chapter 53

He had never been the type to pry into other people's business. He didn't care who was texting who, what secrets they were hiding, or what skeletons they had in their closets. That was their problem, not his.

But then again…

This wasn't just anyone's phone.

This was Caesar's phone.

The same Caesar who killed people with a smile, who enjoyed the thrill of the hunt a little too much, who looked at murder like it was a goddamn art form.

'And let's be real. If anyone has something to hide, it's him.'

His pulse quickened.

This was different. This wasn't just curiosity. This was a tactical decision. He had every reason to look. Every reason to check.

'This isn't snooping. It's intelligence gathering. This is work.'

And yet, a small voice in the back of his head nagged at him.

'Bullshit. You just wanna know.'

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Before he could overthink it, he snatched the phone off the table. His fingers tightened around the device as he swiped up.

LOCKED.

'Of course. Figures he'd have a passcode.'

He exhaled sharply, brain kicking into overdrive. What the hell would Caesar use as a password? Something complicated? Something random? Or—

A memory surfaced. The basement. The first time he had seen Caesar unlock that underground hellhole, he had punched in a series of numbers so fast Eun-jae had almost missed them. But he didn't.

His mind replayed the sequence.

'If he's predictable enough…'

He hesitated. Then typed in the numbers.

BEEP.

UNLOCKED.

Eun-jae blinked.

'Oh, you idiot.'

He almost laughed. That actually worked?

For a guy who was paranoid as hell, Caesar sure as hell sucked at picking secure passwords.

The screen flickered to life, revealing an open message.

And whatever was in it—it couldn't be good.

Eun-jae's fingers hovered over the screen for a moment longer, hesitation gnawing at the back of his mind. He had already crossed the line—going through someone else's phone wasn't his style. But now, he was diving even deeper, connecting it to Caesar's laptop just to pry open this message.

'This isn't snooping,' he justified to himself. 'This is intel gathering. Tactical. Strategic. Completely necessary.'

And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that if their roles were reversed, Caesar wouldn't just kill him for this—he'd make it hurt.

With a sharp inhale, Eun-jae hit enter, and the screen blinked to life.

Voron has been fixed. It is currently being inspected. The final results will be ready in a day or two. When everyone is present, we look forward to seeing you there.

His blood ran cold.

'What the hell is this?'

His eyes darted over the words again, searching for something—anything—that would make this message less ominous. But no matter how he looked at it, there was only one conclusion.

'Voron. That's real. That actually exists. And it was broken? Fixed? Inspected? By who? And for what purpose?'

The implications were staggering.

'This message isn't just a casual update. It's for people involved in whatever the hell Voron is. And Caesar—Caesar got this message.'

His stomach twisted.

'Does that mean… he's involved too?'

The thought was suffocating. He had already known Caesar wasn't normal—not by any definition of the word—but this? This was something else. This was deeper. Darker. More calculated than the reckless, gun-happy lunatic he had come to expect.

'No way. No way in hell he's just some hired hand. If he's getting this message, that means he has connections.'

His pulse pounded in his ears.

'Then… what else has he been hiding?'

The sound of the door clicking open sent his nerves into overdrive. Eun-jae barely had time to close the laptop before Caesar's voice slithered into the room.

"If you asked nicely, I would've shown you."

Eun-jae whipped around, trying—and failing—to mask his shock.

His body tensed as he watched Caesar step inside, the usual smugness draped over his face like a second skin. That knowing smirk. That glint in his eyes. He had caught Eun-jae red-handed, and he was enjoying it.

"What's all this?" Eun-jae demanded, forcing his voice to stay even.

Caesar didn't answer right away. He just let the silence stretch, gaze flickering lazily over the laptop, over the phone in Eun-jae's hands—over every little clue that screamed guilty.

Caesar exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back as if the weight of his words meant nothing. His gaze never wavered, steady and unshaken, even as Eun-jae's eyes burned with suspicion.

"I stole it."

Eun-jae's stomach tensed at the casual way he said it, like it was nothing—like it was as simple as stealing a pack of gum from a convenience store.

"What do you mean by that?" Eun-jae asked, voice sharper than he intended.

Caesar only smirked, tilting his head slightly, as if amused by the reaction. "You remember Anastasia? The lady who showed me around?"

Eun-jae's mind flickered back to the woman—sleek, polished, and dangerous in her own right. She had been polite, professional, but there was an edge to her, a wariness that never fully left her eyes.

"What about her?" Eun-jae said, crossing his arms, willing himself to stay calm.

Caesar took his time, walking towards him at a leisurely pace, as if he were speaking about the weather. "We exchanged numbers that day." His smirk deepened at the way Eun-jae's jaw clenched. "But you see, I'm not the trusting type. And I had a feeling she wasn't, either."

Eun-jae's fingers twitched, a bad feeling curling in his gut. "Get to the point."

Caesar exhaled dramatically, like he was humoring a child's impatience. "When I took her phone, I decided to download a little hacking app. Nothing crazy—just a tiny, unnoticeable program. Something that wouldn't trigger alarms but would let me see... what I needed to see."

Eun-jae stiffened. "You hacked her phone?"

Caesar's expression was unreadable now. "I borrowed access."

Eun-jae's lips parted, but no words came out. He wasn't sure if he was more horrified at the audacity or impressed by the sheer boldness of it. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus.

"So that message—" Eun-jae gestured toward the screen, where the cryptic text still glowed back at them. "That wasn't meant for you?"

"No." Caesar's voice was calm, patient, like he was guiding a child to a conclusion they should have already reached. "It was meant for the people actually involved. People she trusts."

Eun-jae's mind whirred. His gut told him to doubt, to question every word coming out of Caesar's mouth—but damn it, the man had a way of making even the most outrageous things sound reasonable. Manipulative bastard.

"You're lying."

Caesar's smile didn't falter. "If I were lying, you wouldn't have been able to unlock my phone with the same code I used in the basement."

Eun-jae flinched.

Damn him.

Doubt clawed at his certainty. Caesar had a point. If he truly had something to hide, wouldn't he have been more careful? More secretive?

"But why go through all that trouble?" Eun-jae challenged, grasping for something—anything—to counter the smooth logic being woven around him.

"Because, Eun-jae," Caesar said, voice dipping lower, more intimate, like he was sharing some grand truth, "knowing things before others do? That's how you survive."

Eun-jae inhaled sharply.

There it was—that damn logic again. Cold. Precise. Unshakable.

Caesar watched him, reading every flicker of doubt, every hesitation. And then he delivered the final blow.

Silence.

Eun-jae clenched his fists.

Because damn it…

Caesar was right.

Eun-jae's jaw clenched as he met Caesar's gaze, his fingers instinctively tightening around the edge of the laptop. He hated this—hated the way Caesar could throw his words like daggers, always aiming for the soft spots, always pressing right where it hurt.

"Then why didn't you tell me earlier about your plans?" Eun-jae asked, his voice sharp with accusation.

Caesar tilted his head slightly, an almost amused smirk tugging at his lips. His golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable, like a predator toying with its prey.

"Why should I share it with you?" His voice was smooth, almost lazy, yet laced with something far more dangerous. "You're just my temporary partner, after all." He leaned in just slightly, as if confiding a secret. "Have you ever—just once—considered me your comrade?"

Eun-jae's breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched. A flash of irritation burned through his veins because, damn it, Caesar knew exactly what he was doing. He knew Eun-jae didn't trust him. He knew Eun-jae had spent every second of their partnership keeping his guard up, watching his every move, expecting betrayal. And now he was using that against him.

'Son of a bitch…' Eun-jae thought bitterly, his grip tightening around the laptop. 'He's always one step ahead.'

But the worst part? The absolute most infuriating part? He wasn't wrong. Eun-jae hadn't trusted him. Not once.

Caesar sighed dramatically, rolling his shoulders as if this conversation bored him. "Anyway," he drawled, "at least I got something useful. We're finally getting closer to our goal—"

Eun-jae exhaled sharply, deciding to drop it. He wasn't about to let this bastard get in his head. He reached for the laptop, ready to close it and put an end to this conversation.

But then—a hand.

A strong, firm grip wrapped around his wrist, halting his movement. Cold fingers, deceptively gentle yet unyielding.

Eun-jae froze.

Caesar leaned in, his breath ghosting against the shell of Eun-jae's ear, his voice dropping to a low, almost intimate murmur.

"Even though we're only temporary partners, I have to say…" His grip tightened just slightly, his tone soft, teasing—dangerous. "I can't believe you'd sneak through my phone like that. You really don't trust me that much, do you?"

Eun-jae swallowed hard, every nerve in his body on high alert.

He refused to give Caesar the reaction he wanted.

"Tch."

Eun-jae clenched his jaw and, with deliberate force, shut the laptop.

Click.

Caesar exhaled a quiet laugh—low and dark.

"You've hurt my feelings, you know," he murmured, his lips curling into an insincere pout.

Eun-jae scowled, shaking off Caesar's grip.

"After my survey, I found nothing," Eun-jae reported, his voice edged with frustration. His fingers tapped restlessly against the surface of the wooden table, his irritation barely concealed beneath a thin layer of forced calm. He had gone over the data three times, retracing every step, every scan, every possible angle—yet the result remained the same.

"It was like the mansion was empty," he added, his brows furrowing as he spoke the words aloud, testing them.

Empty.

The idea unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

It didn't make sense. There had to be something. A place like that—fortified, highly classified, and rumored to house one of the most dangerous figures in the underworld—couldn't possibly be unguarded. No patrols on the perimeter. No stationed men at the gates. No snipers on the rooftops. Even the surveillance cameras seemed inactive. It was almost too easy.

And easy meant a trap.

He exhaled sharply. "The guards must be inside," he concluded, his mind racing through the possibilities. "They're gathering there. Something's going down." His jaw tightened as he leaned forward. "Which means sneaking in might be our only option."

He shot a glance at Caesar, expecting a reaction.

Something.

Anything.

But all he got was…

"Yeah, I guess."

Eun-jae blinked.

That was it?

That was all Caesar had to say?

"I guess?" he repeated, staring in disbelief.

Caesar, the reckless bastard, merely stretched out his arm, dragging a chair back with an agonizingly slow screech before plopping himself into it with all the energy of someone who had nothing better to do.

Eun-jae's eye twitched.

'Look at him.'

There he was, lounging as if they weren't discussing a dangerous infiltration mission. As if they weren't about to walk straight into the mouth of a beast.

Relaxed.

Completely, utterly, and infuriatingly relaxed.

'You'd think we were planning a goddamn picnic.'

He took a slow, deep breath. Then another. Calm, Eun-jae. Breathe.

His patience was hanging by a thread.

"When do you think we should go?" he pressed, determined to keep the conversation on track. "Today? Tomorrow? When?"

Caesar didn't even look concerned.

Didn't so much as flinch.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and—because of course he would—tilted his head slightly, as if he were humoring a conversation he wasn't particularly invested in.

Eun-jae's fingers curled into fists.

He hated that look.

That smug, overconfident, know-it-all look.

"You talk and behave like this mission is a game to you," he bit out, his voice laced with thinly veiled irritation.

Caesar smirked.

"And you," he replied, "are way too reckless, Agent Eun-jae."

Eun-jae's nostrils flared.

"Oh? And you're not?"

Caesar hummed, pretending to think about it. Then, with absolute audacity, he said, "We can just use the front door."

Silence.

Eun-jae stared.

Then he let out a slow, disbelieving breath.

'No fucking way.'

Did this bastard actually say that?

Was he serious?

He had to be joking.

'Yeah, right. Let's just knock and ask politely. Maybe they'll even offer us a cup of tea before they kill us.'

Sarcasm burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it down, replacing it with a sharp laugh. "Yeah. Great way to die."

Caesar smirked, unfazed. "I mean, if we did it your way? Probably."