Caesar closed the bathroom door behind him with a soft click, his broad back pressing against the cool wood as he leaned there for a moment, exhaling a shaky breath. His eyes flickered with something unreadable — frustration, amusement, and that strange flicker of... fondness? He chuckled lightly, the sound low and deep, chest vibrating with it.
"I just wanted to tell him to come downstairs and eat," he muttered to himself, almost offended by how dramatic the whole situation turned out — but not really. There was a glint in his eye, a dangerous little twinkle of amusement as he pushed off the door and walked down the hall, fingers brushing back his perfectly tousled black hair.
Another quiet laugh escaped his lips — this one warmer, almost affectionate.
"He's still got bite," Caesar murmured, licking his bottom lip slowly like he was savoring something. "Good."
The hallways of the mansion were lined with dark marble floors and gold accents, the place quiet as a mausoleum, save for the soft echo of his footsteps. The grandeur of the estate felt even more pronounced when it was just the two of them. No guards. No staff. Just Caesar and Eun-jae. Like a twisted honeymoon in a palace made for one king and one very unwilling consort.
As he descended the grand staircase, Caesar rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong, veined forearms. He passed by the ornate paintings and antique mirrors decorating the walls, but he didn't care about any of it right now. His mind was on something else.
The kitchen.
A place no one would ever expect him to enter, let alone use. But Caesar wasn't just some spoiled heir who paid people to do everything for him. He could shoot a man between the eyes, fly a helicopter, and yes — cook a damn good meal. He liked control. Mastery. And cooking? It was just chemistry with fire and knives. Right up his alley.
He pushed open the heavy wooden kitchen doors, stepping into the surprisingly modern space hidden behind the mansion's baroque exterior. It was sleek — black marble countertops, matte-finish cabinets, top-of-the-line appliances that gleamed under the recessed lighting.
He cracked his neck to one side, then went to the fridge and pulled out a few things — fresh vegetables, some eggs, a package of boneless chicken breasts, and a container of handmade broth.
"Something warm... something easy on the stomach," he muttered to himself. "He needs to eat. Especially now."
Caesar moved like a man who had done this before — sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black shirt tugged slightly across his broad chest as he pulled out a cutting board and sharpened a kitchen knife with quick, confident flicks. The sound of steel against steel echoed through the room, crisp and deliberate.
He sliced the vegetables with practiced ease — onion, garlic, carrots, and green onions. Then he marinated the chicken with soy sauce, a dash of sesame oil, a sprinkle of pepper, and just a little honey. Balanced. Nourishing. He'd been paying attention to Eun-jae's diet. Even if the man didn't realize it.
The scent of sautéed garlic filled the room, rich and mouthwatering. He added the broth, letting it simmer as he stirred, slow and methodical. Then he cracked an egg into the pot, swirling it gently to create delicate ribbons in the soup.
While it cooked, Caesar plated everything with maddening precision. He took out a handmade ceramic bowl, spooned the fragrant, golden soup into it, and added a side of jasmine rice, fluffing it with the back of the spoon.
Water. Medication. Everything Eun-jae would need.
He placed it all on a silver tray, wiped the edges clean, then stood still for a moment, staring at the meal.
It was simple. But in that simplicity, there was something intimate.
A gesture he wouldn't explain. A softness he wouldn't admit.
Caesar lifted the tray, walking out of the kitchen and heading back upstairs. The smell of the food lingered in the hallway as he moved, his expression unreadable once more. Composed. Cold. Dangerous.
But underneath all that?
A quiet, growing obsession.
He didn't just want Eun-jae to survive.
He wanted him to stay.
And if it meant making soup with his own hands and serving it like a doting lover? So be it.
Because Caesar always got what he wanted — eventually.
Eun-jae was sitting on the velvet-upholstered window seat when the door creaked open again. The sunlight streamed in through the massive windows, casting golden patterns across the hardwood floor, but all that warm light did nothing to soften the scowl that curled on Eun-jae's lips.
He was dressed in the oversized clothes Caesar had left for him — a soft, dark navy top that hung loosely off his shoulders, the neckline slipping just enough to expose the bruises painting his collarbone like some twisted artwork. His legs were bare, long and smooth, knees curled under him as he looked out the window like a bored royal prisoner. His long hair, slightly damp from the bath, framed his face messily — an unintentional "I woke up like this" look that still screamed expensive and unbothered.
Then the door opened wider. In walked Caesar, tray in hand, wearing a fitted black shirt that clung to his frame like sin. The smell hit first — warm, garlicky, savory — and Eun-jae's stomach actually had the audacity to growl.
But his mouth? Oh no, it was ready for war.
"I thought I told you to leave me alone," Eun-jae drawled, head turning slowly toward Caesar with a perfectly unimpressed expression, one brow arching high like he was judging not just Caesar's existence, but the entire bloodline that created him. "Do you not understand what 'alone' means? Should I spell it out for you, or is basic comprehension not included in your villain skill set?"
Caesar didn't even flinch. He walked in with that annoyingly calm aura, placing the tray carefully on the small round table near the bed. "You need to eat so that you can heal fast," he said, voice low, calm — dangerously calm.
"Oh, so now you care about me healing?" Eun-jae scoffed, standing up slowly, letting the oversized shirt fall mid-thigh, barely covering anything but acting like it was armor. "That's rich coming from the psycho who nearly rearranged my insides like a renovation project. My body's not a damn IKEA table, Caesar."
Caesar's jaw clenched slightly. "I'm trying to take care of you, Eun-jae."
"Yeah?" Eun-jae snapped, crossing his arms, the baggy sleeves swallowing his hands. "Well, your version of 'care' feels a lot like war crimes. I don't need you hovering around like some obsessed alpha daddy trying to fix what you broke."
Caesar stepped closer, just enough to feel the heat shift between them, but not enough to touch. His gaze lingered on Eun-jae's face — then dipped, briefly, to the bruises on his neck, the way the shirt slipped off his shoulder like an invitation and a middle finger all at once.
"I made something nice," Caesar said quietly.
"Cute," Eun-jae spat. "What's next, Caesar? Gonna bake me cookies? Knit me a little trauma sweater? Maybe read me a bedtime story about how you gaslit, gatekept, and girlbossed your way into my womb?"
Caesar actually huffed a laugh, low and raspy, one hand dragging through his hair. "You're impossible."
"And you are delusional if you think a bowl of soup and some puppy eyes are gonna make me forget everything," Eun-jae replied, then turned his back on him, walking over to the table anyway. "But since my stomach is clearly a traitor and that shit smells good, I'll eat."
He plopped down in the chair with theatrical flair, pulling the bowl toward him. Then, without looking up: "But don't get cocky. I'm still gonna poison your shampoo."
Caesar just watched him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Noted."
Eun-jae slurped a spoonful of soup, then glanced up through his lashes. "Also," he said, voice sugary sweet, "if you ever walk in on me again without knocking, I'm going to shove that ladle where the sun don't shine."
Eun-jae sat at the ornate little breakfast table, a ridiculous contrast to his current mood. The surface gleamed with polished mahogany, golden-rimmed china set perfectly beside the bowl that now held what could only be described as criminally delicious soup. He took another spoonful, barely suppressing a moan of pleasure as the savory flavors hit just right. Rich broth, tender meat, perfect seasoning — it was the kind of food that hugged your insides.
"Hmph," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing at the soup like it personally offended him.
Why the hell is this so good? he thought, chewing slowly. Of course the psychotic bastard is good at cooking. Probably learned it in some elite Russian assassin academy — Culinary Torture 101 or some shit.
His eyes flicked up. And of course — Caesar was staring. Again.
The man was leaned back lazily on the velvet-upholstered couch, long legs spread, arms resting on the backrest like he owned every molecule of air in the room. His cold, unreadable gaze was fixed right on Eun-jae, tracking every movement with an intensity that made the back of Eun-jae's neck prickle.
The spoon hovered in the air mid-bite before Eun-jae finally slammed it back into the bowl with a loud clink.
"Can you not?" Eun-jae snapped, glaring. "Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? You're staring like a damn serial killer watching his next meal."
Caesar didn't blink. "You eat like a raccoon."
"Excuse me?" Eun-jae blinked, mouth falling open slightly in offense. "At least raccoons have the decency to leave when they're done. You? You just sit there like a creep with resting murder face."
Still, Caesar didn't respond. He just shifted slightly, letting his head rest against the back of the couch. He blinked — once, slowly — and kept watching.
Eun-jae huffed dramatically, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Ugh, I can't believe I'm stuck here with a man who acts like a furniture catalog model with absolutely no customer service skills."
He tapped his finger against the table before arching a brow. "Quick question, by the way," he said, tone dripping with mock sweetness. "Where the hell are we right now? Because the last thing I remember is being manhandled into a helicopter like some mafia Barbie doll and then waking up in this rich-ass winter palace."
"Does it really matter?" Caesar replied calmly, his voice low and unbothered, almost lazy as he turned his head slightly to the side.
Eun-jae stared at him like he just said the sky was green. "Um. Yes. Yes, it does matter, dumbass. You're aware this counts as kidnapping, right? Not 'surprise vacation' — actual, full-blown felony kidnapping."
Caesar exhaled through his nose, leaning forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees. "If I wanted to kidnap you, I'd have put a bag over your head and chained you in the basement."
Eun-jae blinked. "Oh my God, what the fuck, do you hear yourself? That's not helping your case! I'm supposed to feel better because you didn't throw me in a dungeon?"
Caesar didn't answer. He just stared again, and that silence was louder than any threat. Eun-jae threw his hands up dramatically.
"You know what? Never mind. I don't even care where we are. I'm clearly trapped in villain Disney World with the CEO of Emotional Unavailability."
He turned back to the bowl and picked up the spoon again, mumbling under his breath. "Still can't believe this asshole cooks better than my me ... i cant even cook rice..."
Caesar tilted his head, watching Eun-jae eat again — quietly this time.
And though Eun-jae would rather die than admit it… that soup? Still hit different.
Eun-jae continued eating, the taste of the soup still lingering pleasantly on his tongue. But as much as he hated to admit it, this was the best meal he'd had in a while, and there was something almost poetic about how the rich flavors seemed to cut through his bad mood like a blade.
But then, as if the universe couldn't let him enjoy anything for too long, the sound of a phone ringing sliced through the air. Eun-jae raised an eyebrow and paused mid-bite, his spoon hovering just above the bowl.
Caesar's phone. It was a sharp, professional tone, echoing in the silence of the room. Eun-jae smirked inwardly. Well, looks like someone's got some business to handle. He watched as Caesar got up from the couch, his movements sharp and purposeful, a familiar cold detachment creeping over his features. The door to the room creaked open and shut, the sound almost deliberate.
Eun-jae, ever the curious troublemaker, waited for the soft click of the door before setting down his spoon with a little too much force, a small clink against the dish that sounded louder than usual. He couldn't resist. His mind was buzzing with too many questions.
What the hell's he talking about on that call?
Getting up quickly, Eun-jae moved toward the door, his body inching closer to the gap between the slightly ajar door. He didn't need to open it fully. He just needed to hear something, anything. His ear pressed against the cold wood, straining for any clue about what was going on.
But instead of the crisp clarity of a conversation, all he got was static. A long, continuous hiss — pssspssspssp — like the sound of white noise. Eun-jae frowned, leaning in a little harder, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he muttered to himself under his breath. He pulled away from the door, irritated, and gave it a suspicious side-eye. "What, is he talking to the ghosts of his past?"
Realizing that his sneaky eavesdropping mission was a bust, Eun-jae muttered another curse under his breath as he quickly returned to his seat. He grabbed the spoon again, but this time, his movements were a little more deliberate. He was stalling. Waiting. His eyes flickered toward the door, trying to gauge just how long Caesar would be on that mysterious call.
Then, as if on cue, the door creaked open again, and Caesar walked back into the room, his phone tucked away into his pocket with that same unreadable expression on his face. He paused when he saw Eun-jae sitting at the table, spoon halfway to his mouth, a smile stretched wide across his face.
Eun-jae froze, his face betraying nothing but casual indifference, though the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly. He was playing it cool. He made no effort to hide his amusement, though his eyes betrayed just a touch of sarcasm.
"Is there something on my face?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he took a slow, deliberate bite, savoring the taste like it was a damn prize he just won. "You look like you're about to judge me for eating."
Caesar's gaze didn't flicker. He just stood there, looking at Eun-jae with that cool, piercing intensity that seemed to pick apart every inch of him. His lips parted, ready to say something, but instead, he just offered a small, barely noticeable smirk.
Eun-jae met his eyes with the same casual defiance, like he wasn't bothered in the least. But on the inside, he was anything but calm. There was something about the way Caesar held himself, the way he stood there like he already knew what Eun-jae was up to. It unnerved him more than he cared to admit.
"I don't know," Eun-jae said with mock sweetness, "you just came back looking all... questionable. I was just wondering if I should be worried about whatever shady shit you're plotting in that tiny little brain of yours."
Caesar didn't respond immediately. Instead, he just gave Eun-jae a long, quiet look, his eyes narrowed slightly as if trying to read him.
After what seemed like an eternity, he simply turned on his heel, heading toward the dressing room without a word.
"Piece of shit," Eun-jae muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes dramatically. He grabbed the bowl of soup, suddenly over it all, though the food was still delicious — which made his whole situation even more frustrating.
As he heard the door to the dressing room click shut, Eun-jae leaned back in his chair, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh.
God, this is insane. He could feel the weight of his own thoughts pressing on him, the tension thick in the air, and the only thing that kept him sane was the simmering irritation that never seemed to leave when Caesar was around.
I'm not going to let him win, Eun-jae thought. I don't care how fucking good his food is or how much of a goddamn walking distraction he is. I'm not falling for this crap.
He set the spoon down on the table, pushing the bowl of soup away. Just wait until I figure out what the hell is going on here. I'll find a way out, even if it means I have to outsmart this bastard myself.
And for the first time since waking up in this bizarre mansion, Eun-jae felt like maybe, just maybe, he was going to be okay.
But only maybe.