chest against the steering wheel and continued to accelerate. The massive fire truck roared down the road, as if it would crush everything in its path.
He intended to go to the embassy. It wasn’t that he had any better plan, nor did he expect it to protect him. It was merely a means to buy time. Even the Russian investigative agency wouldn’t dare invade a foreign embassy without permission, as it could easily escalate into a diplomatic incident. He just needed to hide there for a while and find a way to return home.
Before he knew it, dozens of police cars were pursuing him. Sirens wailed loudly as they chased him like a swarm of bees from the sides and behind.
Kwon Taekjoo also repeatedly increased his speed. Before long, a sharp curve appeared before him. He should have stepped on the brake, but he only turned the wheel sharply. The vehicle began to skid, unable to overcome its momentum. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, fighting against the immense inertia that tried to spin the car uncontrollably. The screeching car, while grinding the guardrail, did not veer off the road. However, the police cars clinging to its side were either pushed away by the massive vehicle or unable to handle the centrifugal force, plunging into the river.
Having passed that hurdle, there was no time to rest easily. Soon, another cluster of police cars appeared from the opposite direction. They sped relentlessly, not even hesitating to drive against traffic. At this rate, he would be surrounded in the blink of an eye.
Kwon Taekjoo pondered, then turned the wheel and entered a side alley. The alley was so narrow that the fire truck was about to get stuck between the buildings. Intense sparks erupted from the vehicle, repeatedly scraping against the outer walls. The vehicle also constantly jolted. The more it did, the more he stomped on the accelerator. The fire truck rattled and groaned, yet stubbornly forced its way through the narrow path.
Gunfire continued from the pursuing police cars. Streams of water gushed from the punctured water tank. The surrounding roads quickly became drenched.
Suddenly, he drove back onto the main road. The police cars followed blindly again. He continued for a while, then slammed on the brakes. The fire truck’s sudden stop caused the police cars to also stop abruptly. However, due to the sprayed fire extinguishing water, a hydroplaning film had formed on the paved road. As soon as they attempted to brake, the vehicles uncontrollably skidded. The cars in front collided one after another. The police car that had been speeding at the very back crashed into the rear of another car and was sent flying into the air. He watched the chain collision of the police cars among themselves, then set off again.
It wasn’t long before he heard the familiar sound of propellers. It seemed helicopters had been mobilized. The helicopter hovered directly above him, warning that it would open fire if he didn’t surrender. Dying this way or that way amounted to the same thing. He ignored the warning and crossed the bridge. In just a little further, the South Korean Embassy would be visible.
Ultimately, the helicopter opened fire. He quickly turned the steering wheel. The mercilessly poured bullets ripped the passenger seat and water tank to shreds. Black smoke surged from the engine. Yet, Kwon Taekjoo remained engrossed in holding up the wobbling vehicle. He didn’t even notice the blood flowing from his arm. The vehicle lost its direction and spun aimlessly. Through his dizzying vision, he saw the embassy.
Just a little more, just a little.
He gritted his teeth and repeatedly pressed the accelerator. The engine let out its final roar.
“Damn it!”
Now, the embassy was truly right in front of him. The sirens blaring from behind also grew noticeably closer. The helicopter continued to circle overhead like an eagle waiting for its prey to draw its last breath. There was no other choice.
He gripped the steering wheel once more and closed his eyes. He never took his foot off the accelerator. The fire truck, charging straight ahead, pushed open the embassy gate and crashed inside. With a roar comparable to an explosion, the low wall and guard post were completely swept away. A violent impact, as if he had thrown himself into a storm, hit him.
A flurry of yellow dust rose. The surroundings were silent as death. The sirens of the police cars and the noise of the helicopter propellers were still there, but it was more accurate to say he heard nothing at all.
“…Ugh.”
He barely managed to detach himself from the steering wheel. His solar plexus throbbed. He slowly took a deep breath and looked around. The fire truck Kwon Taekjoo had been driving crashed through the embassy gate and was embedded in its outer wall. Through the rearview mirror, he saw police officers pouring out of police cars. But they didn’t dare step inside the embassy.
He smashed the spiderweb-cracked windshield with his Colt. The interwoven glass fragments easily broke away. He dully cleared the damaged area and crawled forward.
Though he had finally arrived, the inside of the embassy was strangely quiet. It was a weekday, and it wasn’t even quitting time yet. He couldn’t feel any presence anywhere. Which way should he go? He stood helplessly in the empty hallway, then headed towards the ambassador’s office. Red blood dripped with every step. His ankle also ached, causing him to limp.
After a long time, he finally reached the office. He hadn’t seen a single person, not even their shadow, during his journey there. He tentatively knocked on the closed door. For some reason, there was no response from inside. He cautiously pushed down the doorknob. Strangely, the door wasn’t locked.
Inside the door, there were four desks, arranged in two pairs. From the layout, it seemed to be the secretary’s office, but there was no one there either. Only half-empty coffee mugs and monitors left on proved that someone had been there just moments ago.
He continued further inside. Two double doors, presumably leading to the ambassador’s office, appeared. He was about to knock, but as his hand touched them, the doors swung inward on their own. It seemed they hadn’t been properly closed in the first place.
A large diplomatic desk was visible straight ahead. A high-backed chair was turned towards the window. Someone was sitting in it. With a surge of welcome, he took another confident step forward.
Then, from somewhere, a suppressed groan was heard. It sounded like someone with a gag in their mouth was crying for help. It was clearly Korean. He followed the sound and turned his head, seeing a firmly locked cabinet. It wasn’t his imagination; repeated thuds came from inside. The locked cabinet door also rattled. His head reeled at the bizarre sight. His instincts sharply signaled danger.
However, his legs were rooted to the floor, unable to move. His entire body froze. An ominous premonition crept up his spine. All his senses were sharpened towards the chair in front of him.
The chair slowly turned, as if responding to his expectation. The breath he was about to take was drawn back in. The floor seemed to collapse into an abyss.
The person occupying the chair was not the ambassador. It was Zhenya. As their eyes met, a cruel smile spread across his lips.
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