chapter 63- the truth is finally out

Alexei's fingers spread slightly, pressing against his chest, testing, feeling.

A low hum of approval.

I swear to God, I am going to rip his fucking hands off.

The urge to snap surged through him, white-hot and violent. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to grab a knife, a gun, anything—

But he couldn't.

Not yet.

Not with the cameras.

Not while he was still trying to find the damn key.

Eun-jae swallowed the bile rising in his throat, forcing himself to exhale slowly. Control. Stay in control.

But fuck.

He had been in bad situations before. But this? This was beyond fucked.

And then—Alexei leaned in.

A breath against his ear.

The moment Alexei's tongue made contact with the back of his neck, Eun-jae felt his entire body recoil in disgust. A sharp, nauseating shudder crawled down his spine, his skin prickling as if it had been scorched by acid. The wet, unwanted sensation sent a violent jolt through his nerves, a visceral rejection that made his stomach churn. His jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ached, and his fists curled into tight, trembling balls at his sides. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to lash out, to get away, to tear the repulsive touch off his skin like a parasite leeching onto his flesh.

Alexei's breath was hot and damp against his neck, the sound of his lewd moans sending a surge of bile up Eun-jae's throat. The pheromones the man released were thick, cloying, and utterly suffocating—like a rancid, sticky fog trying to seep into his pores and drown him in its filth. It was vile. Disgusting. Overpowering.

Eun-jae's stomach twisted violently, his breath coming in sharp, ragged exhales as his vision darkened around the edges. His body was stiff, locked in place, every muscle tense as he fought against the primal urge to vomit or snap Alexei's neck on the spot. He hated this. Hated the feeling of being trapped, of being toyed with, of being treated like an object for someone else's perverse desires. The mere thought made his blood burn with fury.

His fingers twitched at his sides, nails digging so hard into his palms that he nearly drew blood. His mind raced, a storm of disgust, anger, and deep-seated loathing surging within him like a violent tempest. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to feel this. He didn't want to breathe the same air as this revolting excuse of a man who thought he could overpower him with cheap tricks and sleazy advances.

Without a second thought, his body reacted. In one swift, fluid motion, he grabbed Alexei's wrist with a crushing grip, feeling the bones shift beneath his fingers, and before the bastard could even gasp in surprise, Eun-jae wrenched him away with sheer, brute force. Alexei's body was airborne for a fleeting second before he crashed onto the ground with a sickening thud, like a discarded ragdoll thrown with absolute disdain.

A sharp exhale left Eun-jae's lips, his chest heaving as he ripped off his shirt and aggressively wiped at the back of his neck, scrubbing at his skin as though he could erase the sensation, as though he could rid himself of the lingering filth Alexei had left behind. His hands trembled with residual rage, his heartbeat drumming violently against his ribs.

"Fucking pervert," he spat under his breath, his voice low and filled with unrestrained venom. His glare snapped down to Alexei, who groaned in pain on the floor, clutching his ribs. The sight of him—the sheer audacity of him—made Eun-jae's fury spike further. He could still feel the ghost of that touch, the sickening wetness of Alexei's tongue against his skin. It made him want to rip something apart.

But he couldn't waste time. He had a job to do.

His gaze darted around the room, sharp and calculating. He spotted the remote on the nightstand. That was it. The key. The way into the hidden space described in the blueprints. He bent down, snatched the remote, and gripped it tightly, his mind already racing with possibilities. His fingers hovered over the buttons, but before he could press anything, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket.

His instincts screamed at him. Something wasn't right.

Frowning, he pulled the device out and glanced at the screen. The name flashing on the caller ID made his brows furrow in confusion.

'In-su?'

The second he answered, a loud, panicked voice exploded from the other end, forcing him to pull the phone away from his ear.

"Jesus, do you want to burst my eardrums?" Eun-jae grumbled, shaking his head before bringing the phone back. "Slow down, I can't understand—"

"SUNBAE, PLEASE! WHEREVER YOU ARE, LEAVE IMMEDIATELY!" In-su's voice cracked, frantic and desperate, his gasps coming through in uneven bursts.

Eun-jae's blood ran cold.

"What are you—"

Before he could finish, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him. The phone slipped from his grip, landing on the plush carpet below with a dull thud. His vision blurred, a thick haze clouding his sight, and his legs wobbled as though the very ground beneath him had shifted.

"Huh…? But I didn't even drink the wine…" he thought, struggling to steady himself. His head felt heavy, his limbs sluggish, as if something was trying to drag him down into unconsciousness.

His eyes darted towards where Alexei had been lying on the floor—but the man was gone.

'Shit—!'

Before he could react, something yanked at his leg.

Alexei.

The bastard had grabbed his ankle, his grip vice-like and unyielding, his face twisted into a snarl as he brandished a syringe filled with a murky liquid. His eyes gleamed with something unhinged, his lips curled into a sadistic grin.

Eun-jae's instincts roared to life.

"LET GO OF MY LEG!" he snarled, twisting his body as he sent a brutal kick straight into Alexei's face.

Alexei's head snapped back, a sickening crack echoing through the room as blood splattered from his nose. The force sent him tumbling backward, but the effort drained Eun-jae. His dizziness worsened, his balance faltering, and he collapsed onto the floor. His breath came in ragged pants as he crawled towards his phone, determination fueling every sluggish movement.

And then he saw it.

Shoes.

Polished, pristine shoes standing right in front of him.

A presence loomed over him, tall and composed, exuding an unsettling aura of dominance and amusement.

Eun-jae's stomach dropped.

'Who is that…?'

He raised his gaze slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, only for his breath to hitch the moment his eyes locked onto the man standing before him.

Caesar.

The bastard was smiling.

A slow, knowing smirk stretched across his lips as he crouched down, his icy blue eyes gleaming with something dark, something calculating.

"Oh my my… I was so worried, so I decided to come check on you," Caesar murmured, voice as smooth as silk yet laced with something predatory.

Eun-jae's pulse hammered against his skull, every nerve in his body screaming at him to run—to fight—to do something.

Something wasn't right.

Something was very, very wrong.

Eun-jae's arm. His grip was firm—unyielding, like iron shackles locking into place. Before Eun-jae could even react, before he could wrench himself free, Caesar lifted him effortlessly. It was as if Eun-jae weighed nothing at all, as if he were a mere doll in the hands of a giant. His stomach lurched at the sheer power behind the movement, his limbs flailing for a moment before gravity abandoned him.

And then—

A brutal impact. The bed beneath him dipped violently, the thick mattress absorbing some of the shock but not nearly enough. His breath left him in a sharp gasp, his spine jarring from the force of the throw. He barely had a second to process what had just happened before he felt the shift in weight above him.

Caesar loomed over him, his silhouette cutting against the dim glow of the room's ambient lighting. His golden hair shimmered in the reflection of the mirrors, the predatory gleam in his icy blue eyes magnified from every angle. It was suffocating. His presence alone felt like a vice closing in, a shadow swallowing Eun-jae whole.

Eun-jae's heart pounded in his chest, the rhythmic thudding echoing in his ears like war drums. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to move—to escape. His muscles tensed, coiling in preparation to strike, but the lingering dizziness clawed at his mind like a relentless parasite. His vision wavered, the room tilting unnaturally, as if the very ground beneath him had become unsteady.

Something isn't right. Something is very, very wrong.

He forced his gaze to focus on Caesar, who was watching him with a smirk, his expression an unreadable mix of amusement and something far darker. His eyes flickered downward, landing on the remote clutched in Eun-jae's trembling hand.

"Looks like you managed to find the remote," Caesar mused, his voice a lazy purr, the amusement in his tone barely concealing the sharp edge beneath it.

Without hesitation, he plucked it from Eun-jae's grasp, his fingers brushing against Eun-jae's knuckles for the briefest moment—cold, calculated. Then, with a simple press of a button, the room responded.

A quiet mechanical hum filled the air as a section of the wall shifted, moving seamlessly to reveal a hidden compartment. And there—illuminated by the soft glow of the recessed lighting—was a framed picture.

Eun-jae's stomach twisted into a knot the moment his eyes landed on it.

The photograph was torn, half of it missing, its edges jagged and uneven. Yet, the image before him was unmistakable. His breath hitched as his eyes traced over the details—the familiar face, the sharp lines of the jaw, the eyes that, even in the faded picture, burned with that same intensity.

It was him.

It was Caesar.

His breath came in short, uneven bursts. Slowly—mechanically—his gaze shifted, dragging itself away from the photo and back to the man above him. His trembling fingers clenched into fists as he forced himself to move. With a sudden, desperate motion, he grabbed Caesar's shirt, his fingers curling around the fabric before yanking it apart. Buttons popped, scattering across the bed, rolling onto the mirrored floor.

And there—right there, on the skin beneath—was the crest.

The Karpov-Troitsky crest.

Eun-jae's vision swam. The air in his lungs turned thick, heavy, as if he were drowning. His fingers twitched, still clutching onto the remnants of Caesar's shirt as his mind screamed at him, reality slamming into him with the force of a wrecking ball.

It was him.

Caesar.

Bes Ilay Karpov-Troitsky.

The smirk on Caesar's lips widened, his amusement deepening into something almost sinister as he gazed down at Eun-jae's stunned expression.

"Oh, this?" he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement as he casually brushed his fingers over the exposed crest, as if he were merely adjusting his clothing. "I hope you didn't assume you were the only one good at pulling a camouflage technique, innit?"

Eun-jae's world shattered in that moment, the final piece of the puzzle clicking into place. And the realization was more terrifying than anything he had ever faced before.