"That reminds me…" Eun-jae said, voice slicing through the low hum of the fire crackling in the corner. His tone was sharp, laced with suspicion, eyes locked onto Caesar like a predator who finally caught the scent of blood. "You said something about my superiors being shady. What exactly did you mean by that?"
He crossed his arms and leaned slightly against the edge of the fireplace, head tilted just enough to look Caesar dead in the eyes—an expression that screamed, Don't play with me.
Caesar was lounging comfortably on the plush, oversized couch like he had all the time in the world. His black dress shirt was half unbuttoned, sleeves casually rolled up to the elbows, showing off the fine watch on his wrist and the veins tracing up his arms. He looked like the villain in a luxury perfume ad. Of course, he was the villain—but expensive.
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he reached lazily for the box of chocolates resting on the coffee table, selected one with obnoxious slowness, and popped it into his mouth with a content hum, like this was just small talk over brunch.
Eun-jae's brow twitched.
"Well?" he pressed, voice rising just slightly. "Was that just you trying to freak me out, or do you actually know something?"
Caesar's lips curled around a smirk, and he chewed the chocolate slowly—too slowly—before swallowing and licking the taste off his thumb with a dramatic little flick of his tongue.
"Oh, sweetheart," he said at last, leaning back into the couch and spreading his arms across the top like a king on his throne. "I was wondering when you'd bring that up. Honestly, I thought you'd be too busy pouting about being my hostage to remember."
Eun-jae rolled his eyes so hard they nearly fell out of his head.
"I wasn't pouting, you narcissistic drama queen. I was prioritizing. Now spill. What did you mean when you said the people I work for are shady? Because if you're lying, I swear—"
"—You'll what?" Caesar interrupted, voice like silk and venom. "Glare me into submission?"
Eun-jae narrowed his eyes. "I'll stab you with one of those overpriced cheese knives in the kitchen."
Caesar laughed, full and unbothered. "Ah, there's that fire again. Love it."
"Stop stalling."
Caesar leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, and the mood shifted—his expression sobered, and his eyes lost the playful gleam for just a second.
"I'm not stalling," he said. "I'm just deciding how much truth your little heart can handle right now."
"I'm not fragile," Eun-jae shot back, stepping closer. "And I don't need you to spoon-feed me the truth. Just give it to me straight."
"You sure?" Caesar tilted his head, a slow, calculated smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Because once you hear it, you won't be able to un-hear it. And if I'm right, and you do still care about some of those people back in the agency… well, it might break your little heart."
Eun-jae flinched. Just slightly. But Caesar saw it.
"Try me," he said through gritted teeth.
"Alright." Caesar laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them, looking up at Eun-jae like a professor indulging a particularly stubborn student. "Your team—your unit, specifically—they weren't just incompetent. They were ordered to leave you behind."
Eun-jae's heart slammed against his ribs. "What?"
"You think I intercepted you in that alley by coincidence? No, no. They knew where you were headed. They let you walk into it. And when I took you? Nobody came. Nobody tried."
Eun-jae's throat tightened, fists curling by his sides. "You're lying."
Caesar raised an eyebrow, calmly. "I don't lie, darling. I distort. I manipulate. But not about this. There's nothing to gain from making this up. You want to know why?"
"Why."
"Because deep down… you already suspected it."
Eun-jae's lips parted, but no words came out. The silence was deafening.
"You're too smart not to have noticed it. The odd mission delays. The vague debriefings. The fact that you were always the one sent into the risky shit while everyone else stayed back. You felt it. But you were too loyal to question it."
Eun-jae's knees wobbled, and he had to grip the back of a nearby chair to stay upright. His mind was spiraling—connecting dots he didn't even want to admit were real.
"You're saying they used me."
"I'm saying," Caesar said slowly, "they were never planning to bring you home."
Silence settled between them like ash.
"Why are you telling me this?" Eun-jae asked finally, voice hollow. "To manipulate me into trusting you?"
Caesar stood up slowly, walking toward him until they were nose to nose. "No, sweetheart. I'm telling you because I want you to see the world the way I see it. Clear. No illusions. No fake loyalties. Just survival. Power. And the truth."
Eun-jae glared up at him. "You don't care about truth. You just want me broken enough to stay."
Caesar smiled.
"I don't need you broken," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind Eun-jae's ear. "I just need you awake."
Eun-jae stood still for a long moment, trying to swallow the thick lump rising in his throat. His arms remained crossed, but the defensive posture looked… shakier now. His fingers were trembling slightly against the fabric of his sleeves. It wasn't from fear—it was from something deeper. Confusion. Betrayal. That gnawing sensation in his chest like the floor he was standing on wasn't real anymore.
"…Why would they do that?" he finally asked, voice lower now. Not soft—Eun-jae didn't do soft—but subdued, like it physically hurt to say the words out loud.
He wasn't looking at Caesar anymore. He stared past him, eyes unfocused, like he was mentally flipping through every memory he had of his unit. The missions. The briefings. The too-casual goodbyes. Every moment that once felt normal now sat under a new, darker lens.
"I gave them everything," Eun-jae muttered. "Late nights. Dirty work. I cleaned up everyone's mess. I risked my life. I took bullets for people I thought had my back."
His laugh was dry and bitter as he dropped his arms, pacing toward the window.
"I even covered for that idiot Han-bin when he botched that assignment in Bucharest. I almost got killed trying to pull him out. And what—now you're saying they were just waiting for a good time to leave me out in the cold?"
Caesar stayed where he was, arms now lazily folded behind his back. His eyes trailed Eun-jae's movements like a cat watching an injured bird—curious, amused, but also calculating.
"I'm not saying they were waiting," Caesar replied coolly, "I'm saying they saw an opportunity. An inconvenient asset who was becoming... too sharp. Too independent. And they made a decision."
Eun-jae turned on him, eyes flashing. "Oh, spare me the cryptic villain monologue. If you know so much, then show me proof. Don't just sit there spouting riddles like some twisted fortune cookie."
Caesar chuckled under his breath. "You're angry. That's good. Anger means you're getting closer to the truth."
"Don't psychoanalyze me," Eun-jae snapped. "You don't know me."
"Don't I?" Caesar murmured, stepping forward with slow, deliberate steps. "I've studied you. I've watched you operate under pressure, watched you bluff your way out of danger with nothing but a wink and a loaded gun. You're brilliant, Eun-jae. But you're also heartbreakingly naïve when it comes to the people you trust."
Eun-jae stiffened at that, visibly recoiling like the words had burned him.
"And that's why you're so hurt right now," Caesar continued, voice smooth like silk slipping around a blade. "Because you trusted them. You believed in your unit. You thought loyalty went both ways."
"Shut up," Eun-jae hissed.
"You looked up to them like a good little soldier," Caesar said, stepping closer. "Hoping someone would look back and say, 'We're proud of you, Eun-jae.' Hoping someone would choose you."
"I said shut up!" Eun-jae shouted, voice cracking with more emotion than he intended.
But Caesar didn't flinch. If anything, his expression softened, and that was somehow worse. His voice dropped to a near whisper as he stood just a breath away from him.
"They didn't choose you. But I did."
Eun-jae stared at him, breathing heavily. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white, nails digging into his palms. He wanted to scream. To slap Caesar across that smug, maddening face. To do something.
Instead, his voice came out low and shaky: "You didn't choose me. You stole me."
Caesar smiled slowly, eyes glinting with that familiar, dangerous amusement.
"Potato, po-tah-to."
Eun-jae rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in his skull. "God, you're insufferable."
"Mm. But you're still talking to me," Caesar said, smug. "Still standing here. Still listening."
"Only because I'm plotting your murder in vivid detail," Eun-jae growled.
"Promise to include me in the dedication," Caesar murmured, leaning down like he was about to kiss his forehead just to piss him off.
Eun-jae shoved him away with a scowl. "Ugh—stop trying to be cute. You're literally evil."
"And yet," Caesar purred, "you still haven't run. Why is that, I wonder?"
Eun-jae opened his mouth to reply—but nothing came out. Because the truth was... he didn't know. Not really.
Was it the questions piling up in his head? The need for answers? The weird, twisted magnetism Caesar exuded? The part of him that wanted revenge, yes, but also needed to understand why everyone had betrayed him?
His silence said enough.
Caesar gave him one last, smug glance before settling back onto the couch and popping another chocolate into his mouth.
The fireplace had died down to glowing embers, casting flickering gold shadows along the walls. The silence between them was heavy, too heavy, broken only by the soft tick-tick of Caesar's absurdly expensive clock and the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs of the island. Eun-jae sat on the armrest of the couch, one leg crossed over the other, fingers nervously tapping on his thigh as he stared at the floor in thought.
Then, slowly, he looked up—his voice softer this time, more pensive.
"…And did I really destroy Seraphim? The weapon?"
The name tasted heavy in the air. Seraphim. The so-called divine algorithm. The weapon that Caesar had allegedly spent years designing—something powerful enough to reduce governments to begging, to rewrite battlefields, to shift the balance of global control like a game of chess.
Caesar, seated across the room in his usual throne-like spot, tilted his head slightly to the side. His lips parted into the faintest smile, not one of joy, but of indulgence. Mocking.
"What do you think?" he asked, voice low, like a purr under velvet.
Eun-jae scoffed, arms folding. "I don't know. I just… I think I didn't destroy it. Not completely. I mean, you're too smart, Caesar. There's no way in hell someone like you would put all your eggs in one basket and let it go boom just like that."
His eyes narrowed. "You're many things. Arrogant. Manipulative. Obsessed. But stupid? Not even close."
Caesar chuckled under his breath. He stood up in one graceful motion, like a shadow peeling off the wall. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, echoing off the polished wood floor as he walked over to where Eun-jae sat. He crouched, lowering himself so their faces were level—just inches apart. His breath was warm against Eun-jae's cheek as he stared into him like he was trying to read secrets from his bones.
"Eun-jae," he said, voice too soft, too calm, "you blasted all the calculations."
Eun-jae blinked, startled by how close they were.
"All of them. Gone. Decimated," Caesar continued, his tone tightening with restrained annoyance. "Do you know how precise those were? How delicate? Years of simulations. Neural mapping. Layered encryptions that even AI couldn't break. And you just—" He snapped his fingers in front of Eun-jae's nose. "—wiped it clean. Like a child throwing paint over a masterpiece."
Eun-jae leaned back slightly, lifting his chin defiantly. "Oh please. Like you haven't backed up your evil genius files somewhere in a diamond-plated, password-encrypted satellite orbiting the moon."
Caesar's smile dropped, just a fraction.
"I watched the backups get corrupted in real-time, Eun-jae. You didn't just sabotage the prototype—you fried the core framework. What you destroyed wasn't just a weapon. It was the only map I had to rebuild it."
Then he stood up, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration, jaw clenched like he was reliving the loss all over again.
"But…" Eun-jae said slowly, standing up too now, challenging him with a little arch of the brow. "You're smart, right? You're Caesar, the boy genius, the emperor of digital warfare, the man who probably hacks governments for fun. You can just… do your math magic and whip up a new one, can't you?"
Caesar turned toward him, his eyes darker now, less amused.
"It's not that easy," he said, voice cold.
Eun-jae raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Did I actually stump the great Caesar? What a plot twist."
Caesar stepped closer, and Eun-jae didn't back down.
"Don't get cocky," Caesar said, voice now low and sharp. "Seraphim wasn't just code. It was intuitive architecture—meant to think, to adapt. You think you destroyed a blueprint. But you destroyed something alive. You think I can replicate that overnight?"
Eun-jae clicked his tongue and smirked. "So basically, what you're saying is… I broke your favorite toy and now you're big mad about it."
Caesar's nostrils flared. "You did more than break it. You set fire to everything built."
"And you kidnapped me for it?" Eun-jae barked a laugh. "You really are insane."
Caesar's eyes glinted dangerously. "No. I kidnapped you because I needed to know why you did it. And now… now I'm starting to wonder if it was just rage… or if you knew what you were doing."
Eun-jae's gaze hardened. "I knew what I was doing."
A beat.
Caesar stepped back, looking at him with something unreadable—respect? Fury? Obsession?
"Good," he whispered, voice coiled like a snake about to strike. "Because now I know you're not just a pretty face. You're dangerous."
"Damn right I am," Eun-jae muttered, turning his back on him as he walked toward the window again, heart pounding behind his smug exterior.
And from behind him, Caesar's voice floated through the air like a promise.
"Next time you try to destroy me, love… just make sure you finish the job."
The distant whup-whup-whup of rotor blades sliced through the chilly air, growing louder by the second. Eun-jae, sitting cross-legged on the plush rug in front of the now-crackling fireplace, tilted his head toward the sound. His brows furrowed. The windows vibrated slightly as the helicopter lowered just above the private helipad outside, kicking up clouds of snow and pine needles into a whirlwind.
He got up slowly, walking to the wide glass doors leading to the balcony. His fingers grazed the cold handle. That was when he heard it—Caesar's voice, crisp and casual, laced with that usual air of command.
"Bring it in," he said with a dismissive flick of his hand.
The helicopter hadn't even fully landed before two men in tactical black emerged—one carrying a massive pine tree, the kind that looked like it'd been stolen straight from some royal European estate, and the other holding a box of high-end decorations like they were sacred artifacts. Behind them, a third man followed with a velvet-lined box, probably filled with ornaments that cost more than the GDP of a small country.
The men hustled into the living room under Caesar's watchful eye. No one said a word. No one dared to. The tree was placed near the bay windows, standing proud and tall like a guest of honor at a banquet. The boxes of decorations were lined up beside it in perfect order.
Caesar gave them a brief nod. "Thank you."
Without another word, the three men turned and vanished the same way they came, just as the helicopter lifted off again, sending another gust of snow tumbling down the hill like confetti.
Eun-jae stared, stunned for a full second.
And then—
"PFFT—AHAHAHA! KEKEKEKEEEEEE—OH MY GOD—" He doubled over, holding his stomach, laugh erupting from his chest like it had been locked up for weeks. His knees nearly buckled as he pointed dramatically at the giant tree. "YOU?!You celebrate Christmas?"
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still snickering. "What's next? Santa in a black ops suit sliding down the chimney with a Glock instead of gifts?"
Caesar arched a brow, calm as ever, but there was a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth—amusement? Annoyance? Both? He moved to remove his leather gloves with slow precision, each tug elegant and dramatic like he was undressing in a royal opera.
"I see someone's feeling bold today," he said, walking toward the tree with his usual predator's grace. "I bring a little holiday cheer and suddenly I'm the Grinch with a gun?"
Eun-jae spun dramatically, arms flailing. "No, no—this is rich. Mister I-Hack-Nations, Mister I-Don't-Believe-In-Emotions just flew in a whole-ass Christmas tree like he's hosting a Hallmark movie in the Alps!"
Caesar shot him a look. "You're mocking me."
"I'm dying, Caesar. Dying. Do you even know how to hang ornaments without scanning them for bugs first?"
Caesar smirked and loosened the top buttons of his coat. "Well, that depends. Do you know how to decorate a tree without turning it into a passive-aggressive statement about childhood trauma?"