the seraphim paradox

Caesar raised it even more.

Eun-jae was bouncing like a damn kid trying to steal a toy from an older sibling.

Frustration boiled inside him.

"Oh, he's enjoying this. That sick, twisted bastard is enjoying this."

Eun-jae gritted his teeth, eyes blazing as he glared at the taller man.

"If he doesn't give me that bowl in the next three seconds, I swear to every god in existence, I will grab a knife, stab him, and take it from his cold, dead hands."

But Caesar—as always—was having too much fun.

That damn smirk on his face widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement, like he was watching a thrilling, entertaining little show.

And that's when Eun-jae remembered something crucial.

Caesar loved watching people struggle.

He loved that moment of desperation, that flicker of helplessness, that raw, animalistic hunger.

It was the same look people had right before he ended them.

Before he pressed the knife a little deeper, before he pulled the trigger, before he snapped their bones in half like twigs.

Caesar wasn't just a killer.

He was a sadist.

And right now?

He was thrilled to see Eun-jae beg.

Eun-jae's patience was hanging by a single, fraying thread.

His fists were clenched, his jaw locked so tight it could have cracked under the pressure. His entire body buzzed with frustration, every muscle in him tense and ready to throw hands.

But most importantly—

His stomach was screaming.

His soul was crying.

The ramen.

That steaming, beautiful, life-saving bowl of ramen sat just inches away, taunting him, teasing him, filling the air with the kind of rich, spicy aroma that made his insides coil in agony.

And yet—

This bastard.

This psychotic, insufferable, walking disaster of a man sat there, holding his salvation hostage, wearing that stupid, smug, infuriating smirk like he was some kind of goddamn king on a throne.

"I swear to every deity in existence, I will kill him."

Eun-jae's hands twitched at his sides. He wanted to lunge. He wanted to fight. He wanted to grab that stupid bowl and shove Caesar's head into the table so hard that it left a permanent dent.

But—no.

He needed a different strategy.

Survival first. Murder later.

He took a deep breath, forcing his voice through gritted teeth.

"Give me the goddamn bowl."

Caesar, still lounging so comfortably like he wasn't committing a war crime, just hummed, swirling the chopsticks lazily in the broth.

"Oh, this sick freak is actually enjoying this."

Then—the devil spoke.

"Nope. Not for free."

Eun-jae's eye twitched violently.

He should have known. Of course, Caesar wouldn't just hand it over. Of course, he would make this a game.

Eun-jae inhaled sharply, forcing himself not to leap over the table and strangle him. Instead, he hissed, his voice filled with the kind of desperation that made his own skin crawl.

"What do you want?"

His throat was dry.

His hands trembled.

His mouth watered uncontrollably as he kept his eyes locked on the bowl, every fiber of his being resisting the urge to just snatch it and run.

Caesar, the absolute menace, tilted his head, looking at Eun-jae with a mocking sort of curiosity, as if he were debating whether to break him just a little more before answering.

Then, his lips curved.

That smirk.

That goddamn smirk.

And then—

He said it.

"I want to press your boobs."

Silence.

Pure, deafening silence.

Eun-jae's mind went completely blank.

His soul? Left his body.

His stomach? Stopped growling.

His vision? Blurred from sheer, overwhelming secondhand embarrassment.

"What."

"The."

"Actual."

"Fuck."

His fingers twitched uncontrollably as his brain struggled, fought, and ultimately failed to process what he had just heard.

Caesar just sat there, completely unbothered, taking another slow, deliberate sip of the broth like he hadn't just said the most unhinged thing in existence.

Eun-jae blinked once.

Twice.

And then—rage.

Absolute, seething, uncontrollable rage.

"I cannot believe this is my life."

"I should have just starved."

"I should have let him kill me before it ever got to this point."

Eun-jae's lips parted—a sharp, venomous retort ready to fly—

But then—

Caesar smirked again, this time, his eyes dark, teasing, and far too entertained.

"He's doing this on purpose."

"He likes this."

"This bastard is actually getting a kick out of watching me suffer."

Eun-jae snapped.

Without thinking, without hesitating, he grabbed the nearest object—which happened to be a chopstick holder—and hurled it straight at Caesar's head.

Caesar, effortlessly, dodged, laughing as it clattered onto the floor.

"Oh, I'm going to kill him. I swear, one day, I will actually kill him."

Eun-jae huffed, panting, glaring, burning from embarrassment and rage and hunger all at once.

Caesar, still as unbothered as ever, leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm, looking up at Eun-jae with that same infuriatingly smug expression.

"So? Do we have a deal?"

Eun-jae's left eye twitched.

His stomach growled again.

He clenched his fists.

And then—

He grabbed another object.

And threw it at Caesar's face.

Caesar dodged effortlessly, laughter spilling from his lips like this was nothing but a fun little game—like he wasn't an absolute menace to society who needed to be locked up immediately.

"So, what do you say, Eun-jae?" His voice was low, teasing, like he already knew the answer, like he had already won.

Eun-jae said nothing.

Because why should he? Why should he waste breath on this absolute nuisance of a man when there was a perfectly good bowl of food at stake?

So, instead—

He moved fast, fingers curling around the bowl in a desperate, survival-driven snatch, yanking it right out of Caesar's grip. And then?

Immediate, unstoppable, glorious consumption.

He shoved the spoon into his mouth and moaned, head tipping back as the warm, soul-reviving flavors hit his tongue.

"Hhhmm—ugh, so good—I missed this—" his mind practically wept, his body melting in relief.

Because this—this was what true happiness felt like. This was what he fought for.

Not the missions. Not the bloodshed. Not the insufferable Russian psychopath sitting across from him.

Just this.

The sweet, pure joy of eating a good meal after suffering for too long.

He was so caught up in it, in the euphoria of taste, that he didn't even realize when Caesar had moved.

Didn't even sense him shifting behind him, creeping up with that silent, predator-like ease of his.

Not until—

Hands.

Big. Warm. Completely unwelcome hands.

Gripping his thigh.

Eun-jae froze mid-bite, his entire body going rigid, eyes snapping open in alarm.

"Oh hell no—"

Before he could react, before he could spin around and deck this bastard, those same hands slid up, slow and possessive, like they belonged there.

Eun-jae felt his entire soul exit his body.

What the fuck was happening?

Why was Caesar touching him like this?

Why was he acting like he had the goddamn right to slide his palm up higher—

Higher—

Until—

"—MAKE THEM JIGGLE."

Eun-jae's brain shattered.

His heart skipped an actual beat, his entire body malfunctioning as the words violently registered.

What.

The.

FUCK.

His eyes went wide, spoon clattering into the bowl, because no way in hell had that just come out of Caesar's mouth.

But no—there he was.

Standing right behind him.

Hands still on his chest.

And zero shame in his psychotic eyes.

Eun-jae shot up so fast he nearly knocked over the table, grabbing Caesar's wrist and ripping it off of him with enough force to break something.

"You." His voice was low, dangerous, but also filled with so much goddamn disbelief that he could barely even form words.

But Caesar?

Unfazed.

Like he hadn't just groped a fully grown man in broad daylight.

Like this was just a casual Tuesday.

Like this wasn't a crime.

Eun-jae inhaled sharply through his nose, suppressing the urge to throw hands right then and there.

Instead, he straightened up, regained his dignity, and gave Caesar a sharp, pointed pat on the shoulder.

"Thanks to you, I had a great meal."

And with that, he walked off, back straight, self-respect barely hanging on by a thread.

Caesar, meanwhile, stood completely still, staring at his hand like it had just been blessed by the heavens.

A slow, deep exhale.

"Haa."

And then?

A smirk.

Because if there was one thing Caesar loved more than killing—

It was watching Eun-jae squirm.

CLICK.

Eun-jae adjusted the x-ray binoculars, pressing them to his eyes as he remained crouched on the rooftop, the cold concrete beneath him barely registering through his leather gloves. The city stretched behind him—skyscrapers standing like silent sentinels, neon signs flickering in the distance, the faint hum of life continuing below. But his world had shrunk to a single point of focus.

The mansion.

A fortress. No, more than that. A goddamn citadel.

Even from here, the sheer size of the estate was overwhelming. The place loomed like a relic from another era, its architecture blending modern precision with old-world intimidation. Its presence alone sent a message: Stay out. Or don't expect to leave.

Eun-jae chewed his gum slowly, the rhythmic motion keeping him anchored as his mind raced. His enhanced vision cut through the darkness, sweeping over the property with the kind of scrutiny most people reserved for bomb defusals.

'Nothing so far. No footprints. No traces of movement. Not even a goddamn leaf out of place.'

That alone made his skin prickle. There was something off about that. A place this heavily guarded, this meticulously designed, and not a single sign of human error? No forgotten cigarette butts by the gate. No discarded boot prints in the damp soil. No patrolman stepping even half a foot out of line.

'This isn't just discipline. This is control. Absolute, brutal control.'

His jaw tightened as he exhaled through his nose. If he had any doubts before, they were gone now—whatever was inside that mansion was beyond valuable. Beyond money, beyond power.

This was something people would kill for.

His gaze sharpened, taking in the layers of security.

The outermost wall—thick, unyielding, and reinforced. The height alone would deter most, but the real issue was the electrification. High-voltage, no doubt, and the kind of current that wouldn't just knock someone out but fry them on contact.

Beyond the walls, the ground itself was a hazard. He spotted subtle yet unmistakable signs of pressure-sensitive plates—an invisible minefield waiting for any poor bastard who thought they could sneak through unseen.

And the cameras.

Jesus, the cameras.

He counted at least three at every entry point. Motion-tracking, infrared, overlapping fields of view so precise there wasn't a single blind spot. Whoever set this up wasn't just covering their bases—they were sealing every possible crack before it even had a chance to form.

Eun-jae let out a slow breath, the air escaping between his teeth.

'No back door. No side entrance. No ventilation shaft. No gap in the walls. Nothing. Not even a fucking doggy door.'

That was deliberate. The Karpov-Troitsky family wasn't the kind to leave anything to chance.

His fingers flexed around the binoculars as his mind churned through possibilities. They're not just protecting wealth. They're protecting a secret.

And not just any secret.

The kind of secret that made men disappear. The kind that made powerful people sleep with a gun under their pillow.

'This isn't just money. This isn't just power. This is paranoia.'

And paranoia only existed for a reason.

His gaze flicked toward the front gate—the only visible way in. A long, meticulously paved driveway stretched from the entrance to the mansion's grand double doors. The entire length was patrolled by men who didn't just carry weapons; they knew them. Their movements were precise, their formations airtight, their fingers resting just a little too naturally on their triggers.

These weren't just hired muscle.

These were trained professionals. Mercenaries. Maybe ex-military, maybe worse. Either way, they wouldn't hesitate.

'The front door? Is that really my only option?'

He hated the idea.

Every fiber of his being recoiled at the thought of walking in like some clueless idiot, like a lamb straying into a slaughterhouse. Because if the front was the only way, then he'd have to sell it.

He'd have to play a role.

And fuck, he hated roles. Hated pretending to be something he wasn't, hated the weight of a fake name, a fake identity pressing down on him. But if that was what it took—if that was the cost of entry—then so be it.

His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth as he ran through his options.

He could pose as a delivery guy—walk in with a truck full of fake cargo. But that was risky. Security here would tear apart every package, scan every label, dissect every item down to the goddamn shipping codes.

Bribery? Useless. Anyone working for the Karpov-Troitsky family was either loyal enough to take a bullet or scared enough to never even consider betrayal.

Or…

He could take someone hostage. Walk straight in with a gun to someone's head and force his way inside.

Tempting. Very tempting.

But loud. Messy. And the second the hostage outlived their usefulness, he'd be left with an entire army of trained killers aiming straight for his skull.

Not ideal.

Eun-jae let out a sharp breath, lowering the binoculars, his fingers tapping against his thigh as he stared down at the mansion.

'One way or another, I'm getting in. I just need the right moment.'

Because if there was one thing he knew for sure—

Whatever was inside that mansion?

It was worth the risk.

Eun-jae threw himself onto the bed with a heavy sigh, limbs sprawling across the mattress as he finally let himself breathe. His muscles relaxed for the first time in what felt like hours, and he could almost melt into the soft fabric beneath him.

"Haah... air. Sweet, precious air."

He let his head sink into the pillow, shutting his eyes for a fleeting moment of peace. He wasn't the type to let his guard down so easily, but right now, with Caesar finally gone on patrol, he could afford to steal a moment for himself.

Caesar. That walking lunatic.

Eun-jae let out a short, amused scoff.

'He's insane. Absolutely unhinged. And yet... I have to admit, he's been useful. Insufferable. But useful.'

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but there was no denying the truth. Caesar's combat skills were terrifyingly sharp, his reflexes almost inhuman, and—though Eun-jae hated to admit it—he had somehow saved his ass more times than he could count.

Did that change the fact that the guy was a hair-trigger away from being a complete psychopath? No.

Did that mean Eun-jae trusted him? Absolutely not.

Still…

He rolled onto his stomach, stretching a hand toward his bedside table where his phone lay. He could've sworn he heard it buzz just now.

'Did someone message me?'

His brows furrowed as he switched on the screen, eyes scanning for any notifications. Nothing. No messages. No missed calls. No alerts of any kind.

Then, realization struck him.

'Right. I have no contacts.'

He groaned, flopping back onto the bed. Ever since Caesar had handed him this phone, it had been a glorified paperweight. A sleek, high-tech device with no numbers, no saved messages, and worst of all—no connection to HQ.

'I need to contact HQ somehow…'

But how?

The screen dimmed as he tossed the phone aside. No service. No signal. It was practically useless. The situation was getting more frustrating by the second.

BUZZ.

His ears twitched. But this time, it wasn't his phone.

BUZZ.

His gaze snapped toward the bedside table.

Caesar's phone.

His stomach twisted.

'Caesar left his phone?'

That… wasn't like him. The guy was obsessively careful about his things, and yet, here was his phone, vibrating softly against the wood.

Eun-jae stared at it.

'Not my business. Not gonna do it.'

He turned his head away, staring at the ceiling instead.

BUZZ.

His fingers twitched.

'Nope. Not happening. I don't go through people's phones. I don't snoop. That's not my thing.'

He had never been the type to pry into other people's business. He didn't care who was texting who, what secrets they were hiding, or what skeletons they had in their closets. That was their problem, not his.

But then again…

This wasn't just anyone's phone.

This was Caesar's phone.

The same Caesar who killed people with a smile, who enjoyed the thrill of the hunt a little too much, who looked at murder like it was a goddamn art form.

'And let's be real. If anyone has something to hide, it's him.'

His pulse quickened.

This was different. This wasn't just curiosity. This was a tactical decision. He had every reason to look. Every reason to check.

'This isn't snooping. It's intelligence gathering. This is work.'

And yet, a small voice in the back of his head nagged at him.

'Bullshit. You just wanna know.'

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Before he could overthink it, he snatched the phone off the table. His fingers tightened around the device as he swiped up.

LOCKED.

'Of course. Figures he'd have a passcode.'

He exhaled sharply, brain kicking into overdrive. What the hell would Caesar use as a password? Something complicated? Something random? Or—

A memory surfaced. The basement. The first time he had seen Caesar unlock that underground hellhole, he had punched in a series of numbers so fast Eun-jae had almost missed them. But he didn't.

His mind replayed the sequence.

'If he's predictable enough…'

He hesitated. Then typed in the numbers.

BEEP.

UNLOCKED.

Eun-jae blinked.

'Oh, you idiot.'

He almost laughed. That actually worked?

For a guy who was paranoid as hell, Caesar sure as hell sucked at picking secure passwords.

The screen flickered to life, revealing an open message.

And whatever was in it—it couldn't be good.

Eun-jae's fingers hovered over the screen for a moment longer, hesitation gnawing at the back of his mind. He had already crossed the line—going through someone else's phone wasn't his style. But now, he was diving even deeper, connecting it to Caesar's laptop just to pry open this message.

'This isn't snooping,' he justified to himself. 'This is intel gathering. Tactical. Strategic. Completely necessary.'

And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that if their roles were reversed, Caesar wouldn't just kill him for this—he'd make it hurt.

With a sharp inhale, Eun-jae hit enter, and the screen blinked to life.

Voron has been fixed. It is currently being inspected. The final results will be ready in a day or two. When everyone is present, we look forward to seeing you there.

His blood ran cold.

'What the hell is this?'