BIA Ch. 110

“Why?”

Perhaps he stared too obviously, as Bran gave him a look that asked what the problem was.

“No, it’s nothing.”

Isaiah picked up the whole box of tissues from the bedside drawer, changing the subject.

“Anyway, how did you get here? Isn’t this the time you should be nicely tucked in bed with Chester?”

“There was trouble at Spade.”

Bran ignored Isaiah’s joke and only answered the question. Spade was the rooftop lounge Bran ran. It boasted an excellent view overlooking the Eloy City skyline and stocked many expensive liquors not easily found elsewhere, making it a popular gathering spot for the well-to-do. Trouble at a place like that meant it had to be dealt with immediately, regardless of whether it was night or dawn.

“Guess you have to go right back.”

“Everyone’s probably asleep anyway. Even if not, they’ll just think I’m having a drink with someone from the police.”

Bran lay down fully on the bed, a cigarette still in his mouth. Perhaps it was just a feeling, but his tone seemed tinged with weariness. Isaiah pulled out a tissue and wiped his own semen from his lower abdomen as he asked.

“Seems like there are rumors going around that Chester’s name is in Cedric’s will.”

“You can’t defy blood.”

Bran muttered, closing his eyes.

So he knew.

Bran’s tone was so nonchalant that Isaiah felt strangely unsettled. The urge to demand how long he had known vanished. Was he really unfazed about losing the boss position that had been practically within his grasp?

“Anyway, nothing changes about your mission.”

As if sensing Isaiah’s gaze, Bran took the cigarette from his mouth and held it in his hand as he spoke.

“Regardless of who gets appointed boss, you have one job that evening. When I give the signal, blow Chester’s head off. That’s it.”

Right, I knew Bran would say something like this. Truthfully, there wasn’t much else he could say. I’m not a member of the Kalisz family; I’m strictly an outsider. Not only is there no way for me to intervene from within, but this was the role assigned to me from the start.

But…

He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come out. Before that, there was a stifling feeling, like something caught in his throat.

Meanwhile, Bran stubbed out his cigarette in the incense holder on the headboard, picked up his smartphone, and opened the Airbnb app.

“Why that?”

“Need to send Alejandro a message. Ask him to clean up in the morning.”

Alejandro was the owner of this place.

“Is it okay to send it at this hour?”

In response to Isaiah’s question, Bran showed him the previous messages exchanged with Alejandro. ‘Okay. Besides 2208 in this building, I also own 1806 and 1807, so let me know if you need additional rooms. Also, I live on the 11th floor. If you need anything, just send a message. Anytime is fine. It’s an honor to have you as my guest, Bob!’

Instead of Alejandro’s name, the sender ID showed a picture of a young man wearing a designer scarf, holding a single flower, and smiling against the backdrop of an unidentifiable sculpture. Judging by the decor sense of the place, he was undoubtedly gay.

“How does this guy afford several expensive places like this? He looks about my age.”

“Probably took out loans. He’s likely paying the interest with the Airbnb income. Seems like he does the cleaning himself too.”

Bran put down his smartphone as soon as he sent the message. Then, he pulled Isaiah, lying next to him, into an embrace and said.

“When it comes to money, you probably have several times more.”

“Maybe before I bought the house. Now, the house is all I have.”

“Really? Is the house in Virginia?”

Bran shifted slightly, reaching for the tissue box beside Isaiah. Every time he moved, a strong scent of roses emanated from him. The fragrance had been annoyingly strong enough to cause a headache earlier, but strangely, it wasn’t so bad now.

“Yeah, Charlottesville.”

“Nice town.”

Pulling out several tissues, he tapped Isaiah’s outer thigh. Isaiah hesitated, then raised his thigh. His wet entrance was exposed. The opening widened, letting the remaining oil and semen slowly seep out. The rose scent intensified.

“Isn’t it too quiet, though? There’s nothing nearby except schools. And yet the housing prices are high.”

Bran said, wiping away the leaking fluids.

“My father wanted it there. Apparently, for Virginians, owning a house there is some kind of dream. It wasn’t a difficult request, so I wanted to grant it for him.”

“Good son.”

Bran muttered, crumpling the quickly soaked tissues and tossing them onto the floor. This time, he inserted two fingers into the wet opening. Isaiah knew it was to scoop out the semen pooled inside, but the sudden insertion made his buttocks clench involuntarily.

“But was Jacana from Virginia?”

Bran said, pushing his fingers deeper, unconcerned.

“Not from Virginia, but… the headquarters is in Virginia. Maybe it held the meaning of a hometown for my father.”

My adoptive father had worked as a sniper for WD for over thirty years, since the White Dove days. To him, an orphan, WD seemed to have felt more like a family community than just a workplace.

“He always called his colleagues brothers…”

“They navigated battlefields together. That makes sense. They say camaraderie in arms is stronger than brotherhood.”

Whether intentional or not, the touch caressing his insides was excessively gentle. He knew it was meant to be careful because he was swollen inside, but being unnecessarily soft felt rather precarious.

“Yeah. So, for me, my father was my only family, but it felt like my father had… family other than me…”

As the hand continued to stroke his insides, his breathing grew increasingly ragged. The lingering heat from before meant even the slightest fanning quickly made his body flush.

“Were you upset?”

Fortunately, Bran withdrew his fingers just then. A mixture of oil, semen, and bodily fluids gushed out from the widened opening. The sensation of it flowing out endlessly, as if a plug had been pulled, made his whole body tremble uncontrollably.

“No…”

He instinctively tried to close his legs but was stopped by Bran. The soft touch of a tissue met his wet opening. In his highly sensitized state, even that felt stimulating. Isaiah covered his face with one arm, panting heavily.

“I wasn’t a very affectionate son… Um, I couldn’t really talk much with my father. So, I thought, if, uh, those people could… fill whatever void my father had, instead of me… that would be fortunate…”

Despite trying not to, moans kept mixing with his words. Bran’s hand wiping between his legs felt too good. It was even lewd. It was fortunate he was already spent; otherwise, he might have gotten hard long ago.

“Even after my father was hospitalized, it was the same. They visited the hospital often in my place, chattered beside him even if he couldn’t hear… My father liked that kind of thing.”

“So, that’s why you keep someone who’s practically a living corpse hospitalized at Fairfax Medical Center? Throwing away thousands of dollars a day on hospital bills?”

His tone was blatantly uncomprehending. Tossing the thoroughly soaked wad of tissues onto the floor, Bran lay back down on the bed. Instead of grabbing more tissues, he wrapped both arms tightly around Isaiah.

“Well, if I were Jacana, I don’t think I’d like it very much.”

“…No one ever said that.”

Isaiah muttered, burying his face in Bran’s chest.

“Everyone just said Jacana would be pleased. That he was lucky to have such a fine son.”

“That’s so you’d continue volunteering as WD’s slave.”

“Right.”

Isaiah chuckled faintly. It was something he had known all along. Still, he didn’t really mind. Thinking too deeply about things only led to skepticism. There was no point digging into a reality that wouldn’t change anyway and stressing himself out.

“Anyway, my father’s hospital bills were all taken care of. And I was in a situation where I didn’t have to worry about making a living. I thought that was enough.”

“Not very greedy, are you.”

Bran’s hand stroked the back of his head. The leisurely caress down to his nape felt good, as did the rustling sound of his hair beneath the large fingertips. Isaiah closed his eyes quietly and muttered as if to himself. Not everyone in the world dreams the same dream, Bran.

“Just as there are people who want to be president, there are people like you who want to be a mafia boss. For someone in prison, the only dream is getting out immediately. For someone who lived in hell, anywhere is fine as long as it’s not hell.”

“Even a cage?”

Bran asked.

“Even a cage.”

Isaiah replied.

“Hmm.”

Bran chuckled softly. Or perhaps it was a sigh. Soon, the hand stroking his hair moved away. When Isaiah opened his eyes, Bran was picking up the pack of cigarettes he had tossed onto the bedside drawer earlier.