Chapter 3 | The Smell of Spring

The “Domik” is a criminal organization based in Irkutsk, a major city in southern Siberia.

Its history is long and storied. It is said to have originated as a secret mutual aid society formed by prisoners in the penal colonies of this region during the era of Imperial Russia.

The bonds among the prisoners, forged in the harsh environment, were unbreakable, and the group’s members spanned a wide range of society—nobles and military officers imprisoned as political dissidents, scholars, merchants, and more.

In a world where everything outside their circle was an untrustworthy enemy, their unity naturally took on a pseudo-familial character. Over time, the internal code name “Domik,” meaning “family,” became its official title.

Its members are bound as a “family,” a sacred bond that must never be betrayed. Thus, the harsh penalty for traitors—death—is not uncommon for a mafia-like criminal organization.

However, in the case of the Domik, this tendency is said to be exceptionally extreme and fanatical.

This became evident during the Cold War era after World War II, when their connections in cutting-edge fields like medicine and chemistry led to the creation of a deadly virus: The Oath Lurking in the Blood (Krovyy Klyatva). This virus was administered to all members.

Once activated, the virus is a death curse, inevitable unless suppressed by a specially developed inhibitor. This forged the “family” into an ironclad bond, where betrayal was literally unforgivable.

In this way, the Domik preserved its lineage, gradually transforming its nature with the tides of time.

After the collapse of the Soviet Union at the end of the twentieth century, ethnic independence conflicts erupted across the region. The resulting chaos produced countless war orphans.

The Domik absorbed these children, whose lives were cheap, as human resources, using and consuming them as loyal “family” members, growing ever larger in the process.

Yuki Petrysheva is a girl with a different background from those orphans.

Yuki, whose mother was Japanese, had a father who was a high-ranking member of the Domik. She was tasked with the same work as her father when she was just fifteen. Two years later, her father died suddenly, leaving her behind.

Her unusually young appointment wasn’t just due to her brilliant mind, with an IQ exceeding 150. It was also because Yuki had inherited the same unique skill as her father.

That skill was brainwashing—mind control, to be precise.

Children bought from human trafficking markets had their futures decided based on their aptitudes.

Those with exceptional intellect, outstanding physical abilities, or striking beauty were sorted accordingly. These children received education and training tailored to make them useful to the Domik.

Children who showed no notable aptitudes were liquidated for the organization’s immediate profit—sold off for their spinal cords, organs, or other “materials.”

Hiding her true nature as a member of the organization, Yuki interacted with the chosen children through an online role-playing game provided during their limited free time.

In the grueling life of training, this game was the only entertainment allowed, and the boys and girls grew dependent on it. Yuki became their “understanding, wonderful friend” in this “free world,” connecting with each of them.

Through voice chats mediated by on-screen avatars, Yuki delved into the children’s subconscious minds. She performed maintenance to remove obstacles to their growth into their “destined roles” and provided guidance to draw out their fullest potential.

For one boy, she erased feelings of guilt or taboo toward killing and violence.

For one girl, she taught the art of sweet-talking and charming powerful figures.

With subtle, skillful words that never betrayed her intentions, Yuki molded the children into exceptional “family” members, sending them out one after another.

Yuki’s silver tongue slipped into their young hearts, guiding them along the rails of their designated aptitudes without them even realizing it. This was the mind control technique she had inherited from her late father.

Despite being a teenager herself, not much older than them, she never felt sentimentality or doubt.

Because, for Yuki, this was the only way to survive in this world.

In that sense, her situation was no different from that of the children consumed day after day.

The other adults in the organization were all the same.

No one was allowed to engage with the world except through their predetermined roles. Living freely, following one’s heart, was something humans were never permitted to do.

While raising children to become part of the “family,” Yuki calmly accepted her fate.

That is, until she encountered two particular events.

The first was the discovery of her father’s legacy, stumbled upon by chance.

The data was stored in a cloud space, disguised in a way only Yuki could decipher.

Among the hidden information was the truth about her father’s death.

In a video, her father revealed that he was caught in an internal factional struggle within the Domik. If he were to die suddenly in the near future, it would be an assassination by the corrupt, power-hungry main faction.

Yuki had been told by the organization that her father, Alexei Petryshev, died in an accident.

Learning the concealed truth, Yuki felt no particular desire for revenge.

To Yuki, her father was an eternal enigma. Even when they were together, she could never tell if he truly loved his family.

He never showed raw emotion, always speaking in rehearsed, model answers.

Her mother, fed up with this, eventually left for her homeland of Japan, abandoning young Yuki. But that separation was Yuki’s own choice.

Wanting to understand her father’s unreachable heart—that was, without a doubt, the driving force behind Yuki’s chosen path.

Yuki stayed with her father, becoming an eager student of his mind control techniques.

She learned the art of entering others’ minds, hoping to unravel the great mystery of her father.

But before that could happen, Alexei died.

With nothing left in the world that Yuki desired, revenge seemed meaningless in the face of her dry resignation that things simply were as they were.

The legacy wasn’t just the accusatory video.

Secretly, Alexei had been analyzing the components of the Domik’s suicide virus, The Oath Lurking in the Blood (Krovyy Klyatva). With this data, a vaccine could theoretically be developed.

Why he entrusted this to his daughter, Yuki, was unclear. Perhaps it was a form of insurance against his assassination.

Yuki accepted this dangerous legacy purely out of intellectual curiosity—a substitute for the life’s purpose stolen from her by her father’s death. She interpreted her own psychology with cold objectivity.

The second event was learning the identity of the assassin who killed her father.

When she learned the name, Yuki was struck by a shock unlike anything she’d ever felt.

“Anya—”

Anna Gratskaya.

Of course, she knew the name.

Anna was a promising young talent in the organization, someone Yuki diligently maintained as a “friend.” At just thirteen, she was already seen as a future elite killer, one of the greatest the Domik had ever produced.

Yuki first saw her face when Anna, then ten, was bought from the human trafficking market. Yuki was sixteen at the time.

Anna, an orphan from the 2008 South Ossetia conflict, had somehow survived on her own for six years since the age of four.

Watching Anna, nimble as a stray cat and adept at hiding, Yuki understood why she was selected for assassination training. Despite her angelic beauty and petite frame, which could have made her a high-class courtesan or honeypot operative for government officials, her true talent lay elsewhere.

It was Yuki’s work that nurtured Anna’s talents, shaping her into the perfect assassin.

A killer elite who could make cold judgments in any situation, showing no mercy to her targets, sometimes even disregarding her own life to complete her missions.

And so, Anna had once again carried out the Domik’s orders, taking a life.

The life of Alexei Petryshev, an outlier in the organization… and Yuki’s father.

When Yuki learned this, she…

“I’m surprised.”

Alone in her room, she muttered softly in front of her PC monitor.

“Surprisingly, I feel… nothing.”

Yuki had imagined something like this:

Her actions, manipulating the fates of children through mind control, had come full circle, leading to her father’s death.

She thought she might suffer from karmic retribution, regret her deeds, and seek redemption—some kind of emotional shift within herself.

Yuki observed her own psyche with the detached perspective of a scientific experiment. But the expected emotional change never came.

In hindsight, it was obvious.

Yuki had long accepted that she, too, was a slave to fate.

Thus, she had never pitied the children whose fates she sacrificed. There was no foundation for guilt to take root.

For the same reason, she felt no hatred toward Anna for killing her father.

But.

“…”

Toward Anna, she felt a special emotion she couldn’t put into words—a human curiosity she had never felt for anyone but her father.

That day, Yuki waited for Anna to log into the online game world.

Anna’s latest mission had been to assassinate a mafia boss reigning over the underworld in Yekaterinburg. Having flawlessly eliminated her target, she had just returned to the Domik in Irkutsk.

“Hey, Anya, welcome back. Another stellar performance, I hear.”

As usual, Yuki spoke to Anna’s avatar, a greatsword-wielding warrior.

“I’m back, Yuki.”

Anna’s voice came through the game’s voice chat, resonating in Yuki’s headset from the “children’s room” (Detskaya) at the facility.

There was a hint of hesitation in her voice, likely because Yuki’s avatar was different from usual.

“By the way, Anya, do you like cats?”

As if reading Anna’s thoughts, Yuki broached the subject.

Yuki’s chosen avatar wasn’t a humanoid character but a cat—a sleek, velvety Russian Blue with bluish-gray fur.

“…I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Yeah, I figured. But you know, Anya, cats are everywhere humans are. Whether you like them or not, they show up when they want, regardless of your feelings. Kind of like how fate works, don’t you think?”

The intensity of her curiosity—or perhaps fascination—with Anna unconsciously infused Yuki’s words with genuine warmth.

“That’s why some say cats are like mirrors reflecting people. Whether you love or hate them, the reasons behind it reveal something deeper about who you are. It’s like a little thought game. Do you hate stuff like this, Anya?”

“No, it’s fine. But why bring it up all of a sudden?”

Yuki’s avatar, with its graceful, curving movements, paused. Its emerald-green eyes slowly lifted to meet Anna’s gaze.

“My late father used to keep a cat. A Russian Blue, like this one. I was allergic, so it was a real hassle. Something recently reminded me of that.”

Then, Yuki planted a small bomb, ever so subtly.

It wasn’t out of resentment, but a mischievous, slightly sadistic curiosity to see how Anna would react.

“He never showed his true feelings to anyone, but maybe he opened up to that cat. Who knows? It’s an eternal mystery now. He was taken out by an assassin, after all.”

Would Anna realize she was the one who killed Yuki’s father? Would she feel guilt or pain for it?

The thought sent a dark thrill stirring in Yuki’s gut.

(No, that would never happen.)

But Yuki quickly dismissed her own fantasy. Anna Gratskaya was the finest killer machine Yuki herself had painstakingly crafted.

After a long pause, Anna finally spoke.

“I don’t like cats.”

And then, she continued.

“Because they’re too free.”

The casual word “freedom” from Anna’s lips pierced Yuki’s consciousness unexpectedly deeply.

“Looking at them makes you realize how meaningless and empty freedom is. Living without a purpose, deluded into thinking you’re free, is just being oblivious to fate. No one can exist in this world without a role. Otherwise, humans would become as depraved as cats. We’re all slaves to fate, aren’t we?”

Anna’s words, echoing through the headset, mirrored Yuki’s own thoughts word for word. Of course—they were the result of years of conditioning.

Confirming the success of her mind control, Yuki felt an indescribable unease rising within her.

She didn’t know what it was. But the word “freedom” had taken root in her mind and refused to let go.

“Freedom is meaningless, huh? You’re right, Anya. We’re a family bound by a blood oath. Each of us has a role to play, so if everyone started doing whatever they wanted, it’d be chaos. Besides, we can’t even survive outside the Domik, not physically.”

Agreeing with Anna, Yuki continued to toy with the elusive unease.

“In other words, freedom is something that doesn’t exist for us… like a fantasy. But if it’s just a fantasy, then anything goes, right? What do you say, Anya? Isn’t it fun to indulge in a little daydreaming now and then?”

“Daydreaming… about fantasies?”

“Yeah. Forget about meaning or purpose, just talk about ‘what if.’ So, Anya, if you were free, what would you want to do?”

“…”

As expected, Anna fell silent, caught off guard.

“Alright, I’ll start. Let’s see… I’d want to go to Japan.”

“Japan… wasn’t that where your mother was born?”

“Yeah. I’d want to see the place where my mom grew up, where she became an adult. That curiosity is probably my biggest desire.”

When Yuki answered, Anna fell silent again. But this time, there was a sense she was hesitating, mulling something over.

Then, finally.

“Is Yuki a Japanese name?”

That was the question Anna asked.

“Yup. It means ‘snow.’ You know, those white, cold flakes that fall from the sky.”

“I’ve always liked the sound of your name, Yuki.”

Hearing Anna’s voice through the headset, Yuki felt as if the entire world had momentarily drifted away.

“I don’t understand freedom. I don’t want it either. But I like the sound of Japanese. If you’re going to Japan… I think I’d want to see it with my own eyes, too.”

“Hehe!”

Anna’s earnestness made Yuki burst into laughter, unable to hold it back. Whether it was joy or amusement, she couldn’t tell.

“Was that a weird answer?”

“No, not at all… Alright, Anya, I’ll teach you Japanese. My mom taught me when I was little.”

From that day, a new task was added to Yuki’s work.

One-on-one Japanese lessons for an eager student named Anna.

Meanwhile, Yuki quietly continued analyzing the components of the vaccine for The Oath Lurking in the Blood (Krovyy Klyatva), the legacy left by her father, Alexei.

For five years, she had been secretly exchanging analysis requests with researchers worldwide through a hidden server in the online game she managed.

The deadly virus, developed during the Soviet era using data from Nazi human experiments, was a lost technology buried in the cracks of time. Even modern medical and chemical knowledge struggled to unravel its mysteries.

Amid these unchanging days, an unexpected discovery came to Yuki.

It happened while reviewing data sent by a retired French medical researcher.

“…I knew it.”

For some reason, data showing a weakened effect of The Oath Lurking in the Blood occasionally appeared, though extremely rarely.

There was no discernible pattern or cycle to it. No other researchers’ data showed the same change.

Yuki had overlooked it before, only noticing this time because the timing was close to a previous occurrence, purely by chance.

Focusing on these irregular changes she had previously dismissed, Yuki scrutinized the phenomenon.

And then…

“This is it. The virus weakens only when this protein component is slightly present in the experiments.”

It was a minuscule particle called ‘fel d 1.’

From the naming pattern, Yuki could tell it was some kind of allergen.

After investigating and confirming with the researcher—

“…Haha.”

Yuki covered her face with one hand, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

Learning the source of the allergen filled her with an indescribable sense of deflation.

“Come on, what kind of joke is this…? Is this even possible?”

It was the moment an unexpected piece fit into a puzzle she thought would remain unsolved forever.

About five months later.

Yuki visited Anna’s “children’s room” (Detskaya) in a facility fifty meters underground.

This was a living space exclusively for the Domik’s children, essentially a prison completely isolated from the outside world.

As a high-ranking member, Yuki passed the facility’s gate with ID authentication and opened the target room’s door with a passcode.

“Hey, Anya. This is our first time meeting in person, isn’t it?”

Anna’s eyes widened at Yuki’s sudden visit.

“…Yuki?”

She stared intently at her visitor’s face.

“Heh, you’re staring so hard it’s making me shy. Is my plain face what you expected?”

Yuki laughed playfully.

It was partly to mask her own nerves. Seeing sixteen-year-old Anna in person, now a breathtakingly beautiful girl, far exceeded Yuki’s expectations. Honestly, it was enough to rattle her.

Anna’s glossy ash-silver hair made Yuki’s inherited black hair feel a bit shabby. Her boyish short haircut and nerdy black-rimmed glasses paled in comparison to Anna’s stunning beauty.

“You haven’t grown an inch, have you? Still tiny and cute as ever.”

“You’re not plain at all. I was just surprised because you seem more grown-up than I thought.”

Anna, standing before Yuki, was visibly flustered, her eyes shyly averted, cheeks faintly flushed.

Maybe she’s more of a softie than I thought, Yuki mused, finding the reaction endearing while coldly analyzing it. She felt a twinge of self-loathing for her calculating nature—a new feeling for her.

“I’m twenty-two this year, so I’m six years older than you, Anya. Anyway, can you open this basket for me?”

Yuki handed Anna the basket case she’d brought.

“It’s kinda heavy. What’s inside?”

“Just open it and find out. It’s a surprise.”

Urged on, Anna unlatched the basket and lifted the lid.

In that instant—

““Achoo!!””

A duet of sneezes erupted in unison.

Both of them, noses running and faces red with hives, locked eyes. Anna’s gaze shifted to the contents of the basket.

“Wha… a cat!?”

Inside was an adult Russian Blue, curled up on a bed of cloth, staring up at Anna with a brazen who’s this? expression.

“…Looks like fate’s given us its answer.”

“What do you mean, Yuki?”

Wiping their face with a handkerchief, Yuki smiled faintly, eyes still brimming with tears.

“We’re heading out now, Anya.”

“To where? I mean, I…”

“No need to worry. This is a mission assigned to you.”

The word “mission” flicked a switch in Anna’s mind, sparking a shift.

For the sake of a mission, she could transform into a cold, ruthless killing machine, ready to sacrifice even her own life to see it through.

Yuki ushered Anna into an antique car that looked like a relic from the Soviet era, and they drove far from the facility on the outskirts of Irkutsk.

Crossing the western edge of the vast Lake Baikal, the old Zhiguli car rumbled toward the Russian-Mongolian border.

“Did you know? Most of the creatures living in Lake Baikal are unique species you won’t find anywhere else in the world. Even freshwater seals live here—remnants from when it was connected to the Arctic Ocean ages ago. Kind of like the creatures in the Galápagos Islands.”

“Hold on, Yuki.”

Anna’s cool, measured voice cut through Yuki’s tour-guide-like chatter.

“Where are we going? And I still haven’t heard anything about the details of this mission.”

“Haha, guess I can’t just breeze past you like that, huh?”

With a shameless grin, Yuki hit the brakes. The car came to a stop in the middle of the vast Siberian plain.

Then, taking a deep breath,

“Our destination is Japan. We’ll pass through Mongolia, make a break for Vladivostok, and sneak into the country on a fishing vessel. Everything’s already arranged—fake identities, a place to live, and a contact in Japan to set us up. The mission? Total lie. We’re eloping, hand in hand, just you and me.”

The moment Yuki finished speaking, the cold, hard touch of metal pressed against their temple.

In Anna’s right hand was a Makarov pistol, its muzzle aimed squarely at Yuki. Her dark blue eyes showed not a flicker of hesitation.

“That’s betrayal against the House. Turn back now, Yuki.”

Yuki’s smile faded. But the pale sky-blue eyes held no trace of fear or panic.

“You gonna shoot me, Anya?”

“That depends on your answer. What are you thinking? Escaping the House—it’s impossible, and you know it…”

As Anna pressed, Yuki turned to face her. The Makarov’s muzzle, once at their temple, now dug slightly into Yuki’s forehead.

“It is possible. I found a way, Anya.”

Yuki’s voice was quiet but deadly serious.

Reaching into their coat’s inner pocket, Yuki pulled out a folded sheet of report paper. With a glance, they urged Anna to take it.

Anna unfolded the paper and scanned its contents. Shock flashed across her refined features almost instantly.

“Cat allergies suppress the virus’s onset…?”

Anna’s stunned reaction was so predictable that Yuki nearly burst out laughing. It was the exact same disbelief Yuki had felt when they first learned of it.

“I know, right? Sounds like a joke, doesn’t it? But it’s true. There’s this old French doctor, a cat lover with a cat allergy. He takes precautions, but sometimes a cat slips into his lab, triggering his allergies. That’s when fel d 1, a cat allergen, got mixed into the data. It was so irregular it took ages to notice.”

With the gun still pressed to their forehead, Yuki spilled the words in a rush.

“Listen, Anya. What does a slave do when they realize they can take off their collar? You think everyone would just rip it off without a second thought? I don’t. Knowing you can do something and choosing whether to act on it are two different things. Some people might even need that collar.”

Anna’s eyes locked onto Yuki’s, the gun barrel between them.

“Do or don’t—that’s the dilemma I got thrown into for the first time in my life. It was painful, terrifying. Even now, my legs are shaking… Choosing something for yourself takes so much resolve, doesn’t it?”

“…”

“So, Anya, I’m leaving my fate in your hands. Kinda cowardly, I know.”

“What do you mean, Yuki?”

Yuki’s gaze drifted to the cat peeking out from a basket in the back seat.

“If you didn’t have a cat allergy, I’d probably have forgotten all this and put the collar back on. We’d be back in that online game, chatting like nothing ever happened.”

“…But I do.”

Yuki gave Anna a tender smile, almost pitying.

“About twenty percent of people have cat allergies, they say. One in five. Not super common, but not exactly rare either… Just the right odds for a coward like me to bet my lingering regrets on. And I hit the jackpot—one in five.”

With that, Yuki slowly closed their eyes.

“So, you had no choice but to go through with it…?”

“Nah. I’m happy I got this outcome.”

The gun at Yuki’s forehead wavered slightly.

“Because I wanted to go to Japan with you, Anya. It wouldn’t mean anything without you. And together, we’ll live with a cat.”

“—”

Yuki fell silent.

In the wilderness, with sunset nearing, only a dry, cold wind swept through. The desolate vastness of nature dwarfed the rusty little Zhiguli, a matchbox in the wild. Inside, two lives flickered silently.

How much time passed?

Slowly, the Makarov’s muzzle lifted from Yuki’s forehead.

“Not gonna shoot, Anya?”

“As if I could shoot you… You probably knew that too, didn’t you? All calculated.”

Anna bit her lip, muttering in frustration.

“Not at all. I raised you to shoot without hesitation in a moment like this.”

“What?”

“Mind control. That was my job from the House. Guess I didn’t do it well enough with you, though. Haha, maybe I got too close, teaching you Japanese and all.”

With a self-deprecating chuckle, Yuki opened their eyes. Beneath their glasses, pale blue eyes met Anna’s deep navy, reflecting each other.

“So, Anya, you don’t have to follow me. Nothing’s holding you back.”

Anna’s breath caught, as if struck by Yuki’s quiet words.

“That’s your choice, free from my influence. You don’t have to go to Japan. You could go back to the Nursery. You’re free, Anya.”

“Free…”

A word she’d once dismissed as meaningless fantasy. Anna chewed on it, letting it sink in.

A long silence followed.

Outside the car window, the sun was sinking toward the Siberian horizon. The two faces staring at each other melted into dark silhouettes in the twilight.

Then—

“You’re taking care of the cat in Japan.”

Yuki peered at Anna as she spoke softly.

“I’m still not good with cats.”

“So…”

“If you’re there, I want to go to Japan too. If you’re not, I’m not going back to the House. I don’t get this freedom stuff, but that’s how I really feel.”

Anna’s words were clumsy, almost like a confession.

Hearing them, Yuki’s face lit up with a joy-filled smile.

“Thank you… I don’t really know what freedom is either. But it’s tied to choice, isn’t it? No guarantees of success, and failure comes with consequences. But those successes and failures—they’re what make us truly human, I think.”

“I don’t really get what you’re saying… I’m not as smart as you, Yuki.”

“It’s simple: do what you want, don’t do what you don’t. Sounds easy, but living it is hard. Cats, though? They do it naturally, like breathing. They never lie to themselves.”

Yuki squinted at the cat scratching the back seat.

Opening a can of oil-free tuna, Yuki fed the hungry little tyrant. The cat devoured the flakes with gusto, filling the car with distinctive chewing sounds.

“Maybe we’re drawn to cats because they embody a kind of freedom we crave, expressed with their whole being… Maybe that’s what my dad saw in them too.”

Yuki pondered the mystery of their father’s heart, wondering why he kept cats close.

And so, their escape resumed.

Yuki drove the Zhiguli through the night, but it sputtered to a stop before dawn, out of gas.

“Made it this far, huh… Phew.”

Yuki stepped out, stretching grandly while facing the coniferous forest ahead. Beyond thick clouds, a faint, milky sunrise glowed weakly.

“Through this forest, there’s a small private airstrip with a plane ready for our escape. Once we cross into Mongolia, the House won’t catch us—it’ll be too late.”

Anna opened the car door, stepping into the freezing air. Her breath swirled like white smoke.

“You really don’t miss a thing, do you, Yuki? All calculated, huh?”

“Haha, still on about that?”

Yuki playfully patted Anna’s head over her hooded coat, teasing her pouty expression.

Anna still seemed unconvinced, but when Yuki stared at her, she shyly looked away. Her cheeks were red—partly from the cold, partly from something else.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

“Yeah.”

Tucking the cat into their coat, Yuki started toward the forest.

Anna followed, taking her first step.

In that moment, a searing heat grazed her cheek.

“—Yuki?”

Anna’s gaze caught a spray of dark liquid erupting from Yuki’s chest.

Blood, black in the dim dawn light, sprayed from Yuki’s pierced body.

A sharp gunshot echoed late through the frozen air. Anna ducked quickly, spotting the glint of a rifle barrel in the trees ahead.

Yuki’s plan had unraveled. The House’s pursuit team had tracked their route, stationing soldiers at the airstrip to ambush them.

“Told you… not calculated, right…?”

Collapsing backward, Yuki managed a faint smile with pale lips.

“Don’t talk, Yuki. Press the artery to stop the bleeding. I’ll handle them.”

Without a flicker of emotion, Anna guided Yuki’s hand to the wound.

Gripping the Makarov, she rose silently.

Anna annihilated the twelve-person pursuit team in four minutes.

Slitting the last one’s carotid artery with a crescent-shaped karambit knife, she sprinted back to Yuki.

One glance told her Yuki was beyond saving. The blood pooling beneath them was too vast, spreading like a wine-colored bed.

Kneeling beside Yuki, Anna gazed down at the death spreading across their face.

“…Why?”

Anna murmured, bewildered.

“I’m not sad—yet you were my friend.”

True to her words, no tears shone in Anna’s eyes. Her expression remained unchanged, as dry as the blood splattered on her cheek.

“In movies, books, or games, people cry in moments like this. Why can’t I feel sad when my friend is dying…?”

Yuki listened quietly to Anna’s troubled words, breathing faintly on the edge of death.

Then, a trembling, cold hand gently took Anna’s. With tender strength, as if to soothe her unease.

“I’m sorry, Anya…”

“What…?”

Anna’s confusion deepened at the dying apology.

“It’s not your fault… I made you this way, over a long time… A cold, emotionless killing machine, cut off from joy and sorrow… It’s only natural you can’t cry…”

“…”

“But… it’ll be okay…”

As if to encourage her, Yuki squeezed her hand. But it was only a faint twitch of their fingers.

“Because, Anya… you couldn’t shoot me, could you…? The mind control isn’t absolute… You’ll find your emotions again. I want you to live, laughing, crying…”

With a choking sound, Yuki coughed up a flood of blood from their lungs. The shadow of death deepened on their pale face.

“The cat…”

Yuki’s eyes lost focus, the light fading from them.

With the last drop of life, Yuki’s voice whispered like a winter gust.

“The cat… will help you… take back what you’ve lost…”

Yuki’s breathing stopped. At Anna’s feet, their body became a lifeless mass of protein and calcium in that instant.

Placing a hand over the sky-blue eyes that no longer saw, Anna closed their lids.

It was then she felt a cold touch on her cheek.

Snowflakes fell from the thick, cloudy sky.

As if mourning the death of the girl named Yuki, they drifted down silently.

Like tears Anna couldn’t shed, the snow fell endlessly.

[IMAGE]

“It’s kinda chilly today, huh? Been cloudy all morning.”

“Seriously, it feels like snow’s coming. Doesn’t even feel like March.”

Break time.

Beyond the classroom’s glass windows, a heavy leaden sky loomed.

That morning when Yuki died, the sky had been this color.

Nearly ten days had passed since then.

I, Anna Gratskaya, used the escape route meant for Yuki and me to slip into Japan. Through Yuki’s smartphone, I contacted a collaborator named Koshika. After explaining the situation, I followed their instructions, traveling by train to this town.

I retrieved the key to a designated residence from a station locker. Inside the prepared room were expertly forged passports and a foreign resident card. I took only my share of the two sets and completed the preparations. Under Koshika’s arrangements, I enrolled in a local high school, matching my actual age.

I know nothing about Koshika’s true identity, not even their real name. But since they’re acting as my legal guarantor, they must be a citizen with a stable life.

I set down my book, closing it. Thinking of Yuki broke my focus.

I was reading one of the “assigned books” sent by Koshika.

The Cat’s Language by Paul Gallico. Not the original, but a Japanese translation from the ’90s. The vivid yellow cover featured a striking black-and-white photo of a cat typing with its paw pads.

The content matched the cover’s absurdity—an essay written as if by a cat. The author, an American novelist who died in the late ’70s, was undeniably a hopeless cat fanatic.

Reading this book only deepened my bias against cats.

They’re fully aware of their charm, scheming to live comfortably by manipulating humans.

And I’m starting to realize cats don’t truly bond or let themselves be tamed.

They play with you because they’re bored, live with you for tasty food. There’s none of that loyal, endearing devotion you’d get from a dog.

That Russian Blue cat Yuki had? Never found after that day. Probably ditched its dead owner and bolted into the forest.

That, too, felt like a cold, cat-like thing to do. A dog would’ve stayed by its owner, waiting for them to wake. I’ve heard Japan has a story about a loyal dog like that.

“…Well, as long as it’s living well.”

For a fleeting moment, I thought of the Siberian forest where Yuki’s cat vanished, far to the west under that cloudy sky.

Lunch break.

Lately, I’ve been eating with classmates, dragged into it by Matsukaze Kohana.

Following custom, we pushed our desks together, and I silently munched on a katsu sandwich from the school store, washing it down with orange juice.

“So, Anya-san, you settling into school okay?”

That was Umeda Sayaka, towering twenty-five centimeters over me. As an athlete, her calorie needs are huge, her lunchbox thick as a dictionary.

“Mm. No issues.”

“Anya’s always reading during breaks. Such a bookworm!”

“We only read manga, huh? Reading all-text books? Kinda impressive.”

“Bet Anya’s got a bigger Japanese vocab than you, Umeda.”

“Hey! You’re no better, Eri!”

“Oops, true!”

Takesato Eri, with her flashy hair, and Umeda burst into laughter, grinning at each other for no clear reason.

Since transferring here, I’ve noticed Japanese girls laugh so freely. No need for clever jokes—they just don’t stop. I’ve heard there’s a Japanese saying about laughter bringing happiness.

“Oh, by the way, thanks for coming to the shop, Anya!”

Popping a small rice ball into her mouth, Kohana smiled, recalling something unnecessary.

“Huh? The shop? You mean Kohana’s cat café?”

“No way! So Anya is a cat lover! You sneaky tsundere!”

As expected, Takesato and Umeda pounced on the topic, teasing me. Looks like my cat-lover persona is officially cemented.

“Wait, didn’t Kohana’s line just now sound kinda like a shady hostess?”

“Pfft, what, a lesbian escort? So not Kohana’s vibe!”

The two erupted in loud laughter again, while Kohana calmly picked up a piece of frozen karaage with her chopsticks.

“Anya, is just a sandwich enough? Have some of this. It’s good.”

And then, unbelievably, she held it out to me.

Eating it would mean…

“Here, say ‘ahh’!”

So, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?

It’s embarrassingly childish, like playing house, but the flow of things makes it impossible to refuse her kindness without crushing it entirely.

The piece of fried chicken Kohana’s holding out hovers perfectly still at the halfway point between us. Her chopsticks, gripping it, seem to declare an unyielding resolve, unwavering in midair.

I glance at Kohana’s face once more.

Her gentle eyes carry no hint of ulterior motive, shimmering with nothing but pure, untainted light.

Having met those eyes, I had no choice but to accept my defeat.

“…Hmph.”

I open my mouth wide, chomping down on the fried chicken like I’m in a bread-eating race. I can’t help but feel my saliva might’ve gotten on her chopsticks, but in this situation, it can’t be helped.

“Hehe! Is it good?”

“Mmph, mmph… Y-yeah, it’s fine. No, I mean… it might actually be delicious.”

Honestly, the taste was a blur, my mind too scrambled to register it.

But my face and ears were burning uncontrollably. My pulse was racing even more wildly than that time I faced twelve enemies with just a single Makarov pistol…

That night, after returning home.

Feeling a gaze on me again, I instinctively turned toward the sliding glass door.

“You again…”

As expected, a cat had silently appeared on the balcony.

It was the same one from before, with its tortoiseshell pattern of brown and white.

This time, instead of just passing along the railing, it deliberately stepped down onto the balcony, staring at me. It sat in that quintessential cat pose, front paws neatly aligned, back straight.

Its almond-shaped yellow eyes fixed on me, brimming with some kind of expectation.

“…”

I slowly approached the window and gently slid it open.

After a brief pause, the cat slipped smoothly through the gap into my room.

“Hachoo!”

Instantly, a ferocious itch surged up from the depths of my eyes and nose.

My sneeze startled the cat, its eyes widening into perfect circles as it looked up at me. But it didn’t flee; instead, it began to explore the room, strolling slowly. Watching it from the corner of my eye, I grabbed a tissue to blow my nose.

Despite the odd discomfort of having my personal space invaded by a cat, a certain possibility flickered in my mind.

Could this… be my chance?

Maybe, just maybe, this cat might settle into my room for good.

It’s not exactly my preference, but Koshika has been nagging me to adopt a pet if the opportunity arises. The cat isn’t wearing a collar, so it doesn’t seem to belong to anyone.

For now, I decided to try feeding it. I’d prepared for this possibility and had a stash of cat food ready.

I tore open a packet, poured the food onto a disposable paper plate, and set it on the floor. Then I stepped back to observe.

Sure enough, the tortoiseshell cat noticed the scent. It padded over cautiously, sniffing the plate.

Cats are always sniffing things, apparently relying on their sense of smell to gather information. Once it confirmed the food was safe, it dove in, eagerly crunching the dry kibble. It must’ve been starving.

Watching it, I couldn’t help but feel a strange admiration for how fiercely this cat clung to its daily survival.

When the cat finished every last bit of food on the plate, it plopped down and began grooming its fur. I already knew this was a sign of relaxation.

I edged closer to the cat.

Then, with the precision and care of an assassin closing in on a target, I extended my right hand.

For now, my mission was to pet the cat.

That was the most critical task at hand.

My hand inched closer to the cat’s head, engrossed in its grooming—ten centimeters… five centimeters…

“?!”

Suddenly, the cat whipped its head toward me. Had it sensed the faintest shift in the air?

Then, as if it had made up its mind, it stood and trotted off.

“H-hey, wait…”

The cat didn’t look back once. With confident strides, it slipped through the gap in the sliding door, hopped onto the railing, and vanished.

Just moments ago, it had seemed so relaxed, like it might actually stay… Cats’ minds are too free, too enigmatic, for me to even begin to understand.

“In the end, I didn’t even get to pet it…”

All that remained on the floor of the now-empty room was the lonely paper plate.

For the first time in a while, I felt the sheer vastness of this apartment, too big for just one person.

If only Yuki were here…

I let out a sigh into the night sky and silently closed the sliding door.

The meaning of freedom, the heart of a cat—both feel like mysteries I won’t unravel anytime soon.