Gentle touch

𝒮𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒯𝓌𝑜

~Alexie Ivanov~

Tiny sniffs cling to the walls of the room as her tear-lit eyes concentrate, delicately tending to my hands with skillful precision, ensuring the bandages wrap securely without exacerbating my wounds. Unaware amidst the day's adrenaline, fueled by the intensity of recent events, I hadn't noticed the harsh damage inflicted on the insides of my palms. Gripping the steering wheel too tightly and the skirmish with Nari had taken a toll, my nails inadvertently digging into my skin. Reflecting on the skirmish, I glance at the girl, her focus unwavering.

"Nari," I called out gently, my rage might've been raw, but there was a lesson that needed to be etched into her mind.

Her head snapped in my direction, her hazel orbs glassy, revealing the rawness of her emotions—open and honest. Whatever she had confessed to me felt genuine to the core, contrasting with my own outburst, which seemed like a release of pent-up emotions. The truth is, the more one suppresses emotions, the more explosive the eventual outburst becomes. I recognized that this situation could have been handled more appropriately. She should have known about my secrets long ago, perhaps right from the beginning. Yet, I never anticipated that she would become so invaluable to me, and the mere thought of her hating me now felt unbearable.

"Listen, today," I had to convey to her, even if it risked our 'relationship,' "you need to realize that mastering Muay Thai isn't about adhering to rules. This isn't a competition you're training for; it's preparation for life." I glanced at her, her eyes solemnly understanding my context. "I need you to sharpen your thinking to the point where you can navigate such situations using any means necessary, even if they're deemed unethical."

Nodding, she kept her gaze fixed on my palms, lost in thought. I knew she was grappling with the idea—asking her to embrace tactics conflicting with her morals. Yet, for survival, it was the harsh reality.

A sigh escaped her lips, her fingers still entwined with mine. She glanced my way, her need evident as her soft voice admitted, "I... I am tired."

I empathized with her fatigue, as I felt the weight of the day as well. Pulling her gently with our intertwined fingers, I guided her towards her bedroom. However, our steps halted at the threshold, and I urged her, "Nari, go take a bath. We... we need to sit and talk. I believe both of us have something to reveal."

A deep breath escaped her lungs as she fiddled with the hem of her shorts, a mix of reluctance and guilt evident. "...You know about the letter?"

I nodded, understanding the weight of her admission. I didn't want her to carry unnecessary guilt, but time was a precious commodity, as valuable as life itself.

"I'll get it," she asserted, her gaze steady, prepared to lay bare whatever was in that letter. However, as she moved to retrieve it, I intervened, urging her to rest first. These conversations required a clear conscience and a level head.

As we reluctantly parted ways, the connection between our fingers clung, hesitant to release each other's warmth. Despite her confession of feelings and my reciprocation, I couldn't afford to display them openly. The weight of her father's expectations loomed in my mind, and betraying his trust was not an option. Opting for the logical choice, I maintained a comfortable distance. I respected that she harbored feelings for me, but she was young, with numerous potential options and a bright future ahead. I didn't want to limit her possibilities, and even if her feelings for me deepened, for reasons unknown, I couldn't let them evolve into something more.

Another barrier was her age. Despite her maturity, girls her age were susceptible to falling for the glimmer of hope they found in their lives. After years of neglect, it was easier for her to develop feelings for me. Hence, what she truly needed wasn't a boyfriend but a guardian—a protector who could shield her from all adversities while offering solace from her inner demons.

Entering my own shower, I grappled with a decision I had been reluctant to make, but it had become a necessity. To truly assist Nari, I needed to bring her upstairs, reveal my vulnerable self, and only then would I be deemed worthy of offering her any support.

Once we were both comfortably healing from the scars of the day, I guided her in front of the stairs that led upstairs—upstairs to the haven I had fortified for myself.

As she glanced up, any earlier hesitation was replaced by curiosity, and she began to ascend the wooden steps that I had specially designed. However, just before she placed her foot on the first step, I stopped her.

"Stop, Nari. Wait and look," I urged the girl, noticing her furrowed brows at my interruption. I clarified, "Do you know what happens once you set foot on the stairs?" I wanted her critical thinking to kick in, and she did, for she had made that mistake once. I had also observed her intrigued glances whenever I consciously avoided the same.

In deep thought, she nodded slowly, "Yes, I know. The stairs creak harshly. But it's odd, Alex, for that never happens when you do it?"

A smile played on my lips; my estimates were correct. I began to help her form the image in her head, saying, "Tell me, Nari, when you step on a stair, which route would you use? Let's say we divide the landing of each ascent into three imaginary paths. What's the path that most people would likely take?"

"Hmm," she pondered, biting her lip, a distraction that tested my determination. I needed to give her the space to clarify her thoughts, though my own mind was heading into questionable territory.

"Ah, I got it!" she finally answered. "Most likely, anyone would opt for the center."

Nodding, I praised her, "Well done. Now, what if you were in a hurry, coming right from the main door and rushing upstairs?"

Her response was instant this time, "You'd take the side nearest to the door, latching onto the railing as you go."

Proudly, I acknowledged, "Well done. So now, if I have these stairs deliberately designed to creak loud enough to warn me of any intruder..."

Before I could even finish my explanation, the girl, caught in her own excitement, stepped on the corner nearest to the wall, and the stairs didn't creak under her weight. A childlike energy surged through her as she reveled in the victory of solving the puzzle. Indeed, the stairs were designed with support only on the corner section attached to the walls, while other parts were hollow beneath. Leveraging normal human tendencies, it became easy for me to deduce potential paths intruders might take—careful ones choosing the center, and those in a hurry opting for the outermost corner attached to the railing. Simple yet effective in catching anyone off guard.

"But," Nari muttered, "I have seen you take the middle section many times, and they never creaked under your weight!"

"Smart girl," I praised, gently ruffling her bouncing hair. It was a bad decision, as a slight flush appeared on her cheeks, momentarily stirring my dormant heart. Clearing my throat, I stepped back, returning my focus to the topic. "That's because I know the trick. I walk almost with a feather-light touch, ensuring my weight doesn't remain constant for more than a few milliseconds. With practice, even you can achieve that. Shall we go?" I urged.

Nodding, she carefully moved along the wall-side corner, venturing further. Despite her residency in the house for a while, the upper floor had remained uncharted territory until now. I allowed her the time to absorb the new surroundings. While the upper floor shared the same footprint as the ground floor, it boasted only three rooms. This custom design was implemented after I acquired the singular property, tailored to my specific requirements. She surveyed the common area, lush with a pool table and adorned with a fully stocked cabinet containing all my favorite bar necessities.

I would truly agree that, throughout the lower floor, only a few rooms bore my personal touch—specifically the kitchen, garage, and woodshed. The remaining rooms were adorned by an interior designer; I never felt the need to imbue them with my own touch, with one exception—Nari's room, which I remodeled to create a cozy space for her. However, the upper floor was an entirely different story. Though still sparse in terms of personal items like photos, it had been enhanced to cater to my taste, considering I spent most of my time in this space.

As if sensing my presence in the space, Nari slowly moved about the common area, her fingers gingerly exploring the new space. When she reached the pool table, her eyes spotted the cue on the side, and she gently placed her fingers on it. Startled, I moved to caution her, but by then, the compartment had already flipped open, surprising her in turn. A side compartment slid open as she murmured, horrified.

"Alexie, what... what...?" she stammered.

Biting my lip, I moved next to her, shutting the compartment filled with emergency weapons close. "Sorry, I should've warned you. This floor has secret hiding areas... for... well, emergencies."

My guilty eyes lowered to the floor where she stood next to the table leg as I had warned her beforehand, "Be careful of that floorboard."

Surprised, she jumped, suspiciously glancing about her surroundings. A small laugh rang within my throat; I couldn't deny that she was adorable, and a part of me longed to envelop her in my arms.

Shaking my head, I moved toward a particular door, calling out to her, "Nari, shall we?"

~Nariya Patel~

Cautiously, I cast a suspicious glance all around as I carefully made my way towards one of the three doors, my eyes narrowing on every possible floor tile and furniture crevice.

"Nari," Alexie called me out once more, snapping my attention to his amused smile, the door standing open behind him. Gulping, I bit my lip, my gaze fixed on his smirk. 'Oh, how those firm lips of his curled; how I would love to taste them once again.' The mere thought of his taste on my lips made a blush creep onto my cheeks. Sensing my flush, his eyes widened, pooling with desire, but he quickly turned around, walking hastily inside.

Shaking my head, I discarded the immoral thoughts, making my way inside. What lay in front of me startled me. I had expected a room straight out of those cyberpunk movies—walls covered in screens, shades shrouded in darkness, with the floors littered hastily. However, this room defied those expectations. In fact, it was quite normal, featuring a clean aesthetic with all its belongings placed coherently. It exuded Alexie in every way—neatness and orderliness on full display, making it surprisingly comfortable. As I walked in, I noticed that the most complex aspect of the room was the computer setup.

The room's focal point was an impressive computer setup, embellished with multiple sleek monitors—a testament to Alexie's meticulous approach. The desk was neatly lined with these monitors, and the air was filled with the soft hum of powerful processors. The cables, expertly managed, contributed to an organized and efficient workspace. It was evident that every detail had been thoughtfully curated, showcasing not just a workspace but also a reflection of Alexie's systematic and precise nature.

"So..." I began the conversation we both needed to have, "...you're a software engineer?"

He had lingered near the threshold until now, allowing me to acquaint myself with the place, yet it all felt strangely familiar, so distinctly him. Finally, at my words, he came in, gently settling into the chair in front of the PC setup.

"Well," he started, "sort of. You can call me that."

"Made a lot of software and apps and earned your millions?" I chimed as I browsed through the bookshelf, which contained books from an array of genres.

"Um, did that at the start," he laughed a bit, his eyes fixated on me. "But that's not exactly how I made my money..."

I looked back at him, sensing the strain in his voice as he seemed to calm his nerves.

"I'm more of a developer. I started off developing blockchain and crypto when I was under your father. But every guy gets allured by money, and so did I. Then I turned to developing a dark web trading marketplace called 'Trunk.' It's kind of like Amazon and AliBaba, but for everything illicit. It had everything to help users maintain their anonymity while avoiding detection by authorities. Operated worldwide, with servers and VPNs engaged to hide transactions. It sold everything..." He looked down, his calm smile faltering.

I had a vague understanding of what transpired on the dark web—most of it illegal and criminal in many states. It was a realm we had been warned to avoid in our Information Technology classes. A market on the dark web operated in a laissez-faire manner, with the forces of demand and supply shaping the course of its economy through pricing models and equilibrium. However, not all equilibriums were good or desirable. It resembled Darwinian evolution at times, following the principle of survival of the fittest. In a good society, such a scenario couldn't be allowed to unfold without intervention from regulatory authorities, aimed at ensuring a fair marketplace for all. Otherwise, there would always be winners and losers, widening the income gap and causing numerous problems for any country. When you remove all regulatory controls, allowing free trade to operate at will and fueled by greed, that's when dark web marketplaces find their utility.

I understood the implication, grasping the gravity of what he meant—why he considered himself not a good person, a point he had emphasized repeatedly. These websites dealt in everything, from commonplace items like drugs to much more gruesome ones, such as human trafficking.

"Did... you sell humans?" I gulped, realizing the man sitting in front of me was no ordinary individual. In fact, if it were anyone else, they would likely be packing their bags and running away. Why did I stay? I wasn't quite sure, but I knew that all my decisions were my own and not driven by any feelings I harbored for him. Through the time I had known him, from the very first day, somewhere in my consciousness, I recognized that he was not a "nice" man by societal norms. Yet, what kept me around wasn't his conformity to societal expectations of niceness but the conviction in my heart that he was "nice" for me.

His eyes widened as laughter rang through his lips. "Not really. I mean, I don't know how anyone would manage shipping a real human being. But getting involved with those kinds of idiots was like walking deliberately into an axe. Yes, the website did sell drugs, porn, credit card details, and other shit," he scratched the nape of his neck, contemplating whether to continue, but he refrained.

Licking my lips, I asked the major question that lingered in my head for a while, "Do you regret it? I mean making money off it?"

He looked down, deep in thought, fiddling with his fingers. "Truth be told, not really. I mean, I just provided a platform, not the product. Just like everything in this world, it was up to the people how they decided to use that platform—for good or for evil. I just made money off capitalizing on their greed, which, if I hadn't done it, someone else would have. And well, it's not like a normal marketplace is any better. Big corporations push consumerism into the hearts of people, making them run a loop—forever stuck in the cycle of purchasing and then earning by working in the same corporations, all the while the wealth gap increases. The wealthy become richer, and the poor become broke. That is the world we live in," he looked up, glancing into my eyes, "you, being a business major, understand that better than me."

I did understand; I knew the source of this resentment, as I harbored the same feelings. Once you grasp the intricacies of the game, you are bound to detest it. However, escaping its clutches is an elusive endeavor, and you remain tethered to it as long as you live in this world. Capitalism, once a catalyst for rapid economic growth, now seemed to be hurtling towards economic destruction, fueled by none other than human greed.

"I am not trying to justify my actions, but I have done them, and I can't give excuses for them either. I am a bad man, that's it, that's all," he continued.

"And so are all of us," I added.

Absorbing it all became somewhat easier for me, as if my body understood where he was coming from, as if, placed in his position, I might have done the same.

"How did you get out? I mean, usually, a lot of authorities come together to catch the suspect behind these sites," I asked.

"Well, I cut a deal with the feds, specifically with the AVID department head for the committee that was chasing after the then ruler of the dark web, the creator of Trunk—aka, me. I offered Henk Visser a deal he could not say no to. In exchange for my freedom and money, I provided the data of millions of criminals using Trunk at the time," I could hear a tinge of excitement in his voice. I knew adrenaline rushes like these got him excited, but this was beyond a rush. The entirety of a site was built on the trust of its users, and to betray that took guts, alright.

"Enough about this. You can ask more as you feel like, but for now, we have some pressing matters at hand, don't we?" he glanced my way as I slowly, yet carefully, pulled out the letter from my pocket. Back in its original casing, I gingerly laid it in front of Alexie on his desk. His brows furrowed as he looked at the rectangular piece in front of him.

Author's Note: 

Hello, my Lovelies~

How have you been? I hope you all are doing well.

The second season of "Knife on His Lap" has begun, but updates will occur only once a week. I am also working on editing Season One. If any of you notice any issues with the writing, please let me know so that I can take that into consideration. Don't worry; I'll try to establish a proper uploading schedule by the next chapter!

XOXO Mai