Tess

– Part 2 –

1.

“I never expected someone from the Briane family to visit a place like this.”

St. Joseph Hospital was a mid-sized facility on the outskirts of Central City. So when the visitor identified himself with the surname Briane, the director thought it was an impostor or someone with the same name. Fortunately, he quickly searched and confirmed the face, or he would have made a serious mistake. Coming alone without a secretary, confusing people – do the rich not care about prior appointments? The director grumbled inwardly but outwardly maintained a subservient attitude toward Rus.

“My father has always been interested in charitable work.”

The director’s eyes darted back and forth continuously. Though Rus could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, he pretended not to notice and simply glanced at him. At his words, the director’s face brightened considerably. While many wealthy individuals donate to various causes, it was rare for someone to visit in person and show interest. Busy businesspeople likely wouldn’t even have time to read donation request forms. Usually, such matters would be filtered out by secretaries or lower staff.

So this was a golden opportunity for the director. He needed to impress Rus somehow to secure a donation. A large sum would be ideal, but even a small amount would do. With his sponsorship, they could promote the hospital and attract other donors. Inwardly, he was expecting Rus to live up to the Briane name.

“Most of the reported missing persons have been handed over to their families. It’s fortunate that they had someone looking for them. Those without connections were classified by the severity of their condition and sent to local medical centers… This is difficult. Patients deeply involved in cult religions need specialized treatment, but gathering them together risks them forming groups again, and isolating them raises concerns about socialization and human rights. In the early days of the incident, the media was vocal, and help came from all over the country, but you know how it is. As time passes, attention shifts to other issues.”

The director watched Rus carefully, paused briefly, and then continued to the main point.

“With limited support from the government and city, we desperately need charitable donations.”

“I’d like to see the patient list.”

“Pardon?”

“Shouldn’t I at least see the faces of those I’m supporting?”

“Ah, yes! Of course. I’ll prepare it right away.”

Caught off guard by Rus’s quick response, the director hurriedly left the room. Since he was the eager one, he had no time to delegate to subordinates and wait. Rus rose from the sofa and looked down from the window. Patients in hospital gowns were engaged in various activities below. Though he examined them carefully, the person he was looking for wasn’t among them. Would the patient list the director was bringing have anything worthwhile?

Most fatalities in the Holy Church incident were women, children, and elderly individuals with mobility issues. There were only a few male casualties in their 40s, presumed to be the cult leader and his guards, but no young men among the unidentified bodies. Facial identification was difficult due to fire damage. Height and build didn’t match either.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

The director, who had come running, was out of breath. Rus quickly flipped through the documents he handed over. It took less than a minute to check. When Rus put down the stack of papers, the director, who had been wiping sweat from his glasses, hastily put them back on.

“Is something not to your liking?”

“No, I’ve seen everything.”

If he was going to look so cursorily, why had he made someone go to the trouble of bringing them? The director subtly frowned while wiping his sweat-soaked face with a handkerchief. Is he playing games just because he has money? Reading the director’s dissatisfaction, Rus smirked slightly and took out his fountain pen to sign a check.

“Will this amount be helpful?”

Seeing the amount written on the check, the director’s mouth fell open. For a moment, he thought he was having a heart attack. With an expression of disbelief, he looked back and forth between Rus’s face and the check. Rus handed the director his secretary’s business card.

“If any new information related to that matter comes in, please contact me anytime.”

“Of course! But are you leaving right away? Perhaps you’d like to look around our hospital facilities more…”

“No, that’s all right.”

At his abrupt refusal, the director looked disappointed. But Rus had no intention of accepting further hospitality. He even refused an escort. Just as he had come alone, he intended to leave quietly. While descending to the first floor, he passed many patients, nurses, and doctors. Outside, Rus looked up at the old building. It would be the same even if he toured all floors. From the hospital’s perspective, needing as much support as possible, the likelihood of omitting patients was low. There were no male patients related to the Holy Church in this hospital.

‘So he’s dead after all.’

In Holyland, they handled deceased members within the village. They had a doctor and documentation. Causes of death were mostly listed as natural or accidental. The doctor was clearly complicit, but he had disappeared too, so there was no way to verify.

The problem was the undocumented deaths. Numerous skeletal remains were found in the yard and backyard of the cult leader’s house. Bones from ten years ago to recent corpses. Perhaps the fate of those who defied the leader or tried to escape. With no one to tell the truth, one could only guess. Given that no one had ever left Holyland during that long period, it seemed a reasonable inference.

Identifying skeletal remains takes longer than confirming burned bodies. With new crimes occurring daily, the police can’t focus solely on this. As public interest wanes, such cases inevitably get pushed back.

Though he had used donation as an excuse, even Rus couldn’t understand himself. Why he couldn’t let go of his interest in this case. Why he was so curious about that person. If he was dead, it would be unfortunate but unavoidable. The body would be found eventually. If he was alive, that would be good, but there was no reason to actively search. With no records with the police or hospitals, he might have escaped and gone into hiding himself. There were many possibilities. Even while thinking he should no longer concern himself, he kept looking for clues. Hiring a private detective would make it easier to find out, but he didn’t want to do that.

If his mother learned of this obsession, she would find it strange and might become ill. She had already reacted sensitively just to Andrew’s involvement in the Holy Church incident. If she knew that Rus was the one who had initially encouraged Andrew, who knows how she would react.

Andrew’s father had suffered as much as he had gained from the incident. While exposing the cult and political corruption was commendable, the raid on Holyland was criticized as premature. Many believed a more cautious approach was necessary, given the high death toll. Religious organizations launched concentrated attacks, and some extremists even made death threats. With the cult leader dead, the media and political circles needed another scapegoat to blame.

Under these circumstances, Andrew was keeping a low profile. Though the choice was made by the Nevilles, since Rus had encouraged Andrew, he contributed more sponsorship money to his father. While they sent a thank-you note for the sponsorship, they didn’t seem particularly pleased. Rus had no intention of seeking more information from Andrew or initiating other ventures. He planned to continue investigating alone when time permitted. After checking his secretary’s missed calls, he started the engine. His secretary was likely struggling with the workload that had accumulated during his absence. He would need to add a bonus this month as well.

*

*

Delong Street was the omega collective residence in Lake City. It wasn’t originally an omega district. It naturally formed as low-income individuals who couldn’t afford expensive downtown housing gathered there. This was also evidence of the unstable life conditions of omegas.

“Coffee and… one donut.”

After hesitating briefly over the menu selection, Iliya ultimately chose a donut. Though a sandwich with vegetables and ham kept catching his eye, it cost three times as much as a donut. He satisfied his hunger with the cheapest and easiest option.

9 PM. On the way home after work, one always had to be vigilant. When night fell, the streets were filled with omegas soliciting clients. Sometimes fights broke out during price negotiations, or someone would get beaten by a pimp for trying to use pheromones forcibly. It was a place where curious betas and pathetic alphas came every night to buy omegas – that was Delong Street.

As he passed by with his hat pulled down and his nose buried in his coffee, two men whistled at him. They looked Iliya up and down, snickering and teasing him. Though they continued to follow and harass him, Iliya pretended not to hear. His other hand in his pocket was fidgeting with a pepper spray. As if to make matters worse, an oblivious car started following him from the side. It kept honking, demanding attention. When he continued to ignore it, the driver rolled down the window and hurled insults. The thugs following behind seemed to join in, jeering.

“Wow, playing hard to get. Let me have a go.”

The possibility of their harassment escalating beyond words was always high. Unfortunately, Delong Street had the highest crime rate in the area. While crimes could happen day or night if someone was determined, the nighttime streets with broken streetlights were optimal for triggering impulses. Just as Iliya was about to quicken his pace, a motorcycle aggressively cut in front of the car. Screech! The car driver, who had to brake suddenly, yelled angrily. When the motorcycle rider removed his helmet, his long red hair was striking even in the darkness. He strode purposefully toward the car and took a photo of the driver.

“What, what are you doing!”

“I’m trying to use facial recognition to find out who and what you are. Looks like you’re married – did your wife consent to prostitution? Or wouldn’t this be disadvantageous in a future divorce?”

“Damn, just my luck!”

The driver quickly rolled up his window, reversed, and fled.

“Oops, parting so soon after greeting. Farewell.”

After spitting, he approached Iliya.

“Agasa.”

“What are you doing here?”