chapter 22

The first thing Eun-jae noticed was the silence. The place was eerily empty, the air thick with the scent of gun oil and metal. Dim blue lights lined the ceiling, casting a cold glow over the concrete walls. It looked like nothing more than a basement—just a vast, empty space with a single reinforced steel door at the end.

Eun-jae raised a brow. "Okay, either this is the most low-budget weapons cache I've ever seen, or we just walked into a trap."

Caesar didn't respond. Instead, he walked straight to a panel on the wall, pressed his palm against it, and entered a six-digit passcode. A soft beep echoed, followed by the sound of mechanisms shifting.

Then, the walls moved.

With a low, mechanical hiss, the concrete panels slid apart, revealing hidden compartments behind them. Row after row of weapons gleamed under the dim blue light, neatly arranged on reinforced shelves and racks.

And it wasn't just any weapons.

These were top-tier.

Silenced pistols, custom-built sniper rifles, combat knives so sharp they could slice through bone like butter. There were high-powered assault rifles, grenades, tactical gear, even modified handguns with experimental attachments. Some of this stuff wasn't even on the market yet—it was the kind of gear that only people with serious connections could get their hands on.

Eun-jae let out a low whistle, tilting his head as he took it all in. "Damn. Looks like Santa came early this year." He stepped forward, dragging his fingers along the sleek barrel of a custom SIG Sauer. "What's the occasion? A VIP event, and they decided to roll out the elite murder package?"

Caesar chuckled. "Consider it a party favor."

Eun-jae picked up a matte black Desert Eagle, testing the weight in his palm before giving Caesar a side-eye. "Right. Because nothing says party like a semi-automatic hand cannon."

Caesar ignored the sarcasm, grabbing a tactical vest off the rack. "Pick your poison. We need to be in and out before midnight."

Eun-jae exhaled, rolling his shoulders before grabbing a pair of twin Glock 19s, slipping them into their holsters. He also grabbed a sleek combat knife, twirling it between his fingers before tucking it into his belt. He wasn't about to walk into a viper's den without being ready to sink his fangs in return.

Still, something about this whole situation itched at the back of his mind.

The fact that Aegis had all this prepared in advance meant one of two things—either they were betting big on this mission, or they knew something he didn't. And considering how this night was shaping up, he wasn't sure which possibility was worse.

He sighed, cracking his neck before glancing at Caesar. "Alright, let's go 'party.''

The luxury car purred like a well-fed predator as it glided along the long, perfectly paved driveway leading up to the Karpov-Troitsky estate. The air around them felt different—heavier, like the weight of money and power had somehow thickened the atmosphere. It was the kind of place that didn't just scream wealth—it whispered it in a cold, calculating way, letting you know you didn't belong before you even stepped inside.

Eun-jae's fingers clenched around the steering wheel, his grip just a little too tight. He kept his expression blank, eyes fixed on the looming silhouette of the mansion ahead, but internally, he was fighting the urge to turn the car around and floor it back to sanity.

Because this place?

This place was unreal.

The mansion itself was obscene—a gothic nightmare wrapped in obscene luxury, standing like some ancient fortress against the night. It had turrets, for God's sake. Turrets. Who even needed turrets in this century? The grand iron gates they had passed through moments ago still lingered in his mind—towering structures, adorned with intricate metalwork depicting winged beasts and snarling wolves, as if to remind every visitor that they were trespassing in a world where only the powerful survived.

And he was stuck playing chauffeur in it.

In the backseat, Caesar lounged like a damn king, draped in a ridiculous black fur coat over his sleek tailored suit, looking every bit the arrogant bastard that he was. He exuded the kind of effortless confidence that made Eun-jae want to kick the seat just to knock him down a peg. It wasn't fair how well he fit in with this level of extravagance—like he belonged here among the rich, dangerous, and morally bankrupt.

Meanwhile, Eun-jae felt like an overworked extra in a period drama.

The stiff, tailored black chauffeur's uniform clung to him uncomfortably, the crisp white gloves and polished cap making him feel like some kind of dressed-up lapdog. He hated this. He hated the entire setup. The only reason he was putting up with this humiliation was because they needed to get inside unnoticed. And unfortunately for him, that meant playing the role of Caesar's obedient little driver.

I swear, if Caesar says one more smug-ass word, I might just slam the brakes and let him eat the dashboard.

Knock, knock.

Eun-jae's irritation was interrupted by the sharp rap of knuckles against his window. His jaw tightened as he forced himself back into character, rolling down the window with the most begrudgingly professional expression he could muster.

One of the mansion's guards stood there, clad in an all-black tactical suit, armed and exuding the kind of cold, detached authority that suggested he wouldn't hesitate to shoot a man dead if ordered. His sharp, assessing eyes swept over Eun-jae before shifting toward the backseat, where Caesar sat with way too much confidence for someone about to walk into the lion's den.

Without a word, Eun-jae handed over the invitation Caesar had smugly produced earlier. The guard examined it, eyes flicking over the details before cutting another glance at Caesar. The moment their gazes met, Eun-jae could feel Caesar's smirk—smug, self-assured, and just on the edge of taunting.

The tension stretched for a brief moment before the guard gave a curt nod, returning the card.

"You may enter."

Eun-jae rolled the window up and nudged the car forward, but not before muttering under his breath, "Great. Can't wait to be surrounded by rich criminals who could probably buy my entire existence with their pocket change."

The closer they got to the mansion, the more excessive the whole thing became. The pristine, sweeping lawns stretched for acres, trimmed so perfectly they looked fake. Rows of imported marble statues lined the pathways, their blank stone eyes watching like silent sentinels. A massive fountain stood at the entrance, water cascading down in a ridiculous, over-the-top display of wealth, illuminated by golden lights.

Valets in sharp uniforms rushed to open doors for the arriving guests, their movements practiced and precise. Expensive cars, each more luxurious than the last, rolled up to the entrance, spilling out men in tailored suits and women in glittering designer gowns, their diamonds catching the light like tiny stars. The entire scene looked straight out of a crime syndicate's fever dream.

Eun-jae barely held back a snort. How do people even live like this? How did they wake up every day surrounded by so much luxury without choking on their own arrogance?

His grip tightened on the wheel as the car slowed near the grand entrance, watching the opulence unfold before him like an absurd stage play.

Finally, he let out a sigh and muttered, "I'm just wondering how I'll even get inside."

From the rearview mirror, he caught Caesar's gaze—his smirk already forming, like he had been waiting for that comment.

Eun-jae immediately regretted speaking.

Eun-jae let out a long, exaggerated groan, gripping the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him. "What an unfair world," he muttered, glaring at the absurdly lavish scene unfolding before him.

Wealth dripped from every corner of the estate like gold-leafed poison, rubbing its existence in the faces of anyone who wasn't part of this exclusive, corruption-riddled club. The guests in their designer suits and silk gowns strolled up the grand staircase as if they weren't completely detached from reality, as if their biggest problem in life was deciding whether to drink imported champagne or a ten-thousand-dollar bottle of cognac.

Meanwhile, he was stuck playing chauffeur to the smuggest bastard alive.

Caesar, lounging in the backseat like he was born to be worshiped, chuckled at Eun-jae's misery. His laugh was low, amused, and far too pleased for Eun-jae's liking. That never meant anything good.

"There are two ways you can get inside," Caesar mused, his voice dripping with amusement. "Either you keep playing your role as my loyal driver…" He paused, watching Eun-jae through the rearview mirror with a wicked glint in his eyes. "Or—you go in as my lover."

Eun-jae choked.

The car swerved slightly before he corrected it, but the pure offense on his face was impossible to hide. "EW." He whipped his head around, shooting Caesar a look of absolute horror. "No."

Caesar smirked, clearly entertained by the reaction. "Why not? It's a perfectly reasonable option." He gave a slow shrug, like the idea of waltzing into a crime syndicate's party with Eun-jae on his arm was no big deal. "Besides, I was the one invited. I don't exactly need an escort, but I wouldn't mind one."

Eun-jae nearly gagged. "I would rather fling myself into that fountain and let the expensive-ass koi fish devour me."

Caesar just laughed again, shaking his head. "Your loss. I hear they treat partners of VIPs very well at these events. Private lounges, complimentary drinks, luxurious treatment…" He sighed dramatically, as if he were the victim here. "But no, you'd rather struggle."

Eun-jae rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised he didn't sprain something. "Yeah, no thanks. And anyway, it wouldn't be that difficult to just blend in with the guards." He gestured vaguely at the uniformed men stationed near the entrance, their presence almost blending into the extravagance of the mansion. "There are so many of them. I could easily zap one, knock him out, and steal his outfit. Boom. Problem solved."

Caesar's smirk turned knowing. "You really love trouble, don't you?"

Eun-jae scoffed. "I thrive in it."

Eun-jae exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Well, at least we got an invitation to this... whatever. His inner monologue was laced with pure, unfiltered irritation. That's the only silver lining here. But why— why, in the name of all that was holy, did I have to be this asshole's chauffeur?

He wanted to scream. Or maybe crash the car into one of the unnecessarily grand marble pillars lining the driveway. Either option seemed preferable to this humiliating charade.

The mansion in front of them was practically oozing with wealth. The kind of wealth that smelled like aged whiskey, overpriced cigars, and generational power that had never been questioned. The kind of wealth that created men like Caesar—smug, untouchable, and insufferably arrogant.

Eun-jae sighed, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment before finally pulling the car into a perfect, seamless stop. He shifted into park, yanked the keys out, and sat there, gripping them like they were the only thing keeping him sane.

Then he turned to Caesar, who was, of course, lounging in the backseat like he had all the time in the world. Like he belonged here. Like he wasn't making Eun-jae suffer on purpose.

"Well?" Eun-jae snapped, his tone as sharp as a blade. "What are you waiting for? Won't you get down?"

Caesar didn't move. Didn't even blink. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. His lips curled into that godforsaken smirk that made Eun-jae want to commit a crime.

"Have you forgotten your job?" Caesar drawled, his voice positively dripping with mockery.

Eun-jae swore he felt his soul leave his body. His eye twitched. His grip on the keys tightened. He imagined—just for a second—whipping them at Caesar's perfectly sculpted face.

Instead, he inhaled deeply through his nose, forcing himself to stay civil (barely).