chapter 18

Caesar reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black credit card with intricate golden accents that gleamed in the sunlight. It looked so pristine, so absurdly fancy, it might as well have been dipped in liquid arrogance. Without so much as a second thought, he handed it to Eun-jae, who stared at it like it was a bomb set to detonate.

"Here," Caesar said, his tone annoyingly casual, as if this was just another mundane interaction. "Take this. Go find something to eat, stay somewhere decent for the night, and, for the love of God, change your clothes. You look like a total mess."

Eun-jae blinked, his hand automatically reaching out to take the card even though his brain was screaming at him to refuse. His fingers brushed against the cool surface, and he almost dropped it, half-convinced the card might zap him out of sheer spite.

"Uh, excuse me?" Eun-jae began, his voice teetering between confusion and indignation. "What is this supposed to be? Some kind of pity handout? Do I look like I need your charity?"

Caesar ignored him entirely, stretching out his arm and hailing a taxi like he owned the entire city. A sleek black car pulled up almost instantly, and before Eun-jae could even finish processing what was happening, Caesar was already stepping inside.

"Wait—where are you going?" Eun-jae asked, his voice rising with a mix of irritation and bewilderment. But the car door slammed shut with a smooth click, and the taxi sped off, leaving him standing there like an idiot holding a card that probably cost more than his entire existence.

Eun-jae stood frozen for a moment, staring at the spot where the car had just been. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of which made any sense.

"Uhhh…what?" he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned the card over in his hands, inspecting it like it might hold the answers to life's great mysteries. "What just happened? Did I black out? Did I hallucinate that entire exchange? Who does that? Who hands someone a gold-plated credit card like it's a flyer for a pizza joint?"

His gaze darted around the street, half-expecting Caesar to pop out of nowhere and yell "Gotcha!" But the man was gone, leaving Eun-jae stranded in a puddle of confusion and indignation.

"Is this guy for real? First, he rips off my mask like some deranged drama villain, and now he's throwing expensive plastic at me like I'm his personal charity project? What does he think I am? A stray cat?"

Eun-jae shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the card still pinched between his fingers like it might spontaneously combust. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in hours. He glanced down at his clothes—soaked, wrinkled, and stained from whatever hellish series of events had brought him to this point.

"Okay, fine," he muttered, rolling his eyes as if someone were there to witness his reluctant surrender. "Maybe I do look like a total mess. But that doesn't mean I need him swooping in like some overbearing sugar daddy."

Still, the card practically glowed in his hand, taunting him with its promise of food, warmth, and a decent bed. Eun-jae's stomach growled again, louder this time, and he groaned in defeat.

"Guess I'm stuck with this," he muttered, pocketing the card. But as he started walking down the street, he couldn't help but glare in the direction Caesar's taxi had disappeared. "Where the hell did he go, anyway? Probably off to some five-star hotel to eat caviar and sip wine while I'm out here looking like a drowned rat."

He shook his head, his pace quickening as he scanned for the nearest restaurant or hotel. "Deluxe edition of annoying," he grumbled under his breath. "That's what he is. With gold-plated accessories, no less."

But even as he fumed, a small, grudging part of him had to admit that the card felt reassuring in his pocket. "Still a lunatic, though," he thought. "Just a lunatic with expensive taste."

Eun-jae stepped into the modest hotel lobby, the door creaking softly as it swung shut behind him. The air hit him first—a mix of industrial-strength cleaning products that stung his nose and a faint trace of cheap air freshener that tried, and failed, to mask it. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly, but it had that distinct "trying too hard to be clean" vibe that places like this often carried. The floral scent was overly sweet, clinging to the back of his throat like it had something to prove.

His eyes darted around, taking in the tired decor. The wallpaper, a faded floral pattern that might've been charming a decade ago, now looked like it was giving up the fight against time. The edges near the floor were peeling slightly, curling like old leaves. The carpet was a dull shade of brown, likely chosen to hide stains rather than for aesthetics, and had seen more foot traffic than it was probably designed for.

The reception desk sat at the far end, a sturdy, scratched-up piece of wood that had clearly endured years of impatient travelers leaning on it. Behind it was a young clerk, slouched over their phone, eyes glued to the screen with the kind of focus that Eun-jae could only describe as determined indifference.

"Great," he thought, lips pressing into a thin line as he adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "Another shining example of customer service. I bet they're just dying to help."

His shoes squeaked slightly against the polished floor as he approached the desk, the sound echoing faintly in the otherwise quiet space. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, its blades wobbling a little with each rotation, as if it was as exhausted as the rest of the room. The lighting was dim but warm, casting a yellowish glow that made everything look softer, less defined.

"Hello," Eun-jae said, his voice cutting through the silence. It came out polite but edged with a touch of hesitation, like he wasn't entirely sure what kind of reception he'd get.

The clerk's head snapped up, startled, as though they hadn't expected anyone to actually talk to them. For a moment, they blinked at him, their expression hovering somewhere between curiosity and mild annoyance, before finally gesturing toward an old-fashioned phone sitting at the edge of the counter.

"Can I make an international call?" Eun-jae asked, his fingers brushing against the phone's worn cord.

The clerk shrugged. "Sure. You'll have to pay upfront, though."

Nodding, Eun-jae reached into his pocket and pulled out the black credit card Caesar had given him. The sleek, glossy surface of the card almost felt out of place in this rundown setting, its golden accents gleaming under the flickering light above the counter. He glanced at it for a moment, his expression a mix of reluctance and resignation.

"Might as well use it," he thought. "No point carrying this thing around like a useless souvenir."

Sliding the card across the counter, he picked up the phone, the cool plastic pressing against his ear. The dial tone buzzed softly, filling the quiet as he punched in his mother's number from memory. As he waited, he tapped his fingers lightly against the counter, his nails making a faint, rhythmic clicking sound.

The lobby felt unnervingly still, the only other noise coming from the hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional creak of the front door as someone passed outside. Eun-jae's thoughts began to wander as the seconds stretched on.

"What if she doesn't answer? She's probably worried sick by now. She's always worried. And now I've given her even more reason to freak out." He frowned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I'll tell her I lost my phone. Yeah, that's believable. And technically true."

The line clicked, breaking his train of thought, and a familiar voice came through.

"Hello?"

Relief washed over him like a wave, his shoulders sagging slightly as he leaned against the counter. "Hello, Maa, it's me—Eun-jae," he said quickly, his voice softening.

"Eun-jae!" His mother's voice immediately brightened, though it carried an undertone of worry. "Where have you been? I've been trying to call you, but nothing went through… Are you okay?"

Eun-jae winced, guilt pricking at him. "Yes, I'm fine, Maa. I just… lost my phone. That's why I haven't been able to get in touch. I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's okay, honey," she said, her tone gentler now. "I was just worried, that's all. I hope you're eating well, though—I don't want you to grow lean, okay?"

Eun-jae couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Always with the food, Maa. It's like she thinks I'll waste away the second I'm out of sight."

"I am, Maa. I'm eating well," he reassured her.

"Good. That's what I like to hear," she said, warmth evident in her voice. "Okay then, I won't keep you from your work. Take care of yourself, and I love you."

"I love you too. Bye, Maa," Eun-jae replied softly before hanging up.

For a moment, he stood there, his fingers still resting on the receiver. The tension that had been coiled in his chest since he walked into the lobby seemed to ease just a little.

As he slid the card back into his pocket, a thought struck him. Turning to the clerk, he cleared his throat. "Excuse me, miss," he began, his voice steady. "Do you know where I can get piercing rings around here?"

The clerk blinked at him again, her gaze flickering to his face. He could feel her lingering stare, and his brows furrowed slightly.

"What is it now? Do I look that weird? Is it the lack of piercings? Ugh, maybe she's just bored."

"There's a shop a few blocks down," she finally said, pointing vaguely toward the street outside. "You should find what you need there."

"Thanks," Eun-jae muttered, turning on his heel and heading for the door. The cool evening air hit him as he stepped outside, the faint hum of traffic filling the streets.

His fingers brushed against his jaw absentmindedly as he walked. "First stop: food. Second stop: piercings. And third stop…" He scowled, adjusting his bag. "Finding Caesar so I can throw that damn credit card back in his smug face."

Eun-jae strode into the small, cluttered jewelry shop, the faint smell of metal and disinfectant filling the air. His sharp eyes scanned the display cases, zeroing in on exactly what he wanted. His fingers tapped impatiently on the glass as he waited for the clerk to finish up with another customer.

When it was finally his turn, he didn't waste any time. "I want angel bite rings and a nose ring," he said, his tone decisive, almost daring the clerk to question his choice.

The older man behind the counter raised a brow but said nothing, simply retrieving the items Eun-jae had pointed out. They gleamed under the dim shop lights—small, silver hoops that matched the sharpness in Eun-jae's gaze.

With a quick exchange, Eun-jae slipped the jewelry onto his face right there at the counter. First, the angel bites—one on each side of his lower lip, perfectly symmetrical. Then, the nose ring—a small hoop that added just the right edge. He turned to the mirror hanging on the wall, his smirk growing as he took in his reflection.

"Back to the old me," he thought, running his tongue over his bottom lip to test the feel of the new rings. The sharp, rebellious look suited him, and he couldn't help but smirk a little wider. "Yeah, Caesar can choke on this. He's not the only one who can turn heads."

Leaving the shop with a lighter wallet but a renewed sense of self, Eun-jae headed back to the hotel. The dim, cramped hallway greeted him like an unwelcome guest, the carpet worn and the walls stained with years of neglect. He wrinkled his nose as he opened the door to his room.

"This place reeks of dust," he thought, grimacing as he stepped inside. The musty smell clung to the air like a second skin, and the thin layer of grime on the furniture made him second-guess every surface he touched.

After locking the door, Eun-jae shrugged off his shirt, tossing it into the corner carelessly before heading to the bathroom. He grabbed the rough towel hanging on the rack, drying his hair as he stared at himself in the cracked mirror. The rings on his lip and nose caught the light, making him smirk again.