"Have a good day, Boss."
When they arrived at Ivan's office, both Igor and Alisa stepped out of the car with him. Though they would not follow him inside, it had long become a ritual, the unspoken show of loyalty before the man they served.
"Igor," Ivan said calmly, adjusting his cuffs. "I'm leaving Yuki in your care. I want reports on everything she does. Her reactions, her choices, her state of mind. I want to know her even when I'm not there."
"…Understood, Boss."
The words came out low and obedient, but Igor's stomach tightened. Orders from Ivan were never simple, never without a purpose.
"And Alisa," Ivan continued, his eyes softening briefly toward his subordinate, "teach her everything you know. Report to me if there are difficulties, especially with the language."
"Understood, Boss."
Pleased, Ivan gave a short nod before turning toward the towering glass building ahead. His coat fluttered behind him as he walked, shadowed immediately by his entourage, silent men in black who followed without a sound.
Only when he disappeared through the doors did Igor and Alisa finally move again. Igor exhaled a long, quiet breath before reaching for his phone. But Alisa's hand caught his wrist.
"Igor."
Her voice was tight, eyes glistening with concern.
"Are you really going to summon the others to Boss's house?" she asked. "You know how they are. If they see her—"
"Orders are absolute, Alisa," Igor cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. "You know that better than anyone. It's the only way we survive in this world."
The words silenced her. Alisa turned toward the car, where Yuki still slept soundly in the backseat. To Alisa, Yuki looked fragile, unaware, a lamb unknowingly driven toward wolves. But as Igor said, there was nothing that she could do, even if she felt sorry for Yuki.
Alisa clenched briefly before she forced a faint smile.
"You're right. I'm sorry."
Alisa had always been gentle, perhaps too gentle for the world Ivan ruled. She pitied Yuki, this lost, trembling girl drawn into a place that devoured weakness. But Igor could not afford sympathy. Protecting Alisa meant teaching her not to resist Ivan's will.
"It's fine. Just get back in the car," Igor said softly. "I'll make the calls before we continue."
Alisa nodded and obeyed. Igor waited until she closed the door before he began dialing someone. As Igor waited for someone to pick up his call, the expression on his face was unreadable.
***
"Yuki, we've arrived."
The voice that reached her was soft. She was Alisa.
Yuki stirred, blinking herself awake. Her eyes caught the sight outside the window, a grand mansion standing beneath the gray Moscow sky.
"We've arrived?" she murmured.
Alisa nodded, smiling faintly. "Yes. Come, I'll show you to your room."
Yuki stepped out of the car, following Alisa's graceful movements into the mansion. Her eyes darted everywhere — the intricate carvings on the walls, the dim chandeliers that bathed everything in amber light, the faint echo of their footsteps. She was so mesmerized that she didn't realize when Alisa suddenly stopped.
"Ugh—!"
Yuki's nose bumped into Alisa's back. Startled, she looked up. But Alisa didn't apologize to her. Yuki could see that Alisa's shoulders were stiff for some reason.
"I knew something was wrong when Igor called all of us to Boss's house," a mocking female voice said from ahead. "So… who's the girl behind you, Alisa? A souvenir from Japan?"
Yuki froze.
Seven people stood in the grand hall — five men and two women. Some sat lazily with glasses of vodka, others smoked with detached amusement, filling the air with a sharp haze. The smell was suffocating, but Yuki knew she couldn't say anything about it.
"Oh? Did she just frown?" one of the men laughed, exhaling smoke through his grin. "What, no smokers in Asia?"
He stood, massive and tattooed, the ink crawling up his neck and across his hands. His gaze crawled over Yuki like a stain. When his calloused fingers brushed her cheek, Yuki stiffened. She didn't understand what those people were saying because she wasn't fluent in English or Russian yet. But from their reactions alone, Yuki knew they didn't accept her in a good way.
"She's pretty," he sneered. "I bet Boss brought her back because she was the best one in that brothel."
"Enough."
Alisa's voice cut through the room. She stepped between Yuki and the man in one smooth motion, her small frame somehow radiant with defiance. Igor had just entered, and the brief flash of surprise in his eyes revealed how reckless her move was. But Alisa didn't care.
"She's not a souvenir," Alisa said coldly. "She's Mr.Mikhail's woman. He asked all of you to meet her. That's why my brother called you here."
"What the fuck did you just say?"
The tension snapped like glass. The room erupted with murmurs and disbelief, shock from some, anger from others. One woman slammed her glass down, her face twisted in contempt.
"You can't throw a joke like that, Alisa," she hissed. "Boss doesn't let anyone who spends the night with him live after one time. Now, you expect us to believe he brought home a—"
But her voice was drowned out by a younger man stepping forward, his eyes unnervingly bright despite the emptiness behind them.
"Is it true?" he asked Yuki, grinning like a child with a weapon. "Are you really Mr.Mikhail's woman? What can you do? Are you good at killing people like me?"
His cheerfulness was wrong — hollow—a cracked mirror smile.
Yuki met his eyes, confused but steady. She couldn't speak Russian yet. But thanks to Alisa's lessons, she was already able to say something in English.
"I'm... his," she said loud and clear. "I was what they said I was."
The room quieted.
Even without understanding their language entirely, Yuki could read their disgust. The silence was heavier than insult — it was rejection. She understood then that she didn't belong here. Not among killers. Not among people who worshiped Ivan for reasons beyond her comprehension.
"May I go now?" she asked. "I'm tired from the journey."
The man who'd been smoking barked out a laugh. "This bitch…"
He raised his hand, palm slicing through the air toward her — but it never landed.
A strong grip caught his wrist midair.
Igor.
He stood between Yuki and the man, his gaze cold as steel. "That's enough, Boris. Mr.Mikhail asked you to meet her, not insult or strike her."
Boris sneered, but Igor's hold tightened until the veins in his arm bulged. The unspoken hierarchy was clear; no one could defy Ivan's right hand.
"Tch. You take everything too seriously," Boris muttered, yanking his arm back. "It was just a joke."
Igor's stare silenced the rest. One by one, the others looked away.
Then he turned to Alisa. Her hands were trembling slightly, but she stood firm. He saw the fear in her eyes — and the spark of defiance she could never quite hide.
"Alisa," Igor said, voice quieter now. "Take Yuki to her room."
"Okay."
Relief washed over her as she ushered Yuki away, leading her down the corridor without looking back.
The laughter, the smoke, the whispers faded behind them — but the feeling lingered in Yuki's chest, sharp and suffocating.
She understood now.
Whatever this place was, whatever Ivan had drawn her into, there would be no kindness for her.