The mission.
Hyunji.
The fact that they were literally on a moving train right now, and if he just pushed this bastard out the window, no one would ever find the body—
"Haaah! Mmmh! O-oh f-fuck!"
Eun-jae twitched.
His eye. Twitched.
He could not believe he had let himself be put in this situation. He had been prepared for danger. For violence. For secrecy and deception. But never—never in his worst nightmares—had he imagined he would be trapped in a confined space with a man who had the self-control of a damn rabbit in mating season.
And the worst part?
This wasn't even the first time it had happened.
Two days. It had only been two goddamn days on this train, and already, Caesar had managed to sleep with not one, but two attendants.
First, it was the first-class stewardess. Now, the second-class attendant. At this rate, Eun-jae wouldn't be surprised if, by tomorrow, the damn train conductor was getting railed against the control panel while the whole train swerved off the tracks.
He didn't want to look. He really didn't. But his own unfortunate existence was forcing him to bear witness to this absolute depravity.
He chanced a glance up—and immediately regretted it.
Caesar was there, completely unbothered, still thrusting into the woman like he was on some personal mission to break a world record for stamina. His golden hair was damp with sweat, sticking slightly to his forehead, and his lips—those infuriating lips—were pulled into a lazily amused smirk.
Eun-jae hated him.
With every fiber of his being.
This man had no shame. Not a single ounce of it. In fact, if shame had ever tried to approach Caesar, the bastard had probably flirted with it, fucked it, and then tossed it aside like every other poor soul who fell victim to his endless libido.
"Nghh… haahh… oh—oh f-fuck!"
The woman's obnoxiously breathy moans filled the room, bouncing off the walls, drilling into Eun-jae's brain like a relentless migraine.
He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and told himself to stay calm.
Maybe—just maybe—if he ignored them hard enough, he could mentally escape to a world where none of this was happening.
Maybe he could pretend he was somewhere peaceful.
Like a warzone.
Or a burning building.
Anywhere but here.
But then—CRASH.
The sound of glass shattering made Eun-jae flinch, eyes snapping downward. He saw the broken remains of a whiskey bottle on the floor, its contents splashed all over his feet. The strong scent of alcohol hit his nose immediately, making his already-throbbing headache even worse.
He slowly—very slowly—lifted his gaze back up.
"Hey." His voice was flat. Dead inside.
Caesar?
Still smirking.
And because he was a certified menace to society, the bastard thrust even harder, making the bed frame slam against the wall with an audible bang.
Eun-jae saw red.
Oh. Oh, he was going to kill him.
Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, Caesar was going to wake up with Eun-jae standing over his bed with a pillow and a murderous smile.
He let out a slow, exhausted exhale and shut his book with a decisive snap.
"I'm leaving."
He grabbed his things, fully prepared to vacate the room before his last shred of dignity burned away. But before he could take a single step—
Caesar moved again.
And this time, the bastard pulled the woman upright, yanked her blouse open even wider, exposing her perky, sweat-slicked breasts to the cool air.
Eun-jae's body betrayed him.
For just a fraction of a second, his stomach clenched, a small, involuntary flicker of heat curling deep in his gut.
It wasn't much. Barely anything. But it was enough.
Enough to make his eyes widen in horror.
Enough to make his breath hitch.
Enough to make pure, undiluted panic seize his entire body.
Nope.
Nope, nope, NOPE.
He turned on his heel and bolted.
In record speed, he crossed the room, yanked open the bathroom door, and slammed it shut behind him. His back hit the door as he let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
His heart was pounding. His face felt hot.
He turned, gripping the sink, staring at his own reflection in the mirror with a thousand-yard stare.
He looked like a man who had just seen death.
And honestly?
Maybe he had.
Not his own death.
But his sanity's.
Because that?
That was definitely dead.
"Fuck."
Eun-jae hated this.
Hated it with every single atom of his being.
His hand was pressed against the cold, tiled wall of the shower, his head slightly lowered, his wet hair clinging to his forehead as steaming water cascaded down his tense shoulders. But that wasn't the real problem here.
No.
The real problem was the undeniable, rock-hard situation happening below his waist.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
This was a nightmare.
An absolute, soul-crushing, dignity-destroying nightmare.
Of all things—of all the goddamn things—it had to be this.
It had to be Caesar's stupid fucking antics that left him like this.
He wasn't even thinking about the guy!
Nope.
Not even once.
(And if he had to repeat that a few more times to convince himself, then so be it.)
But the damage was already done.
The soft bounce of perky breasts, the way smooth, supple skin had glistened under the dim light, the teasing arch of a delicate back—
He groaned, palming his face as if that would somehow physically slap the sinful thoughts out of his head.
What the hell was wrong with him?!
This was Caesar's fault. It was all his fault. That shameless, walking, talking STD magnet had infected the entire room with his corruption, and now Eun-jae was suffering the consequences.
He exhaled sharply, his other hand twitching at his side.
"…Just this once."
It was a pathetic excuse. A last-ditch attempt to salvage what little remained of his pride. But at this point, Eun-jae was drowning in frustration, and his own damn body was betraying him in ways he would never forgive.
So, against his better judgment, he gave in.
A sharp inhale. A low hiss. A muttered curse.
His body shuddered, thighs tensing as pleasure curled in his stomach like a tight coil ready to snap.
But then—shit.
It wasn't just the woman's breasts in his mind anymore.
No.
Now, there were other things.
Things he definitely didn't mean to think about.
Things like strong, veined hands pressing against soft flesh. A low, deep chuckle vibrating in his ears. A mischievous smirk and golden hair damp with sweat.
His stomach dropped.
Wait.
Wait, wait, WAIT—
"Fuck!"
His entire body jerked as he finally, violently unraveled, a choked groan ripping from his throat as his mind went completely blank.
For a few precious seconds, all he could do was stand there, panting, his heart hammering in his chest as the water washed away all evidence of his shame.
And then?
The horror set in.
Slowly, very slowly, Eun-jae opened his eyes, staring blankly at the tiled wall in front of him.
His breath hitched.
No.
No, no, no, no, no, NO.
His fingers twitched slightly. His jaw locked.
He wanted to disappear.
To vanish into thin air. To be erased from the timeline.
Because he had fucked up.
He had fucked up bad.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
He wasn't supposed to think about that bastard.
Not now.
Not ever.
With a deep, shaky exhale, Eun-jae stripped out of his damp clothes, yanked the shower knob, and let the now ice-cold water punish him for his sins.
He glared at the drain.
If anyone asked?
This never happened.
Eun-jae stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling behind him like some dramatic scene out of a movie, only instead of looking like some ethereal protagonist, he felt like a fried circuit board. His long, damp hair stuck to his skin, the ends dripping water down his back in a way that made him shudder. He hated the feeling. Absolutely hated it. It was one of the reasons he usually preferred tying his hair up when it was wet, but right now, he had bigger problems.
And by "bigger problems," he meant the absolute walking headache standing right outside his door.
There he was—Caesar.
That smug, six-foot-eleven thorn in his side.
The bastard was leaning against the wall with that infuriating smirk, arms crossed, looking as if he had been waiting.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Eun-jae's gut twisted, and his brain short-circuited for a split second. Had Caesar been standing there the whole time? Had he—?
No. Nope. Absolutely not. Eun-jae refused to entertain that possibility. He had been in there for a while. Surely Caesar hadn't—
…Actually, who was he kidding? This was Caesar. The man had the audacity of a government-issued tax bill.
Eun-jae took a breath and forced his expression into neutral disinterest. He was not going to give this man the satisfaction of seeing him rattled.
Unfortunately, Caesar was already enjoying himself.
"Did you have fun?"
And there it was.
Eun-jae's entire soul left his body.
The universe must have personally had it out for him. The absolute, cosmic humiliation.
But instead of reacting like a normal person—like, say, dying on the spot—Eun-jae's sass kicked in like a last-minute defense mechanism.
"Yes, a lot. Now move your ass aside, Mr. Nosy Bystander." His tone was flat, his expression unbothered. Not even a hint of shame. Absolutely nothing to see here, sir.
Without waiting for a response, he shoved past Caesar's stupidly broad chest, pretending like nothing happened, like this was just a normal, non-mortifying interaction between two coworkers. He was going to put on clothes, act like this night had never happened, and move the hell on with his life.
Or at least, that was the plan.
But did Caesar ever make things easy for him?
Of course not.
"Nice nipple piercings you've got."
Eun-jae froze mid-motion.
For a good three seconds, he just sat there on the bed, pants halfway up his legs, completely motionless.
Then, slowly—very slowly—he turned his head to stare at Caesar with the blankest, most unimpressed expression mankind had ever seen.
"Do you wake up every morning and actively choose to be a menace to society, or does it just happen naturally?"
Caesar just chuckled. "You didn't deny it."
Eun-jae rolled his eyes so hard he practically pulled a muscle.
"Why would I?" he snorted, yanking his pants up fully. "I paid good money for these piercings. Unlike you, I have taste."
Caesar's smirk widened. "I never said they were bad. Just unexpected."
Eun-jae groaned internally. He should've never left the bathroom. This was already a disaster.
But then, because this conversation wasn't humiliating enough, Caesar took things a step further.
"You should at least do it with a male alpha or an enigma, at least."
Eun-jae's brain immediately slammed the emergency brakes.
He turned to look at Caesar, completely baffled. "What?"
Caesar shrugged, looking unbothered. "I mean, if you're gonna be getting off, you should at least do it properly."
Eun-jae wanted to throw himself out the window. Or throw Caesar out the window. Either option was acceptable.
Instead, he gave a dramatic sigh. "Oh, great advice. Should I also start taking relationship advice from a manwhore?" he deadpanned.
Caesar ignored the insult as if it didn't even register. "Why not?"
Eun-jae grabbed his towel and started wrapping it around his damp hair, pointedly avoiding Caesar's gaze. "I don't date male alphas. Or enigmas. Or omegas."
That should have been the end of it.
It wasn't.
Caesar tilted his head slightly, intrigued. "Why? Is it because you don't like seeing grown men moaning in husky voices and crying like females?"
Eun-jae threw his hands up in exasperation.
"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!"
Caesar just smirked again, like he was having the time of his life.
"No, you absolute degenerate," Eun-jae said, glaring. "I just don't like men, period. And I'm not planning to sleep with one either, so you can take your suggestions and shove them up your ass."
There. That should shut him up.
Or so Eun-jae thought.
Because then, Caesar's smirk faded slightly. His expression shifted, amusement still there, but his sharp gaze lingered just a little too long.
And then, with an unreadable look, he asked—
"Why? Did you have a traumatic past that involved males?"
Eun-jae's entire body locked up.
His hands froze mid-motion around his towel. His breath hitched—just for a second. A subtle, nearly imperceptible reaction, but he knew.
Caesar noticed.
That bastard always noticed.
Eun-jae's jaw clenched, and for the first time in this entire conversation, he didn't have a snarky comeback.
The air between them shifted.
Thick. Heavy. Uncomfortable.
Eun-jae stared at the floor for a moment, then quietly muttered, "Just… just leave me alone."
His voice was quieter. Less sharp. Lacking its usual bite.
Then he turned away, not wanting Caesar to see his face.
For once, Caesar didn't push.
He didn't laugh.
He didn't smirk.
He just watched.
And even as he finally let the topic drop, Eun-jae knew.
He knew Caesar wasn't going to forget this.
As soon as Caesar turned and walked out of the room, Eun-jae finally let out the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. The air left his lungs in a quiet, shaky exhale, the kind that felt like it had been trapped inside his chest for far too long.
He stood there for a moment, unmoving, his body caught between tension and exhaustion. His hands curled into the fabric of his towel, gripping it tightly like an anchor, but it wasn't enough.
Then came the trembling.
It started small—just a slight quiver in his fingers. Barely noticeable. But then it spread, crawling up his arms, settling into his shoulders, making his entire body feel unsteady. A chill slithered down his spine, making him shudder despite the warmth of the room.
He hated this.
He hated this so much.
The way his body betrayed him like this—reacting on its own, responding to things he didn't want to feel. It pissed him off, made him feel weak, exposed.
And most of all, it reminded him of things he didn't want to remember.
No.
He wasn't going to let himself spiral. Not now. Not because of him.
Not because of Caesar.
With a sharp inhale, Eun-jae forced his trembling legs to move. He turned away from the door and all but threw himself onto the bed, sinking into the mattress like it could somehow swallow him whole. The weight of his own exhaustion pressed down on him, but he refused to give in to it.
Do something. Anything. Shift your thoughts. Focus.
His eyes darted around the room, looking for something—anything—to ground himself. That's when his gaze landed on the book lying at the edge of his nightstand.
Without thinking, he reached for it, his fingers curling around the worn-out edges of the cover.
The book was one of his favorites—a well-used paperback, slightly bent from years of flipping through the pages. He had read it before, countless times, but right now, it didn't matter. He needed a distraction. Something to pull him out of his own head, to drown out the lingering unease pressing against his ribs.
Flipping the book open, he let his eyes glide over the words, trying to focus, trying to let the familiar story wrap around him like a shield.
But the words felt hazy.
Like they were slipping right through his mind without truly sinking in.
His hands were still trembling slightly, the weight of Caesar's words lingering like a phantom touch against his skin.
"Why? Did you have a traumatic past that involved males?"
Eun-jae shut his eyes, gripping the book a little too tightly.
That bastard.
That absolute fucking bastard.
He had no right to ask that. No right to poke at wounds that weren't his to touch.
Eun-jae exhaled harshly, trying to shake the feeling away, trying to focus back on the book in front of him. He let his gaze drag over the sentences again, forcing himself to read each word slowly.
But his thoughts refused to settle.
His body still felt tense, restless.
Even with the book in his hands, the familiar story, the comforting weight of the pages—it wasn't enough.
Because deep down, he knew.
No matter how many pages he turned, no matter how many words he read—
The past never really went away.