novelones Chapter 364 Foreign Guest Hotel
Chapter 364 Foreign Guest Hotel
It was already dark when the convoy came from the direction of Red Square.
Outside the car window, the streetlights of Moscow were lit one by one.
The lamplight, blurred by the fine snow and mist, fell on the snow piled up by the roadside, giving it a yellowish hue.
The red walls of the Kremlin flashed by in Satsuki's view before being blocked by a building on the street corner.
"The nights in Moscow are so quiet," Satsuki said softly, looking out the window.
Upon hearing this, Kozlov turned slightly to the side.
"Yes, Ms. Saionji. Moscow is an orderly city," he said. "The quiet of the night is part of the city's solemnity."
Satsuki nodded slightly and said nothing more.
A few minutes later, the convoy stopped in front of a tall building.
It was a hotel for foreign guests built in the style of the Stalin era.
The exterior is covered with beige stone cladding, and several thick columns support the porch from both sides of the steps, making it look very grand.
A red carpet was laid on the steps, stretching extravagantly from the revolving door all the way to the edge of the driveway.
Fujita got out of the car first, went around to the back seat, and opened the car door.
As Shuichi walked down, Kozlov was already standing on the steps.
He had replaced his ear flaps with a black top hat, and his dark blue wool coat was buttoned up to the top button, but his smile remained serious.
"Lord Saionji, Miss Saionji, please."
The revolving door rotates.
The smell of heating and tobacco wafted out at the same time.
The hotel lobby is very spacious, and the ceiling is so high that you have to look up to see it.
The most eye-catching feature is the huge chandelier hanging in the center, with a brass frame and a frosted glass shade, its style seemingly stuck in the 1970s.
But the light bulb only lit up about two-thirds of the way, with the rest remaining in darkness.
The marble floor was waxed, and the ceiling was vaguely visible in the reflection.
Behind the reception desk hung clocks displaying times from around the world: Tokyo, Moscow, London, and New York. The New York clock was six minutes slow, but no one bothered to adjust it.
Kozlov seemed to notice Satsuki's gaze. He smiled and turned to block the clock.
"This hotel was built in 1957 and was originally intended to host the world youth delegation invited by Comrade Khrushchev."
His tone was tinged with pride, as if it had been rehearsed repeatedly.
"Over the past thirty years, distinguished guests from more than sixty countries have stayed here."
Shuichi smiled.
"This is truly historic and impressive."
"There are some interesting tidbits," Kozlov said in a low voice, as if sharing a secret, "In 1973, Japanese Prime Minister Kakuei Tanaka's entourage also stayed in this building. It is said that his secretary raved about the borscht here."
Satsuki chimed in, "Is that so? Then we definitely have to try it tonight."
Kozlov nodded in satisfaction, then took Shuichi to the front desk to complete the handover procedures.
Satsuki stood on one side of the lobby, her gloves still on, her gaze sweeping over the chandelier, the counter, the sofa against the wall, and the doorman in uniform.
Amy hugged her tool bag and muttered to herself.
"It's huge."
She paused, then added.
"But it's so dark."
Chizuru stood a step and a half to Satsuki's right, her eyelashes slightly lowered, and did not respond.
Fujita was confirming the distribution of security rooms with the hotel's security supervisor. The other man was a broad-shouldered middle-aged man with his uniform buttons taut. When speaking, he habitually glanced at the documents in Fujita's hand before looking at Fujita's face.
The procedure took almost seven minutes.
Shuichi maintained a gentle demeanor towards the front desk manager, Kozlov, and a hotel receptionist.
Every time the other person said "friendship," "welcome," or "honor," he would nod appropriately, neither appearing perfunctory nor letting the conversation escalate further.
This is his job.
Satsuki did not intervene.
She simply stood aside, watching a female receptionist write down the names of Saionji and her group in the register with a ruler-like motion.
Finally, Kozlov closed the folder and turned back.
"Lord Saionji, the rooms have been arranged. I will pick you up from the hotel at nine o'clock tomorrow morning to go to the Academy of Sciences."
"The visit itinerary will be explained in detail at that time. Please get some rest tonight."
Trim a little bit.
"Thank you for your help."
Kozlov smiled, as if he had suddenly remembered something.
"In addition, there is a foreign exchange service desk on the first floor of the hotel. You can exchange rubles there."
He said it very naturally.
"Sometimes people may approach you on the streets of Moscow; please ignore them."
Satsuki nodded slightly.
"Thanks for reminding me."
Kozlov said no more and bowed to take his leave.
As he left, the revolving door in the lobby spun around once. A cold draft from outside rushed in, only to be quickly swallowed up by the heating.
Satsuki looked at the door that was still slowly rotating.
"Father."
"Um?"
"The story about Prime Minister Tanaka was made up."
Shuichi coughed lightly. "Probably."
"When Tanaka visited the Soviet Union in 1973, he stayed at the Kremlin State Guest House."
"...You don't need to correct him on this kind of thing."
Satsuki smiled, her expression obedient. "Yes, I will reflect on my actions."
The elevator is located on the side of the lobby.
The metal door made a scraping sound as it closed. A corner of the chrome plating on the button had chipped off, revealing a yellowish copper underneath.
The elevator is going up.
Amy stared at the floor indicator lights, watching them jump from one to two, and then from two to three.
"So slow."
She said in a low voice.
Xiu smiled.
"It's good to take it slow on a journey."
Satsuki glanced at her father.
"Father, you're starting to act like a tourist."
Xiu Yi coughed lightly.
"We came here as tourists, didn't we?"
Satsuki blinked.
"Well, I also need to buy some local handicrafts. Like those Russian nesting dolls? The locally made ones just have that charm compared to the Japanese ones."
There was a two-second silence in the elevator. Shuichi looked at Satsuki, seemingly trying to confirm whether what she wanted to buy was really a Russian nesting doll.
Fujita looked ahead, his expression unwavering.
Ding.
The elevator has arrived.
The first thing you see is a deep red carpet in the hallway, with light brown patterned wallpaper on both sides and yellowish lighting.
At the end of a somewhat dimly lit corridor sat a floor boss—no, a floor attendant (дежурная).
She was a middle-aged woman, wearing a dark blue uniform, with her hair perfectly styled.
On her desk were a register, a pen, and a wooden board with rows of brass hooks. Each hook held a key with an oval brass tag hanging from it.
Upon seeing the foreign guests exit the elevator, she immediately stood up.
A professional smile graced his face, but his eyes first scanned the number of people, then the suitcases they carried.
She took two keys from the hook, checked the room number, and then placed them neatly on the edge of the table with the copper plaque facing up.
Fujita stepped forward and took it.
The bronze medals clashed together, producing a crisp sound.
The duty officer said something in Russian, and the young liaison officer next to him immediately translated it.
She said to return the keys to her when I left, and to pick them up when I returned.
Trim a little bit.
"Understood."
Satsuki's gaze lingered on the register for a moment.
This floor manager was a classic figure in Soviet foreign guesthouses. Nominally, he was responsible for keeping room keys and providing services, but in reality, he recorded the entry and exit times of each guest, which could be considered a form of surveillance.
……
The suite is located in the middle of the corridor.
When the door opened, the first smell that wafted out was a mixture of the smell of heating and old wood.
A two-bedroom, one-living room suite.
The living room was furnished with dark walnut furniture, the edges polished to a shine, but there were already dents on the bottom of the table legs. The curtains were thick velvet, hanging by the window like two heavy, dark green curtains.
In the corner stood a small Soviet-made refrigerator, but thanks to the Soviet Union's excellent light industry, it looked like some kind of precision instrument, humming softly.
Shuichi took off his coat and hung it on the hanger.
"Satsuki-chan...can I share a suite with you? I'd like to chat with you..."
Amy, clutching her tool bag, clung to Satsuki's side. Once in the relatively private space, her lively nature began to show.
"Hmm, well, you'll have to see if my father is willing."
As she spoke, Satsuki walked to the window and first touched the surface of the radiator.
She withdrew her hand as soon as her fingertips touched it.
It's very hot.
"Is that so, Uncle Shuichi!"
Seeing an opportunity, Amy grabbed the bag and ran off to find Shuichi.
Fujita opened the refrigerator and took a look.
There were only two bottles of mineral water and a small bottle of vodka inside. A thin layer of frost had formed on the inside of the bottles, and the labels on the bottles were slightly curled up from the cold.
"Miss, the water needs to be delivered separately."
"Um."
Satsuki took off her gloves and casually placed them on the table.
A short while later.
"Satsuki-chan! Uncle Shuichi agreed! He said—"
Amy came running back, panting, her tool bag clattering in her arms. She started to say something, but then jumped up and down on the spot.
He said, "Either give me your bedroom—"
She paused for a moment, then jumped up again, looking a little embarrassed.
"Either...or let me sleep in the same bed with Satsuki-chan, that's fine too!"
Shuichi followed her in, his steps unhurried, already carrying a cup of hot tea. He glanced at Satsuki's expression and explained gently:
"The heating in the Soviet Union was too strong, making people restless before bed. You have two bedrooms, so leaving the other one empty is pointless."
Satsuki turned her head, glanced at Amy, and then at Shuichi.
Father, don't let your guard down just because Amy is a girl... Your daughter isn't as strong as Amy...
Well, maybe he hadn't even considered that possibility.
"Father...you've become quite the smooth talker lately."
"...Is that a compliment?"
"Guess."
Satsuki placed the gloves on the table and turned to Amy.
"Go and get your box. Don't mess up what Chizuru just packed."
Amy exclaimed "Oh!" and dashed out the door. The sound of slippers scraping against the carpet echoed down the hallway, followed by a low thud—
"Ugh... I can't move it..."
Fujita lifted his eyelids and walked over.
Shuichi sat down on the single sofa opposite Satsuki, placed his teacup on the low table, and took a sip.
"It's rare to see her so happy."
"She was always happy," Satsuki added, walking to the window.
Shuichi laughed.
"It's good to chat with Amy more; this trip is a good opportunity to relax."
Satsuki didn't speak. She reached out and touched the window frame, her fingertips dusted with a thin layer of ash.
He glanced down, expressionless, and wiped his face with a handkerchief.
At this moment, Chizuru had already moved away from the luggage.
Chizuru wasn't tidying up anything—her luggage was already neatly arranged, her clothes were hung in the closet, and her file folder was pressed against the corner of the table.
She has now walked to the side near the desk, holding something in her hand, and is walking slowly along the wall.
From behind, it looks like he's looking for a power outlet, or maybe he's just spacing out.
Satsuki sat back down on the sofa, took out the travel guide from her canvas bag, and turned to the page about the Winter Palace.
As Amy squeezed through the door, dragging her silver-gray suitcase, Chizuru had already walked to the curtains, raising her hand as if to steady the curtains that were about to come loose back onto the curtain rod.
Amy placed the suitcase beside the bed, straightened up, her forehead steaming. She wiped her forehead with her sleeve, her gaze inadvertently sweeping over—
Chizuru stopped next to the floor lamp, her fingertips tracing the bottom edge of the lamp base. She glanced down, then looked up again, turning to face away.
Amy blinked.
"...Chizuru?"
Chizuru turned her head.
"Ms. Suzuki, what can I do for you?"
Amy pointed to the floor lamp, a hint of confusion in her voice.
Were you just wiping the light?
"Yes."
Chizuru nodded calmly, her expression unchanged.
Amy paused for a moment, then looked at the telephone, then at the lamp, then at—
"Satsuki-chan," she turned to Satsuki, "Chizuru has been wiping things."
Satsuki turned a page of the travel guide without looking up.
"Yes, she's a germaphobe."
"...Obsessive-compulsive disorder about cleanliness?"
"Yeah, obsessive-compulsive disorder." Satsuki repeated, pressing the pages of her book down. "You know, some people just can't stand seeing others not clean. Chizuru thinks the cleanliness of hotels—"
She paused, then sighed.
"Standards vary widely."
Amy pondered those words for two seconds.
"But..." She glanced at Chizuru, "Satsuki-chan, you don't seem to have such a severe case of mysophobia, do you?"
"Chizuru's condition is more serious than mine."
"And you just touched the window frame, wiped your hands and that was it."
That's because—
"and……"
Satsuki raised her eyes and glanced at Amy.
His gaze was calm, carrying a subtle meaning—as if he was waiting for her to finish speaking. Amy stopped talking.
She looked down at her feet.
She raised her head again and looked at Qianhe.
Chizuru was walking towards the bathroom, her movements unchanged, as if she were just a dutiful maid checking if the guest room was clean.
Amy's gaze followed her movements, from the lamp to the desk, to the telephone, to the bedside table—
Then she suddenly realized.
"Oh, that's true."
Amy's voice regained its lively quality.
"It definitely feels like there's a lot more dust here than in Japan."
Satsuki had already lowered her head and flipped back to the tourist guide, her fingertip pointing to the name of a certain exhibition hall on the Winter Palace map.
"Yes, Japan has less dust because of its maritime climate."
"Moscow is already considered inland, so there's usually a lot more dust there."
"That's true..."
Amy quietly sat down on the edge of the bed, hugged the tool bag to her chest, and didn't say another word.
I have a feeling that I've messed up.
Shuichi held his teacup, his gaze shifting between Satsuki and Amy, but he said nothing and took a sip of tea.
A moment later, Chizuru walked back from the direction of the restroom and stood to the right of Satsuki, her hands folded in front of her.
Satsuki turned a page in the book, and lightly tapped the side of the travel guide with the index and middle fingers of her right hand.
Chizuru lowered her eyes.
"Young Miss, the tidying up is finished for today."
"Yes, thank you for your hard work."
Satsuki closed the travel guide, placed it on her lap, and glanced at Amy.
Amy was sitting on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling off the ground, looking completely serious and not thinking about anything.
"Amy."
"Huh?!" She flicked her wrist. "What's wrong? What's wrong?"
"Don't put that box on the ground, lift it up and lean it against the wall."
"Oh...oh! Okay."
Amy quickly slid off the bed, stood the silver-gray box full of treasures upright, pushed it to the head of the bed, and then sat back down.
Shuichi put down his teacup, stood up, and patted Satsuki's head.
"Alright, I'm going to the bedroom over there. You two shouldn't stay up too late."
Goodnight, Father.
"Okay, goodnight."
He turned to Amy, his tone gentle, "Amy, get some rest. You have plans for tomorrow."
Amy tilted her head back, her eyes crinkling slightly. "Goodnight, Uncle Shuichi!"
The door closed.
Only the breathing of three people and the tireless hum of the refrigerator in the corner remained in the side room.
Amy turned her head and looked at Satsuki.
Satsuki reopened the travel guide, looked at the page with the Grand Theater, and traced her index finger across the photo of the golden curtain.
Amy hugged her knees, rested her chin on them, and asked softly:
"Satsuki-chan, how many places did you find?"
Satsuki did not look up.
Two places.
He paused for a moment.
"There are two places I'd like to go."
Amy made a soft "hmm" sound and pressed her chin down on her knees, it was unclear whether she was marveling at how many numbers were too many or too few.
Chizuru stood to Satsuki's right, her expression unchanged.
The refrigerator was still humming.
Satsuki closed the travel guide, placed it on the coffee table, and leaned back on the sofa.
"Go to sleep."
"Moscow will still be here tomorrow."
"So, Satsuki-chan, can I sleep with you?"
"No, I won't be able to sleep."
"Ugh... Why? I won't disturb you."
"No means no."