Eun-jae bit his bottom lip so hard it almost broke skin.
His arms hung limp at his sides, fists loosely clenched like he didn't know whether to scream or collapse. His knees felt like jelly, his chest tightening with every breath. The silence between them was loud — filled with a storm of thoughts Eun-jae couldn't untangle.
"…Why," he finally whispered. Just that one word. Fragile. Broken.
"Why?" Caesar echoed with a smirk, tilting his head like he genuinely didn't understand the question. But oh, he did. Of course he did.
He watched Eun-jae like a cat would a wounded bird. Not with pity. With curiosity. How much more can I bend you before you snap?
Eun-jae's eyes glistened — but not a single tear dared fall. He refused to give Caesar that satisfaction. Even as the truth clawed at his insides and left cracks in his carefully built armor, Eun-jae stood tall, trembling but defiant.
"Why are you doing this to me," Eun-jae said again, this time louder, voice quivering at the end. "What the hell do you want from me?"
Caesar shrugged lazily, walking over to the liquor cabinet like they were talking about the weather. He poured himself a drink — something dark and expensive, of course — and took a slow, casual sip.
Then he turned around, glass in hand, leaning on the edge of the cabinet with that same irritating, infuriating calm.
"What do I want?" he mused, swirling the liquid. "Hmm. That's a good question."
"Don't play games with me," Eun-jae snapped, voice cracking from holding everything back. "You kidnapped me. Lied to me. Played with my head. Told me my dead father is alive and some psycho crime boss. Are you trying to break me? Is that it?"
Caesar gave a low chuckle, setting his drink down with a soft clink.
"No, no, sweetheart," he said smoothly, sauntering over. "I'm just trying to wake you up."
He stopped just in front of Eun-jae, towering over him, gaze burning with something unreadable — not quite anger, not quite desire. Something worse. Fascination.
"You've been living in a fairytale," Caesar said, voice dipping low, velvety and cruel. "Raised by your mother like you were the precious little miracle baby of a tragic love story. But newsflash—your dad wasn't some tragic hero. He's not a martyr. He's a monster. Like me."
Eun-jae flinched. His lips parted, but nothing came out at first.
"You're lying," he finally said, though even to himself, it sounded like begging. "He's not like you. He's not."
Caesar grinned, slow and sharp.
"He's worse," he whispered, leaning in until their noses nearly brushed. "He killed more men than I ever will. Burned families alive just to send a message. And then — poof. He disappeared. Left your mother. Left you. You're not some angel, Eun-jae. You're born of monsters."
"I'm nothing like you," Eun-jae spat, even though his legs were shaking. "You don't own me. You think you can break me down and I'll just what — stay? Crawl into your bed like some obedient little pet?"
Caesar laughed, dark and amused. "No, darling," he said. "That's the beauty of it. I don't need you to crawl. You'll walk to me. Eventually. Because where else will you go? Your whole life is a lie, your father's a ghost, and your mother's been keeping secrets bigger than the both of us. I'm the only one being honest with you."
"That's rich," Eun-jae snapped, eyes flaring. "Coming from the man who locked me in a mansion like I'm some porcelain doll in his freaky collection."
Caesar stepped even closer, hand rising — not to touch him, but to gently tug Eun-jae's lip from his teeth with a single finger. "Careful," he murmured. "You'll hurt yourself."
Eun-jae slapped his hand away, eyes brimming again.
"Why do you even care?" he yelled. "Why keep me here, huh? You said I'd be trash when you're done with me. So what now? Bored already?"
Caesar's expression shifted — not softer, not exactly — but... quieter. Almost serious.
"I care," he said slowly, "because you're the son of the man who once made me bleed. And now, I have you. And unlike him… you don't get to disappear."
Eun-jae's mouth opened, but no words came.
His breathing turned shallow, fast. The walls were closing in. The truth was too loud, and Caesar too close.
"I hate you," Eun-jae finally hissed, voice shaking. "I hate your face, your voice, your scent, everything about you."
Caesar's smirk returned in full.
"Good," he whispered. "That's how obsession starts."
And with that, he walked away — again — leaving Eun-jae standing there, furious, terrified, and just a little more cracked than before.
"BOSS!! BOSS!!"
Heavy boots thundered down the marble corridor like gunfire in a cathedral. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating. The grand double doors of the Kuznetsov estate's inner chamber were flung open with a bang as the breathless intel officer stumbled in, his voice cracking with urgency.
Yevgeni Kuznetsov, seated behind his imposing obsidian desk — a king in exile surrounded by shadows — didn't flinch. His hands, calloused from decades of blood and war, were clasped in front of him. His sharp grey eyes flicked up beneath his furrowed brows, his expression unreadable.
"Speak," Yevgeni said, his voice low and laced with power. Calm. Deadly calm.
The man didn't dare take another step closer.
"Your son—" he gasped, trying to steady his breathing, "Your son, sir... he's—he's alive. He's here. In Russia."
Yevgeni's gaze sharpened, as if the words themselves split something inside him.
The intel officer swallowed hard. "He was last spotted at the Karpov-Troisky mansion. But that's not all, sir—"
Yevgeni stood now, slowly, the heavy chair groaning as he rose to his full, commanding height. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Paintings and shadows loomed large across the walls, their presence ghostly as if holding their breath.
"He what?" Yevgeni asked, voice a hair's breadth from a growl.
"He... he blew it up, sir. The Karpov-Troisky mansion—it's gone. Incinerated," the intel officer said, still wide-eyed. "We believe he may have used one of Caesar's own internal explosives. The surveillance feeds caught the blast from a distance."
For a second, Yevgeni just stared, his jaw clenched so tight it looked carved from stone. Then, slowly, he exhaled—one long, tremoring breath—and ran a hand down his face. Not in frustration. In disbelief. In agony.
His son... his son.
The boy he thought he'd lost to fate. To war. To silence. Alive.
"Where is he now?" Yevgeni asked, voice quieter, but somehow far more dangerous.
The intel officer hesitated. "Still in Caesar's custody, sir. That's the problem—we don't know exactly where Caesar has taken him. All signals went dark after the explosion. He's hiding the boy, probably moving him between locations, maybe underground safehouses. But we're scanning known Caesar properties across Moscow and beyond—every inch."
A silence fell, heavy as death.
Yevgeni turned toward the massive window of his office, staring out into the cold Russian winter. Snow drifted lazily outside, but inside him a storm had started. His fists tightened at his sides. His eyes shone with something rare—pain.
"I've already lost one child," he whispered, more to himself than to the room. "I won't lose another. Not now. Not again."
Then he turned, fire igniting in his eyes. He looked younger suddenly—not in years, but in fury. In purpose.
"Prepare the jet." His voice was sharp. Commanding. "We're going to Moscow. Call in the inner circle. Tell them war's knocking again."
"Yes, sir!" the man said, bowing quickly and rushing back out the door.
Yevgeni remained still for a moment, staring into the distance, remembering the boy's face—not the recent images, but older ones. The smile he'd only seen once. The voice he had long forgotten but could still hear in dreams. The child he never got to raise. The life he had tried to protect… by disappearing from it.
"Eun-jae..." he murmured. "Hold on, synok. I'm coming for you."
"If he's hurt... if Caesar so much as laid a finger on him..."
His jaw tightened, voice a rasp.
"I will gut the empire Caesar built and salt its ruins."
Then he was gone — walking down the hallway like a war god reborn, footsteps echoing with vengeance, sorrow, and a father's terrifying wrath.
The silver fork in Eun-jae's hand hovered mid-air, his plate barely touched. Steam curled from the untouched pasta in front of him, the tomato sauce slowly going cold, but his appetite had long been ruined — and not by the food.
He sat there, hunched slightly over the long polished dining table, shoulders tense, eyes hollow. He hadn't spoken much in days, and when he did, it was clipped, sarcastic, or laced with venom. His usual fire had dimmed into something simmering — brooding — dangerous. The revelation about his father had broken something in him. Not his spirit — oh no, that was still intact — but it had cracked open a part of him he hadn't even realized was sealed shut. Memories. Feelings. Questions.
Across from him, Caesar sat like a king — slouched arrogantly in his velvet-cushioned chair, one leg lazily draped over the other, cutting into his steak like he had all the time in the world. The candlelight flickered off the gleam in his eyes, his gaze fixed squarely on Eun-jae.
He was enjoying this.
"Damn," Caesar finally said, stabbing a piece of meat with unnecessary force before popping it into his mouth. "You really haven't said a single word since breakfast. It's kind of eerie, actually. I miss your sass."
Eun-jae didn't even look up.
Fork down. Elbows on the table. Chin in his palm.
Dead silence.
Caesar smirked, wiping his mouth with a napkin before leaning forward, elbows propped on the edge of the table like a gossiping friend ready to drop some tea.
Then he let out a slow, amused chuckle — low and smug.
"This is so interesting," he murmured, voice dripping with mock excitement. "Your dear daddy is coming after me… awwwnn." He dragged the sound out playfully, grinning like a devil. "So touching. So dramatic. Father and long-lost son reunion — mafia edition."
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "All these years he disappeared, huh? Just to pop up now? How cinematic."
Eun-jae's lips twitched slightly. Still silent. Still not reacting — at least not externally.
Caesar groaned softly, closing his eyes in mock ecstasy. "Mhhhmmm. This is gonna be fun. Let's see if Daddy Dearest can find me," he said, licking a bit of sauce off his thumb. "After all... I am very good at hide and seek."
He leaned in further, voice dropping an octave — low, dangerous, purring.
"Do you think he'll cry when he sees you?" Caesar asked. "Do you think he'll fall to his knees? Maybe scream my name and swear revenge while the snow falls dramatically in the background?"
Eun-jae finally looked up, slowly, his stare flat but intense.
"I think," Eun-jae said, voice calm — deceptively calm — "that you talk too much for someone who's this pressed."
Caesar blinked. Then laughed.
"There he is," Caesar said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "There's my sharp-tongued little hostage."
"I'm not your anything," Eun-jae spat. "Especially not your entertainment. Go monologue to a wall."
"But you are entertaining," Caesar said, grinning wider. "Every time I poke you, you burn a little brighter."
Eun-jae stood up abruptly, chair screeching against the floor. "You act like this is all a game."
"It is a game," Caesar said, swirling his wine. "And I always win."
"Enjoy it while it lasts," Eun-jae snapped, pushing the chair back under the table. "Because when my father finds this place — and he will — I'll be the one standing over your bleeding corpse, sipping tea with my pinky out."
Caesar didn't even flinch. "Bold words for someone who still doesn't know how to use a gun properly."
Eun-jae leaned down over the table, face close to Caesar's, voice like a whisper wrapped in thorns.
"Keep underestimating me, Caesar. It'll make your downfall all the more delicious."
Caesar's grin faltered for half a second — not from fear, but intrigue. He liked that fire.
"Touché," he said softly, licking his bottom lip. "Now that's the Eun-jae I like."
"Go choke on your steak," Eun-jae shot back, already walking away.
Behind him, Caesar chuckled to himself and muttered, "Careful, darling… the next time you sass me like that, I might just kiss you to shut you up."
Eun-jae flipped him off without even turning around.
The silence in Vseslav's grand drawing room was tense enough to crush lungs.
The air was heavy with winter frost sneaking in through the cracks, but the atmosphere burned hotter than hellfire. Yevgeni Kuznetsov sat in a regal, high-backed leather chair like a lion who had caged himself for the sake of manners — legs crossed, gloved fingers tapping the carved wood armrest in rhythm with the seconds ticking by.
Outside, his men had surrounded the estate. Snipers posted. Engines rumbling. No one gets out. No one hides.
He'd waited long enough.
His eyes narrowed on Vseslav, who stood at a distance like a cornered animal, silent. Nervous. Fidgeting. He knew what was about to happen.
"Where is Caesar?" Yevgeni asked, calm but ice-cold. "You know damn well my men are everywhere. Your house is a prison now. Talk."
Before Vseslav could open his mouth, the heavy wooden doors creaked open with a slow, theatrical groan. The sound of deliberate, expensive footsteps echoed through the marble corridor.
Click. Click. Click.
Ostrich leather. Tailored to perfection. And then—
Him.
Caesar Karpov-Troisky entered like a storm cloaked in velvet. A long black fur coat draped over his shoulders, glossy gloves still on his hands like he hadn't even bothered to undress for this little showdown. His hair slicked back, lips curled into a grin that screamed danger. His presence swallowed the room whole.
"Did someone mention my name?" Caesar drawled, voice smooth like poisoned wine, his gaze finally landing on the man in the chair.
There he was.
Yevgeni Kuznetsov.
Alive. Real. Burning with fury.
Caesar's grin widened as he approached slowly, like a wolf sizing up an old, injured lion.
"Well, well, well… Daddy's here," Caesar said softly, mock affection dripping from every syllable.
"Where. Is. Eun-jae," Yevgeni snapped, his voice firm, deadly. No hesitation. No time for games.
But Caesar? Oh, Caesar loved games.
He pulled off one glove with a sharp tug, reaching into his coat. His phone. He tapped the screen lazily and turned it toward Yevgeni.
A picture feed showed a cozy bedroom somewhere underground — warm lighting, a fire flickering in the background, and curled up on the massive bed like something out of a dream was Eun-jae. Asleep. Peaceful.
Untouched — for now.
Yevgeni's breath caught.
Caesar's eyes didn't leave him for a second.
"Your son," Caesar murmured, walking in a slow circle around Yevgeni like a shark, "is absolutely gorgeous. Soft skin, pouty mouth, all attitude and bite — you really make fine offspring, I'll give you that."
Yevgeni clenched his fists, jaw ticking.
Caesar leaned in, lowering his voice, every word designed to shatter a father's soul.
"I even marked him, you know," he whispered, eyes dark with amusement. "Made him my omega. Claimed him. Branded him so deep he moans my name like a goddamn prayer when I fuck him hard enough he forgets he ever hated me. Maybe I should video us fucking real hard then send it to you ... what do you think??"
He stepped closer, circling Yevgeni's chair now.
"I used to think he was just another spoiled princeling. Angry at the world. But there's more to him. He's stubborn. Brave. And lonely. You'd be amazed what a person will give you when they're lonely enough."
Caesar leaned in, lips almost brushing Yevgeni's ear.
Yevgeni shot up with a growl, hand raised, fury snapping.
Caesar caught his wrist in midair — fast, unbothered.
"Whoa, whoa," Caesar said with a smirk, tilting his head. "Careful there, old man. Your blood pressure might spike. You wouldn't want to drop dead before the grand finale, would you?"
"Tut tut," he said with a mock pout. "What would your men think, seeing their boss lose composure like this? Relax. I'm just getting started."
Yevgeni yanked his hand back with a hiss. His chest rose and fell rapidly. His restraint was razor-thin.
But Caesar wasn't done.
"Oh, and before you try your hero act, let me be crystal clear," Caesar said, his voice sharpening now, that grin slipping into something darker. "If you so much as breathe wrong in my direction again… Eun-jae dies."