The night was cloaked in eerie silence as Eun-jae crouched low in the shadows near the manhole, the cold air brushing over his damp skin. His heart thudded in his ears, a steady drumbeat of focus and adrenaline. In his hand, he held a small cylindrical device—sleek, silver, deadly. With a flick of his thumb, he activated it and rolled it across the ground toward a lone guard stationed near the back entrance of the mansion.
A second later, FWSSHHT—a blinding white burst erupted from the device, like a miniature sun detonating in the dark. The guard screamed, stumbling back, clutching at his eyes as he dropped his weapon, completely disoriented.
That was Eun-jae's window.
Without hesitation, he leapt out of the manhole, landing in a low crouch before sprinting toward the mansion's rear door. His movements were like liquid—silent, precise, trained. He pressed a gloved hand to the door, easing it open with the skill of someone who'd done this too many times to count.
The moment the door creaked open, a second guard appeared from the hallway inside, eyes narrowing.
"Who are y—"
The sentence barely left his lips. Eun-jae's foot was already in the air.
CRACK!
His boot connected squarely with the guard's face in a flawless spinning kick, sending the man crashing into the wall before slumping to the ground in a heap. Unconscious. Eun-jae barely broke stride as he stepped over the body.
"You okay?" Sergey's voice buzzed in his earpiece, tense but steady. "Looks like you've reached the third floor."
Eun-jae glanced up at the spiraling staircase nearby. "Affirmative."
"Good. Now, the device I gave you—drop it on the floor."
He obeyed, placing the sensor disk on the polished wood with care. A moment passed—then Sergey's voice came back with urgency.
"Stop. Don't move. There are people coming from the east corridor. Three… no, four. One armed."
Eun-jae held his breath, freezing in place. The mansion was old, but even the floorboards were suspiciously quiet, his boots muffled by thick rugs and pristine tile. He waited in silence as footsteps echoed faintly nearby.
"Go. Now," Sergey whispered.
Without a second thought, Eun-jae darted to his right and slipped into a side room, shutting the door behind him with a slow, careful click. He exhaled, leaning his forehead against the door for a second.
"Okay," he muttered. "Now I just need to find it… that passage Caesar showed me. When things were... normal."
He looked around the darkened room—empty, pristine, oddly untouched. No furniture, no windows. Just a thick Persian rug, a shelf stacked with dusty old books, and tile floors.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Eun-jae knocked lightly with the heel of his boot, listening for hollowness. "This part seems shallow…" he muttered.
"Hurry," Sergey urged, voice tightening. "The maids are coming."
Eun-jae crouched and felt the grooves of the tile with his fingers—then, bingo. One of them had a tiny ridge, almost imperceptible unless you were looking for it. He slid his fingers underneath, pulled hard, and—
CRACK. The tile gave way.
Beneath it was a gaping dark square—a passage. Secret. Forgotten. Just like he remembered.
He didn't hesitate. He dropped down into it, letting the stone close above him like a lid.
The space beneath was a narrow crawl tunnel, air thick with dust and memory. He crawled forward, fast, following his instincts and vague recollections from a time when he and Caesar had walked this route in a different life, before everything broke.
Then—voices.
"An intruder! There's an intruder!"
Shouts echoed above as boots thundered down the halls. Eun-jae's breath caught. He moved faster, deeper. Then he saw it—an almost invisible thread hanging beside him, like fishing wire. He reached for it and gave it a sharp tug.
Click. Shrrrkkkkk.
A bookshelf shifted with a deep mechanical groan, light spilling through the opening like a divine crack in the wall. Eun-jae squinted, his eyes adjusting. He crawled forward and emerged into the room—that room.
He stood and looked around. Still empty.
"The third floor," he whispered. "Last room. Just like before."
Everything looked the same. Just a room. A bookshelf. Nothing special.
His stomach cramped again, but he ignored it. Not now.
He turned, quickly shutting the hidden door behind him, then rushed to pull the thick velvet curtains across the window. The golden light from the hallway was seeping beneath the door—he flicked the lock shut and backed away.
"Where's the damn light switch?" he muttered.
Then—
"CHECK ALL THE ROOMS! THEY MIGHT BE THERE!" a guard shouted from the hallway.
"Shit," Eun-jae hissed. His eyes scanned the ceiling, mind racing.
He pulled his handgun without thinking and aimed high—BANG!
The chandelier shattered, plunging the room into sudden, eerie darkness.
But what the darkness revealed made Eun-jae's blood run cold.
His breath caught in his throat.
All around him—on the walls, the floors, the ceiling—were marks. Not random scribbles. Not graffiti. Blueprints. Diagrams. Equations. Calculations scrawled in red, black, blue marker. Arrows pointing in every direction. A madness of genius.
"What the hell…" he whispered, slowly turning in place, taking it all in.
Lines connected across corners like spiderwebs. Numbers etched into the glass. Symbols he barely understood. Anatomical sketches. Weapon modules. Target maps. Neural diagrams.
Seraphim.
"This… this is the blueprint," Eun-jae muttered, eyes wide. "This is Seraphim's blueprint."
His hands trembled slightly as he reached out to touch the wall.
"Now I get it…" His voice cracked with the weight of realization. "This is why the lights were always on. Why the curtains stayed open. It was never just Caesar being vain or weird."
This room—it wasn't just a place.
It was a brain. A mind unfolded across walls and angles. It was Seraphim. The secret hidden in plain sight. Caesar hadn't just carried the program.
He lived in it.
And now Eun-jae was standing in the middle of the storm.
Eun-jae's hands were still slightly shaking as he stood there in the dark, surrounded by the chaotic maze of blueprints and formulas that decorated every inch of the room — the room that once held all of Seraphim's secrets. His mind was racing, his heart pounding against his ribs like a wild animal trying to escape its cage.
Focus. Evidence first. Revenge later.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, the cool metal brushing against his sweaty palm. With a deep breath, he activated the camera and began snapping photos in rapid succession — walls, floor, ceiling — making sure every scrawled symbol, every line, every equation was captured. His pulse quickened with every click of the shutter.
Click.
Click.
Click.
'I need to get these to HQ,' he thought, swallowing the bitter taste of adrenaline rising in his throat. 'If they see this, they'll understand... they'll finally believe me about Caesar.'
Once he was done, Eun-jae pocketed the phone and reached for something far more personal — the tiny homemade bombs he had hidden in the folds of his hair, carefully disguised like simple beads earlier. His fingers worked fast, pulling them free one by one, rolling them softly onto the floor like marbles.
The small explosives scattered across the room, tucking themselves into every shadow, every corner, as if the room itself was about to swallow its own deadly secret.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, sharp and cold.
"This ends here," he whispered under his breath. "I'll destroy this weapon you've been building all this while, Caesar... and I'll watch you burn from the ashes."
The final bomb clicked into place on the ground.
No turning back now.
Eun-jae spun on his heel, heading straight for the door. His boots pounded against the wooden floor as he sprinted through the dimly lit hallway, each step echoing off the old mansion walls. His earpiece crackled to life.
"Sergey!" he barked, voice low but sharp as a blade. "Turn on the bombs. Blast everything. Run. I'll meet you at the spot."
Sergey didn't even hesitate. "Copy that," he replied, his voice steady but laced with tension. Somewhere deep in the underground tunnel, Sergey's own hands moved fast, fingers flicking switches on the detonator box, setting the chain reaction in motion.
BOOM.
The first explosion tore through the tunnels beneath the mansion, sending a shudder up through the floorboards, dust raining from the ceiling like gray snowfall. Eun-jae didn't stop running. His lungs burned, his legs pumping like pistons, muscles screaming for air.
"THERE HE IS!" a guard's voice roared behind him, the sound of boots pounding in unison following like a pack of wolves.
Eun-jae didn't look back. His hand tightened around the remote in his palm, his thumb sliding over the trigger.
Click.
A split-second later—
BOOM!
The room he'd just left detonated behind him, the force sending out a shockwave that made the walls tremble and windows shatter. The air filled with heat and dust, a roaring inferno chewing through the mansion from the inside out.
BOOM. BOOM.
Explosions erupted one after another — the ones Sergey planted in the tunnels joined the symphony of destruction, ripping through the underground like a beast finally freed from its chains. The floors above shook, entire walls crumbling, old paintings and priceless chandeliers smashing into splinters and shards.
From somewhere beyond the gates, distant sirens began to wail, their sound cutting through the night like a sharp blade. Emergency lights started flashing, a crimson glow reflecting off the blackened smoke now rising high into the starless sky.
Eun-jae's legs carried him faster, weaving through the maze-like corridors, dodging debris as the mansion literally began to fall apart around him.
The whole place is going down, he thought. This is the end of it. The end of Caesar's secrets.
Guards shouted over the roaring fire and collapsing ceilings, their panicked voices barely audible through the chaos.
Eun-jae groaned softly as he pushed himself up from the cold, unforgiving ground, his palms stinging from the embedded shards of glass and gravel. His legs felt heavy, like they were still trying to process the fact that he'd just outrun an inferno, but his mind was sharp — running on pure survival instinct.
His coat was tattered at the edges, the fabric darkened with soot, ash clinging to him like old memories refusing to let go. He swept a hand across his face, wiping away the streaks of dirt and sweat, then casually adjusted his collar, straightening it like he'd just stepped out of a quiet café, not a literal war zone. With a subtle tug, he slipped his hands deep into his coat pockets and began strolling away from the crumbling mansion, every step calm and measured.
The night air was still vibrating from the distant sirens and the last rumbling echoes of collapsing walls, but Eun-jae walked on — slow, smooth, like nothing had ever happened.
But the world wasn't done with him yet.
"Hey! — hey! That's him! That's the guy from the report!"
A sharp voice snapped through the chaos, breaking the illusion of calm. One of the emergency responders had caught a glimpse of him — the soot-streaked face, the wet hair tied back, the blood on his knuckles — matching the description already being passed around the local police comms like wildfire.
Shit.
Eun-jae didn't hesitate. His eyes darted around, scanning the flashing lights and panicked bodies. Firefighters were still dousing what was left of the mansion, medics rushing in and out, pulling barely conscious guards onto stretchers. Amid the confusion, his gaze locked onto the perfect escape: a lone ambulance, engine humming, the driver still seated inside, clearly too focused on the chaos to notice a man like him creeping closer.
In a flash, Eun-jae sprinted toward the vehicle, his boots slicing through mud and broken tile fragments. As the driver turned, confusion splashed across his face, but before he could react, Eun-jae yanked the passenger door open, leaned in, and leveled his gun directly at the man's head.
His voice was low, cold, and deadly calm.
"Get out. Or I'll blow your brains out right here."
The driver's face paled instantly, hands shooting up in surrender. Without a word, he unbuckled himself, sliding out of the seat with the kind of slow-motion fear only a man staring down death can manage. The second his feet hit the ground, Eun-jae slipped behind the wheel, slamming the door shut.
His hands wrapped around the steering wheel, fingers flexing as if grounding himself in the reality of what just happened. The key was already in the ignition. Perfect.
With one sharp twist, the engine purred louder, and the tires screeched against the pavement as he floored it, the ambulance lurching forward and speeding away from the crime scene, lights still flashing and sirens still wailing.
As the burning mansion began to fade in the rearview mirror, a small chuckle slipped from his lips — dark and unbothered, the sound of a man both exhausted and satisfied.
He leaned back in the seat, glancing at the distant glow of flames that painted the night sky orange, his own handiwork lighting up the city like a firework show for the damned.
"Not bad... not bad at all," he muttered to himself, lips curling into a crooked smirk.
All that was left now was to disappear before the world caught up.
And then — payback.
The cold night air bit at Eun-jae's skin as he stepped away from the parked ambulance, the lingering scent of smoke and burning timber still clinging to his clothes. His boots crunched against the gravel road, his body sore and heavy with exhaustion, but his mind was racing. He could almost taste the relief on his tongue as he approached the spot — the place where he and Sergey had always met after missions like this.
Silence.
The kind of silence that didn't feel right.
At first, his brain didn't want to piece it together, refusing to connect the dots. The place looked too still, too perfect, like the air itself was holding its breath.
"Sergey... I was right. The Seraphim was—"
His voice caught mid-sentence, the words dying in his throat as his gaze landed on the sight sprawled across the ground.
Sergey.
His body lay motionless, twisted at an awkward angle, one arm limp across his chest, the other stretched out like he'd been reaching for help he never got. Blood pooled beneath his head, dark and glossy under the moonlight. His eyes were wide open, empty, glassy — staring at nothing. Gone.
Eun-jae staggered a step back, the weight of reality slamming into him like a truck. His throat felt dry, his chest tightened, and for a moment he thought he might be sick.
"Sergey..." he whispered, his voice barely audible, more breath than sound.
A slow, mocking sound echoed through the darkness —
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Followed by a low chuckle.
Eun-jae's heart stuttered, his hand flying to his gun as his head snapped toward the source of the sound.
From the shadows, like a nightmare that had crawled out of his past, Caesar emerged.
Hands stuffed casually into his coat pockets, his steps smooth, controlled, dripping with confidence. His head tilted slightly, like a cat toying with a cornered mouse, and that signature devilish grin stretched across his face, sharp enough to cut glass.
"Well, well, well... if it isn't my favorite little rebel," Caesar purred, voice smooth as velvet, dark and rich like poison. His eyes glinted beneath the soft moonlight, soaking in Eun-jae's shaken, wide-eyed expression like it was his favorite sight in the world.
Eun-jae raised his gun — both hands gripping it, knuckles turning white, the barrel trembling as much as his body.
Caesar didn't flinch. He took a slow, unhurried step forward.
Eun-jae mirrored him in reverse, stepping back, breath shaky. His voice cracked when he shouted:
"D-Don't come any closer! I swear, I'll shoot!"
But Caesar only chuckled, the sound light and dripping with condescension, like he was listening to a child trying to sound brave.
"Shoot me?" His tone was mockingly sweet. "Come on, Eun-jae."
Another step closer. The distance between them was shrinking.
"You and I both know you won't. You never could. Not back then... not now."
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Eun-jae pulled the trigger in a panicked flurry — one, two, three — the shots ringing out, slicing through the silence.
All missed.
The bullets punched holes into the dark, hitting nothing but empty air and dirt, and Caesar didn't even blink. He stood there, the same arrogant smirk playing at his lips, like he'd been expecting this — like he always knew this moment would come.
"Look at you," Caesar murmured, voice low and coaxing, like a lover's whisper laced with venom. "Hands shaking. Eyes wide. You're terrified, sweetheart."
He tilted his head toward Sergey's lifeless body, as if drawing Eun-jae's attention back to the brutal reality.
"Was it really that easy to break you, darling? One dead friend... and you're already falling apart? Tsk. I thought you'd at least make me work for it."
Eun-jae's finger hovered over the trigger, desperate, sweating, but the click of the empty chamber was all he got.
No bullets.
His stomach dropped, ice cold panic surging through his chest.
'Shit...' he cursed under his breath, heart hammering in his chest like a ticking time bomb. He knew it then — there was no fighting this. Not unarmed. Not against him.
He bolted, turning on his heel, ready to make a run for it.
But Caesar was faster.
Before Eun-jae could take a full step, a strong hand seized his wrist, yanking him back, spinning him around like a rag doll until he felt Caesar's arms snake around him from behind.
The gun clattered to the ground.
Eun-jae froze as the warmth of Caesar's breath ghosted against the side of his neck, the man pressing close, chest to back, locking him in place. One hand rested almost lazily on his stomach, the other brushing against his jaw, the grip deceptively gentle, but unmovable.
"You're not going anywhere," Caesar whispered, voice soft, almost tender, yet thick with the kind of threat that made Eun-jae's blood run cold.
He leaned in closer, his nose grazing the skin of Eun-jae's neck, inhaling deeply like he was drinking in his scent.
"Still the same scent... adrenaline, gunpowder, fear." A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. "I missed this."