chapter 19

"At least I look decent, even if this place is a dump," he thought, wrapping the towel loosely around his waist. The mirror fogged up from the steam of his quick shower, and he swiped a hand across it to clear the view one last time before stepping back into the room.

The bed creaked under his weight as he flopped onto it, lying on his back and staring at the peeling ceiling above him. His damp hair clung to his forehead, and he let out a long breath, stretching his arms above his head.

His mind wandered as he lay there, trying to ignore the faint itch in his throat from the dusty air. "Why do these places always feel like they've been frozen in time since the 80s?" he mused, his eyes tracing the water stains on the ceiling. "It's like they want you to suffer just for existing."

Still, the soft hum of the night outside the window and the faint buzz of the ancient overhead light started to lull him into a sense of calm. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself relax, his fingers idly drumming against the side of the bed.

Eun-jae groaned softly as his stomach growled again, an embarrassing sound that seemed to echo in the quiet room. "Alright, Eun-jae," he muttered to himself, rubbing his belly. "You've got the look back, but apparently, the look doesn't come with a full stomach."

He threw on a loose hoodie, slid into his sneakers, and made his way downstairs to the reception desk. Leaning casually on the counter, he shot the receptionist a charming yet tired smile. "Excuse me…me again," he said, dragging out the last part with a mix of self-deprecation and sass. "Do you know any food vendors around? Like, anything remotely edible in this area?"

The receptionist blinked at him, clearly trying to figure out if he was being serious or sarcastic, before finally pointing him toward a nearby restaurant. Eun-jae thanked her with a quick wave, mumbling, "Bless your soul," as he headed out the door.

When he arrived at the restaurant, his hopes immediately plummeted. The sign above the door was flickering like it hadn't been replaced since the early 2000s, and the windows were so fogged up he couldn't tell if they were from steam or just grime. He pushed the door open, and the faint smell of stale oil hit him like a wall.

Taking a seat by the window, he glanced around and sighed. "This restaurant looks just like the hotel—old, tired, and possibly a health hazard," he thought, his sharp eyes scanning the peeling wallpaper and the cracked linoleum floor. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, flickering just enough to be annoying.

When the food arrived, his jaw nearly dropped. The soup looked like it had been microwaved one too many times, the dumplings were pale and soggy, and the side dishes looked like they'd been sitting out for days. He stared at the bowl in front of him like it was a personal insult. "Is this supposed to be food? Did I just pay to have my taste buds insulted?"

He picked up the spoon hesitantly, scooping up a bit of the soup and giving it a sniff. It smelled faintly like dishwater, but his hunger pushed him to take a sip. The taste hit him immediately, and he gagged, barely stopping himself from spitting it back into the bowl. "Sheesh, what the hell is this? Did they season it with regret and despair?"

He set the spoon down with a dramatic sigh, glaring at the bowl as if it had personally offended him. "Ever since I arrived in this country, it's just been one thing after another," he grumbled internally, crossing his arms as he stared out the window. "First, I almost got kidnapped. Then, I nearly got shot. Oh, and let's not forget the explosion that almost drowned me. And now, to top it all off, I'm stuck with the most useless partner in existence—Caesar, the human skyscraper."

His thoughts trailed off as he suddenly realized something. "Wait, speaking of that walking building, where the hell is he? He just disappears whenever he feels like it and leaves me to fend for myself. What is he even doing right now? Meditating on top of a mountain? Staring at his reflection in a lake? Knowing him, he's probably doing something equally useless."

With a huff, Eun-jae grabbed one of the dumplings and stuffed it into his mouth, more out of spite than hunger. The dumpling was as bad as he expected—chewy in all the wrong ways and filled with a mystery meat that he didn't want to think too hard about. "Fantastic," he thought sarcastically, chewing with a grimace. "This is exactly the five-star dining experience I deserve right now."

He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he gazed around the room again. "This trip is cursed. That's the only explanation. Maybe I pissed off a deity in a past life or something. Or maybe the universe just hates me. Either way, I'm officially done."

Eun-jae let out another sigh, pushing the bowl of soup away and signaling the waiter for the bill. "If Caesar doesn't show up soon, I'm charging him for emotional damages," he thought, shooting a glare at the empty chair across from him.

After what felt like an eternity, Eun-jae finally finished his meal. He pushed the plate away with a sigh, his stomach full but his mood anything but satisfied. "What was that even supposed to be? Food or a dare?" he thought, wrinkling his nose at the remnants of the overly greasy dish. The whole experience had been a culinary disaster—a soggy mountain of fries buried under an avalanche of mystery sauce that tasted vaguely like regret.

He leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, letting his eyes wander around the shabby restaurant. The walls were plastered with peeling posters advertising cheap beers and questionable "specials," and the fluorescent lighting buzzed faintly, adding to the ambiance of mild despair. "This place is one health inspection away from being shut down," Eun-jae muttered to himself, shaking his head.

He stood up and stretched, feeling the satisfying crack of his spine. "Well, at least I won't starve to death," he mused as he headed toward the counter, where a woman with a neon manicure and an even louder attitude was glued to her phone.

"Ring me, please," Eun-jae said, his tone polite but clipped. He just wanted to get out of there and forget this place ever existed.

The woman finally looked up, snapping her gum so loudly it made his teeth clench. "That'll be 3,500 rubles," she said, her voice monotone as if she'd recited that exact phrase a thousand times today.

Eun-jae blinked, then blinked again. "3,500 rubles? For this? Is she serious? Did I accidentally order a side of gold flakes or something?" His lips parted in disbelief, but he quickly shut them, deciding not to make a scene. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out Caesar's flashy black credit card like it was some kind of magic wand.

He slid the card across the counter, watching as the woman took it with the same enthusiasm as someone handling a used tissue. She swiped it with a dramatic flourish and frowned. "Declined," she announced, smacking her gum for emphasis.

"Excuse me?" Eun-jae said, his voice rising slightly.

"Declined," she repeated, slower this time, as if he hadn't understood her the first time.

Eun-jae's jaw tightened. He picked up the card and examined it like it might suddenly reveal why it had betrayed him. "This has to be a mistake. There's no way this obnoxious card with its golden trim doesn't work. Isn't that the whole point of it existing?"

Not wanting to argue, Eun-jae turned to leave, deciding he'd deal with Caesar and his useless card later. But as he reached the door, something caught his attention. The woman was leaning over the counter, whispering to two police officers who had just entered. Her perfectly manicured nail pointed directly at him.

His stomach dropped. "Oh, come on," he thought, freezing mid-step.

The officers didn't waste any time. They walked straight toward him, their heavy boots echoing on the tiled floor. One grabbed his arm roughly.

"You thief, where do you think you're going without paying, huh?" the taller officer barked.

Eun-jae's mouth fell open. "Thief?! I wasn't running away—"

The second officer shoved a portable card reader in his face, the red "Declined" message glaring at him like an accusation.

Eun-jae's mind raced. "This can't be happening. I'm not some criminal!" His face flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation. "If Caesar thinks he's getting away with this, he's got another thing coming."

"Wait, sir, lemme—" Eun-jae started, but the taller officer cut him off with a sneer.

"You lowlifes are all the same. Bet your mother raised you to scam your way through life, huh?"

Eun-jae froze. His entire body went rigid as the words sank in. "What did he just say? My mother?"

The officer's mocking expression was the last straw. Without thinking, Eun-jae's elbow shot out, connecting with the man's throat. The officer stumbled back, choking and clutching his neck. The other officer moved toward him, but Eun-jae was faster, driving his fist into the man's jaw with a satisfying crack. He crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Eun-jae didn't even have time to catch his breath before he heard the scrape of a chair being lifted behind him. He turned, his heart pounding, to see the first officer recovering, his face twisted in rage as he raised the chair above his head.

Before the chair could come down, it was snatched out of the officer's hands.

"What's with all the commotion?" a familiar, infuriatingly calm voice said.

Eun-jae turned to see Caesar standing there, the chair in one hand, a smirk playing on his lips as if this were all some elaborate joke.

"Caesar!" Eun-jae shouted, his voice a mix of relief and frustration.

Caesar's smirk widened. "You're welcome, by the way."

Eun-jae glared at him, his chest heaving. "Of course he shows up now, looking all smug like a discount hero. Where was he five minutes ago?!"

The officer pointed a shaky finger at Eun-jae. "He assaulted us!"

Caesar tilted his head, his expression one of mild amusement. "Assaulted you? Or defended himself from your, shall we say, overzealous approach?"

Eun-jae crossed his arms, fuming. "I swear, if this man doesn't get me out of here in the next two minutes, I'm going to lose it."

Caesar's gaze flicked to him, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. There was something unreadable in his expression—a mix of amusement, annoyance, and maybe even a hint of pride.

Eun-jae sat at the window of the shabby restaurant, his gaze locked on Caesar, who was outside chatting casually with the police officers. "Casually" being the operative word, because while Eun-jae had just gone through what felt like a life-or-death showdown, Caesar was out there grinning as if he were catching up with old drinking buddies.

Eun-jae tapped his fingers against the table impatiently, his foot bouncing with frustration. "What the hell is he even saying to them? Bribing them with charm? Or maybe he's got some secret handshake for shady deals I don't know about?" He leaned closer to the window, trying to decipher Caesar's calm, effortless demeanor.

Finally, after what felt like hours—but was probably only minutes—Caesar wrapped up his little chat. The officers gave him curt nods before walking away, leaving Caesar to stroll back into the restaurant with that infuriating smirk plastered across his face.

The moment Caesar stepped through the door, the sound of wood splintering echoed in Eun-jae's head again. He replayed the scene over and over: Caesar catching the chair mid-swing like some action hero in a low-budget movie, completely unbothered, as if the laws of physics didn't apply to him.

"What kind of sorcery did you use this time?" Eun-jae snapped, crossing his arms as Caesar sauntered over.