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.
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.