chapter 21

Caesar's lips curled into a knowing smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was something darker lurking beneath his amusement this time. "Do you actually think Bes is dead?" he asked, his tone almost taunting.

Eun-jae's breath caught for half a second before he scoffed, shaking his head. "Well, yeah. I saw him get shot in the water. And that water was freezing—no one could survive that."

Caesar let out a low chuckle, his fingers drumming lightly against the table as if he found Eun-jae's response almost… adorable.

"How naïve," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper, but Eun-jae heard it loud and clear.

Eun-jae bristled. "What?" His eyes sharpened, but Caesar only smirked again, like he was enjoying dragging this out.

"Unfortunately for you," Caesar said, tilting his head slightly, "his body was never found in the water." He let that sink in for a moment before adding, "The only body recovered was the driver's. And he was definitely dead."

Eun-jae's fingers twitched again, his mind reeling. His body wasn't found? He replayed the scene over and over again in his head—the gunshot, the splash, the way the icy river swallowed Bes whole. He remembered standing on that bridge, watching the ripples fade, waiting for something, anything, to resurface.

But nothing did.

Now, that absence—the missing body—felt like a ghost creeping up his spine.

He clenched his jaw. No. This could just be a coincidence. Bodies go missing all the time in situations like this.

And yet…

Yet, deep down, an unsettling feeling curled in his gut, something cold and insidious whispering at the edges of his thoughts.

What if Bes is alive?

And worse—what if he's been alive this whole time?

Eun-jae's eyes narrowed at Caesar. "What game are you playing? And why the hell do I feel like a pawn in it?"

Eun-jae cleared his throat, trying to shake off the unease settling in his gut. His fingers twitched slightly before he forced them to still, curling them into the crook of his arm as he folded them across his chest. He kept his expression neutral, refusing to let any emotion slip through the cracks. He had been in too many high-stakes situations to let something as simple as a conversation with Caesar rattle him—at least, that's what he told himself. But beneath the carefully controlled exterior, a storm brewed.

He kept his gaze trained on Caesar, watching him the way a predator watches another predator—measuring, waiting, calculating. Caesar had that same knowing smirk on his face, that irritating, ever-present glint of amusement in his eyes like he was in on some grand joke that Eun-jae had yet to figure out. The kind of smirk that told him that whatever was about to be said next would not only shift the playing field but might just set it on fire entirely.

"So," Eun-jae began, keeping his voice steady, level. "How sure are you that we'll actually be able to get the information we need about Seraphim?"

A simple question. Direct. Straight to the point. But deep down, Eun-jae already knew that nothing about Seraphim was ever going to be simple.

Caesar didn't answer immediately. He was too busy reaching into his coat, the movement slow and deliberate, as if he was drawing out the suspense on purpose. Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he pulled out a thick brown envelope and dropped it onto the table with a dull thud. It was slightly worn, the edges creased, the surface marked with faint fingerprints—like it had passed through too many hands before finally landing in front of him.

Eun-jae's eyes flickered down to it, his pulse ticking up a fraction.

"These," Caesar said, tapping the envelope with two fingers, "are the names of the people involved in the development of the code."

Eun-jae didn't move right away. Instead, he studied Caesar's face, looking for any sign of deceit, any hint that this was a setup. But Caesar was an expert at masking his true intentions—always unreadable, always five steps ahead.

Finally, Eun-jae reached for the envelope, his fingers brushing against the rough paper as he pulled it toward him. He flipped it open with practiced ease, his eyes scanning the pages inside. Names, dates, classified notes—each one a thread leading back to the origins of Seraphim.

And then he saw it.

A name.

One that made his breath hitch for just a fraction of a second.

It was familiar. Too familiar.

He had seen it before, buried in intelligence reports, whispered in conversations between agents who spoke in hushed tones as if uttering it too loudly would summon death itself.

His grip on the papers tightened slightly. A cold sensation crawled up his spine, settling at the base of his neck.

"So where are they now?" he asked, his voice coming out quieter than he intended. "Are they alive?"

Caesar scoffed, the sound laced with amusement. "Pfft, no."

He leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, his smirk still present but now laced with something darker. Something knowing.

"They're all dead."

Eun-jae's stomach clenched, but his face remained carefully blank.

All of them?

His mind raced through possibilities. Accidents. Assassinations. Cover-ups. People didn't just die when they were connected to something as dangerous as Seraphim. They were erased.

His fingers twitched again. He exhaled slowly, trying to steady his thoughts. "How… how did they die?"

Caesar tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze locked onto Eun-jae's as if waiting to see just how much he could unsettle him.

"Take a guess," he said smoothly, his voice low, taunting.

Eun-jae's jaw tensed. He didn't have to guess. He already knew.

The bodies of people tied to classified projects didn't just pile up without reason. These weren't coincidences. Someone had gone to great lengths to make sure no one who had worked on Seraphim lived to tell the tale.

Assassinations. Silenced in the dead of night. A bullet to the skull, a car crash that looked just accidental enough, a sudden heart attack with no prior medical conditions.

Or worse.

People like this didn't just get killed. They got erased. Their identities scrubbed clean, their existence wiped from every system until it was like they had never even been born.

Before he could spiral deeper into that train of thought, Caesar's voice cut through his mind like a knife.

"Seraphim…" he started, dragging out the name like it was something to be feared. "It's a weapon. Or at least, that's what most people think it is."

Eun-jae's pulse quickened.

"Then what is it?" he asked.

Caesar smirked. "Something far worse."

A cold weight settled in Eun-jae's chest.

"You see," Caesar continued, his voice slow, deliberate, "Seraphim isn't just some military project, some cyber weapon you can lock away in a vault and forget about. It's not just a tool." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if the walls had ears. "It's the tool."

Eun-jae narrowed his eyes. "Meaning?"

Caesar chuckled lightly. "It possesses."

Eun-jae's brows furrowed. "Possesses?"

Caesar tilted his head slightly, watching him with amusement. "It doesn't just hack, Eun-jae. It rewrites. It infiltrates. It doesn't break into systems—it becomes them."

Eun-jae felt a chill creep up his spine.

"It's not just about shutting down defenses or stealing intelligence," Caesar continued. "It's about control. Imagine this." He held up a finger. "One day, a nation thinks they're safe. Their missiles, their satellites, their networks—all running smoothly." He held up a second finger. "And the next day? Those same systems are suddenly working for the enemy—without anyone even realizing when it happened."

Eun-jae's mind reeled.

"That's why people fear it," Caesar murmured. "That's why everyone wants it." His smirk widened slightly. "Because whoever controls Seraphim… doesn't just control a weapon." His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "They control the world."

Eun-jae exhaled sharply, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

No wonder they were all killed.

No wonder no one spoke about it openly.

Because Seraphim wasn't just a weapon.

It was the beginning of the end.

Eun-jae flipped through the documents, his fingers slightly tense as his eyes skimmed over the pages. The names, the locations, the classified reports—each word carried weight, each line was a piece of a puzzle that had yet to form a full picture. But there was something here, something buried beneath layers of ink and bureaucracy. The deeper he read, the more he felt a slow, creeping sense of unease settle over him.

These weren't just files.

They were graves.

The people listed here—scientists, engineers, cryptographers—every single one of them had been involved in the creation of Seraphim. And now? They were all dead. Eliminated. Their lives wiped out like words erased from a blackboard, leaving only their names as a record of what once was.

Eun-jae's jaw tightened. This wasn't coincidence. This was a purge. Someone had made sure that the minds behind Seraphim were silenced, eradicated before they could talk, before they could even think about undoing what they had created.

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

How powerful was Seraphim that its very creators had to be erased?

The answer made his skin crawl.

His thoughts spiraled, scenarios playing out in his head. Was this just about security? About keeping the weapon under control? Or was this about something bigger—something beyond containment? If Seraphim had fallen into the wrong hands, then this wasn't just about information suppression. It was about domination. Whoever held Seraphim didn't just want to protect it.

They wanted to use it.

His mind raced, tracing the implications, the possible outcomes. Wars could be started—ended—without a single bullet fired. Economies could collapse overnight. Nations could be puppeteered from the shadows, their governments turned into nothing more than chess pieces on a board controlled by unseen hands.

Seraphim wasn't just a weapon.

It was control.

And someone out there was holding the reins.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Caesar watching him until he heard the man chuckle, the sound low and full of amusement.

Eun-jae glanced up sharply.

Caesar was leaning back slightly, arms folded, his expression one of mild amusement, as if he had been waiting for Eun-jae to catch up. Then, slowly, a knowing grin spread across his lips.

"If the answers are anywhere," Caesar murmured, "it's there."

Eun-jae frowned. "Where?"

Caesar exhaled, shaking his head slightly, like he was talking to a particularly slow student. "The Karpov-Troitskys."

The name alone sent a jolt through Eun-jae's mind.

The Karpov-Troitskys weren't just any family. They were a legacy, an empire built on blood and power. Generations of calculated moves, alliances forged and broken, wars won without ever stepping onto a battlefield. They controlled industries, governments, entire networks of intelligence agencies. Their reach extended far beyond what most people could comprehend.

And now, they were involved with this.

Eun-jae swallowed, keeping his expression unreadable.

"The Karpov-Troitskys and their allies will be in attendance," Caesar continued, his voice smooth, calculated. "A gathering of the world's most powerful. If anyone knows the truth about Seraphim—or has any clue how to stop it—" he smirked, "—they'll be there."

Eun-jae exhaled slowly.

That meant only one thing.

They were running out of time.

Caesar's smirk widened as he leaned in slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. "So, what do you say? Feel like partying now?"

Eun-jae scoffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms. "Hold on. We can't just waltz into a party full of mafia bosses, corrupt politicians, and arms dealers without getting armed first. That's just asking to get shot."

Caesar chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax, Aegis prepped everything for us." He patted Eun-jae's shoulder as he turned toward the exit. "Come on, let's go."

They drove through the dimly lit streets, the city buzzing with nightlife, unaware of the chaos brewing beneath its polished surface. Caesar took a few unexpected turns, weaving through alleys and side roads before pulling up to what looked like an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The place was barely lit, a single flickering streetlight casting eerie shadows against the rusted metal doors.

Eun-jae quirked a brow. "Really? This is where we're getting our gear? Why does it look like the setting of a horror movie?"

Caesar ignored him, already heading toward the entrance. He tapped a specific rhythm on the rusted metal door—knock, pause, two quick taps, pause, final tap—and a low beep sounded before the heavy doors groaned open.

They stepped inside.