chapter 32

But he still didn't let go.

Caesar's smirk widened. He was having way too much fun.

"You know, most people wouldn't react this dramatically over a tiny little bug—"

"TINY?!" Eun-jae snapped.

And then—just as he was about to cuss Caesar out properly—

The cockroach flapped its wings again.

Eun-jae let out a noise that was not human.

"KILL IT. KILL IT RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD—"

Caesar chuckled.

"As you wish, my little damsel in distress."

Caesar sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he supported Eun-jae's weight with ease. He had held many things in his life—weapons, bodies, power, secrets—but a grown man clinging to him like a panicked cat up a tree? This was a first.

"Okay, at least get down and let me kill it." His voice was even, amused, but there was a hint of disbelief.

Eun-jae's response?

A sharp, unwavering, screeching—

"NO."

And then, as if to make his point crystal clear, Eun-jae reached up, grabbed Caesar by the nose, and yanked his face closer.

Caesar blinked.

Eun-jae glared.

This was a hostage situation now.

"Alright, princess," Caesar drawled, his voice laced with teasing amusement.

Eun-jae huffed. "Damn right, now be useful and commit a murder."

Caesar let out a low chuckle before grabbing the nearest weapon. Not a gun. Not a knife. Not a blade.

A rolled-up newspaper.

He gave it a quick test smack against his palm, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a grand execution.

Eun-jae, still latched onto him like a koala, peeked from behind Caesar's shoulder, watching with absolute intensity.

"You better not miss," Eun-jae muttered, voice deadly serious.

"Relax," Caesar murmured, stepping forward. "I never miss."

With one swift motion, the newspaper came down with a lethal slap.

The room was silent.

Then—

"All done, princess." Caesar smirked, flicking the paper aside.

Eun-jae paused. His grip loosened. He peeked.

No cockroach.

No movement.

Nothing.

He exhaled deeply in relief. Finally.

"Oh," Eun-jae muttered, slowly unwrapping himself from Caesar. He placed a cautious foot on the ground, his body still tense from the adrenaline.

But just as he was about to fully slide down—

Caesar's arms didn't let go.

Eun-jae stiffened.

"What?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

Caesar tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into that damned smirk that meant nothing good.

"Since I helped," Caesar murmured, voice dripping with playful arrogance, "you must give me a kiss."

Eun-jae groaned.

"Oh my god, you are so annoying."

"I did save your life," Caesar pointed out, his grip not loosening in the slightest. "It's only fair."

Eun-jae rolled his eyes so hard he nearly saw another dimension.

"Fine."

Without another word, Eun-jae grabbed Caesar's face with both hands, fingers pressing into his jaw.

And then—

A quick, no-nonsense peck.

Straight on the cheek.

Fast. Over and done with.

Nothing more.

Or at least, that was the plan.

Because when Eun-jae pulled away, Caesar's smirk had vanished.

His usual cold, calculating gaze had softened, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable.

And then—his gaze dropped.

Straight to Eun-jae's lips.

For a brief second, neither of them moved. The air between them shifted, thickened. Caesar's grip on his waist tightened just slightly, his other hand moving up to cup Eun-jae's chin.

And then—

He tilted it, just slightly, just enough.

Like he was about to kiss him.

Eun-jae's brain short-circuited.

But just as Caesar leaned in, just as their breaths mingled—

"Nope."

Eun-jae shoved him.

Hard.

Caesar stumbled slightly, his smirk returning instantly, but Eun-jae was already on the move.

His ankle throbbed, but he still limped toward the bathroom with all the grace of a man who was absolutely not flustered.

"Annoying-ass bastard," he muttered under his breath as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

Caesar simply stood there.

Smirking.

"Cute," he murmured, shaking his head.

Eun-jae's eyes narrowed as he scanned the dimly lit warehouse from behind the cover of a crumbling concrete wall, his sharp gaze dissecting every shadow and movement. The building had seen better days—its rusted metal beams groaned under the weight of time, and the faint flickering of a dying overhead bulb barely illuminated the vast, empty space beyond the entrance. The air smelled of damp wood, old oil, and something faintly metallic—blood, perhaps, lingering from some past transaction that had ended poorly for someone. His grip on his gun was steady, his finger hovering near the trigger, but he didn't fire just yet. He never pulled the trigger without calculating every possible consequence first. That was the difference between a professional and a dead man.

"Hmm… this might be the place," he thought, eyes flicking over the exterior of the building.

"They must be inside. It doesn't look like they're trying to ambush us. Only one person is here—probably a lookout."

Beside him, completely unfazed by the tension in the air, Caesar stood as if they weren't about to storm into what could very well be a death trap. The man had the audacity to be drinking whiskey—whiskey, of all things—from a small bottle, casually tipping it back like they were on a leisurely stroll rather than the verge of a potential firefight. Eun-jae shot him a sidelong glance, utterly exasperated but unsurprised.

"Of course. Of course, he's drinking. Because why wouldn't he be? This absolute menace could probably walk into a battlefield, bullets flying past his head, and still pause to take a sip like some kind of overconfident bastard in a war movie."

Eun-jae resisted the urge to roll his eyes, focusing instead on the man inside the parked car just a few meters ahead. A lone figure, clearly acting as a lookout. His posture was relaxed, but Eun-jae could tell by the way his fingers occasionally twitched toward the dashboard that he wasn't as at ease as he wanted to appear. A professional, but not a particularly good one.

Eun-jae took aim.

A single squeeze of the trigger.

BANG.

The gunshot shattered the silence, echoing through the warehouse like a crack of thunder. The man in the car jerked violently, his startled yell cutting off into a gurgled sound as the bullet tore through the windshield, embedding itself right where Eun-jae had aimed. Before the body could even slump forward, a shadow dropped from above, landing atop the vehicle with predatory grace.

Caesar.

The man barely had time to process what was happening before Caesar reached down, wrenched the car door open, and yanked him out like a cat plucking a mouse from a hole. The sheer ease with which he did it was almost disturbing. His smirk was lazy, the glint in his eyes nothing short of entertained as he ripped the man out of the car like he was made of paper.

Eun-jae knew what was coming next.

"Nope. Nope, not watching this again. I am NOT ready to see another face get ripped apart today."

He turned his face away, just in time.

The wet, sickening crunch that followed told him he had made the right decision. A muffled gurgle, a final, pitiful attempt at resistance, and then—silence.

Eun-jae exhaled, already resigning himself to whatever horror show was left behind him. He didn't even have time to mentally prepare for the inevitable cleanup before he felt something wet and disturbingly warm smear across the back of his coat.

For a moment, he didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Didn't even breathe.

"Tell me he did not just—"

Slowly, very slowly, Eun-jae turned his head, his gaze traveling over his shoulder to confirm the absolute violation of his personal space and dignity. And there, standing with the same insufferable smirk, was Caesar. Looking unbothered. Looking amused. Looking like he hadn't just used Eun-jae as a goddamn napkin.

Eun-jae's eye twitched.

"I swear to every deity, saint, and spirit that has ever existed—I am going to strangle this man one day. I don't care how tall he is. I don't care if it means climbing him like a goddamn tree. I will do it."

Caesar, ever the smug bastard, merely patted the bloodied fabric of Eun-jae's coat like he was doing him a favor. Then, without a single care, he stepped past him, moving toward the building as if nothing had happened.

Eun-jae exhaled through his nose, slowly.

"Don't shoot him, Eun-jae. Don't shoot him. Prison orange is not your color."

Instead, he turned his focus to the real issue.

The man inside.

Morgan Dragunov.

The infamous big shot of the Dragunov syndicate sat comfortably in the center of the room, legs crossed, an air of complete nonchalance surrounding him. He didn't flinch when they entered, didn't reach for a weapon. His guards tensed, sure, but Morgan himself? Unbothered. Amused, even.

Eun-jae narrowed his eyes.

"Why does he not look surprised to see us?"

Morgan leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled together, his smirk eerily similar to Caesar's. That alone put Eun-jae on edge.

"Welcome," Morgan drawled, tilting his head slightly. "You're late."

Eun-jae's jaw tensed.

"He was supposed to meet Bes. And yet, here he is, waiting for us like we were expected. Why?"

Morgan's eyes flicked toward Caesar, and for the first time since stepping into the building, Eun-jae felt a shift in the atmosphere.

"They know each other."

"Oh, that's just great. Just what I needed. More cryptic, unspoken history between shady people who like playing mind games."

Morgan's smirk widened as he studied Caesar.

"So," he mused, "I heard there was a commotion at the Karpov-Troitsky mansion. When they said you started it, I wasn't surprised."

Eun-jae stiffened. His mind worked fast, piecing things together.

"So, he already knows what happened before we even walked in here? Someone's been feeding him information. But why? And more importantly… what does he think this meeting is about?"

Morgan's next words only deepened his suspicions.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice losing its teasing edge, eyes locked onto Caesar's.

For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something behind Caesar's expression. A shadow of something unreadable. And then, it was gone, replaced with that same smug, reckless smirk.

"Because it's fun," Caesar replied easily.

His voice was laced with amusement, but Eun-jae knew better. Knew that nothing Caesar did was ever that simple.

Morgan exhaled, shaking his head. "How reckless of you."

"You really like to play with fire, huh?"

Eun-jae nearly laughed at that.

"Oh, buddy, you have no idea. Reckless doesn't even begin to cover it."

But even as he thought it, his grip on his gun tightened.

Something about this meeting felt off.

And he wasn't sure if he trusted anyone in this room.

The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. The air smelled of dust, gunpowder, and the faint, lingering scent of whiskey from the small bottle Caesar had been nursing earlier. The dim, flickering lights overhead cast long, distorted shadows, making the men stationed around Morgan appear even more menacing.

Eun-jae?

Unbothered.

He stood there, arms crossed, weight shifted slightly to one leg, radiating a casual arrogance that said, I'm not here to play games, but I dare you to try me. The long black coat draped over his shoulders made his silhouette sharper, more imposing, the faint gleam of his gun visible beneath its folds.

The guards had their hands hovering near their weapons, their nerves itching with the kind of tension that begged for an excuse to explode into violence. They were waiting, watching, testing the waters.

Eun-jae let them wait.

Then, finally—he spoke.

His voice was smooth, steady, laced with that sharp-edged confidence that only belonged to people who knew exactly what they were doing.

"Enough with the chit-chat," he said, his tone almost lazy, almost bored, but the weight behind his words was undeniable. "Let's get to the main topic at hand. Where is Seraphim?"

A simple question.

Yet it landed like a gunshot.

Morgan's smirk twitched at the corners. His fingers drummed lightly against the wooden armrest of his chair. A performance. A deliberate act to seem unbothered.

Eun-jae's eyes didn't miss the minute shift in his posture—the almost imperceptible way his back straightened, the brief flicker of tightness in his jaw.

Morgan chuckled, slow and deliberate, like he found the whole thing amusing.

"I dunno what you're talking about." His tone was light, almost dismissive. A practiced response. The kind that came too quickly.

Eun-jae's lips curved—not into a smile, but something smaller, sharper.

"Oh? We're playing dumb? Cute."

He let out a soft hum, tapping his fingers lazily against his arm. He tilted his head slightly, as if considering his next move. Then, just as deliberately, he let the real bomb drop.

"Or should I say… Voron?"

Silence.