Vseslav exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening into fists against the desk. The moment their father realized Caesar's destruction was no longer confined to mere objects but had begun to extend to people, he had made a decision—one that should have reined in the chaos. Instead, it had simply redirected it.
Caesar had been sent closer to the SIB. The security intelligence bureau welcomed men like him, men who had an insatiable hunger for blood and no reservations about delivering it. There, his violence and madness wouldn't be questioned. There, he was no longer a liability but an asset. The perfect tool. A cold-blooded machine programmed for obedience—at least in theory.
But Caesar was never obedient.
Vseslav's fingers tapped rhythmically against the wooden surface of the desk, his jaw tightening at the fresh wave of trouble his brother had unleashed. The moment he had learned Caesar was heading for the airport, he had known—deep in his bones—that disaster would follow. He should have stopped him. He should have locked him in a goddamn room if that's what it took to prevent another international mess.
But it was already too late.
"Tsesarion ," Vseslav said, his voice low and strained, "you are aware you are creating too much mess… Why would you start a commotion when the president and ministers were all present?"
Caesar chuckled, a soft, velvety sound that carried an unsettling undertone. He sank into the chair across from Vseslav, stretching out like a cat that had just finished toying with its prey.
"Ah, yesss… that reminds me." His voice was languid, teasing. "What happened to the lady I shot in the car?"
Vseslav exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. He had spent years perfecting the art of suppressing his emotions around Caesar.
"It was reported that the Korean was the one who killed her," he said flatly.
"Awwn," Caesar cooed mockingly, tilting his head with faux disappointment. "How convenient. He gets all the credit for my masterpiece."
Vseslav's teeth clenched. "Do you think everything is a joke to you, Tsesarion ?"
Caesar picked up the delicate porcelain cup on the table and took a slow sip of tea, his eyes never leaving his brother's. Then, with a smirk, he set it down and let out a chuckle.
"Komm oooon... vhy you being so seeeriooos, da?" he drawled, slipping into an exaggerated Russian accent, his grin widening as he watched Vseslav's expression darken.
Vseslav groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. The childish mockery, the sheer audacity—Caesar was infuriating.
"You jeopardized everything," Vseslav hissed, his voice low and threatening. "There were dignitaries, high-ranking officials. You could have sparked a war with your reckless behavior."
Caesar merely shrugged, as if he were discussing the weather. "Oh, please. They're all just rats scurrying around, pretending to be important. I only eliminated one insignificant pest."
Vseslav slammed his fist against the desk. "You shot the daughter of an ambassador in broad daylight! That 'pest' had powerful connections."
Caesar grinned, completely unfazed. "It was night actually and she was too noisy"
Vseslav stared at him in disbelief. "So you shot her."
A slow blink. Then a lazy nod. "Yes."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Vseslav could feel the migraine creeping in, the sharp pounding behind his eyes. He had spent his whole life trying to control the monster his mother had nurtured. A monster who wore the face of a charming young man but possessed the soul of something far darker.
He had thought sending Caesar to the SIB would restrain him, give him a leash. But he had been wrong. The beast hadn't been caged.
It had been given a hunting ground.
And now, it was growing bolder.
Caesar leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, watching Vseslav with an almost affectionate gaze. "You worry too much, brother. The world is full of people who need to disappear."
Vseslav's stomach churned.
"You think you can just kill anyone who displeases you?"
Caesar's ice-blue eyes sparkled. "No, of course not." He grinned, slow and deliberate."Eet's only self defense, da? He come at me, I just… respond."
Vseslav leaned back in his chair, the weight of exhaustion pressing against his temples. His fingers tapped idly against the table as he studied the man across from him—the man who, despite his refined appearance, was nothing short of a walking calamity. Caesar sat lazily, one arm draped over the back of the chair, his golden hair slightly tousled, as if he had just come back from something both exhilarating and catastrophic. His ice-blue eyes gleamed with amusement, lips curled into a smirk, sipping his tea with an elegance that sharply contrasted the madness lurking beneath.
Vseslav sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Anyways, why did you let that Korean agent go? As soon as you found out he was a spy, you should have dealt with him. Why didn't you kill him?" His voice was firm, measured, yet laced with restrained irritation.
Caesar hummed, setting his teacup down with deliberate slowness. His fingers tapped against the porcelain, a rhythm that sent a shiver of unease down Vseslav's spine. Then, resting his chin on his palm, he let out a dramatic sigh.
"I did consider it," he admitted, tilting his head slightly. "I really did. I mean, it would've been easy—snap, gone, just like that." He made a flicking motion with his fingers, like he was discarding something trivial. His smirk widened, eyes flickering with something dangerous. "But goshhh…" He dragged out the word with a wistful sigh. "He trusted me so much."
Vseslav stiffened.
Caesar leaned forward, his smirk deepening as he gauged his brother's reaction. "I mean, he looked at me with those wide, stupidly naive eyes, thinking we were actually allies. So I thought—why ruin the fun so quickly?" He chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I decided to play along for a bit." He exhaled, almost dreamily, his fingers brushing against his lower lip as if savoring the memory. "And, oh… lemme tell you, it kinda turned me on."
Vseslav's grip tightened on the edge of the table. "You caused all this just for your stupid fantasies?"
Caesar gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. "Stoopeed fantasies? No, no, no... my dear brother..."He tsked, wagging a finger. "I love watching men like him squirm… struggling to stay alive, bargaining with every ounce of dignity they have left." He let out a soft laugh, his voice dropping into something darker, something laced with an unmistakable hunger. "The way their eyes dart around, calculating, hoping for an escape that doesn't exist? Ugh, it's just so pathetically adorable." He exhaled, a low, pleased hum escaping his throat.
"Gets me so rocky hard down there."
Vseslav flinched. His entire body tensed at the sheer vulgarity dripping from Caesar's voice, but the younger man wasn't done.
"It makes me wanna bend him over and fuck him so hard—oh wait." Caesar snapped his fingers, his expression shifting into mock surprise. "I did that. Almost forgot." He chuckled, shaking his head as if he were reminiscing about a particularly amusing joke.
Vseslav inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sure. Whatever you say," he muttered, refusing to entertain the conversation any further.
Caesar pouted. "Oh, come on, don't be so cold. You always ruin my fun with that boring, serious face." He sighed, slouching in his seat. "Really, brother, I swear you'll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that."
Vseslav didn't respond. He just stared at him, jaw clenched, his mind running through a thousand different ways this conversation could have gone.
And yet, no matter what, the conclusion was always the same.
Caesar was a lost cause.
Vseslav sighed, as he reached for his phone. The screen illuminated his face in the dimly lit room, casting sharp shadows under his eyes. He scrolled through the latest reports, his brows furrowing as he read the updates on the Korean agent. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before he exhaled, looking up at the man lounging across from him like a bored predator.
"Oh," he muttered, his voice flat. "The agent is currently being treated at a small hospital." He placed his phone on the table, fingers tapping against the surface in a slow, calculated rhythm. "If you're done playing, you should have killed him."
Caesar, reclining comfortably in his chair, barely spared Vseslav a glance. He stretched, the crisp fabric of his white dress shirt pulling taut against his toned frame as he let out a slow, almost lazy breath. His lips curled into a smirk, amusement flickering in his ice-blue eyes.
"Oh, relax, bruh," he drawled, reaching for his teacup again, his fingers lightly tracing the rim before lifting it to his lips. "It's not like he has the energy to come after me." He took a slow sip, savoring the warmth of the tea, as if this conversation was nothing more than idle chatter about the weather.
Vseslav's fingers curled into a fist against the table. "Are you sure?" His voice was sharper now, cutting through the air like a blade. He leaned forward, his gaze locked onto Caesar's, searching for any sign of concern—any flicker of acknowledgment that this wasn't just another game. "From the look of things, it doesn't seem like he's the type to back down."
Caesar stilled for a fraction of a second. Then, suddenly, he let out a loud chuckle—deep, rich, and laced with that unnerving edge of madness that always made Vseslav's stomach twist. He threw his head back slightly, his laughter rolling through the room like a taunt, like the sound of a man who had never once known fear.
Vseslav's jaw tightened.
"Why are you so worried?" Caesar finally said, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye, as if the very idea of the agent seeking revenge was the funniest thing he had heard all week. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, his smirk widening. "He's just barely alive. Do you really, actually think he'd come crawling out of his hospital bed to come get revenge?" He snorted, shaking his head, the condescension in his tone making Vseslav's grip on the table tighten.
Vseslav didn't answer.
Caesar studied him for a moment, then grinned, his sharp canines flashing slightly in the dim light. He tilted his head, tapping his fingers lightly against his own chin, his expression turning thoughtful. "Quit whining," he teased, his voice dropping into something almost mockingly affectionate. "I highly doubt he'd do something this… entertaining."
That smirk deepened, stretching across his face like something predatory, something that promised he would actually enjoy it if the agent did try. If he came for revenge, if he clawed his way back from the brink of death just to throw himself into Caesar's path again—oh, that would be entertaining.
Caesar's fingers drummed against the table, his thoughts already spiraling toward all the fun ways he could play with his little Korean agent if he dared to come back for another round.
He almost hoped he would.
"Oh, right," Vseslav finally said, his voice measured, almost bored. "What happened to Seraphim? Is it complete?"
Caesar didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head back slightly, eyes half-lidded as if considering the weight of the question—no, more like he was considering whether he even felt like entertaining Vseslav with an answer.
Then, without missing a beat, his lips curled into a smirk, sharp and dripping with amusement.
"Who wants to know?" he drawled, stretching his arms over his head before letting them fall lazily across his chest. "Hmm? Dimitri? Yaroslav? Or another powerful player?" His smirk widened, his voice gaining that mocking lilt that made Vseslav's patience stretch thinner and thinner. "Look at how you all are crawling and hovering around like dogs in heat who have found their mate." He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if the mere thought of their desperation was utterly pathetic. "It's honestly hilarious."
Vseslav's jaw twitched, his hands pressing against the table's smooth surface to keep himself from throwing something at his insufferable younger brother. "And?"
Caesar shrugged, his smirk never faltering. "And… I don't plan on telling anyone," he said with the kind of finality that made it clear he was enjoying dragging this out. "Let them all squirm, let them wonder, let them beg for scraps of information." He let out a soft chuckle, like this entire conversation was a private joke only he understood. "It's much more fun that way."
Vseslav simply stared at him, his lips pressing into a firm line. There was something both infuriating and effortless about Caesar's presence, like trying to hold onto smoke. He never gave straight answers, never followed a predictable path. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and he reveled in watching everyone else scramble in the aftermath.
After a long, silent moment, Vseslav finally let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose before muttering, "Does everything you say have to be connected to sex?"
Caesar blinked, then let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.
"What?" His laughter grew, shaking his shoulders as he leaned forward, hands clasped together, amusement shining in his cold eyes. "How the hell is this connected to sex, Vseslav? Hmm?" He tilted his head, feigning genuine curiosity. "Where did you even pull that from?"
"You literally just compared them to dogs in heat," Vseslav deadpanned.
Caesar gave a slow, exaggerated shrug, his smirk never fading. "So? It's a valid comparison." He leaned back again, crossing his arms. "Besides, if your mind is the one jumping straight to sex, maybe you should be questioning yourself, hmm?"
Vseslav let out a deep sigh, one filled with the kind of exhaustion that only came from dealing with Caesar for far too long. "You're impossible," he muttered under his breath.
Caesar only grinned wider. "I know."
"Hyunji was found dead in his apartment," Vseslav said, his voice low, clipped. "His limbs were cut off."
Caesar had been in the middle of taking a sip of his tea when he suddenly paused, his lips still pressed against the rim of the cup. Slowly, his gaze flicked upward from beneath his lashes, his icy blue eyes meeting Vseslav's. For a moment, he was still—then, with an almost deliberate slowness, he lowered his cup and tilted his head to the side, as if considering the news.
And then—he grinned.
Vseslav felt something cold creep down his spine.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Vseslav demanded, his fingers pressing into the surface of the table.
Caesar blinked, his grin stretching wider. "Duh. Isn't it obvious?" He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm. "He threatened me. What else was I supposed to do? Let him?" His voice dripped with mock innocence, his expression shifting into one of exaggerated disbelief.
Vseslav exhaled sharply, pressing his temples as though trying to ward off an oncoming headache. "You should've left him alone," he said, his voice tight. "You should've walked away."
Caesar let out a short, amused chuckle. "Walked away?" He leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving Vseslav's. "You should have seen his face, bratan. Even in his pathetic state, bleeding out like a gutted fish, he was still trying to threaten me." Caesar let out a small hum, as if recalling the moment with deep satisfaction. "It was… adorable."
"You find this amusing?" Vseslav snapped, his patience thinning by the second.
"Do you regret it?"
Caesar's expression didn't falter. Instead, he blinked once, tilting his head like a curious animal before suddenly looking up at Vseslav with wide, bright blue eyes—eyes so deceptively innocent they could've belonged to a puppy begging for scraps at the dinner table.
"Regret what?" Vseslav asked, feigning confusion.. "I just regret trusting you."
Vseslav's chest tightened with restrained frustration. His fingers curled into his palms as he forced himself to take a deep breath. "Father and everyone else are very disappointed in you," he said, voice edged with something dangerously close to exasperation. "Just for once, can't you do what you're told? Have you lost your damn mind?"
Caesar rolled his eyes. "Nope." He popped the "p" with a casual flick of his tongue.
Vseslav exhaled through his nose, trying to keep himself from snapping.
"Regret all you want, big brother," Caesar continued, his tone almost singsong, though there was a dark undercurrent beneath it. He sat up straighter, his smirk thinning into something sharper, something more dangerous. "That's on you. And while you're at it, stop drooling over what's mine."
Vseslav stiffened. "What—"
"Seraphim is mine and mine alone." Caesar's voice dropped, the playful edge vanishing, replaced by something heavy, something final. "I solely use it for my own purpose. If I get bored of it, I'll destroy it." He let the words linger in the air, tasting them like a predator savoring its kill. "So tell your useless little underlings to stop bothering me. It's fucking annoying. Such a pain in the ass."
Something in the room shifted. The air grew heavier, suffocating, thick with something unseen but unmistakably oppressive.
Vseslav's breath hitched.
"I've been too lenient with all of you," Caesar murmured, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of his cup. "But some of you just won't quit pushing me to the fucking wall." His lips curled, but there was no amusement in it this time—only quiet, simmering irritation. "My patience has a limit, you know."
The moment the last word left his lips, an overwhelming pressure filled the room. It was subtle at first, like an invisible weight pressing down on Vseslav's chest. But then—it escalated.
The air grew thick with an intoxicating scent, something heady and potent, laced with something far more dangerous.
Pheromones.
Vseslav's pulse quickened, his body reacting instinctively to the sudden change. His muscles tensed, his breath hitching as his body fought against the unwanted pull. His skin felt too hot, his senses going into overdrive. His fingers clenched the armrests of his chair, his jaw tightening.
"Tone your pheromones down," Vseslav growled through gritted teeth, his voice strained. He pressed a hand over his nose, trying to block out the scent before it messed with his system any further. "Do you want to drive the entire damn building into heat just because of your goddamn pheromones?"
Caesar blinked, looking entirely unfazed.
"Oh. Right. Oops." He flashed a sheepish grin before waving a hand dismissively, as if that alone could dispel the suffocating air.