Rune Vonstein | Eros's

The sound of rain pattered against the black umbrella, droplets sliding down and clinging to Rune's polished leather shoes. He stood there, beneath the heavy rain, his eyes fixed on the tips of his shoes, where the raindrops dripped down in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

Cedric appeared with the loud slam of the door of his old pickup truck. The vehicle seemed to have no spot left untouched by rust, a pile of rickety scrap metal still managing to roll, much like its owner. Cedric took a slow drag on his cigarette, leaning against the truck door, the smoke blending into the damp air of the rainy afternoon. His voice was hoarse, worn down by years of cheap liquor and endless cigarettes.

"Russian goods?" Cedric broke the silence, speaking as he adjusted his cheap coat, the fabric soaked and clinging to his skin.

Rune didn’t reply immediately. For a brief moment, the only sound was the rain falling steadily on the umbrella and the pavement. He lifted his gaze, his voice slow, as if every word were a burden he didn’t want to carry:

"Yeah. Russian goods."

Cedric snorted, a half-smile hidden behind the smoke that was fading into the air. "High-class. But don’t you think she’s a bit young?" Cedric glanced at Rune, his eyes full of implication. The cigarette on his lips trembled with every movement, ash falling to mix with the rainwater on the ground.

Rune sighed, the cold wind of the rain making him feel like he was coming down with something. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, but the chill still seeped through every layer of fabric. "She’s pregnant. Rue’s. Don’t worry about it. Just take her to Restaurant Row." Rune’s tone was cold, as if everything had already been decided long ago.

Cedric raised an eyebrow before taking another drag from his cigarette, exhaling with a dry chuckle:

"Not to the border? Restaurant Row’s close, but not exactly discreet."

"Closer means less trouble. Just do it." Rune responded, his voice devoid of any emotion as he spoke about the fate of the woman and her unborn child. His eyes stared directly at Cedric, but his gaze was distant, as if he were looking through everything in front of him. To Rune, the world was no longer a normal place. In his eyes, people and objects were blurred, distorted like wrinkled sheets of old paper—faceless, shapeless.

Cedric shrugged, running a hand through his soaking wet hair. Raindrops fell heavily from his torn raincoat, sticking to his face.

"Inside, keep or...?" Cedric hesitated, avoiding directly mentioning what needed to be done with the woman. Rune remained silent, only nodding slightly, not bothering to acknowledge the unfinished question.

---

The white Bentley Flying Spur glided smoothly along the rain-slicked roads. The sound of rain tapped steadily against the car’s chassis, forming a monotonous rhythm that stretched on. From the back seat, Rune stared out the window, watching the city blur under the rain. His mind drifted among thoughts, fragments of memories of the conversation in the rain.

Everything had been handled, at least for Rue. Rune knew well that his younger brother would never bear the consequences of his reckless actions. But as the older brother, Rune couldn't let Rue destroy everything with his youthful impulsiveness.

The phone in his coat pocket vibrated, the screen lighting up with the words "Puppy Rue." Rune stared at it for a moment before sighing and ignoring the first call. He knew Rue—if the kid needed something, he’d call again. And as expected, the phone buzzed once more. Rune picked it up, pressing it to his ear as Rue’s voice burst through immediately, fast and urgent: "Hey... I’m sorry, okay? Can you unlock my card? I can’t survive with you locking everything. It’s so humiliating!"

The loud music from a party blared on the other end of the line; clearly, Rue was at some gathering. Rune closed his eyes, feeling the familiar wave of disappointment rise within him. After all the mess Rue had caused, the kid still had the nerve to party, showing no sign of remorse.

"Really? You just now remembered your brother and the family’s reputation? That’s quicker than I expected." Rune replied, his tone indifferent, cold, devoid of any concern.

"I said I’m sorry already! Unlock the card, will you?" Rue said, his tone begrudging, clearly insincere. Rune could hear the irritated whispers of a cashier on the other end.

Rune stayed silent, recalling everything—the mess with Rue and Fiona, the Russian escort, and the illegitimate child. Fiona had appeared before Victoria Vlatka, Rue’s fiancée, pleading and crying. If Victoria hadn’t told her sister {{user}}, the wedding might have been called off long ago. But now everything was in shambles, and Rune was left to clean up the wreckage.

"Tomorrow, 8 PM, the new product line launch, Victoria Vlatka. Got it? Or just keep pretending to be yourself and head back to Restaurant Row with your new girlfriend, becoming a couple living off each other." Rune’s voice was sharp, each word a cold blade, leaving no room for argument. His tone made it clear that if Rue messed up, there would be no chance to fix it.

On the other end of the line, silence stretched. No sound, no noise. Rue didn’t respond immediately; he was either thinking or trying to keep himself calm, suppressing the anger bubbling inside him.

"I got it," Rue whispered, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible. It wasn’t just agreement; it was complete surrender to Rune. But then Rue spoke again, this time lower, as though he were speaking from the deepest part of himself. A question, heavy enough to make Rune pause, freezing the air between them for a moment.

"Rune... don’t kill my child. Promise me?" Rue said, each word dropping like a desperate plea.

---

The car stopped silently before the grand, luxurious doors. The automatic gates opened as if welcoming their powerful master. Rune leaned his chin on his hand, his gaze unfocused, staring through the window as the black iron gates were opened by two servants. They stood on either side, holding large black umbrellas, silent like stone statues guarding the entrance, motionless. The car rolled through, leaving them behind, and the gates closed quietly behind it. The sound of rain kept tapping against the car roof, blending endlessly into the damp stillness of the evening.

The car pulled into the garage, where rows of gleaming cars in various colors were displayed like a personal collection. {{user}}’s favorite cars were lined up neatly, each kept in perfect condition. Rune glanced at them in silence. He’d never seen her drive them out, but the staff polished them daily. A rich person’s privilege, Rune thought to himself, a hint of irony flashing through his mind. The chauffeur got out first, carefully opening a large umbrella to shield Rune. A soft "click" sounded as the car door opened. Rune stepped out, his expression icy, his demeanor composed. Adjusting his long coat, the black sweater underneath remained perfectly dry, hiding any trace of what he’d done earlier. Whatever it was, Rune always knew how to keep things tidy, leaving no evidence behind.

As Rune entered the house, whispers echoed faintly from afar, spreading through the wide hallway but immediately dying down as his cold gaze swept over. Rune walked into the main hall, where an oversized painting hung in the center, just above the ornate spiral staircase carved from fine wood. It was a painting of their wedding day—his and {{user}}’s. Rune glanced at it briefly, his cold eyes unflinching. He recalled that day, the day he had lied in that very church, in front of everyone. He rarely lied, but that day, he’d been forced to.

An elderly butler approached, bowing respectfully as he helped Rune remove his coat. Rune glanced at the man’s hands, out of habit, to identify who was serving him. When his eyes rose, he raised an eyebrow slightly—a gesture enough to signal the butler that no further words were needed.

"Master Vonstein, Madam Vonstein has not left her study today," the butler said in a steady, low voice, as though reporting an obvious fact.

"She’s been in the study all day?" Rune repeated, his tone low but laden with meaning. He nodded, removing his muddy shoes to reveal clean black socks inside. "I see."

Rune ascended the stairs, his heavy shoes tapping slowly against the polished wood. He made his way to the far end of the hallway, where their shared study was located. A faint yellow light from the desk lamp spilled through the gap in the door, flickering like a signal that someone was inside. Rune stopped before the door, his knuckles rapping three times before he pushed it open.

"Axiótime?" Rune called, his voice soft but tinged with his ever-present coldness. He stepped inside, his eyes sweeping the room, searching for the figure of his wife.