It was awful. As if the cold and hunger weren’t enough, I was also in a bad mood.

It wasn’t just food I craved; I was desperate for a cigarette. My hands were trembling after going more than a day without one. Thankfully, I found a pack in my pocket. I lit one, took a deep drag and let the smoke roll through my lungs. Just a few puffs were enough to clear my head.

I had only planned to have one to avoid wasting cigarettes, but before I knew it, I had smoked two in quick succession. By then, the taxi had pulled up outside the repair shop.

“I’ll come and pick you up at closing time.”

I ignored him and stepped outside. The digital board above the factory gates read 2:30 — it was so late that I might as well have been marked absent.

Squaring my shoulders, I strode towards the shop. Considering I had fainted earlier, my body felt surprisingly steady. Maybe it was the cigarettes.

✹✹ ✹✹ ✹✹ ✹✹ ✹✹

With one clenched between my lips, I tucked a screwdriver into the front pocket of my yellow overalls.

“The drive belt snapped and, when I checked, I found that the cylinder was damaged too. Due to the backlog, the repairs will not be completed until the day after tomorrow. Will that be all right?”

Yuri Anatolyevich nodded with an amiable smile.

“Yes. I’ll be back in two days, then.”

“Have a good day.”

“Comrade Svyeta.”

“Yes?”

Yuri Anatolyevich’s eyes lingered on me, sticky and unwelcome.

“I’ve never met a young lady as beautiful and kind as you.”

I frowned before I could stop myself. His syrupy flattery turned my stomach.

“It’s a shame, really, to see someone like you locked away in a place like this. The work must be rough for a girl like you.”

“Isn’t it rough for everyone? Life’s dogshit, but we endure it anyway.”

“Such foul words from such a pretty mouth…”

“Pretty? It’s just a mouth that swallows cheap vodka.”

I snapped back, deliberately coarse with Yuri Anatolyevich’s lecherous pestering.

“Tsk, tsk. Times are hard, aren’t they? A young, pretty girl like you should have grown up gently, married off, not slaving away like this…”

I drew another sharp drag of smoke and exhaled hard.

“The work’s piled up, so would you mind leaving now?”

“Ah, yes, of course. But… if it isn’t too much, could you offer me your hand? I’d like to kiss it.”

Men hitting on the only woman working in the shop was nothing new. Married men like Yuri Anatolyevich often saw me as easy prey and tossed their clumsy advances my way without a second thought. I would usually have brushed it off, but after what happened with Jürgen, his advances made my skin crawl.

“Yuri Anatolyevich.”

Grinding the butt of my cigarette into the ashtray, I fixed him with a sharp, impatient glare.

“Don’t you understand what I’m saying?”

“Hahaha! I knew it — you’re as fiery as ever. A cat with claws is far more fun than a meek little thing…”

“Oh, my stomach’s churning. Please stop. And for your information, I’m recently engaged.”

“All the better if you’re a married woman.”

Yuri whispered, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial murmur.

I recoiled in disgust, stepping back quickly.

“Then I’ll see you in two days, beautiful lady. No—wife.”

I’d had enough. My patience snapped, and I snatched up an electric screwdriver, leveling it at him. Yuri only laughed, retreating with that sly, greasy smile.

“Brava! Brava, Svyeta!!”

The sound of clapping made me turn. Smirnov stood there, his wrinkled face lit with a smile.

“Well done. Never leave them any room to think they’ve got a chance.”

“You heard all that?”

“Of course. You used to be so timid, but look at you now. You don’t even need me to step in anymore—you handle yourself just fine.”

I followed Smirnov’s lead and let out a hollow laugh.

“So you’re engaged?”

“Well…”

“It must be to Archum at last. I knew it. Congratulations, Svyeta!”

I couldn’t keep hiding it from a coworker forever, so I confessed honestly.

“No, with Jurgen.”

“I see… Svyeta, I never imagined you would…”

After that, Smirnov never spoke to me again. The reason was clear: ten years earlier, Hildenbech and Elkinsky had fought a brutal war. Smirnov had lost both his sons in it. He was not alone in this loss — countless Elkinsky citizens had also lost family members to the Hildenbech army.

The hatred between the two nations only deepened during the Cold War. Any Elkinsky woman who married a Hildenbech man would inevitably be branded a wh*re.

It wasn’t pleasant to be regarded that way by the man who had taught me repair work, but I would deal with that later. For now, I threw myself into my tasks, and Smirnov did the same with his.

✹✹ ✹✹ ✹✹ ✹✹ ✹✹

When it was time to leave, I froze, pale as chalk, remembering Jürgen’s promise to pick me up. Staying late to work overtime suddenly seemed like a better idea.

But when I locked up the shop and stepped outside, Jürgen was waiting for me in his saloon car in the car park.

“Svyeta!”

I hesitated, about to take a reluctant step toward him, when someone suddenly cut me off, calling my name with unsettling familiarity.

It was Yuri Anatolyevich, the same regular customer who had tried to flirt with me just hours before.

“Yuri Anatolyevich, what brings you here? I told you—come back in two days.”

“I came to bring you a gift. Flowers. Aren’t they beautiful?”

Beaming, he thrust a lavish bouquet of roses into my arms.

“I told you already. I’m engaged…”

“Oh, come now. A woman your age knows the score. I’ve got a wife and children myself, and still—married or not, a man should enjoy what pleasures he can. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it?”

“Since when has adultery been one of our principles?”

I caught sight of Jürgen over Yuri Anatolyevich’s shoulder. I met his gaze and blinked one eye deliberately, silently pleading for help. He had helped me out before — no, scratch that. He didn’t actively intervene; his presence alone was enough to drive men away.

“Comrade Svyeta, I’m a wealthy man. I could buy you fine clothes, good food, anything you desire.”

“Yuri Anatolyevich.”

I was startled to realise that I was still holding the bouquet. I looked at Jürgen again. He was leaning against his saloon car with his arms folded, watching me with a detached air of indifference.

“My fiancé is waiting for me right over there…”

“Where—oh! Dear heavens!”

Yuri finally noticed Jürgen standing where I had indicated. His breath caught in his throat. No wonder — Jürgen was well over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, looking very imposing indeed. The sleek luxury car parked behind him only heightened the pressure. In this corrupt country, a wealthy man could bribe a guard to throw an innocent person into the camps.

Jürgen offered Yuri a languid smile. His handsome face betrayed not the faintest flicker of displeasure. This made him seem all the more arrogant.

“How foolish of me! To act so rudely toward someone who’s already engaged!”

Yuri Anatolyevich retreated at once—no, he fled outright.

“Yuri Anatolyevich! Take your roses back! Hey—!”

I waved the bouquet at his rapidly retreating back, but he just ran faster and didn’t look back once. Seeing that I had no other option, I held the roses close to my chest and approached Jürgen.

It wasn’t just Yuri who feared him. I was terrified of him, too.

“Get in.”

Jurgen opened the passenger door for me. Soon the car was in motion, heading—no doubt—toward his house. My hands, folded tightly in my lap, trembled.

“You still haven’t handed in your resignation?”

For a long time, he said nothing. Then at last, in a low voice, he asked.

“I still have a few months left. I’ll keep working as long as I can.”

“And how long am I supposed to wait around, indulging you?”

“…”

“As I said before, once you marry me you’ll have to quit anyway. I don’t understand why a woman should work outside the home.”

The difference between the West and the East could not have been clearer. While the West remained conservative, socialist ideology in the East had made gender equality a cornerstone of society. In the East, it was only natural for women to work — for me, however, working was not just natural, it was a matter of survival. Without work, survival was impossible.

“Then what was the point of me spending three years breaking my back in a greasy pit that reeked of oil—”

The words burst out in anger before I bit them back, thinking of my brothers. What could I do? The only one who could free them was Jurgen.

“How’s your body now?”

“Better. I had two bowls of borscht.”

At that, our conversation lapsed into silence. We had never been ones to talk much, anyway.

The things we did talk about were…

“Why do you keep staring at me?”

“I just find it strange, how well you eat.”

“And I find it strange that you eat nothing at all. With such a small appetite, how do you keep your build?”

“Normally, I eat well. But the food here in Elkinsky doesn’t suit my taste.”

“I think it’s delicious.”