the seraphim paradox

"Yes," Caesar confirmed, his tone indifferent as if it were common knowledge. "It's believed she has ties with a certain mafia."

Eun-jae's eyes narrowed. "Which mafia?"

"The Sanguine Vory," Caesar said, his lips curling slightly. "One of the deadliest crime syndicates in the world. And guess what? She's not just affiliated with them—she's their leader. In the underground world, she's known as La Regina." He let the name roll off his tongue with a certain reverence before chuckling. "Another ruthless woman, huh? I swear, I think I have a type."

Eun-jae ignored his comment, his mind whirring at this new revelation. So Bes wasn't just anyone—she was blood royalty and controlled a dangerous mafia. That explained a lot.

Before he could ask more, Caesar tilted his chin toward another figure in the room.

"The man talking to the vice president? That's Vseslav Alekseevich Karpov-Troistky. The second son of the Karpov-Troistky family and—more importantly—the closest man to the president. Every public affair in Russia has to go through him before reaching Volkov himself."

Eun-jae's gaze sharpened. That meant this man wasn't just powerful—he was practically the president's shadow.

Caesar's eyes flicked toward another figure just entering the room, an older man with a distinguished presence and a cane that looked more like a statement than a necessity.

"And that guy?" Caesar continued. "That's Dmitriyevich. The big shot of Volkov Energy. If it weren't for him, the Karpov-Troistky family wouldn't be where they are today or . . . I dunno. He basically controls half of Russia's energy supply. That's enough leverage to make even the government kneel."

Eun-jae hummed. "So even though Russia has a president, people like him are the real power holders."

Caesar gave him a lazy grin. "Bingo."

Eun-jae was silent for a moment, taking it all in. This wasn't just some high-class gathering. This was a web of power, influence, and blood ties. And if Seraphim—whatever it was—was connected to these people, then getting information wasn't just going to be difficult. It was going to be downright dangerous.

Before he could dwell on it further, Caesar suddenly straightened, his smirk widening as his gaze locked onto a new arrival.

"Ah, there he is," he mused, his voice laced with amusement. "The golden prince himself—Yaroslav, the first son of the Karpov-Troistky family."

Eun-jae turned his head, and his breath hitched.

There, walking through the grand hall with the kind of presence that commanded attention, was Yaroslav Karpov-Troistky.

His blue eyes were sharp, calculating, like a predator assessing the room. His tailored black suit fit him perfectly, highlighting his lean yet powerful frame. Unlike the other men in the room, who carried themselves with smugness or arrogance, Yaroslav moved with quiet, deadly confidence. His expression was unreadable, his posture poised but relaxed, like a man who knew he had nothing to prove—because everyone already knew exactly who he was.

The murmurs in the room shifted subtly as guests took notice of his presence. Some greeted him with polite nods, others whispered behind their glasses. Even in a room full of powerful figures, Yaroslav stood out.

Eun-jae felt his pulse quicken slightly. This guy wasn't just important. He was dangerous.

"Alright. Now I'm really curious about this family."

'alright let me continue ...'caesar said as he drinks his wine ...

"So, what about that bastard Bes?" Eun-jae asked, his voice laced with a mix of irritation and curiosity.

The name alone left a bitter taste in his mouth, like he'd just bitten into something rotten. Bes. The man who had nearly ended them both without breaking a sweat. The man who moved like a shadow in the dark—silent, ruthless, and absolutely untouchable.

Caesar, leaning casually against Eun-jae, a half-empty glass of wine in hand, let out a quiet chuckle. The dim, golden glow of the chandelier above them reflected off the liquid as he swirled it lazily in his glass, as if the conversation was nothing more than idle chatter.

"Bes?" Caesar hummed, his lips curling into a smirk. "Oh, he definitely has a job."

Eun-jae's brows knitted together.

"A job? The hell is that supposed to mean?"

He stared at Caesar, waiting for him to elaborate. But the bastard just took his sweet time, tilting his glass slightly before taking a slow, deliberate sip. It was infuriating.

Finally, Caesar exhaled, placing the glass down with an amused glint in his eyes.

"Maybe a government worker," he mused. "A civil servant. Something along those lines."

Silence.

Eun-jae stared.

Then, all at once, a sharp, disbelieving laugh burst from his lips. He almost choked on the sheer absurdity of what he had just heard.

"Wait, hold on—so you're telling me that this bastard—the same one who almost killed you and me—is a fucking civil servant?"

Caesar just grinned, his expression infuriatingly nonchalant.

"Strange, isn't it?" he murmured, amusement dancing in his voice.

Eun-jae's mind struggled to wrap itself around the information.

"Civil servant? Government worker? Is he serious?"

The image of Bes Ilay in a neatly pressed suit, pushing papers behind a desk, dealing with bureaucratic nonsense, was so utterly ridiculous that Eun-jae almost laughed again.

Almost.

Because something deep in his gut told him that Caesar wasn't joking.

"What the hell kind of 'civil servant' walks around with a kill count high enough to make entire crime syndicates tremble?"

His grip tightened around the tray in his hands, knuckles turning white.

Caesar exhaled through his nose, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"When it comes to the underground world of Russia—where laws are nothing more than guidelines and survival depends on how much blood you're willing to spill—everyone knows him."

Eun-jae didn't move, didn't even breathe.

"You know, Bes—which means 'demon'—wasn't just some nickname someone randomly threw at him. It was a title. A crown forged from the screams of the men he's butchered over the years. Because that's what he is."

Caesar's smirk deepened, but it wasn't a warm or friendly thing.

It was cold.

Amused, yes—but cold.

"A demon."

Eun-jae felt a chill creep up his spine.

It wasn't just the word itself—it was the weight behind it. The finality.

"There's an old saying about him," Caesar continued, his voice dropping to something quieter, something almost… reverent.

"If you see Bes once, you're lucky. If you see him twice, you should start praying. If you see him a third time… well, you won't live long enough to tell the story."

Eun-jae swallowed.

Because that saying?

It wasn't just a rumor.

Every corner of the underworld knew the name Bes Ilay.

It was spoken in hushed whispers behind closed doors. It was scrawled onto bloodstained walls, carved into the nightmares of men who had dared to cross him.

It was a name that carried weight.

A name that made even the most hardened criminals hesitate.

Caesar let out another small chuckle, this one quieter—darker. He lifted his glass slightly, letting the deep red wine catch the dim lighting of the grand hall.

"He's like the king of the underworld. No—scratch that."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"A king can be dethroned."

He took a slow sip before continuing.

"He's something worse."

Eun-jae's grip on the tray tightened.

"Apex predator in a world full of scavengers."

The words sank deep, burrowing into Eun-jae's thoughts like a parasite.

Because deep down, he knew—Caesar was right.

The underworld.

It was a world that existed in the shadows of nations, a world where money, blood, and power were the only things that mattered.

The Russian government? The officials? The politicians?

They were nothing but puppets dancing on strings.

The real rulers?

The Karpov-Troistky family.

And at the center of it all?

Bes.

"They don't just own the underworld."

"They are the underworld."

For decades—hell, for generations—the Karpov-Troistky name had been etched into the very foundation of organized crime.

They didn't just have influence.

They had absolute control.

From the arms trade to the drug networks, from mercenary contracts to underground auctions where men, weapons, and information were bought and sold like groceries at a market—everything could be traced back to them.

Everything.

And at the heart of it all?

Bes.

Eun-jae exhaled sharply.

People didn't just call Bes a demon because of his cruelty. It was because he was an anomaly.

An unpredictable, uncontrollable force of destruction.

A nuclear weapon with a heartbeat.

A ticking time bomb that didn't need permission to go off.

There was no stopping him.

No negotiating.

No buying him off.

When Bes Ilay set his sights on something—on someone—there was only ever one outcome.

Annihilation.

Eun-jae's pulse thundered in his ears as he scanned the grand hall, his eyes darting between the elite figures who ruled the shadows.

This wasn't just another job.

This wasn't just another mission.

This was something bigger.

And if he wasn't careful…

He might not make it out alive.

"Bringing down someone like Bes isn't easy, Eun-jae."

Caesar's voice dropped into a low, velvety tone, thick with something that sent an uneasy prickle down Eun-jae's spine. It wasn't fear exactly, but something eerily close to it—a warning laced in amusement.

"A man born into two powerful families… and you think taking him down is easy, huh?"

He leaned in, his breath warm against the space between them, and let out a quiet, knowing chuckle. The kind that made Eun-jae's skin itch, as if he were being toyed with.

Two powerful families.

Eun-jae didn't need Caesar to spell it out for him.

He already knew.

The Ilay bloodline. The Karpov-Troistky dynasty.

One side steeped in brutal, merciless efficiency, a legacy of killers and masterminds who built empires with blood and fire. The other a family so deeply entangled in Russia's power structure that even the government bent its knee to them.

And Bes?

He was the unholy fusion of the two.

A monster born from the absolute pinnacle of power and destruction.

Eun-jae clenched his jaw.

"Even if someone managed to lay a finger on him, the weight of his family alone would crush them before they could land a second strike."

Bringing him down wasn't just difficult.

It was suicidal.

Caesar tilted his head slightly, watching him with sharp, unreadable eyes.

"But…" He exhaled softly, letting the word hang in the air, like the start of a deadly game.

"If you want to bring Bes down…"

He lifted his glass, swirling the last remnants of deep red wine, the color of blood, before taking a slow, deliberate sip.

"Find his weakness."

His voice dipped into something sly, seductive, almost taunting. A whisper of temptation, as if he were offering Eun-jae a secret wrapped in silk and poison.

"That's when you'll finally be able to pull the strings."

He smirked, his gaze glinting with something dark.

Something that made Eun-jae feel as if he were being led into a trap.

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

Eun-jae could hear the distant murmur of high-society chatter, the soft clink of glasses as guests indulged in luxury. Yet, in that moment, it all seemed to fade into the background.

"His weakness…"

The thought settled into his mind like a jagged puzzle piece, its edges sharp and cruel.

Bes was ruthless. Unstoppable. A living storm that tore through everything in its path.

But every man—no matter how powerful, no matter how invincible—had a weakness.

Something that could be used against them.

Something that could make them bleed.

Eun-jae narrowed his eyes, his mind already working, already searching.

"Is it a person?"

"A secret?"

"A past that haunts him?"

His heart pounded, not out of fear—but out of determination.

This was the key.

This was how you took down a man who otherwise couldn't be touched.

His gaze flickered back to Caesar, sharp and demanding.

"So what is his weakness?"

Caesar stilled for a moment, as if considering.

Then, with a casual shrug, he placed his empty glass on the tray in Eun-jae's hands.

"I dunno," he said smoothly.

Eun-jae's fingers twitched.

His patience snapped like a brittle thread.

"You're telling me all of that… and you don't even KNOW?!"

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he glared at Caesar, who only looked back at him with mocking amusement.

Like a cat playing with its prey.

Caesar leaned in once more, voice dropping to a murmur, his smirk never faltering.

"But I do know one thing…"

He let the words drag, enjoying this far too much.

"If someone like you is already looking for it…"

His smirk widened, just a fraction.

"Then I'd say you're already in over your head."

Eun-jae felt his blood run cold.

Because deep down, he already knew…

Caesar was right.

He was stepping into something far more dangerous than he could have ever imagined.

And if he wasn't careful—

It wouldn't be Bes who fell.

It would be him.

'"I've spent too much time here… I need to go look for more clues."

Eun-jae muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of conversation and clinking glasses. He shifted his weight slightly, fingers twitching at his side as he mentally prepared himself for what was coming next.

Every second wasted in this opulent ballroom, drowning in chandeliers' golden light and the murmur of diplomatic nonsense, was another second closer to losing his chance.

He turned to leave.

But—

Caesar heard him.

Eun-jae didn't even need to look back to know. He could feel it—the weight of Caesar's gaze pressing against his back like a predator watching its prey.

And sure enough—

"I just saw Bes," Caesar said smoothly, his voice dripping with that same infuriating amusement he always carried, as if none of this was serious, as if everything unfolding around them was just another round of an elaborate, high-stakes game.

He swirled the last remnants of deep red wine in his glass, watching the liquid shift with a lazy elegance that stood in stark contrast to the sharp glint in his eyes.

"Along with the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Vice President. They just went upstairs."

Eun-jae's breath hitched—just for a fraction of a second.

Upstairs.

His heart gave a single, hard thud against his ribs.

A secret meeting.

It was like hearing the crack of a gun before the bullet had even left the chamber—an unmistakable signal that something big was happening.

Eun-jae's mind clicked into place like the sharp edge of a knife sliding into its sheath.

This was it.

This was the kind of moment he had been waiting for.

The kind of moment that separated victory from failure, survival from elimination.

A secret gathering of men in positions of absolute power.

There was no way these men were simply going upstairs to sip expensive scotch and exchange pleasantries.

They were discussing something.

Something important.

Something that had the potential to shake the very foundations of power that held this entire country together.

And Eun-jae needed to find out exactly what.

He inhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain calm, controlled.

"I need to get up there."

But how?

The very existence of a secret meeting meant one thing—security.

There would be guards. Watchful eyes. Layers upon layers of protection ensuring that no one uninvited got in.

And yet—

His gaze flickered toward Caesar, who was still watching him with that goddamn smirk.

The kind of smirk that made it impossible to tell whether he was actually being helpful or if he was setting Eun-jae up for a spectacular downfall.

"I'll keep you covered," Caesar murmured, his smirk widening just a fraction.

His tone was too smooth.

Too calculated.

Too knowing.

Eun-jae didn't respond immediately.

Instead, he turned slightly, casting a measured, unreadable glance in Caesar's direction.

Could he even trust this bastard?

The real question was—did he even have a choice?

Caesar was unpredictable.

Too smart, too cunning, too dangerous.

A man who never did anything unless there was something in it for him.

Even now, there was no doubt in Eun-jae's mind that Caesar had his own reasons for bringing this up.

Was he trying to help?

Was he playing his own game?

Or was he simply nudging Eun-jae toward the fire just to watch him burn?

"If I let my guard down around him, I'll end up as just another piece on his chessboard."

The thought sent a cold chill down his spine.

But there was no time to second-guess anything now.

The clock was ticking.

The world around him moved forward, relentless and unforgiving.

He had a mission.

And he needed to move.

Now.

With a sharp exhale through his nose, Eun-jae pushed aside every flicker of hesitation and turned on his heel—walking away without another word.

He didn't need to look back to know Caesar was still watching.

Probably smiling.

Probably enjoying this far more than he should.

But Eun-jae had no time for that.

He had to get upstairs.