Though two years had passed since Yuki was taken from her home, the landscape of her old village still lived vividly in her memory. She stirred awake just as the car rolled onto the narrow, uneven road leading to the village. Straightening herself in the seat, Yuki's gaze fell upon the endless stretch of green fields—once her childhood playground, now become a distant ghost of the past.
"Feeling nostalgic?"
Igor's deep voice broke the silence that had filled the car like fog. His tone carried that same casual indifference he always used, as though he were commenting on the weather.
"Not really," Yuki replied, her tone flat, almost detached. She wasn't lying. Though she remembered every detail of this place, the memories that clung to her here were mostly bitter ones.
"Really? I thought you'd be happy to return to your hometown after all this time," he said, feigning curiosity.
Yuki didn't answer. She didn't owe him that satisfaction. Still, his earlier words—calling her insignificant, disposable—echoed in the back of her mind, gnawing at her restraint.
"Hey, don't be so cold," Igor said after a moment, his voice taking on a forced lightness. "Sorry if I was a little harsh before. Since this might be our last ride together, how about we talk about something—anything—until we get there?"
Yuki shot him a sharp glance from the corner of her eye. The same man who refused to explain anything to her was now trying to make conversation? The sudden warmth in his tone felt as suspicious as it was absurd.
"It's a long drive through these boring country roads," Igor went on, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Tell me something. Besides your sister, did you have any other family here?"
Her instinct was to snap back That's none of your business, but she swallowed the words. No matter how casually Igor spoke, there was always a quiet menace in him. She knew better than to provoke him without reason.
"No," she said quietly. "It was just me and my sister. We didn't have anyone else."
"Hm… quite rare, isn't it? What did your parents do to end up living in a backwater like this?"
Yuki's gaze dropped, her expression turned unreadable. She then turned toward the window as the fields slipped by in a blur of green and gold.
"They gambled," she said finally. "Racked up debts with the Yakuza in the city. We came here to run away from them—but they should've known there's no such thing as a place safe enough for people like us."
Her voice trembled just slightly at the end. Her parents had never been good people. They weren't even parents, really. They left her and Yuzu to fend for themselves, barely feeding them, barely caring.
She remembered the night they ran. Yuzu was the one who begged, crying, pleading for their parents to take them along. In the end, it was Yuzu who kept them both alive. Yuzu, who found food, who worked, who fought to protect her.
Without Yuzu, Yuki would have died long ago. That was why, even after everything, part of her still longed to see her sister again. Sh wanted to return, just once, to the place where their promise had been born.
Igor made a low, thoughtful sound. He said nothing else for the rest of the drive, though his fingers continued to tap lightly on the wheel.
Finally, he muttered something after a while.
"We're here."
The car slowed to a stop.
Their arrival drew curious eyes—villagers staring openly at the sleek foreign car that looked out of place on the dusty road. Igor parked near a modest wooden house before turning to her.
"Since I'll only draw unnecessary attention if I step out, I'll drop you off here," he said. "Congratulations on your freedom, Yuki. Try not to fall into the hands of people like us again in the future."
It was strange to hear those words from him. Yuki nodded silently, her hand already reaching for the door handle. But Igor stopped her again at the last moment.
"Wait."
She turned and looked at him.
"Your bag," he said. "There's money inside. Enough for you and your sister to live on until you find a proper job."
He handed her a large black duffel from the back seat. Yuki opened it instinctively, then froze. Her eyes widened at the sight of neatly stacked bundles of cash, all high-value bills.
Igor smirked faintly. "Now go. I have other matters to attend to."
There it was again—that unpredictable rhythm of his nature. One moment, he was generous. But the next moment, he became cold again. Yuki no longer tried to understand him. She simply got out of the car, slipping on the plain cap he'd given her to obscure her face.
The late morning sun pressed down heavily as she walked away. She could feel eyes on her. Rumors traveled fast in a place like this. She regretted not asking Igor to drop her off farther away. Her sudden reappearance alone would be enough to stir the village for weeks.
"Wait! Yuki—is that really you?!"
A voice called out while a hand caught her arm.
Yuki turned, startled, and froze again.
The woman before her was older now, her face lined but warm. A faint scent of herbs and detergent clung to her clothes. Yuki remembered her instantly. She was the kind neighbor who used to sneak food to her and Yuzu when their parents were too drunk to care about them.
"Aunty…"
The woman gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief before softening into joy. "Oh my God—it really is you!"
Her voice trembled as she cupped Yuki's face, as though afraid the girl would vanish if she blinked. Yuki smiled faintly, touched by the genuine affection. For this woman, she could afford to delay her reunion a little longer.
"How have you been, Aunty?"
"I'm fine, Dear. More importantly, how did you come back after those terrible men took you away?"
The question made Yuki's smile falter. The woman saw the flicker of pain and understood without an answer. Her expression dimmed, but she forced a smile anyway.
"It's alright, Dear. What matters is that you're safe now. Your sister—oh, Yuzu will be overjoyed when she sees you."
At the mention of her name, Yuki's breath caught. "Yuzu—where is she now?"
The old woman's face softened. "She works at the marketplace. Do you still remember where it is? If not, I can walk you there."
"No, I remember. Thank you, Aunty."
"Anytime, Dear."
The market wasn't far. Yuki's steps quickened as the familiar hum of life filled her ears—vendors calling out prices, the chatter of women haggling, the smell of vegetables and grilled fish.
Then—
"Yuzu, can you come here for a second?"
The name sliced through the noise like a blade. Yuki turned sharply toward the voice.
There—standing behind a wooden stall, wearing a faded apron and her hair tied neatly back—was a young woman whose smile could still melt through Yuki's defenses after all these years.
Her breath hitched. For a heartbeat, the world around her blurred.
"Yuzu…"
Her voice trembled slightly when she finally saw Yuzu again after two years of separation.