Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Cigarette
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A fleeting moment passed.
The kind of brief time that ordinary folks would let slip away while lounging restlessly in bed.
In that span, Crow's consciousness had blacked out exactly twice before returning.
"Stoooop! Enough! Th-that...! Mmph!"
"Calm down. I'm just helping you. It's already done."
He thrashed wildly, twisting his body,
and even swung his arms back at Scardi,
but
"Calm."
Scardi, with a cigarette dangling from her lips, wrapped her freed arms around him in a tight hug, pinning him down.
Slowly, Crow began to regain his senses. For him, that might not even be good news.
"Ahh... ughh...!"
The stimulation he'd briefly set aside had returned amplified dozens of times over with interest. Amid pleasure that tested the limits of the human mind, Crow had to endure pain as well.
Harsh, hot cigarette smoke filled his trembling field of vision.
Perhaps it was that smoke, adding a touch of life to the stark bathroom ceiling, but a mix of defeat and relief bloomed in Crow's heart.
With the aftershocks dragging on so intensely that even keeping his sanity was a struggle, tears streamed clearly down his cheeks—a signal flare of surrender.
Slowly, very slowly,
Crow's breathing began to steady.
His blood- and tear-flushed face regained its natural color, and Scardi gently wiped away the drool he hadn't even noticed.
"You did well."
The consolation only made him feel more pathetic. Still, the reason Scardi wiped his fluids away was surely due to that tender emotion a woman might call love.
"Sit here and rest for a bit. Rin and I will clean up."
She carefully shifted his body toward the wall and began proper cleanup.
The toilet was already splattered with semen, and traces dotted the floor tiles here and there.
Using wet wipes and tissues Rin had brought, they had to scrub off the thick globs and flush them away. Despite the mess, Scardi and Rin wiped the floor without a hint of fuss.
"..."
Through hazy eyes, Crow watched the scene in silence. His body had no strength left, so he couldn't pitch in to clean up the milky fluid himself.
Shame, or perhaps emptiness.
Two women were hand-cleaning the fishy semen from his own body.
"This about do it?"
"I'll handle the rest."
"Okay."
Only after tissues piled up in heaps in the toilet did Scardi stub out her cigarette and light a fresh one.
She took a drag, savored it properly, exhaled,
and settled beside Crow with a lighter heart, smoking in earnest.
Crow and Scardi,
both sat wordlessly for a while, staring blankly at the wall ahead.
All around echoed only the sticky sounds of wiping the floor with tissues and the faint burn of cigarettes. Otherwise, silence.
"Hey."
Crow broke the awkward quiet first. He barely lifted his heavy arm toward Scardi, extending his index and middle fingers like any smoker would, asking for a cigarette.
"Mind if I have one too?"
Scardi gazed at him steadily.
As if picturing in her mind whether the harsh cigarette she offered would suit a decent man who'd likely never touched one his whole life.
"No reason not to."
No telling what she saw.
But she smirked, slipped a cigarette between his fingers, scooted closer, draped an arm over his shoulder, and pressed her body against his.
"I'll show you how."
"..."
Crow's parched lips weakly clamped onto the cigarette. He borrowed her lighter and scorched the tip faintly.
"Suck it like a straw. Don't inhale all the way—just hold it in your mouth."
The cigarette tip glowed red. With it came the acrid nicotine and tar bouquet he'd seen so many times.
"That's how you start. Later, draw it deeper, let it circulate in your body a bit, then exhale. No need now. Just hold it briefly and blow it out gently."
Cigarettes are pure poison.
Best not to start, for your own sake.
Yet Crow seemed to crave the small comfort from that little stick he'd watched so often and its smoke.
Cigarettes kill slowly,
but offer soothing smoke and stability in return.
"If you feel like coughing, go ahead. Holding it in the mouth avoids throat irritation, but first-timers might still react to the smoke."
"...Okay."
They smoked at a similar pace.
The smoke from Crow's first-ever drag brought long-overdue rest to his weary, sickly body.
"Can I borrow one sometimes?"
"No."
Didn't those folks in movies and shows always look so satisfied smoking?
Everyone's probably seen those faces—utterly exhausted after a brutal day, pausing everything to puff away.
"I'll just give you some. Don't ask to borrow so casually. Borrowing comes with a price. You know me."
Even Crow, after grueling fieldwork, had felt curiosity about cigarettes now and then.
On rainy days, seeing someone stand alone in an alley, burning away their worries with one tiny flame,
for some reason, he'd feel an inexplicable kinship or pity. Maybe that's why he was learning now.
"Smoke whenever you want. Come find me."
"Yeah."
Accepting her no-strings kindness, Crow puffed blankly, soothing himself.
At the point where he questioned whose side anyone was on,
and what to even believe,
Crow learned his first cigarette from Scardi.
"And this isn't a threat or pressure. I really want it, so I'm asking you."
As they sat side by side smoking, Scardi stubbed her shortened butt in the toilet and spoke softly to him.
"Want me to hold you? Is that okay?"
Her lips looked especially full. Crow nodded, finishing his half-smoked cigarette.
He needed someone's warmth. The bathroom was unexpectedly cold and damp—sitting alone too long could easily lead to a cold.
"It's fine to lean on me like this."
But Scardi's warmth was almost too much to bear. His chilled body, blood barely circulating, began to thaw against hers.
"It's okay. Truth is, I want you to. Don't think you're a burden. I'm happy to help you."
Crow thought this.
Why does this woman always say such warm things? Why does she care about me and help like this?
It was contradictory.
The Scardi he knew wasn't this gentle. Among villains, she seemed reasonable enough, but by civilian standards, she wasn't one of the "good" ones.
"Another cigarette?"
"Yeah."
Just moments ago, his back ached against the wall, but now he borrowed her body for cozy relief.
Like a tender lover, she positioned herself behind his back, hugging him quietly. In that pose, she pulled out two more cigarettes and placed one in each mouth.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Mind if I smoke?"
Scardi said from a quiet bench.
The two, who didn't know each other yet, had shed their usual clothes and vibes for a brief respite.
"No, go ahead. It's a smoking area."
"Thanks."
In casual wear, they looked quite different.
Scardi lounged in wide black pants and a plain white top, smoking easily,
while Crow sat demurely in a plain beige knit with one pocket and light slacks, waiting for someone.
Neither belonged at an amusement park. So they perched on a bench like outcasts, letting time drift meaningless.
Leaving the bench's center empty, they sat at opposite ends, facing forward. A pleasant bustle filled the air with moderate crowds.
"You come here often, huh."
"Yeah."
Even so, what sparked their conversation
was surely the unease they each sensed in the other.
"Alone?"
"Pretty much. Like a stroll."
Crow's dark eyes fixed on Scardi. From her, untouched by makeup yet still beautiful, he caught a faint whiff of death.
"And you? Here with a girlfriend?"
"With my little sis."
"Ah, little sis."
Scardi crossed her legs outward. On the right side, she laid her left over her right.
"Surprising. Siblings with such a close bond."
"Not blood siblings. Just a close kid sis. It's nice, but places like this aren't my thing. She keeps insisting though, even when I don't wanna come."
Even as they chatted, both mentally probed the other's identity. They shared that trait, it seemed.
"Tough."
"Yeah."
But they only warily observed—no direct moves.
Crow's concealed pistol on his left thigh, and the organization members rushing in linked to Scardi,
had no place in this fateful encounter where a long grudge began.
"Oppa."
Instead,
a smiling girl approached, filling their empty space. It was right as Scardi finished her cigarette.
"Sorry. The line was too long."
Ice cream in one hand,
churro in the other.
"Shall we go somewhere else? Oppa hates smoke, right?"
The girl spoke without glancing at Scardi. Pink hair starkly out of place on her exquisitely sculpted face.