She slumps into her chair and stares at the photograph for a long while, unable to think of anything. Only later does she realize that her fingertips are trembling slightly. In that moment, a forgotten name flashes through her mind like lightning.
‘Right… there was Vadim.’
He was there. A person who witnessed the scene with his own eyes, just like her. No, perhaps he is someone who knows even more than she does. Almost reflexively, Natasha picks up her phone. Her fingers slide impatiently across the screen as she searches for his contact. When she presses the call button, the long ringing tone feels much longer than usual.
“Hello?”
At the sound of the voice finally coming through, she catches her breath.
“Vadim, it’s… it’s Natasha.”
After a brief silence, the sound of breathing mixed with a sense of familiarity flows out.
“Ah, Natasha. Did you get home okay? Are you alright?”
His voice is calm as usual, but it is tinged with exhaustion.
“Yes, I’m fine. Vadim, where are you now?”
“I’m at the Cosmos Hotel. After the spacecraft left the square, all the soldiers guarding the area are granted leave. And I… I think I face an investigation by the State Intelligence Service tomorrow.”
At those words, Natasha’s heart sinks. She expected it, but hearing it out loud makes it feel like a harsh reality.
“Ah… I see.”
Unable to continue for a moment, she opens her mouth as if making a decision.
“Vadim, I live near there. Should I come to the Cosmos Hotel? I have something I want to ask you.”
A short breath stops on the other end of the line. She can feel that he, too, is hesitating.
“Coming here? Um…”
A brief silence passes. In truth, it has been three years since Natasha last saw Vadim after entering society. This is the first time they speak since their high school graduation.
“Alright. Let’s meet at 8 o'clock then.”
“Okay.”
When the call ends, silence settles over the room again. Natasha slowly puts down her phone. Outside the window, darkness is already falling over the city.
She must meet him tonight. If he is investigated starting tomorrow, she might never get another chance to hear the truth. Vadim was at the scene of the battle and must be someone who saw the fleet of spaceships hovering in the air. Furthermore, today at the square, he was singled out by that Asian woman who appeared to be an alien. The woman pointed him out directly, saying she would use him as a liaison for the R-side. That fact alone is enough to be newsworthy.
However, more than the greed for a scoop, a completely different emotion occupies Natasha’s heart. The thoughts she has suppressed all day are slowly raising their heads in the quiet room.
Actually, she wants to see Vadim. She wants to see him in person and hear his voice up close.
Natasha clearly remembers the way Vadim looked at her back in high school. She remembers his expression on those afternoons sitting by the classroom window—looking as if he wanted to say something but ultimately couldn't open his mouth.
He always used to watch her from a step away. He stayed there like someone who wouldn't cross the line, yet would never turn his gaze away. Natasha knew this. She knew, but pretended not to.
If Vadim had summoned his courage just once back then, what kind of expression would she have made?
She has kept that question buried in her heart for a long time.
Natasha leaves her room. The "click" of the front door closing sounds unusually loud.
‘The Cosmos Hotel, huh…’
The Cosmos Hotel is a colossal structure built as a joint venture with France during the era of the former USSR. Its sheer scale and majesty are enough to overwhelm anyone just by looking at the exterior. When you step out of the main gate of this hotel, which boasts over 1,700 rooms, the vast exhibition square known as VDNKh unfolds before you.
In the 1980s, this hotel was an architectural symbol of national prestige. It was the gateway through which foreigners first set foot, and simultaneously, a place with another face that no one spoke of aloud.
Those were difficult times.
The young women who filled the hotel lobby back then were called "Intergirls." It was said that only the most dazzling faces from around the world were gathered there. But on nights when expensive perfume and foreign languages mingled under the chandeliers, the expressions of those laughing women seemed somewhat sad. Natasha recalls a sentence she read in an old article.
The movie Intergirl was filmed right here, and the lead actress, Elena Yakovleva, gained worldwide fame at the age of twenty-eight. The sparkle in her eyes on the screen seems to have eternally sealed the hotel’s past.
Natasha tightens her fur coat, her shuba. Once, mink would have been the natural choice, but what she wears now is a low-cost "eco-shuba"—artificial fur. As she strokes the fur with her fingertips, it feels soft but somehow light. The world has changed enough that one might not know the difference between real and fake, but the winter cold remains unchanged.
A city in winter is a place where one can never step outside without thorough preparation.
She runs vigorously up the sloped hotel entrance and pushes through the revolving door. Warm air hits her face. The high ceiling, marble floors, and overly neat modern sofas come into view. Instead of past glamour, an expressionless sophistication that belongs nowhere takes its place.
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Natasha looks around.
But Vadim is nowhere to be seen.
The second hand of the wall clock moves indifferently. It is nearing 8 o'clock, but he does not appear. Since he is not the type to miss an appointment, anxiety slowly begins to seep into her heart.
While she waits on the sofa, a security guard in a suit glances at her repeatedly. At first, she thinks it is a coincidence, but as the gaze repeats several times, her shoulders reflexively stiffen. ‘Am I standing out too much?’
Feeling unnecessarily self-conscious, Natasha stands up. She walks toward the restroom as if nothing is wrong.
The sound of her heels clicks against the marble floor. The sound echoes strangely loud in the empty lobby.
‘Good grief, do I look like an Intergirl?’ The guard's persistent gaze is bothersome.
The moment she exits the restroom and walks down the hallway, someone suddenly grabs her hand and thrusts a piece of paper into it. Because the person has their hat pulled down low, there is no time to see their face.
A short sentence is written on the paper:
[Natasha, government agencies are monitoring me. Come to the Planet Cosmos restaurant on the 25th floor.]
She is startled but quickly regains her composure. Acting like an ordinary hotel guest, she gets onto the elevator. Fortunately, she is alone. Her heart thumps as she presses the button for the 25th floor.
Arriving at the 25th floor, she enters the Planet Cosmos restaurant, which offers the best night view of the city. Vadim is sitting in a corner seat.
Natasha approaches him slowly with her head slightly bowed. Inside, she wants to burst out with joy, but she suppresses it. As she takes off her faux-fur coat, she says:
“Hi, Vadim.”
As she speaks, she offers him a quiet smile with her eyes.
Vadim stares at her as if he has lost his words for a moment, then finally lets out a slow breath.
“Hi, Natasha. You… you look beautiful.”
At that single sentence, Natasha’s heart skips a beat. It feels as though the words she never got to hear during their high school days have finally arrived.
Just then, a waiter approaches.
“May I take your order?”
Without even opening the menu, Natasha says, “A slice of Pavlova and a slice of Medovik, please. And two shots of vodka.”
As the waiter nods and withdraws, she leans back in her chair and says, “Vadim, let’s just have something light. I’m not very hungry.”
“Ah… right…”
The cakes and vodka arrive. After a shot each, their bodies begin to relax slightly. Outside the window, snowflakes are scattering through the air. The city, seen from the 25th floor, is beautiful.
“Vadim, how did you end up being chosen by that woman in the square?”
“Natasha… I’m not sure.”
His voice trembles slightly.
“Actually, I am so surprised today. I never imagined I’d see you again here after seeing you back home in high school. And… I didn’t expect you to be the one chosen by that being.”
“Me neither. But the truth is…”
“What is it?”
“This morning, I went out to battle and came under attack by an enemy drone. I was hiding in a building basement when an NK soldier saved me. Strangely… that person seemed like one of the aliens. They had a very special object, and the woman in the square today threw the same kind of thing into the air.”
“Then… maybe they already know who you are.”
“It’s possible.”
“Did you tell the State Intelligence Service about this?”
“No, I didn't. I think it would cause trouble if I said I was helped by the enemy…”
“Don’t say a word. Just say you were chosen by chance.”
“Alright.”
A shadow of fear clings to Vadim’s face. The face of the boy she used to see back home in Siberia overlaps with his current expression.
Natasha likes him, too. It took her a long time just to admit that fact. But she doesn't want to be the first to reach out. No, she can't. She has been waiting quietly for a long time for Vadim to extend his hand first.
She remembers a day in language class when she stood at the front of the room to recite a poem: Aleksandr Blok’s The Twelve.
As she was murmuring the lines about the cold blizzard of the revolution, she suddenly looked up and her eyes met his. Vadim, sitting by the window, was staring straight at her, unable to look away as if he is startled.
In that moment, Natasha’s heart raced. Even the textbook in her hand shook slightly.
But even after she finished the poem and returned to her seat, he never approached her.
He was always like that after that day. He spoke little and always stood a step away.
It is the same even now.
“Vadim, how is your mother?”
At Natasha’s question, he bows his head for a moment before answering.
“She’s back home. She’s still alive.”
“That’s a relief.”
After a brief silence, she quietly adds, “Vadim, if anything happens tomorrow, you must contact me. I’m a journalist at a famous newspaper. I can help.”
Vadim looks at her. His gaze is a mixture of gratitude and a certain hint of apology.
“Thank you, Natasha.”
Instead of answering, Natasha picks up her vodka glass and drains it in one gulp. The burning heat travels deep down into her chest.
Vadim follows her lead and drinks.
She gestures to the waiter and orders another round. A tipsy warmth begins to rise—slowly, but unmistakably. Her heart, which has been stiff with tension, loosens bit by bit. Outside the window, the snow continues to fall in silence.
“Vadim, I hate this war so much.”
Her voice is low but firm.
“No matter the justification, this way is not right. Too many of our young men are dying, and the people of Country U as well… the whole world is condemning us. If we win, will we truly become a respected nation?”
As she finishes speaking, she feels her own breath grow shallow. Uttering such words aloud is a dangerous thing to do.
Vadim says nothing for a moment. Then, in an incredibly quiet voice, he speaks.
“Natasha… I feel the same way. But I am a soldier. I must follow the orders of my motherland. And… you must be careful with words like those.”
He leans in slightly and adds this almost in a whisper. Even amidst the ambient noise of the restaurant, the words ring out clearly.
Natasha does not answer; instead, she drinks another shot of vodka. Now, the warmth of the alcohol has clearly reached her head.
A moment later, she suddenly stands up from her seat. The sound of the chair scraping against the floor echoes softly.
“Vadim, what floor is your room on?”
“Uh… it’s the 17th.”
She looks down at him for a beat. Her gaze is slightly different than before. It is the look of someone who has made a decision.
“Then, let’s go.”
Vadim looks up at her with a startled expression.
Though surprised by the unexpected suggestion, Vadim cannot refuse. He just feels like he has to.
As soon as they enter the room, even before the door is fully closed, Natasha throws down her bag and turns to throw her arms around Vadim’s neck. His own will does not matter.
Tonight, she wants to release her tension in this way. It is compassion, and it is impulse.
Inwardly, she mutters to herself:
‘This is a gift. Something you wanted a long time ago. A gift from me to you, who has lived through such hardship.’
Outside the window, the snow is still falling. The city lights flicker faintly, quietly shrouding the night.