chapter 54

Eun-jae exhaled sharply, his patience hanging by a thread. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"

Caesar let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, I do," he mused. "I just happen to be smarter about it."

Eun-jae narrowed his eyes. "Then enlighten me, genius."

Caesar grinned. "Gladly."

Then, in a slow, deliberate movement, he leaned forward, resting his elbows against the table. His voice lowered, turning quieter, smoother—like a man revealing something that wasn't meant to be shared.

"You see that hacking app I showed you earlier?"

Eun-jae crossed his arms, waiting.

"That app isn't common," Caesar continued, his tone calculated, his gaze unwavering. "In fact, it's not even supposed to exist. It's extremely rare. Custom-built. Not found in any black-market database. Not sold on any underground site. You can't buy it. You can't steal it. The only ones who have it?"

Caesar smiled.

"Are the ones who made it."

Eun-jae felt something shift in his gut.

This wasn't Caesar's usual cocky attitude. There was an edge to his voice now—something controlled.

He wasn't just boasting.

He was leading him somewhere.

Eun-jae's grip tightened. "…And?"

Caesar drummed his fingers against the table.

"I'm saying," he drawled, "that anyone with access to this kind of tech? They aren't just another cybercriminal. They're in a league of their own."

A pause.

Then—

"And that," Caesar murmured, "is exactly what we'll use to get in."

Eun-jae froze.

The realization hit like a shock to his system.

Caesar was playing him. No—orchestrating this. Leading him along step by step, revealing just enough information to let Eun-jae piece it together himself.

And the worst part?

It was working.

"We don't sneak in."

Eun-jae's breath caught.

Caesar leaned in closer, his voice dipping into something almost conspiratorial.

"We walk in."

Eun-jae's mind raced.

That didn't make sense.

It shouldn't make sense—

But the way Caesar said it—calm, calculated, completely sure of himself—made it impossible to dismiss outright.

"How?" Eun-jae finally asked, his voice quieter.

Caesar's golden eyes gleamed.

"We go in as weapons dealers."

Eun-jae inhaled sharply.

Caesar continued before he could speak.

"The Karpov-Troitsky group deals in black-market arms trades, but their inner circle is tight. Newcomers? Not a chance." His smirk sharpened. "But… what if we don't go in as arms dealers?"

Eun-jae's heart pounded.

"What if," Caesar said, voice lowering, "we go in as something better?"

His fingers tapped against the table.

"What if we present ourselves as dealers with access to top-tier cyber warfare technology?"

Eun-jae's breath hitched.

It clicked.

It fucking clicked.

If they posed as cyber-weapons dealers, offering a hacking tool capable of disabling entire security networks in minutes—

The Karpov-Troitsky group wouldn't just let them in.

They'd want them in.

Eun-jae exhaled sharply.

It was crazy.

It was dangerous.

It was reckless as hell.

And yet—

It could work.

He met Caesar's gaze.

"Then we find Voron," he said quietly.

Caesar's smirk returned.

"Now you're getting it."

"But how sure are you that they'd believe us?" Eun-jae asked, his voice carrying the weight of his skepticism.

His arms were crossed, his brows furrowed, and there was a distinct tightness to his jaw that only appeared when he was genuinely unconvinced.

And honestly?

He had every reason to be.

This wasn't just some back-alley arms deal where a smooth tongue and a few fake documents could get them through the door.

This was the Karpov-Troitsky syndicate—a network of some of the most paranoid, ruthless, and well-connected criminals in the world.

These men didn't just do business.

They suffocated their competition.

They didn't just run background checks.

They dug up entire graves.

If they so much as sensed a whiff of deception, they wouldn't hesitate. There would be no second chances, no room for slip-ups. A single wrong word, a single inconsistency, and—

Boom.

Game over.

So no—Eun-jae wasn't just going to blindly trust this ridiculous plan.

They weren't talking about sneaking into some low-level gang hideout.

They were talking about walking through the front door of one of the most dangerous arms-dealing syndicates in the world.

Pretending to be something they weren't.

Risking instant death if they were caught.

And yet—

Caesar didn't look worried.

If anything, he looked entirely unbothered.

Reclining in his chair, he reached into his pocket with slow, deliberate ease, pulling out a single cigarette.

Eun-jae's eyes flickered to his hands.

No rush. No hesitation.

Like they were talking about weather instead of a suicide mission.

With a casual flick, Caesar lit the cigarette, the tiny flame casting fleeting golden glows against the sharp lines of his face.

Click.

A sharp inhale.

Then—

A slow, controlled exhale.

Smoke curled in the air between them, dancing in slow, lazy patterns before dissolving into nothing.

Eun-jae felt his fingers twitch.

That bastard.

Even now, when Eun-jae was brimming with tension, Caesar looked as though he was on vacation.

Unbothered. Effortless.

As if he wasn't just walking into this mission with confidence—

As if he had already won.

"Who wouldn't believe me?" Caesar finally said, amusement laced in his tone.

Eun-jae stiffened.

That voice.

That cocky, self-assured tone.

There was something dangerous about it.

Something that shouldn't be convincing—

And yet, somehow, already was.

Caesar leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Then, lips curling into a smirk, he murmured:

"I'm like the perfect illusion."

Eun-jae felt something cold trail down his spine.

That wasn't just confidence.

That was certainty.

And that certainty was dangerous.

Caesar took another slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling a smooth trail of smoke before continuing.

"People, Eun-jae," he mused, tapping the cigarette lightly against the ashtray, "see exactly what they want to see. No more, no less."

Eun-jae narrowed his eyes.

There was something about the way he said it—

Like it was a fundamental law of the universe.

Like gravity.

Like time.

Like truth itself.

Caesar leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him with casual ease.

"You ever watch a magician work?" he asked suddenly.

Eun-jae blinked, thrown by the question.

"What?"

"A magician," Caesar repeated smoothly, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "A good one."

Eun-jae stayed silent.

Caesar smiled.

"They don't actually make things disappear," he murmured. "They just make you look at the wrong thing. The wrong hand. The wrong direction. They control where your eyes go, where your thoughts go. They let you convince yourself of the impossible—because that's what you want to believe."

Eun-jae's breath hitched.

Caesar took another slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling as he continued, his voice smooth.

"That's what I do."

Eun-jae's heartbeat spiked.

That bastard.

That actual devil.

He wasn't just confident.

He was assured.

He wasn't just saying they'd be believed—

He was saying that belief itself was something he could bend.

Twist. Shape. Manipulate.

Caesar's smirk widened, sensing the shift in Eun-jae's demeanor.

"You think Karpov's men are smart?" he mused. "Sure. But at the end of the day?"

He exhaled, watching Eun-jae through the thin veil of smoke.

"They're human."

Eun-jae swallowed.

"They have patterns. Habits. Weaknesses. And the greatest weakness of all?"

Caesar tapped his cigarette lightly against the ashtray.

"People trust what they expect."

A pause.

Eun-jae stared.

"You really think it's that simple?" he murmured.

Caesar chuckled.

"It's not just simple," he said.

"It's inevitable."

Eun-jae sucked in a slow breath.

Caesar's words weren't just convincing.

They were inescapable.

This wasn't a half-baked scheme.

This was a performance.

A magician's act.

A trap so well-crafted that once they stepped inside, the enemy would think it was their own idea.

And the worst part?

It wasn't a lie.

Eun-jae had seen it. Felt it.

The way Caesar could walk into a room and make people listen.

The way he could weave words like a finely spun web, wrapping people in silken threads of deception so well that they wouldn't even realize they were caught until it was too late.

He didn't just trick people.

He made them believe.

Made them trust him.

Made them think it was their own choice.

Eun-jae exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

"Shit," he muttered.

Caesar chuckled, crushing the remainder of his cigarette into the ashtray with a lazy flick.

"Told you," he said, smirking.

"They'll believe us."

Eun-jae clenched his fists.

Because the truth was—

If Caesar said they would believe him—

They would.

And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

Caesar pulled out his phone, the soft glow of the screen casting a faint light against his sharp features. His movements were precise, practiced—like everything he did was intentional. There was no wasted motion, no hesitation. It was as if he already knew exactly what he needed to show Eun-jae before the question was even asked.

With a flick of his thumb, he opened a file and turned the screen toward Eun-jae.

"This," Caesar began, his voice smooth and steady, "is the owner of the mansion and a distant uncle of the Karpov-Troitsky family."

Eun-jae's gaze dropped to the screen.

The image wasn't impressive at first glance—just some fat old man with a receding hairline, a wide, round face, and small, squinted eyes that made him look like he was always deep in thought—or perpetually suspicious. His thick fingers, adorned with gaudy gold rings, rested on the polished wooden armrest of an opulent chair, and there was something unmistakably self-important about the way he sat. Like he believed the whole world revolved around him.

Caesar let the moment hang before delivering the name.

"Alexei Komarovich Karpov-Troitsky."

The name alone carried weight.

It was long—too long, really—but the moment it was spoken, it settled in Eun-jae's mind with an undeniable heaviness.

A name like that didn't belong to just anyone.

It belonged to someone.

Someone important. Someone powerful. Someone who had the means and the resources to be involved in exactly the kind of business that made men like them rich—or very, very dead.

Caesar continued, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge.

"He's very interested in weapons," he said, tapping the screen lightly as if emphasizing the point. "Especially from the US and South America."

Eun-jae's brows lifted slightly.

Of course he is.

These kinds of men—men who sat at the top of criminal empires, surrounded by excess wealth and drowning in power—they all had their obsessions. Their passions. Their vices.

And for Alexei?

It wasn't women or drugs or money.

It was weapons.

War machines. Firearms. Tools of destruction.

Eun-jae's lips curled upward.

Perfect.

This meant that their plan—this dangerous, reckless, damn-near suicidal plan—was unfolding exactly as it should.

Alexei's obsession with weapons wasn't just some small character quirk. It was a weakness.

And weaknesses?

Were meant to be exploited.

Eun-jae let his smirk grow, barely containing the amusement bubbling in his chest.

He could already see it. The steps. The openings. The perfect execution.

A man like Alexei—greedy, hungry for the next best thing, eager to expand his collection of deadly toys—would be too blinded by his own desires to notice what was happening right in front of him.

All they had to do was feed that desire.

Dangle something in front of him that was just out of reach. Make him think he was the one in control—when, in reality, they were leading him straight into their hands.

Things are going exactly as planned, Eun-jae thought, his smirk deepening as he leaned back.

This was what he loved most about jobs like these.

The thrill of it.

The intricate puzzle of manipulation, deception, and strategy.

It wasn't just about stealing or killing or making money.

It was about playing the game.

And right now?

Eun-jae could already see the next few moves.

They weren't just walking into Alexei's world.

They were inviting him into theirs.

And soon—

Very soon—

The fat old man wouldn't even realize he was nothing more than a piece on their board.

Eun-jae exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he prepared for what was to come.

This was going to be fun.