chapter 55

Eun-jae carefully climbed down from the top bunk, making sure his movements were slow and deliberate. The last thing he needed was to make a sudden noise and wake up Caesar—especially not when the guy could be an unpredictable menace when disturbed. The wooden frame of the bed creaked slightly under his weight, but it was barely audible over the soft hum of the night.

Once his feet hit the ground, his eyes flickered toward the other bed.

Caesar lay sprawled on the mattress, completely motionless.

For a split second, Eun-jae frowned.

There was something almost unnerving about how still the guy was—his chest barely moving, his lips slightly parted, his arms resting at his sides like a corpse that had been carefully laid to rest.

"I can't hear him breathe… is he even alive?"

A weird sense of paranoia crept up his spine, and before he could stop himself, he reached a hesitant hand forward, bringing his finger close to Caesar's nose.

A brief pause.

Then—

A faint warmth against his skin.

"Oh, he's alive."

Eun-jae let out a quiet exhale, shaking his head at his own ridiculousness. Of course, the bastard was alive. Knowing Caesar, he'd probably sleep through a bomb going off.

Still, Eun-jae wasn't going to take any chances. He turned on his heel, moving silently toward the door, careful with every step.

The dim light from the hallway slipped through the cracks, casting long shadows along the floor as he cracked the door open just enough to slide through. The hinges whined faintly, but he ignored it, stepping out and making his way down the narrow hallway.

His destination was clear: the reception desk.

The lobby was eerily quiet at this hour. The low glow of fluorescent lights buzzed above, illuminating the receptionist's desk, where a young woman sat, scrolling through her phone absentmindedly.

Eun-jae approached with a polite but slightly frantic look on his face. He needed this to be believable.

"Act natural."

He cleared his throat, offering a sheepish smile as he leaned slightly against the desk.

"Excuse me… I'm really sorry for disturbing you this late, but is there any chance I could make an international call? Just a quick one. My mom is in Korea, and she's alone… I just need to check in on her."

The receptionist blinked up at him, momentarily surprised, before offering a small nod.

"Of course. Just keep it short."

Eun-jae internally sighed in relief as she gestured toward the telephone on the counter.

Perfect.

He quickly picked up the receiver, dialing the necessary international code before punching in a familiar number. His fingers moved fast.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

A sharp click.

Then—

"Hello?"

A voice—loud, panicked, familiar.

"Sunbae? Is that you?!"

Eun-jae didn't even have time to greet him before an explosion of words came through the receiver.

"Waaaaahhh! Where have you been?! We thought you were dead!"

Eun-jae winced, pulling the phone slightly away from his ear as In-su's unbelievably loud voice continued to ring through the line.

"I'm so glad you're alive! Are you okay? Where are you? What happened? We—"

"In-su," Eun-jae interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "I'm fine. This isn't the time for pleasantries."

The younger man immediately quieted down.

Eun-jae took a quick glance around the lobby, making sure no one was paying too much attention before lowering his voice slightly.

"I just sent you a photo. Check your email. I need you to dig up everything you can on the guy in that picture and get back to me as soon as possible."

There was a pause on the other end.

Then, In-su responded, his voice a little more serious this time.

"Alright, Sunbae. I'll look into it. But… whose phone are you using?"

Eun-jae exhaled. He had hoped In-su wouldn't ask too many questions, but of course, he did.

"A new one," Eun-jae answered shortly.

"What happened to the old one?"

Eun-jae groaned internally.

Why did everyone care so much about that stupid phone? It wasn't like he was attached to it.

"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Just do what I asked. And… let Director Ji know I'm fine. Also, extend my greetings to my mom."

"Got it, Sunbae. If I find anything, I'll let you know right away."

Eun-jae nodded, even though In-su couldn't see him.

"Good. I'll be waiting."

With that, he ended the call, placing the receiver back on the hook.

His mind was already whirring.

If In-su did what he was told—and he always did—Eun-jae would have the information he needed by morning.Bottom of Form

Eun-jae had been drifting in and out of sleep, the exhaustion of the past few days catching up to him in heavy waves. His body ached, his limbs felt weighted, and for once, his mind wasn't racing with calculations of their next move. The dull hum of the hotel air conditioning filled the silence, lulling him deeper into the comfort of temporary peace.

But then—

A voice.

Low, casual, and unmistakably familiar.

Eun-jae's brows knitted together before he even fully registered what he was hearing. His consciousness clawed its way back to the surface, dragging him away from the fringes of sleep. His eyelids fluttered open just enough to glimpse the dimly lit hotel room, shadows stretching lazily against the walls.

Was that—?

A movement outside the doorway caught his attention. His sluggish brain took a second longer than usual to process it before realization slammed into him like a truck.

That voice. That presence.

Caesar.

Eun-jae's breath hitched, caught somewhere between confusion and irritation. He turned his head slightly, only to see the infuriatingly composed figure of Caesar standing at the hotel reception, speaking to the receptionist with an ease that sent a flicker of irritation down Eun-jae's spine.

Are you kidding me?

The man had disappeared, leaving Eun-jae in the room alone, and now here he was—chatting up the receptionist like this was some vacation.

Eun-jae let out a slow breath through his nose, schooling his expression into something neutral before pushing himself up. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing away the remnants of sleep, and stood.

He approached just as Caesar's gaze flickered toward him, amusement glinting in his golden eyes.

"Where did you go?" Caesar asked, tilting his head slightly.

Eun-jae felt his jaw tighten, but he kept his voice even. "I went to make a call."

Caesar leaned against the counter, exhaling a slow breath. "Your mom?"

Eun-jae paused—just for a fraction of a second—before nodding. "Hm. Yes."

He wasn't in the mood to explain himself further, and he certainly wasn't about to entertain whatever game Caesar was playing. But, as always, Caesar seemed unfazed, reading between the lines in that unnerving way of his.

A slow smirk played at his lips before he straightened, stretching as though the day's events hadn't affected him at all. Then, with a casualness that made Eun-jae's fingers twitch, he asked,

"Care to join me for a drink?"

Eun-jae didn't even hesitate. "Nope."

He bowed slightly, murmuring a quick thanks to the receptionist before turning on his heel and walking back toward the room, ignoring the way Caesar's amused gaze burned into his back.

Drinking? Now?

Eun-jae wasn't sure why it annoyed him so much. Maybe it was the sheer audacity. Maybe it was the way Caesar never seemed to take anything seriously. Or maybe it was because, no matter how much Eun-jae told himself that he didn't care—

That bastard had a way of getting under his skin.

Back in the room, Eun-jae collapsed onto the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. He exhaled slowly, forcing his body to relax, even though his mind still buzzed with a low hum of irritation.

Minutes passed.

Maybe more.

The silence was thick, the only sound coming from the faint ticking of the clock on the nightstand. Just as his breathing began to even out, just as he started slipping back into that delicate space between wakefulness and sleep—

Footsteps.

Soft but deliberate.

Eun-jae's senses sharpened instantly. He didn't move, didn't react, only listened as the familiar rhythm of Caesar's gait entered the room. The door shut with a quiet click, followed by the rustling of fabric, the barely audible sigh of someone settling into place.

Eun-jae remained still, his back turned toward the other man. His breaths were steady, controlled. If Caesar thought he was asleep, he wasn't going to correct him.

Seconds stretched into minutes.

Then—nothing.

No more movement.

But Eun-jae could feel it.

That presence.

Still. Watching.

Caesar was staring at him.

The weight of his gaze lingered, heavy and unspoken, like a silent conversation neither of them had any intention of acknowledging.

What? Eun-jae wanted to snap, to turn over and demand an answer. But he didn't. He stayed still, willing himself to ignore the strange tension pressing against the air.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Caesar moved.

The quiet shift of footsteps. The creak of the other bed.

And then—silence.

Eun-jae let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His eyes opened slightly, just enough to catch the faint glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the room.

He sighed, barely a whisper, then shut his eyes again.

Sleep wouldn't come easy.

Not with Caesar around.

Not with whatever this was lingering between them.

And definitely not when, deep down, Eun-jae had the nagging suspicion that this game between them was far from over.

The golden hues of the setting sun stretched long shadows across the walls, casting the entire room in a soft, amber glow. Outside the window, the cityscape had long faded into the distance, replaced by something quieter, more remote. They weren't in the city anymore. Here, the air felt heavier—thicker with unspoken tension and the weight of what they were about to do.

Eun-jae adjusted the cuffs of his black suit in front of the mirror, his sharp eyes scanning his own reflection. The crisp fabric hugged his lean frame perfectly, exuding a sleek, composed elegance. He pulled his long hair back with deft fingers, tying it neatly at the nape of his neck. The act itself was muscle memory—precise, efficient. It was something he did without thinking, a small ritual before stepping into roles that weren't entirely his own.

He exhaled slowly, watching himself, the calculated calm in his expression concealing the quiet buzz in his head.

Behind him, the bathroom door swung open with a soft click, followed by the sound of footsteps.

"Should we get going?"

Caesar's voice was smooth, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

Eun-jae turned slightly, eyes flickering to the older man as he emerged from the bathroom.

And immediately, Eun-jae felt something tighten in his chest—part annoyance, part disbelief.

Caesar was dressed as impeccably as ever, but it wasn't just what he was wearing that made Eun-jae momentarily pause.

It was how.

A sharp black turtleneck, tailored black slacks, and draped over his shoulders—an enormous white fur coat, pristine and ostentatious, looking like it had been stolen straight from the wardrobe of an old-money crime lord. The fur spilled over his frame effortlessly, the contrast against the dark fabric beneath making him appear both effortlessly elegant and ridiculously extravagant.

Eun-jae blinked.

Of course. Of course, he'd wear something like that.

The bastard looked like a damn movie villain.

Eun-jae schooled his features back into something neutral. "Sure," he murmured, returning his attention to his reflection.

As he made the final adjustment to his tie, pulling it snug against his collar, he barely registered the movement behind him—until he felt something heavy drape over his shoulders.

The scent hit him first.

Something unmistakably Caesar—subtle but expensive, like dark spices and aged leather, mixed with something almost metallic. A presence, a statement. A scent that clung to the coat itself.

Eun-jae froze.

His eyes darted up to the mirror, his heart skipping a single, imperceptible beat.

There it was.

Caesar's enormous white fur coat wrapped around him, practically swallowing his entire frame. The sheer size of it made him look absurdly small, like a kid who had raided his father's closet and was now standing there, drowning in something far too big for him. The fur bunched around his shoulders, the sleeves hanging loosely past his hands, completely engulfing him.

For a split second, his expression cracked.

His eyes widened.

The disbelief was instant—fleeting but undeniable.

What the hell—

Eun-jae turned, staring at Caesar, whose lips were already curling into an all-too-amused smirk.

Why the hell is he putting his fur coat on me?

The realization settled in an instant, and with it came something far more infuriating—Caesar did this on purpose.

Eun-jae clenched his jaw, willing his face back to neutrality. He turned to the mirror once more, staring at himself, at the ridiculous contrast between his usual sharp, clean-cut image and the absolute mess of oversized luxury draped over him.

I look ridiculous.

Like a damn child.