Caesar smiled, a slow, dangerous smile, eyes glinting like cold steel. "And yet, you sat across from me and made me ramen."
Eun-jae bit his bottom lip hard, breathing through his nose like he was holding back a scream.
"I was hungry, not stupid," he growled, voice low and sharp. "Don't twist this into something else. You're good at mind games, Caesar, but I'm not some naive flower you can pluck."
Caesar chuckled softly, stepping forward just once. "No, you're not. You're a thorned rose growing in a land of ice. And I can't tell if I want to admire you... or bleed from holding you too tightly."
Eun-jae's eyes darkened, his voice flat with rage. "Get a therapist."
Caesar's smirk deepened. "Already got one. He ran away after two sessions."
"Wow. Shocking."
They stood there, silence stretching again, but not empty. Not awkward. Just charged. Like a bomb waiting for someone to light the fuse.
Eun-jae scoffed, finally turning on his heel. "I'm going to finish my wine before I throw this bottle at your face."
"Red or white?" Caesar called after him casually.
"Broken," Eun-jae snapped.
Caesar chuckled, licking his lips slightly. "You really are my favorite problem."
The balcony was blanketed in silence, broken only by the faint whistle of wind weaving through the snow-covered pines surrounding the mansion. The trees stood like frozen sentinels, tall and unmoving, as Eun-jae leaned forward against the cold iron railing, eyes fixed on the pale horizon like it held all the answers he'd never gotten.
His breath fogged up in the winter air, soft puffs of it rising and vanishing like ghosts. The tension in his shoulders never left, even as he tried to roll them loose. He let out a shaky sigh, not quite dramatic—but just enough to betray the chaos whirling inside him.
"How the hell did my life get to this point?" he thought bitterly, narrowing his eyes at the sea of white around him.
"It's been months…" he murmured, "since I left Korea. Since the mission started. My mom—" his throat tightened, "—she probably thinks I'm dead. Maybe there's even a gravestone with my name on it."
"And now Caesar's dropping bombs on me like it's some reality show plot twist... My dad's alive? A mafia boss? Are you kidding me?!"
He squeezed the rail tighter, knuckles turning pale. "I became an agent to destroy guys like him—follow his legacy, they said. But turns out the legacy was bloody lies and fucking bullets. What even is the truth now? Did my mom lie to me? Or was she the one who got played like a fool?"
His thoughts were spiraling so loud they could've echoed off the trees—until a voice sliced in, low and smooth like smoke curling around his throat.
"Damn... I could hear your thoughts from here," Caesar said lazily, appearing like a shadow at the edge of the balcony, a thick cigar nestled between his fingers like a casual sin.
Eun-jae didn't even flinch. He rolled his eyes so hard it was practically audible. "Get out of my head, mind reader," he muttered.
Caesar walked over with that usual calm arrogance, draped in a dark coat, exhaling a cloud of smoke like he was born to do it. He leaned on the railing beside Eun-jae with an annoying amount of grace, eyes focused out into the white void, like this was just a normal winter evening and not a high-tension hostage situation wrapped in a mafia soap opera.
"Haaaaaaa... stress," Eun-jae muttered dramatically, dragging the word out like it owed him rent.
Caesar raised an eyebrow. "Stress? You? How are you even stressed when you spend all day lounging around like a cat in a fur coat?"
Eun-jae didn't respond. He just turned his head slowly with the coldest bitch face Caesar had ever seen. And before Caesar could even blink, Eun-jae reached out, snatched the cigar right from his mouth, and popped it into his own like he'd been doing it his whole life.
Caesar blinked, amused. "Excuse me—"
"Shhh," Eun-jae cut him off, back now leaning against the railing, head tilted back slightly as he took a long, slow drag. The ember glowed bright at the tip, and when he exhaled, the smoke curled out of his nose like a damn dragon.
"Mmm. Needed this," he said with a satisfied groan, eyes fluttering shut for a second. "Keep your therapy and violence, Caesar. Sometimes all a bitch needs is nicotine and snow."
Caesar chuckled, his smirk lazy and amused. "You do know this counts as an indirect kiss, right?"
Eun-jae cracked an eye open, unimpressed. "Oh, please. If you're looking for a romantic moment, go write a fanfic. This is me coping with the fact that I'm stuck on an island with a man whose idea of affection is psychological warfare."
He tilted his head to the side and stared at Caesar, who was lounging like the cold didn't bite, like this wasn't a freezing goddamn balcony and they weren't casually having a mafia trauma dump session. His coat collar was up, hair tousled from the wind, that dumb smirk still playing on his lips like he knew something no one else did.
"Hey," Eun-jae muttered through a cloud of smoke, brows lifting slightly. "Quick question."
Caesar didn't even glance over, just cocked his head a bit, waiting.
"What did my father really do to you?" Eun-jae asked, voice casual—but it had that razor edge beneath it, like a scalpel wrapped in velvet. "Or more like... what did you do to him that you two act like mortal enemies in a K-drama?"
He took another drag, eyes half-lidded. "Because let's be honest, it's definitely your fault, Caesar."
Now that got Caesar's attention.
Eun-jae turned, leaned one arm against the railing, and looked directly at Eun-jae with that shit-eating grin of his—the kind that said you're not ready for this story but I'm gonna tell it anyway because I like watching you squirm.
"You're so confident for someone who knows jack shit," Caesar said with a little huff of a laugh. "And for the record? We hated each other the moment we met. Love at first sight, just flipped upside down and soaked in gasoline."
Eun-jae arched a brow, unimpressed. "Wow. Poetry. You gonna submit that to a mafia heartbreak contest?"
Caesar ignored the sass and continued, "Your dad's a control freak. Old-school. Stuck in his ways. Men like him? They want everything neat. Predictable. Under their thumb. But then I showed up... all young, reckless, smarter than his entire council, and I didn't want to follow his empire."
He leaned in slightly, voice lowering like he was confessing some dark secret—but there was amusement dancing in his eyes.
"I wanted to steal it."
Eun-jae blinked, lips parting a little. "You're so unserious."
Caesar tilted his head. "Dead serious. I wanted to rip it apart and build something better. Something that wasn't stuck in the Cold War. Your father thought I was dangerous. I thought he was outdated."
"And so what, you beefed like rappers on Twitter?" Eun-jae said dryly, puffing smoke toward Caesar's smug face. "That's it?"
"No," Caesar said, his voice turning just a shade darker. "He tried to kill me. Twice."
Eun-jae frowned. "Wait, like... real kill or 'mafia warning shot' kill?"
"Real," Caesar said smoothly. "First time he put a hit on me. I was sixteen. Second time, he tried to blow up the safehouse I was sleeping in."
"Damn," Eun-jae muttered, eyes narrowing. "You've been petty since puberty, huh?"
Caesar chuckled. "I'm just efficient. Besides... he also saw me as a threat because I was close to someone he needed. Someone... precious."
Eun-jae paused mid-inhale. "Who?"
Caesar didn't answer right away. He simply smiled, leaned close, and plucked the cigar from Eun-jae's hand—casually taking a drag like it was his all along.
"I'll tell you when I feel like it," he said, exhaling slowly.
Eun-jae rolled his eyes, grabbing it right back and puffing again like it was a tug-of-war for dominance wrapped in nicotine.
"God, you're such a manchild," he muttered.
"And yet," Caesar purred, leaning dangerously close, his voice dipping like warm honey laced with poison, "you're standing here at my balcony, sharing my cigar, wearing my hoodie, breathing my air."
Eun-jae stepped back with a scoff. "Please. I'd rather chain-smoke in traffic than flirt with you."
Caesar just grinned wider. "Too late. We're already two metaphorical kisses in."
Eun-jae turned back toward the snow with a shake of his head. "You're deranged."
"So wait…" he said, eyes flicking to Caesar with the laziest kind of suspicion, "How old are you, actually?"
Caesar, who had been mid-drag, paused.
Eun-jae narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. "No seriously. Because either you're twenty-four like you say, or you're secretly thirty-six and drinking baby blood to keep your skin tight."
Caesar let out a soft chuckle, the smoke curling from his lips like a smug little exhale of mystery. "Twenty-four. Why?"
Eun-jae gave him a look. "Because you move like someone with two failed marriages, a secret child in Monaco, and unresolved mommy issues."
Caesar grinned, that usual cat-who-ate-the-canary smirk settling on his lips like it belonged there. "You think I'm mature."
"I think you're shady," Eun-jae said flatly. "There's a difference."
"I'll take it," Caesar replied smoothly, stepping a little closer, the heel of his shoe crunching against some ice. "Most people can't even guess my age. Some think I'm thirty. Others think I'm immortal."
Eun-jae squinted. "Immortal? That's rich. What, you drink youth serum with your espresso?"
Caesar's smile didn't waver. "Maybe."
Eun-jae scoffed. "Okay, Edward Cullen. Be serious for once. Twenty-four? Really? That makes me what… older than you by a in 5 years?"
"Five years," Eun-jae said, squinting at Caesar like he was trying to find a flaw in his soul. "Oh. My bad. Grandpa."
Caesar broke into a grin, that signature smug little smirk that made Eun-jae want to kick him down the stairs and kiss him at the same time. "Grandpa? Says the one who creaks every time he gets off the couch. Be serious."
Eun-jae groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face like this entire conversation physically exhausted him. "You better shut the hell up before I break your kneecaps and use them as soup bones. Keep talking and I'll season you with garlic and toss you in the ramen, no hesitation."
"Oooh scary," Caesar drawled, clearly unbothered, tilting his head. "I'll bet you're one of those angry grandpas that yells at clouds."
"No wonder you're so annoying," Eun-jae huffed, crossing his arms. "Baby-faced, rich, psychotic Gemini with too much time and too many daddy issues. God really went 'let's make a disaster' and forgot to install the brakes."
Caesar snorted. "And yet here you are, stuck with me."
"Yeah, like gum under a table," Eun-jae muttered.
"Oh my, my," Caesar said, leaning a little closer with that eerie amusement dancing in his eyes. "Lemme guess... August 25th is your birthday?"
Eun-jae's entire body stiffened. He turned to Caesar slowly, eyeing him from head to toe like he had just witnessed a haunting. "AJE!!" he blurted out, loud and sharp.
Caesar blinked, confused. "What the hell does that even mean?"
"Witch," Eun-jae said with narrowed eyes, slowly backing away like Caesar might cast a spell at any moment. "You freaky, nosy-ass, birth-chart-stalking witch."
Caesar burst out laughing, and it wasn't the usual smug chuckle—this was full-on belly laughter, dimples flashing, eyes squinting as he held onto the railing like he might actually lose balance. "Aje?! I can't—what?!"
"I knew you were tapped," Eun-jae muttered, shaking his head like he was seriously reconsidering all his life choices. "You know my birthday, my favorite ramen flavor, how many piercings I got, and probably the name of my elementary school teacher."
Caesar tried to catch his breath. "That's not true." He paused. "Her name was Ms. Choi though, right?"
"WHAT THE F—!" Eun-jae wheezed. "I'm calling a priest."
Caesar grinned again, recovering. "Well, since we're confessing birthdays... I'm June 20th."
Eun-jae paused, his jaw slack for a second before he narrowed his eyes again, eyes glinting with full-blown judgment. "No wonder," he said with the same energy people used when spotting red flags. "No wonder you're a two-faced bastard."
"Oh come on," Caesar said, still laughing, hand over his chest. "What does that mean?"
"Gemini," Eun-jae said like it was a curse. "Chaos sign. Double personality. Manipulative as hell. Y'all wake up and choose destruction like it's coffee."
Caesar leaned in, his voice low and dripping with faux sincerity. "You forgot charming, devastatingly handsome, and highly intelligent."
Eun-jae stared at him, completely deadpan. "I said Gemini, not delusional."
Caesar's laughter echoed across the balcony again, smoky and rich. "You know, I've interrogated war criminals who weren't as savage as you."
Eun-jae puffed out another breath, eyes rolling. "Yeah? And I've babysat toddlers who were more emotionally stable than you."
Caesar just looked at him, smirk never fading. "That's why we work so well together."
"Yeah," Eun-jae said flatly, "like fire and a gas leak."
Caesar watched him for a long moment, eyes lingering like he was reading every thought racing behind Eun-jae's mask. "You still didn't answer my question," he said softly.
"What question?"
"Would it matter to you... if I hurt your father?"
The wind slowed. The snow seemed to pause. Eun-jae didn't respond for a moment.
He turned slowly, smoke slipping from his lips.
"Would it matter to you," he said, eyes sharp, "if I said yes?"
Caesar's smirk faltered—just for a split second. Just long enough for Eun-jae to see it.
Then, as always, it was back.
"That depends," Caesar whispered. "Do I matter to you?"
Eun-jae turned his back again with a cold laugh. "Damn, that was corny. I'm going inside."
But he didn't hand back the cigar
Eun-jae groaned as he padded down the dimly lit hallway, the wooden floors cool against his bare feet. His hair—wild, messy, and refusing to cooperate—was giving him hell, so he grabbed a scrunchie from his wrist and started tying it up into a loose bun. Strands still fell across his forehead, but he didn't care. The whole house felt a little too quiet, too still, like the calm before the storm.
He didn't have to turn around to know Caesar was trailing behind him like a ghost with too much ego and too little shame. His presence always lingered—like cologne, like smoke, like trouble.
"You wanna drink with me?" Caesar's voice broke the silence, deep and casual like he wasn't suggesting a potential setup.
Eun-jae stopped halfway down the stairs and turned, one eyebrow arched so high it might've flown off his face. "You trying to poison me now?"
Caesar tilted his head with that crooked grin, the one that could either charm your pants off or send you into a blind rage. "Come on. If I wanted you dead, sweetheart, you'd be six feet under a long time ago. Probably in a very pretty, very expensive coffin."
Eun-jae scoffed and rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Yeah, right... Dramatic bitch."
He turned away and sauntered into the grand hall like he owned it—hips swaying just enough to be a statement. Caesar watched with that same unnerving calm, eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something darker. Then he casually made his way to the kitchen, like this was all just part of a normal, boring evening.
A few moments later, Caesar returned with a bottle of Bombay Sapphire, two crystal glasses clinking softly in his hand, ice cubes already swirling inside. He set them down on the small marble side table next to the plush velvet couch. The blue of the bottle shimmered under the chandelier light, almost glowing.
Eun-jae eyed it suspiciously before picking up the glass. "This better not be laced."
"Don't flatter yourself," Caesar said smoothly as he poured. "I save poison for people who talk too much."
"Damn. You'd be your first victim then," Eun-jae muttered, taking a cautious sip.
The moment the liquid hit his tongue, his eyes widened. "Oooouuuhhhh," he gasped, lips puckering slightly, "that is one strong-ass whisky. Mhhmm." He let the burn settle on his tongue before swallowing, the warmth sliding down his throat like liquid fire.