He felt like he'd just stepped into some kind of exhibitionist's fever dream.
Alexei smirked, clearly reading his reaction.
"You must be wondering why my room is like this," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.
Eun-jae hesitated, a prickle of unease creeping down his spine. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know, but before he could stop himself, the words slipped out—
"Why, though?"
Alexei's smirk deepened, his icy eyes flashing with something almost predatory.
"When I'm having sex," he said smoothly, "I like to make my mate watch themselves as I pound them from behind."
Silence.
A thick, unbearable silence.
Eun-jae immediately regretted asking.
Fucking hell.
His brain went blank for a solid three seconds before his survival instincts kicked in. He forcibly kept his expression neutral, biting back every single curse threatening to spill out of his mouth. He refused—refused—to react to that.
Instead, he cleared his throat, forcing himself to casually look away as if he weren't reeling internally.
Focus. Stay focused. This is not the time to get distracted by this lunatic's kinks.
He let his gaze sweep across the room again, feigning disinterest as he slowly started piecing things together.
Where's the key?
His mind shifted gears instantly.
The blueprints he had studied before coming here hinted at a hidden chamber—spacious, tucked away somewhere in the depths of Alexei's suite. If the security in the hallway was that tight, whatever was in that room had to be important.
His eyes flickered toward the bookshelves, the intricate wall paneling, the seamless design of the mirrors.
Where would I hide a secret entrance if I were an arrogant, sex-obsessed bastard?
His fingers itched to start searching, but he couldn't move recklessly. Not here. Not while Alexei was watching him like a predator amused by its prey.
So he schooled his expression into something calm, neutral, almost bored, and turned back to Alexei with a raised brow.
"Nice room," he said flatly.
Alexei chuckled.
Eun-jae had the distinct feeling this was going to be very complicated.
Alexei poured two glasses of deep, rich red wine, his movements slow and deliberate. The liquid swirled inside the crystal glasses like dark velvet, catching the warm lighting of the room. He turned, a smirk playing on his lips as he extended one toward Eun-jae.
"Would you care for a drink?" Alexei purred, his voice carrying that lazy amusement of someone who already thought they had won. "This particular wine comes from Morocco—aged to perfection, smooth on the palate. Quite exquisite, really. You'll enjoy it."
Eun-jae took the glass, feeling the cold weight of it settle in his fingers. The scent of the wine drifted upward—rich, slightly spiced, and undeniably expensive. He glanced at Alexei, who had already taken his own glass, swirling it gently before taking a sip.
"Thanks," Eun-jae muttered, keeping his expression neutral as he lifted the glass slightly, as if he were about to drink. But just as the liquid neared his lips, he noticed something—
A faint swirl of white residue at the bottom.
The fuck is that?
His grip on the glass didn't waver, nor did his face betray even a flicker of reaction. But inside, his mind was moving fast.
Is this some kind of drug? A sedative? Something to make me more… compliant?
His stomach churned at the thought. Son of a bitch. Of course, someone like Alexei wouldn't just rely on words to get what he wanted. Fucking bastard thought he could drug me.
Keeping his composure, Eun-jae tilted the glass just enough to make it look like he was sipping, but let the wine barely brush against his lips before lowering it back down. A practiced, effortless deception.
"Mr. Alexei," he said smoothly, setting the glass onto the polished surface of a nearby table. "So where is this 'product' you wanted to show me?"
Alexei let out a soft chuckle, running a finger along the rim of his own glass. His green eyes gleamed with something too entertained, too smug.
"Not so fast, Mr. Bitgaram." He leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the back of the sofa as he swirled his drink. "Patience. Let's take things slow, alright?"
Eun-jae barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This is so fucking uncomfortable.
His whole body was on edge, every nerve alert to the way Alexei was watching him—like a predator circling prey.
There was a thickness in the air, a tension that made Eun-jae's skin crawl. He could feel the weight of Alexei's gaze raking over him, lingering too long, sizing him up like he was something to be consumed. It wasn't just interest—it was hunger.
Pure, unfiltered lust.
Disgusting.
Eun-jae clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep his posture relaxed. Breathe. Keep your cover. Don't react. Don't let him see that he's getting to you.
Meanwhile, Alexei wasn't even trying to hide it. His eyes roamed over Eun-jae's body shamelessly, tracing the lines of his frame with something disturbingly close to admiration.
He's fucking drooling.
And then, as if the moment wasn't unbearable enough, Alexei downed the rest of his wine in one go, slamming the empty glass onto the table with a satisfied sigh.
Eun-jae watched warily as Alexei stood up.
Something in the air shifted.
His smirk widened—lazily, confidently—too confident.
And then—he reached for the buttons of his shirt.
Wait. The fuck?
Eun-jae's stomach twisted as Alexei began unbuttoning his clothes, his fingers moving with a casual ease as he peeled away the fabric.
Oh, hell no.
Eun-jae instinctively took a step back, but Alexei was faster.
Before he could react, Alexei was behind him.
Close.
Too fucking close.
And then—
Hands.
Large, warm hands.
Grabbing his chest.
What the actual fuck—
Eun-jae froze. His breath hitched for just a fraction of a second, but he masked it instantly, forcing his body to remain still.
Don't react. Don't give him the satisfaction.
But holy fuck.
His entire body tensed, every muscle coiling with instinctive repulsion. His mind screamed at him to move, to shove this bastard off, to break every fucking bone in his hands.
Disgusting.
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 that was torn, half of it missing the last time , was now here in full. 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.
Caesar is the same as BES