chapter 25

Eun-jae could hear the distant murmur of high-society chatter, the soft clink of glasses as guests indulged in luxury. Yet, in that moment, it all seemed to fade into the background.

"His weakness…"

The thought settled into his mind like a jagged puzzle piece, its edges sharp and cruel.

Bes was ruthless. Unstoppable. A living storm that tore through everything in its path.

But every man—no matter how powerful, no matter how invincible—had a weakness.

Something that could be used against them.

Something that could make them bleed.

Eun-jae narrowed his eyes, his mind already working, already searching.

"Is it a person?"

"A secret?"

"A past that haunts him?"

His heart pounded, not out of fear—but out of determination.

This was the key.

This was how you took down a man who otherwise couldn't be touched.

His gaze flickered back to Caesar, sharp and demanding.

"So what is his weakness?"

Caesar stilled for a moment, as if considering.

Then, with a casual shrug, he placed his empty glass on the tray in Eun-jae's hands.

"I dunno," he said smoothly.

Eun-jae's fingers twitched.

His patience snapped like a brittle thread.

"You're telling me all of that… and you don't even KNOW?!"

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he glared at Caesar, who only looked back at him with mocking amusement.

Like a cat playing with its prey.

Caesar leaned in once more, voice dropping to a murmur, his smirk never faltering.

"But I do know one thing…"

He let the words drag, enjoying this far too much.

"If someone like you is already looking for it…"

His smirk widened, just a fraction.

"Then I'd say you're already in over your head."

Eun-jae felt his blood run cold.

Because deep down, he already knew…

Caesar was right.

He was stepping into something far more dangerous than he could have ever imagined.

And if he wasn't careful—

It wouldn't be Bes who fell.

It would be him.

'"I've spent too much time here… I need to go look for more clues."

Eun-jae muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of conversation and clinking glasses. He shifted his weight slightly, fingers twitching at his side as he mentally prepared himself for what was coming next.

Every second wasted in this opulent ballroom, drowning in chandeliers' golden light and the murmur of diplomatic nonsense, was another second closer to losing his chance.

He turned to leave.

But—

Caesar heard him.

Eun-jae didn't even need to look back to know. He could feel it—the weight of Caesar's gaze pressing against his back like a predator watching its prey.

And sure enough—

"I just saw Bes," Caesar said smoothly, his voice dripping with that same infuriating amusement he always carried, as if none of this was serious, as if everything unfolding around them was just another round of an elaborate, high-stakes game.

He swirled the last remnants of deep red wine in his glass, watching the liquid shift with a lazy elegance that stood in stark contrast to the sharp glint in his eyes.

"Along with the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Vice President. They just went upstairs."

Eun-jae's breath hitched—just for a fraction of a second.

Upstairs.

His heart gave a single, hard thud against his ribs.

A secret meeting.

It was like hearing the crack of a gun before the bullet had even left the chamber—an unmistakable signal that something big was happening.

Eun-jae's mind clicked into place like the sharp edge of a knife sliding into its sheath.

This was it.

This was the kind of moment he had been waiting for.

The kind of moment that separated victory from failure, survival from elimination.

A secret gathering of men in positions of absolute power.

There was no way these men were simply going upstairs to sip expensive scotch and exchange pleasantries.

They were discussing something.

Something important.

Something that had the potential to shake the very foundations of power that held this entire country together.

And Eun-jae needed to find out exactly what.

He inhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain calm, controlled.

"I need to get up there."

But how?

The very existence of a secret meeting meant one thing—security.

There would be guards. Watchful eyes. Layers upon layers of protection ensuring that no one uninvited got in.

And yet—

His gaze flickered toward Caesar, who was still watching him with that goddamn smirk.

The kind of smirk that made it impossible to tell whether he was actually being helpful or if he was setting Eun-jae up for a spectacular downfall.

"I'll keep you covered," Caesar murmured, his smirk widening just a fraction.

His tone was too smooth.

Too calculated.

Too knowing.

Eun-jae didn't respond immediately.

Instead, he turned slightly, casting a measured, unreadable glance in Caesar's direction.

Could he even trust this bastard?

The real question was—did he even have a choice?

Caesar was unpredictable.

Too smart, too cunning, too dangerous.

A man who never did anything unless there was something in it for him.

Even now, there was no doubt in Eun-jae's mind that Caesar had his own reasons for bringing this up.

Was he trying to help?

Was he playing his own game?

Or was he simply nudging Eun-jae toward the fire just to watch him burn?

"If I let my guard down around him, I'll end up as just another piece on his chessboard."

The thought sent a cold chill down his spine.

But there was no time to second-guess anything now.

The clock was ticking.

The world around him moved forward, relentless and unforgiving.

He had a mission.

And he needed to move.

Now.

With a sharp exhale through his nose, Eun-jae pushed aside every flicker of hesitation and turned on his heel—walking away without another word.

He didn't need to look back to know Caesar was still watching.

Probably smiling.

Probably enjoying this far more than he should.

But Eun-jae had no time for that.

He had to get upstairs.

And he had to do it before it was too late.

Eun-jae stepped into the hectic chaos of the kitchen.

The heat was stifling—steam rising from boiling pots, the sharp scent of spices mixing with the savory aroma of roasted meats. Cooks bustled back and forth, their movements sharp and efficient, knives clattering against cutting boards as orders were barked across the room.

"CHOP THOSE VEGGIES PROPERLY, OR YOU'RE GETTING FIRED!" the head chef roared, his voice slicing through the air like a whip.

Eun-jae barely spared him a glance.

His mind was already working at full speed.

"First, I need to get to that room upstairs… But how?"

It's definitely guarded.

There was no way Bes, the Vice President, and the Minister of Foreign Affairs would be having a private meeting without security stationed outside.

Which meant—

"I need another way in."

His thoughts shifted back to the blueprints Caesar had shown him earlier.

There had to be—

There.

A back door.

"According to the blueprints, there should be a secondary entrance somewhere nearby… If I can find it, I might be able to sneak in without setting off any alarms."

His sharp eyes scanned the kitchen, analyzing the layout, the exits—every possible way out.

Then—

"Ah! Found it."

A narrow, unassuming door near the back of the kitchen, half-hidden by shelves of ingredients and stacks of dirty dishes. It was easy to miss.

Which meant it was perfect.

Now he just needed—

His gaze landed on a large, almost overflowing trash bin.

His lips curled slightly.

"Oh… The trash."

A plan formed in his mind in an instant.

With practiced ease, he grabbed the trash bin, hoisting it up as if it were just another chore. Casual. Natural. Unnoticeable.

Blending in was an art.

And Eun-jae had mastered it.

He made his way toward the back door, feigning the weary sluggishness of a worker stuck on cleaning duty.

But the moment he pushed the door open—

A guard.

Tall, broad-shouldered, standing like an immovable statue.

The man's sharp eyes flicked to him immediately.

"Where are you going?" the guard asked, his voice deep, suspicious.

Eun-jae barely hesitated before slipping into character, letting out a small groan as he shifted the trash bin for emphasis.

"Ah… aigoo…" He exhaled dramatically, scrunching his nose as if he were annoyed but resigned.

"Boss told me to empty this bin," he said, adding just the right amount of frustration in his tone, like a worker tired of his mundane job. "It's almost full, and he said he doesn't want it to attract flies."

The guard's expression remained stone-cold.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Suspicion.

A few seconds passed—just long enough to be dangerous.

Then—

"MOVE IT OR YOU ARE GETTING FIRED!" the head chef's voice boomed from inside the kitchen.

The guard turned slightly, glancing toward the direction of the voice.

It was all the confirmation he needed.

"You may go," the guard said gruffly, stepping aside.

Eun-jae forced a smile, bowing slightly as he pushed forward.

"Ah, thank you," he said politely.

Then he walked out.

Now outside.

Cool night air greeted him, a stark contrast to the heat of the kitchen.

But he barely noticed.

Because his eyes were already locked onto his next obstacle.

The two guards stationed outside the secret meeting room.

"Now comes the real problem."

Taking them out quietly was the only option.

If he made even the smallest mistake, everything would fall apart.

His pulse quickened, adrenaline beginning to buzz in his veins.

But there was no hesitation.

No fear.

Just the cold, calculated focus of a man who had no choice but to succeed.

Because failure wasn't an option.

And Eun-jae never failed.

Eun-jae slowed his movements, keeping his pace natural, unhurried.

I need to get rid of them.

But it had to be quick. Silent. A single mistake—one wrong move, one second of hesitation—and everything would unravel. If anyone heard them go down, he was done for.

He barely had seconds to formulate a plan before one of the guards turned toward him, suspicion flickering in his sharp, dark eyes.

"You," the man called, his voice clipped and firm. "What are you doing out here?"

Eun-jae reacted instantly, his face shifting into an expression of mild annoyance. He let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off fatigue. Then, with calculated sluggishness, he set the trash bin down beside him.

"Ah, man…" he muttered, shaking his head. "I was just told to empty the bin. Do you know how heavy this thing is? Aish… My back's killing me."

The guards exchanged a glance. Not suspicion—just disinterest.

Good. Keep it that way.

Eun-jae took a single step closer, feigning exhaustion, keeping his shoulders loose and his movements natural. He rubbed the back of his neck, offering them an easy, harmless grin.

"You guys must be bored out here, huh?" His voice was light, conversational, as if he wasn't calculating the exact distance between them, as if he wasn't counting the seconds it would take to drop them both.

One of the guards scoffed. "Shut up and do your job."

Eun-jae grinned wider.

Then he moved.

Fast.

Explosive.

Before the guards could register the shift, Eun-jae's right hand shot forward like a striking viper. His fingers curled into a precise, razor-sharp spear, driving into the first guard's throat with brutal accuracy.

The man's eyes bulged. His mouth opened to scream—

But no sound came.

Eun-jae's attack crushed his airway, cutting off any chance of warning. His body spasmed, hands clawing at his neck in desperate panic.

The second guard barely had time to react. He flinched, reaching for his weapon—

Too slow.

Eun-jae was already moving, his body spinning in a controlled arc. His left arm snapped forward, driving his elbow into the second guard's temple with bone-crushing force.

A dull, sickening thud.

The second guard crumpled like a marionette with its strings severed, collapsing to the ground in a motionless heap.

The first guard staggered, his breath coming in weak, ragged gasps. His knees buckled, his body threatening to follow his partner's fate—

But Eun-jae didn't give him the chance.

In one swift, fluid motion, he reached out, gripping the man's head with both hands.

And twisted.

A sickening crack echoed in the empty corridor.

The body went limp.

Eun-jae exhaled.

Slowly.