Chapter Text
The Sky Casino had only been part of The Book for eight days, yet Sigma felt as if he’d worked there much longer. He regretted not spending more time with his staff, the patrons, the hallways, and the gambling tables. Now he was travelling alongside the clown who had drugged him and tied him to a car seat—all to kill Fyodor Dostoevsky. Gogol had taken him, supposedly to uncover the real nature of the Demon’s ability. But wasn’t Fyodor’s power already known? The ability to kill any living being with a single touch, no matter the barrier. It was something Sigma had seen with his own eyes, burned into his memory from the first he saw it.
Still, he suspected the Clown knew something he didn’t. Asking me to help him with his plan... He likely knew something was up. He thought. Sigma hadn’t been against Dostoevsky before, but things had changed—after all, Dostoevsky had ordered him shot. If Nikolai and Sigma didn’t strike first, Fyodor surely would. Sigma couldn’t help but wonder what ability Fyodor might have—maybe he’d figure it out before he needed to use his own.
He closes his eyes, lost in thought. If all it takes for Dostoevsky’s ability to work is a touch, then it makes no sense that a simple cloth couldn’t block it—unless the barrier is somehow part of the target itself. Or maybe the rule is touching something the target recently touched? He shakes his head, drawing a curious glance from Gogol, though Sigma doesn’t notice, too focused on glaring at the windowpane. No, that can’t be right. If that were true, Fyodor wouldn’t need to get so close, yet he always does. Sigma thinks back to the few times he’s seen Fyodor use his ability. What if it’s some kind of energy from the Demon’s hand, slipping past barriers to attack the brain directly? That would make sense, except for the same flaw—he still has to be close enough to touch. And can an ability really exist just to kill? Wouldn’t that be a mistake if the Gods were the ones who gave them abilities? After turning it over in his mind, Sigma still isn’t sure.
Why is he even suspicious of the clown? If Nikolai, who spent so much time with Fyodor, couldn’t figure it out, what chance does he have? It seems he’ll have to rely on his own ability. In that instant, Sigma feels the weight of agreeing to Gogol’s plan, dread creeping in. Fyodor's ability is deadly, and his is life-changing if used incorrectly. Is risking his life really worth finding out what an ability can do? Even if he wanted to back out, could he ever escape Gogol? Not a chance.
Accepting his fate, he stares out the tinted window of the stolen car, his mind wandering to his casino. But with the clown sitting next to him, the memories inevitably involve the man, much to his annoyance. Why did the clown keep coming to the Sky Casino? Sigma can’t help but wonder.
Running a world-famous casino comes with its perks—huge revenue, global recognition, mingling with big names, and turning the country into a tourist hotspot. But with abundance comes chaos: crowds packed in, constant quality control problems, security risks, and staff burning out. Sigma knows this life all too well; he owns the place. The stress is relentless, but all he can do is push forward. Tears feel pointless, a waste of time. And with Christmas around the corner, the spending frenzy is in full swing, making the casino busier than ever.
So, what does an ordinary man do when a seemingly very influential Russian who can’t speak a word of Japanese walks into your casino in Japan? Stay calm, panic, maybe even shed a tear. For Sigma, international customers are always a challenge. He’s tried to learn different languages, but his mind and body couldn’t keep up as much as he’d hoped. A common man like Sigma can only remember a few phrases for small talk, and that’s fine, right? After all, overseas customers rarely stick around for long. He sets that problem aside for now, choosing instead to focus on assigning his staff to different rooms in the casino, ensuring the establishment is designed to suit a cheerful, festive day.
It would have been fine if Sigma hadn’t completely forgotten. He’d gotten caught up in the chaos at the casino’s west bar—repairing damage, replacing property, and dealing with paperwork for a troublesome customer. By the time he remembered the Russian client, the afternoon had already slipped away. Now, with only until tomorrow left, he had to juggle the overseas customer alongside a mountain of other tasks. Being a manager could be downright exhausting.
Hours later, he sat staring at the customer log his front desk staff had given him, eyes fixed on the paper as though sheer will could erase the problem waiting for him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to ease the tension building there, but the headache from lack of sleep was already creeping in. Straightening in his chair, he told himself, Time to sort this out. Putting this off any longer will just make it worse. And he would have—if not for the sudden appearance of a shimmering gold portal expanding before him, from which a gloved hand shot out and snatched the paper from his grasp.
"Wowie! What’s grabbed your attention this time, Sigma?" said the clown, Nikolai Gogol, who had leapt out from the portal to unceremoniously stand in front of Sigma, shattering the quiet atmosphere. He casually skimmed through, muttering nonsense and pretending to read, flipping the papers as if they were completely unimportant—that’s Gogol’s welcome. “What a pile of useless junk~!” the clown remarks, handing the papers back to Sigma with a mock show of politeness. “Not looking too great for you, huh? Heh.” The clown sighs, then brightens up just as immediately. "What a shame! I wished to show you the magic of a market! Say, do you know what Christmas Markets are~?" He said, slamming both of his hands down to the table with a loud thud, sending the papers flying, grinning widely.
"If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were mocking me. "Sigma leans back in his chair, eyes flicking over the scattered papers before shooting a sidelong glance away from the other man, his face a mix of irritation and sarcasm. Yep, that headache is definitely on its way. "I know what a market is—" "Oho! What a clever three-year-old you are, Sigma! If you didn’t look like a full-grown man, you’d have won an award!" Sigma narrowed his eyes, his irritation giving way to open disdain, not appreciating being cut off before he could prove himself. "Not now, Gogol. Whatever you bring here always causes me trouble." He tried to soften his tone, but the dislike still showed clearly on his face.
"Aha! What’s that, Sigma? You think I’d drag an entire market of people here~?" Gogol teased, one hand on his hip and the other twirling his cane, spinning slowly in place. "That’s not what I said! Are you messing with me again?!" Seeing no escape from the conversation, Sigma wanted Nikolai gone right away. "Why are you here? What do you want now?" Sigma frowned, meeting the other man’s gaze. The fastest way to get the clown to leave was to play along with his whims; resisting only made him cling harder. Gogol would whisk Sigma away to who-knows-where until he finally caved. Whatever Gogol wanted from him could be spun into a solution for his growing problem. After all, it’s fair to use those who’ve used you, right? Sigma mused.
Though expected, it was still surprising. Gogol burst into laughter. "Hahaha! This is why I like you most! You act so ordinary when you're stressed!" Walking around the table, Nikolai stopped beside Sigma, taking both of his hands and giving them a warm squeeze. "Let’s go to a market~! It’s going to be so much fun! I know just the place."
Sigma, caught off guard by the action, muttered an agreement and stepped back, taking his hands back to his body. "Fine, fine, just get away from me." Schooling his features back into calmness, Sigma turned to face the smiling man once more. "But... you'll have to take me to Dostoevsky after..." He glanced at the clock on his table briefly. "Two hours. I've got at most that much time."
Gogol’s smile disappeared in an instant. “Ahh… that’s a shame. Dos-kun is nowhere to be found.” Leaning down toward the still-seated man, he snapped his fingers. “I came to bother you for that very reason!” He winked. “What business do you have with Fedya? I might~... be able to help!” Sigma found the offer suspicious; he doubted the clown would genuinely want to help him. Spending time with me couldn’t be all that entertaining, right? Sigma thought. Gogol had also mentioned that Sigma was on the back burner. "Why are you so eager to help now, Gogol?"
Nikolai laughed. "First, you ask for my help, then you doubt me! You really are amusing~!" Sigma couldn’t deny it; the clown had a point. Rolling his eyes, he said, "Fine, I’ll tell you." Gathering the scattered papers and neatly arranging them, Sigma shoved them back into the clown’s gloved hands. He pointed to a name in the log. "He’s a Russian customer arriving tomorrow. Supposedly an influential figure with high expectations of the casino." Sigma paused, rubbing his temple. "The problem is, I don’t know how to welcome him properly—in Russian. I thought Dostoevsky could help since he speaks his mother tongue, sometimes."
Instead of offering solutions, Gogol simply laughed—not at the paper, but at Sigma. “Oh, hahaha...! Do you really have no idea that I speak that language too? You could’ve just asked me, but now I’m feeling offended!” He set the log back down and draped an arm over Sigma’s shoulder, slowly leaning his weight against him. “As my co-worker, you should at least know the basics about me!” With their faces so close, Sigma felt a rush of embarrassment. He quickly pulled away from the clown’s grasp, cheeks burning, and stood up, tugging Gogol along, who had been slouched against the other man and slumping into the furniture.
“I do know! I memorized all your information! I just didn’t think you were trustworthy enough!” he said, trying to form some kind of face. His words and actions caught the clown off guard. And as the clown slowly rose from his spot, his brightness dimming, Sigma felt a pang of guilt, realizing he shouldn’t have said that. Doubts crept in about whether Nikolai would still help him. Yep, Sigma had done it—he’d managed to anger his co-worker and was sure humiliation awaited him tomorrow. He was about to apologize when Gogol’s laugh cut through the tension, his gaze filled with both envy and pride. “W-what are you laughing at?”
"To speak your mind like that... You’re amazing, Sigma. That’s one step closer to freedom~!" the clown cheered, closing the gap between himself and the two-toned-haired man. "You’re misunderstanding me, Gogol," Sigma said, stepping back with a cautious hand hovering near the gun at his side. He knew too well the dangers of provoking the clown’s emotions and wasn’t about to get hurt today—or ever—over a careless word. Sigma watched as the man tilted his head, slowly raising his arms as if to hug him. "I’m truly envious..." Gogol said, ignoring the earlier comment. He notices Sigma’s hand slowly inching toward his weapon, so he casually hides his arms behind his back, leaning in toward the other man with a grin still playing on his lips. "That’s why I’ll help you—on one condition: you come with me to a Christmas Market!" Cornered again, Sigma panicked—not from fear this time, but from pure bewilderment. He can never get this man's mindset.
He looks away, trying to play along as much as he can, crossing his arms over his chest, hoping the clown won’t attack him. “I already agreed, but only for two hours. You have to take me back right after,” he said. Nikolai grumbled in response, leaning back and putting more space between them. "That's too short... How about three hours? It's still early in the morning~!" Sigma immediately rejects the offer, sighing in frustration. "Are you insane? My schedule’s tight! Two hours is already a lot-" Gogol clicked his tongue, wagging his pointer finger in front of Sigma, whose eyes tracked the motion. "Ah, ah, ah, do you want to learn Russian or not~?" Sigma glares, clearly unimpressed. "Fineee! Two hours and forty-five minutes?" Gogol says persuasively, but Sigma’s expression remains unmoved, eyes fixed on Gogol with a sharp, unyielding glare.
Gogol thinks, rolling his eyes playfully. "Two hours and thirty minutes?" he said, holding up two fingers on one hand and three in the other. Sigma closes his eyes, weighing it over, one hand lifting to tap at his chin. Two and a half hours... that’s a long time. Can I really pronounce Russian words with the time left? I doubt Nikolai would let it go lower... Ugh... With his thoughts made up, Sigma speaks, "Two hours and thirty minutes." "Two hours and fifteen minutes?" They said in unison, also raising their eyebrows simultaneously.
They both let out a surprised “Oh…” and stare at each other. The silence stretches until Nikolai bursts into laughter, leaving Sigma to sigh. If only I’d hesitated for just one second… At least Gogol’s in a good mood now… “So, are we going or not? Time’s ticking…” Sigma asked softly, fear gradually fading away from him as he watched the clown laugh with glee. “Well! I’m glad you asked!” Gogol replied, flicking his cape dramatically. “You’re going… right now!” Sigma stiffens at that, the implication of the Clown's words sinking in.
"Y-You're...? You mean we? You're not going to just leave me nowhere-" Sigma asked, dread creeping up his spine as Gogol chuckled, activating his ability while sliding his hand through the fabric of his overcoat, his tone mixing with mockery and amusement. "Obviously not! But you’re up first!"
Sigma feels a hand clamp around his heel. Glancing down, he spots Nikolai’s hand reaching through the floor, and the sudden urge to stomp it surges through him. But the instant he shifts, the portal expands, yanking him through with a violent pull. “Nikolai, you bastard—!” he shouts as he slips through effortlessly, catching sight of the Sky Casino—his Casino—above him. He barely realises he’s falling through open air until he glances down, the ground racing toward him at a terrifying pace, his body spinning and limbs flailing.
Fuck—this is it; I’m actually dying! He paused, a wave of acceptance washing over him-or just the verge of passing out- he doesn't know, but he let his eyes drift shut. A peaceful expression replaced his panicked one, but inside: Fuck this, at least I'm dying while passed out! Sigma only opens his eyes at the sound of fabric flapping, followed by a loud laugh from below. Fucking—Nikolai Gogol!
He jerks his head down to spot the grinning clown also plummeting, arms spread wide, one hand clutching his overcoat. From Sigma’s view, Gogol looks ready to catch him despite falling just beneath him. Caught up in a string of curses, Sigma doesn’t notice until he’s about to crash into Nikolai, who grabs his tailcoat and pulls him into a one-armed hug, wrapping his overcoat around them. “Aww~! Don’t be scared, Sigma! I’m not going to die.” Sigma can’t even muster anger when Nikolai's braid is hitting his face, and while falling at 70 meters per second. “Just use your ability! Stop talking!”
Gogol giggles, the sound almost drowned by the air. "I was about to, but I had an even better idea! Say please!"
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?" Sigma explodes, furious. We are about to die, and this guy wants to hear me beg?! "Did you plan this just to hear me—!" "Say please, Sigma~!" Sigma shuts his eyes in anger, eyebrows creasing together, already planning to punch the other the moment they land. "...Please..." he mutters, but stiffens when Gogol leans in, unable- or pretending not- to hear Sigma. "I can’t hear you~!" Gogol teases, bringing his face closer to the other's, grinning at his reaction. Sigma would've been embarrassed by the proximity if they weren't falling, so he sucked it up and swallowed. "PLEASE!! Use your ability, you BASTARD!" "Wish granted!" Gogol chuckled, triggering his ability just before impact, whisking them both to safety.
The moment they landed, Sigma almost crumpled, and if Gogol hadn’t been supporting him, he would have gone face-first into the dirt. “Nikolai! What the hell were you thinking!?" Sigma shouts, pulling away from the clown the moment his feet touch solid ground, stumbling slightly. "We could’ve died!” “Exactly! But we didn’t, did we? Totally worth it!” Gogol laughs, grinning widely. “The look of surprise on your face makes my day! You’re completely unfiltered!” Gogol spun his cane once more before handing it to Sigma with a mocking grin. "You look like you need this!" He said, pushing his braid back to its place. "Feel free to have it, I can walk perfectly fine!"
Twunk! Clang! Clang!
The sharp tap of the cane echoed through the empty space. “You’re insane! Take me back, now!” Sigma snapped, swatting Nikolai’s hand away, whose smile dropped. “...Ah, such a cruel rejection… You’re no fun, Sigma,” Gogol replied, suddenly looking like a rain-soaked puppy, reaching for his overcoat to retrieve his hat. A wave of dread washed over Sigma; he knew that look spelt trouble. Gogol adjusted his hat and strolled toward Sigma, head tilted, his steps carrying a slight bounce.
“No matter! You’re coming with me anyway! You agreed to it, after all!” Gogol said, gently taking Sigma’s hand and pulling him closer. “It’d be a shame to go back on your word! Besides, you need me to teach you Russian, right~?!” He brought his free hand to Sigma’s head, making Sigma immediately pull away in surprise. Gogol was clearly threatening him; if he refused, he’d be in serious trouble. “Oh. Oh? Oh! Sigma’s scared of me! Why is that?!” Gogol teased, grinning but staying still. Instead, he leaned in, running his fingers through Sigma’s hair and closely watching every reaction he provoked. “You act as if I’m going to hurt you!” When others say those words, they take offence. With Gogol, it was the opposite—as he smiled and patted Sigma’s hair back into its neat style.
Sigma grumbled, finally opening his eyes and stepping away from Gogol to fix his hair himself. “Fine, but aren’t we going to a carnival?” he asked, brushing through his locks and carefully separating the whites from the lilacs as he glanced around. “This place hardly looks like one.” Gogol hummed, scratching the back of his head. “Great question, let me think!” Sigma sighed inwardly, looking up at the sky toward the casino, pondering the mechanics of flying an entire building.
When time passed without an answer, Sigma turned to Nikolai with a raised eyebrow. “Hm?” Gogol replied with a hum and a smile. Sigma frowned. “So…?” trying to read the answer in his face. Gogol brightened under Sigma’s glare, clapping once before offering his hand. “Ah! I knew I forgot something! What was the question?” He laughed at Sigma’s bewildered expression. “You’re messing with me again!” Sigma accused, as Gogol laughed harder. “This doesn’t look like a carnival, does it? Hahaha! Of course not, because we’re directly beneath the casino!” He paused for breath, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Silly Sigma~ There’s no markets within thirty meters. If there is, we’d already be there!”
"Where exactly is this market you keep mentioning?" Sigma asks, already starting to regret tagging along with Nikolai. He probably should have just used Google Translate. "Oh! I'm glad you asked!" Gogol said, clearing his throat and obtaining a map of Yokohama from his overcoat. Where did he get that? There is no place within thirty meters where he could obtain something like a map. "Where did you get that?" Nikolai clicked his tongue with a grin. "Oh my, how did I? Hm... Asking a magician to reveal his tricks is a bit rude, no?" Gogol replied, folding the map with mock frustration before retrieving his fallen cane from his overcoat. "We are going to... drum roll, please?" He mimed a drummer hitting a drum repeatedly before exclaiming, "Yokohama Red Brick Warehouse!"
“A warehouse…?” Sigma began, but Nikolai cut him off, turning to the side with pursed lips. “You dare call it ‘a warehouse’?! It will be the most beautiful thing you’ll ever lay eyes on!” Sigma was baffled—Nikolai seemed oddly passionate about this warehouse… maybe a little too passionate. “Let’s just go… how far is it?” Gogol perked up instantly, grinning at Sigma. “Eighty thousand meters away!”
“Eighty thousand meters?! That’s two hours from here!” Gogol laughed. “I can get us there faster with my ability!” He gestured for Sigma to come closer, lifting his coat. “In about twenty-three minutes!” Sigma stared—twenty-three minutes straight using his ability? “Won’t you get tired?” Gogol shook his head smugly. “Not at all! I’ve trained my body to handle the strain. I can use my ability non-stop, even after a whole day!” Narrowing his eyes, Sigma stepped closer, yelping when Gogol pulled him in, instinctively grabbing onto the other's arm. Not minding the closeness at all. “You do know I don’t believe you.”
"I'll be sure to prove you wrong, then~!" Gogol said, wrapping an arm around Sigma's waist and lifting him slightly before meeting his worried gaze. "Ready?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before leaping into the air, the overcoat swirling around them twice a second. "H-hey! What the hell!?" Sigma shouted, trying to put some distance between them, but Nikolai only tightened his grip, ignoring him for a moment before replying, "Don't move too much, or any limbs outside the overcoat might get separated from your torso~!" Terrified, Sigma immediately clung to Nikolai, getting as close as possible. "My~ Who would've thought you'd be a cuddle bug, Sigma~!"
"J-just shut it!"
Twenty-three minutes passed that way.
They arrived there exactly at the promised time, twenty-three minutes. Finally stepping foot on solid ground after getting transported from place to place, Sigma felt wobbly. Wearing heels when going out is never a good idea, no matter the fashion points you get. "Need a cane~?" Gogol teased, leaning down to Sigma crouched on the ground to keep from spilling his—yeah, he’d missed dinner again. Still feeling nauseous, he chose to ignore Gogol for a moment. It was downright insulting to watch Gogol act so casually after swinging his right arm over and over, keeping his ability active for a full twenty-three minutes. Completely unaware of Sigma’s condition, Gogol grinned. “Well, I can always carry you~!” Nikolai said, opening a portal beneath Sigma and catching him in his arms—bridal style.
Sigma was not impressed. “Put me down! I can walk!” he protested, slipping out of Gogol’s grasp and barely managing to stay on his feet. Nikolai just laughed loudly. “Such persistence! You’re amazing, Sigma~!” Gogol spoke, yet still clasped Sigma’s hand, shielding them from the cold. “Come on, let’s hurry, or we’ll miss it!” Choosing to forgo his ability, he simply pulled Sigma along into the swelling crowd. And wow, it was breathtaking. As they ran through the many, many people, Sigma took in the sight. The lights- that change colours-Sigma didn't think that could happen, but it was, and it's happening. The bustling markets, the smell of food, not Japanese, Sigma didn't know what country it was from. He let his eyes wander everywhere, to the people walking just about, to the couples taking selfies and to some people standing in a circle in front of a large Christmas tree.
"Wow..." he muttered as he and Gogol came to a stop in front of the tree. From afar, it looked big, but up close it was absolutely massive, its dazzling lights almost blinding—though Sigma didn’t mind. He only realised his mouth was hanging open when a gloved hand gently lifted his chin, a silent cue to close it, just before Gogol chuckled. "First time seeing that?" Nikolai teased softly, as if speaking any louder might break the moment, even with Christmas music blaring around them. Sigma flushed, quickly shutting his mouth and glancing away, briefly locking eyes with a stranger before looking off again. "I—Yes. Shut it." Gogol giggled and said, “Come on, let’s get closer. We can’t hear the performance from here!”
“What performance?” Sigma asked as he let himself be pulled along. “Performances, all kinds! This one’s my favourite,” Gogol replied, but Sigma only hummed, distracted by the night sky and the soft glow of fairy lights around them. He didn’t stop until he bumped into Nikolai’s back, who tugged his hand, signalling him to stand beside him. There, Sigma found himself facing a group of people in festive attire, neatly arranged, with one person in the centre, arms raised to their chest. “We’re right on time! Perfect. Now,” Gogol said after a single clap, turning to Sigma. “Lend your ears to them,” he added, pointing toward the group. “Are they going to sing?” Sigma asked. Gogol simply nodded, eyes already locked on the performance before it even began.
"Why is the one in the middle holding a stick?" Sigma asked again. "They're a choir, and the one in the middle is the conductor," Gogol replied, pointing to the choirmaster. "They 're there to help the choir from getting distracted, basically!" He explained it to Sigma carefully, like teaching a child. Sigma didn’t mind, appreciating the effort and nodding slowly. “They’re going to sing, but there are no mics. Why is that?” he asked again. “I think it’s because a choir is meant to harmonise, not overpower each other,” Gogol replied, scratching the back of his head, eyes still fixed ahead. “At least, that’s what I think.”
“Then why not give each one a mic?” Gogol hummed thoughtfully. “Because how close the microphone is to the mouth also affects the loudness of the voice, I think." Sigma nodded in response, noticing that Gogol seemed to enjoy choirs. “You know a lot about choirs, huh?” Sigma asked again. This time, instead of replying, Gogol tore his gaze from the choir to look at Sigma with a smile. “It’s starting,” he said, grabbing the top of Sigma’s head and turning it toward the choir, then placing a finger in front of Sigma’s mouth. “I’ll answer your questions later~!”
Sigma stands in awe as the first notes hit—sharp, urgent, like bells ringing through a cold winter night. Voices pile on one after another, forming a chant that swells with intensity, and his heartbeat falls into step with the music’s relentless rhythm. The melody is beautiful, but… Sigma narrows his eyes, trying to read the singer’s lips. He can’t make out a single word! “Gogol, I can’t understand…” he says, slowly turning toward Gogol—only to freeze at the sight of Nikolai’s eyes glittering with delight. He even looks teary-eyed; this must be somewhat special for Nikolai... Sigma thinks, so he faces the choir once more, enjoying the melody, turning his head along with the tune.
It took a while, but the show finally came to an end. Sigma felt overwhelmed by all the new experiences, yet strangely didn’t mind—That is, until a headache started pounding at his skull, reminding him it was time to rest. He cut off Nikolai’s rambling to ask where they could eat, only to be whisked away again by the clown, exclaiming something about food and wine.
They stopped at a stall rich with the warm scent of baked bread and butter. “Do you have your card?” Gogol asked, releasing Sigma’s hand to dig into his overcoat. Sigma tensed, suddenly unsure if it had been lost during their fall from the Casino earlier. “I’m not sure I still have it…” he muttered, patting down his coat and pants pockets, panic rising when the familiar bump was nowhere to be found. “Gogol, we dropped it.” Looking up, he saw Gogol already at the stall, a slice of bread in one hand and Sigma’s card in the other. “What the hell.” He said as a gloved hand, going through him, popped up, holding a few slices of bread.
“Hahaha…! The look on your face!” Nikolai said between bursts of laughter, handing the card back to Sigma. He took the card with disdain, hating more than anything to deal with this Decay member. Nikolai never took anything seriously. Gogol paid no mind to Sigma’s clear dislike, taking his hand and leading him to the grass to sit. Once they settled, Nikolai removed his overcoat, spreading it on the grass and setting their food on top, much to Sigma’s surprise.
“Let me borrow your card again. This food without wine is just plain bread, really,” Gogol said, extending his hand for Sigma to place his card in. Sigma hesitated—not because he feared Nikolai would run off with his money, but because drinking this late in the day gave him pause. He thought, Isn't that a bad idea? Sensing Sigma’s thoughts, Nikolai chuckled, “Oh my~! Afraid of alcohol, are you? You’re cute, Sigma~!” he teased. Sigma frowned, pulling out his card and setting it on Nikolai’s gloved hand, crossing his arms after. “Be quick, I’m already hungry,” he said, watching as Nikolai stood, flashed a smile, and winked before darting off to buy the wine. Once again, he waited for Gogol.
When Gogol returned, he carried two steaming cups and a small pouch adorned with Christmas motifs. "I'm back~!" he called out, his voice drawing a few curious glances from passersby and pulling Sigma out of his thoughts. His eyes wandered to the cups, confusion quickly spreading across his face. "Is that wine...?" He watched as Gogol sat down beside him, handing over a cup, his card, and the small pouch. "Yep! Don’t worry, your silly little mind~ I picked one that’s non-alcoholic for you." Sigma deadpanned, "That’s not what I meant. Why is it hot?" he asked, carefully sniffing the drink before taking a sip.
"I’m curious as well, but it’s delicious! I wasn’t sure what spices you prefer, so I asked the seller to add sugar to yours," Gogol said, taking a sip of his own before setting the cup down to butter his slice of bread. Sigma observed the Gogol as he moved and began to mimic his actions. "Is this a tradition?" he asked, and Gogol nodded with a grin. "Yep~! I do this every year!"
Not what I meant, whatever, he thought as he took a bite of the bread. To his surprise, it didn’t taste like toast as he’d expected. “Whoa…” He let out the words unconsciously. This is better than what I eat every day. He thought, flipping the bread over and over, trying to figure out the difference. Unaware of it, Sigma was being watched by Nikolai, who chuckled as Sigma’s expression shifted from amazement to confusion. Leaning his head on his palm, he said, "I swear it's the atmosphere making it more delicious~!" while eating bread with the other hand.
They sat in a comfortable silence, Sigma happily devouring the bread. At the same time, Nikolai launched into another ramble, this time about the children’s clumsy reenactment of the Birth of Jesus before moving on to the hot wine. “What are these called?” Sigma asked between bites. “The bread is called Stollen, a traditional bread—I forget which country. The wine is called mulled wine,” Gogol answered after a moment’s serious thought. “Can you buy this even after Christmas?” Their banter continued, with Sigma asking questions and Nikolai answering as best he could, tossing in the occasional teasing remark. “Earlier… the choir, what were they singing? I didn’t understand a thing,” Sigma said, recalling Nikolai’s expression during the performances. “Me either.” What? Sigma stared in disbelief. “You were about to cry—what do you mean you don’t understand?!” Gogol only laughed, and afterwards, quiet settled between them again.
"Right, what’s this pouch for?" Sigma asked, only just recalling the small pouch Nikolai had given him earlier. "Oh! You should open that later~! It’s a nice surprise!" Sigma stiffened at Gogol’s reply, suddenly uneasy about whatever awaited him inside. Without giving him a chance to linger, Gogol grabbed his overcoat, swept up their trash, and pulled Sigma to his feet. "We’re going to see Santa next~!"
"I-uh, who?" Sigma asked, hesitating to follow Gogol. Is that another terrorist...? he wondered. Gogol stopped, backtracked a bit, then laughed. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHO SANTA IS?!" he exclaimed, startling Sigma. Wow, it’s that bad...? Even Gogol’s shocked... Sigma thought, speaking meekly and suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I don’t...?" It was clear just how little Sigma knew about the world. "Basically, he’s a guy who shows up at Christmas to give gifts to good kids~! Bad ones get coal!" Sigma nodded, appreciating the explanation.
"Ah... With how much Sigma’s been acting up, I can guarantee you’re getting coal!" Gogol teased, snapping his fingers as he leaned down, clearly enjoying Sigma’s reaction. "Why would I even get anything from Santa? I’m not a kid!" Sigma shot back, his voice rising. "Because you’re three years old~! Hahaha!" Gogol laughed, darting toward another crowd with Sigma chasing after him. "Quit messing with me!"
After running around for a while, they grew tired and decided to slow down to a walk. They wandered into a spot crowded with parents and kids, all taking pictures with a cheerful man in red carrying a large sack. "That's Santa...? Why is he..." Sigma began. "Fat? Yeah! He loves eating cookies, so he’s obese~!" Nikolai finished, loud enough to earn a side-eye from the stranger beside them, and Gogol met their gaze, giggling mischievously. "So, do we just stand here and watch..?" Sigma asked, drawing the attention of the clown to himself.
"You wanted a picture? You should’ve just said so!" Gogol exclaimed, slipping his hand into his overcoat again. "That’s not what I meant!" Sigma replied, growing annoyed at how Gogol was twisting his words. "You don’t want a picture to remember this fine day?!" Gogol asked, feigning offence. "Come on~! It’s just a picture! It’s not like Santa’s going to eat you~!" the clown teased, covering his mouth as he snickered. With no other option, Sigma gave a reluctant nod, which Gogol took as permission to drag him over to Santa.
Sigma wished he hadn’t agreed—it was so painfully awkward! When Sigma arrived at Santa’s side, the children shot him plenty of curious looks—after all, he wasn’t a kid, and his companion was impossibly loud. After the picture, Sigma thanked Santa and immediately left, almost running back to Nikolai's side, who was laughing. "That was embarrassing..." Sigma complained, exhausted after two hours of running around. He was ready to head back, but Nikolai had other plans, slipping a hand around Sigma’s waist and pulling them close.
"Smile~!" Nikolai called out. Sigma barely had a moment to react before the shutter clicked and the flash left him momentarily blinded. Moments later, Nikolai released him, grinning at the photo and laughing at Sigma’s expression. "Wowie~! Your face looks so funny!" Gogol teased, clearly enjoying the stolen camera a bit too much. Sigma sighed and walked over to the clown to see the picture for himself.
In the picture, both of them were captured together. Nikolai grinned broadly, his uncovered eye gleaming. Beside him stood the Sigma from the photo. Sigma tilted his head, studying it closely. He looked… happy, not surprised. In that moment, Sigma realised he was enjoying the trip too, and the picture proved it. He immediately went red. Remember that you're supposed to be forced into this! He thought as he tapped his cheek lightly. Gogol noticed and snickered once again.
Sigma turned away from Nikolai’s gaze. “Shut it! Let’s go back!” he said, schooling his expression and crossing his arms once more. “Absolutely~!” Gogol replied, leaving Sigma surprised by the easy compliance. “But first!” I knew it! Sigma braced himself, already suspecting what was coming. “Open the pouch!” Again, Sigma was caught off guard. It couldn’t be that simple. With a sigh, he pulled out the pouch and opened it cautiously, revealing… Santa cookies. “Oh.” He frowned as Nikolai grabbed one without asking and started eating it.
"Merry Christmas~!" Nikolai said through a mouthful of food. "It's my gift for you! I had no idea what Fedya wanted, so I just stole him some bread." Sigma stared in bewilderment. Nikolai had given him a gift bought with his own money. "Thanks... for these," Sigma said, taking one of the cookies, admiring the design of Santa being buried in snow, and biting off Santa's head. "How is it?" Gogol asked, watching him closely. "It's sweet, but I didn’t like the icing. Or the powdered sugar," Sigma replied, finishing the cookie. "I like it."
Gogol perked up. “Good~! Because you’re going to sleep now!” he said, spinning around with enthusiasm. Sigma’s expression immediately darkened. “What do you mean—?!” Gogol only snickered, pulling out his cane and leaning on it. “You need rest~! I’m going to help you with your problem! I want no distractions, so I have no choice but to drug you!” He adopted the look of a disappointed mother, clicking his tongue and slowly shaking his head. “You can’t know the tricks of a magician, after all~!” he told the delirious Sigma. “Shame you won’t get to see it firsthand, but oh well!” By then, Sigma could no longer follow the clown’s words. His vision darkened at the edges before his body gave out, collapsing into Nikolai’s hands.
His last thoughts being: It was not powdered sugar!
He woke up in a panic, bolting upright in his own bed. Still reeling from the fog of unconsciousness, he recognised the interior of his penthouse despite his muddled state of mind. Without wasting a moment on his surroundings, he rushed to the living room to check the cameras on his laptop. What he saw was a man dressed up as him greeting the guests. And none of his employees are batting an eye! He takes a closer look at the cosplayer and freezes. Is that Gogol?! His eyes go wide. "Oh God, my career is over. Oh God." He spoke out loud.
Panicking and walking back and forth nonstop, his mind raced through options—he could have security kick Gogol out, but then what would he say to the Russian people? Or he could skip greeting the customers entirely, ugh! But that wouldn’t be good for the Sky Casino’s reputation at all. He bit his nail and stared at the main desk camera, watching, hoping, and definitely not crying, willing Gogol not to mess up Sigma's job. When he spotted the problematic customers, his heart rate only climbed higher. Crap, crap, crap, what do I do?!
Thankfully, it's as if Gogol heard Sigma’s distress and managed to avoid messing things up. His prior training before becoming the governor’s assistant appears to be paying off, as the interaction between the clown and the customer is going surprisingly well. Both speaking fluently and effortlessly in Russian, Sigma had to hold back a relieved sob. He adjusted his hair as he listened intently, keeping an eye out for any mistakes, and only exhaled once the customer finally stepped into the main area, with Nikolai leading the way." So this is how you do favours, huh," he said aloud, trying to imagine himself in the other's place. Nikolai probably assumed Sigma wouldn’t pick up the language quickly and took matters into his own hands, leaving Sigma to wonder if he really gave off that impression.
Reasonable enough… but still! If he had just told me, I would’ve stayed put! That was a lie—he absolutely wouldn’t have. The clown had made it clear more than once that he wasn’t someone to trust easily. So, eavesdropping on the Russian and Nikolai, Sigma tried to piece together their conversation from context clues.
After a while, they finally went their separate ways, Sigma’s gaze trailing after Nikolai as he made his way through the corridors toward the penthouse. A portal suddenly opened beside him, and out popped Nikolai, dressed in Sigma’s clothes and wearing a wig. “Were you watching me~? Oh no! My manager’s a stalker!” Nikolai teased, hugging himself and swaying from side to side. Sigma grimaced, his expression twisting in disgust as he watched Gogol, wearing his face, act like a delusional teenage girl. "You're being ridiculous," Sigma huffed, glancing away as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Thanks for helping me," he muttered, not used to being genuine with the clown, knowing it would only lead to teasing. "Yup, yup! You're welcome, you're welcome," Gogol replied, bowing and twirling his overcoat as he changed back into his own clothes. "But I'm not done yet~!" He stood up straight, pointing at Sigma. "You-! Are going to learn Russian now!" Sigma was stunned. Should he trust the clown with his image? Maybe. Should he trust the clown with the casino? Maybe. Would the clown really be willing to teach him? Maybe. It was all maybes! No certainty, and Sigma hated that!
He’s the manager of an entire casino, so he has to know how to take risks. “Okay, fine, what will you be teaching me?” he asked, suddenly serious. “Russian, obviously!” Gogol replied, sitting beside Sigma. “First, you’re going to learn how to say ‘hello’ and ‘hi’!” Gogol explained. “Привет! It means ‘hello’ and is pronounced ‘priv-yet’. Your turn.” Sigma nodded and repeated, “Priv-yet. Is that right?” Gogol hummed enthusiastically. “You already know what ‘hello’ means, so I won’t explain it. Let’s move on to greetings like ‘good morning,’ ‘good afternoon,’ and ‘good evening.’” He paused. “Are you keeping up?”
Sigma nodded, listening intently. "You're such a quick learner! Alright, 'good morning' is доброе утро. Pronounce it like this: 'Dob-re ut-ra.' Give it a try." "Dob-re ut-ra," Sigma repeated. "Alright, good job. Now say: Привет и доброе утро, Коля. It means 'Hello and good morning, Kolya.'" "Priv-yet i dob-re ut-ra, Kolya," Sigma said, slower than Nikolai, but the clown didn’t mind, encouraging Sigma to keep learning Russian. They went back and forth practising words and phrases for different occasions. "Wowie! You're great at memorising, Sigma~! Who knew you'd be so easy to teach! You’re so focused, too!"
Of course, I have to prove myself somehow! “Thank you,” Sigma said for the second time that day, feeling slightly embarrassed. Nikolai tsked in a teasing tone, “Ah, ah, ah, I don’t understand a word you’re saying~!” “You’re speaking in Japanese, what do— Oh… Uh— Спасибо, Коля. (Thank you, Kolya.)” Gogol clapped. “Замечательно! (Wonderful!) Let’s move on to honorifics: Mrs., Ms., and Mr. Дорогая is for Mrs., красивый is for Ms., and Дорогой is for Mr Now, try saying ‘Good afternoon, Mr Kolya’ in Russian.” Gogol paused expectantly.
“Добрый день, дорогой Коля?” Sigma said, prompting Nikolai to shake his head. “Are you asking me a question or making a statement, Sigma~?” Sigma sighed inwardly, then repeated the words with more confidence. “Добрый день, дорогой Коля.”
Gogol clapped again. “You got it! I’m amazed at how quickly you’re learning~!” He snapped his fingers, thinking about what to teach Sigma next. “Ah! I know—phrases for small talk!” Resting his head on his palm, he said, “Next up is how to say, ‘The weather is nice today!’ Ты мне очень нравишься. In Russian now—give it a try.” Sigma attempted the words but stumbled, either twisting his tongue or forgetting the pronunciation. After a few tries, he finally managed to say them clearly. “Ты мне очень нравишься,” Sigma said for the last time, prompting Nikolai to clap. “Wowie! Now try saying, ‘The weather is nice today, Mr Kolya!’”
"Ты мне очень нравишься, дорогой Коля," Sigma said, feeling confident, though uncertainty crept in when he saw Nikolai’s expression. The clown looked surprised, caught off guard for a moment before his smile softened. "You're excellent! Keep practising, and you'll learn the language faster than I did." As he spoke, his gaze shifted to Sigma’s clock. Realising how late it was, he stood up, Sigma’s eyes following him. "I'd better get going! Make sure to rest, Sigma! I left the pouch of cookies in your fridge, and I've placed your clothes in the washing machine. Buh-bye~!" Gogol twirled, disappearing into his overcoat, leaving Sigma alone in the penthouse. Sigma thinks about how quiet his home was after the clown had left.
Sigma pushed himself up from the floor, his knees aching after sitting for so long. He made his way to the kitchen to see if the pouch was there, wondering if eating one would send him straight back to sleep. As he neared the fridge, a note held up by a Santa hat magnet caught his eye, instantly bringing back the wave of embarrassment from earlier. Shaking off the thought, he grabbed the note and read, "I already removed the sleeping agents in the cookies, so they're safe to eat~! Hopefully." signed, of course, by Nikolai. He wondered if the clown had bought the magnet earlier.
He really had this day planned, huh...
Sigma considered taking a bite, but decided a quick shower would be better first. He also wanted to check if Nikolai had actually put his borrowed clothes in the washing machine—the idea of Nikolai rummaging through his things? Yeah, no.
Sigma finally snaps out of his reminiscing when Nikolai lightly taps his shoulder, pulling him back to the present as the other man unties the rope securing him to the car seat. Grinning at the lack of resistance, Gogol waves a hand in front of him, raising an eyebrow when Sigma doesn’t react. “The drug hasn’t worn off yet, huh? Well, that’s good…” he says, with less enthusiasm than he might have shown in the past.
"Stay here, and don't move. I'll know when you do~!" Gogol said, abandoning the car to go inside a motel. Checking in for just himself, then using his ability to transport Sigma inside. This was their move for 3 days, each day leaving Sigma more blank inside. He wondered why that particular memory rose in his mind; shouldn't it be the fall of the casino? No matter, he'd much rather remember happy times.
After pausing in thought, he felt the air shift, and suddenly he was inside the motel, unceremoniously dropped onto the floor with Gogol looming above, grinning. “Hey there~ Feeling good?” the clown asked when Sigma made no move to get up. “No,” Sigma replied dryly, finally pushing himself up and settling on one of the two beds, claiming it for the night. The journey had been long, but now they were in France. All the clown needed was to secure the poison for the game, while Sigma’s task was to use his ability to locate Dazai’s and Fyodor’s cells in the Mersault.
All so tiring... Sigma thought.