Eun-Jae stared at the outstretched hand like it was a venomous snake. "Is this guy serious? Does he think we're just gonna have a little kumbaya moment after all that?!" His anger flared, hot and unrelenting. With a sharp slap, he knocked Caesar's hand away, the sound echoing in the stillness.
"I'm fine," Eun-Jae spat, pushing himself to his feet despite his shaky legs. His glare could've melted steel as he stared Caesar down, his chest heaving.
Caesar chuckled, unfazed. "You managed to stay alive. Nice," he said, his smirk widening like he was genuinely impressed.
Eun-Jae saw red. Without thinking, he swung at Caesar, his fist flying with the kind of raw, unfiltered fury only sheer adrenaline could fuel. Caesar dodged effortlessly, his movements smooth and precise, catching each punch like he was toying with Eun-Jae.
But then—finally—a satisfying crack. Eun-Jae's last punch landed squarely on Caesar's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The impact reverberated up Eun-Jae's arm, and he couldn't help the surge of satisfaction that followed.
"Have you lost your goddamn mind?!" Eun-Jae shouted, his voice shaking with rage. He jabbed a finger at Caesar's chest, his glare burning with all the fury he could muster. "Do you want to kill your own partner? What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Caesar straightened, rubbing his jaw with a slow, deliberate motion. He didn't look angry—in fact, he looked amused. That infuriating smirk was back, taunting Eun-Jae like a red cape to a bull.
"I'm just making sure you're up to the challenge," Caesar said, his tone dripping with condescension.
Eun-Jae felt like he might explode. "This guy's ego is so big, it's a wonder there's room for the rest of us on the planet," he thought furiously. But he held his ground, his fists clenched at his sides.
"You're insane," Eun-Jae snapped, his voice low and venomous. "And I swear, if you pull some shit like this again, I'm gonna—"
"Relax, partner," Caesar interrupted, his smirk never faltering. "You'll thank me later."
Eun-Jae's glare could've peeled paint. "Yeah, right. The only thing I'll thank you for is staying the hell out of my way."
Eun-jae squinted, the piercing gaze from Caesar making his skin crawl. "Why is he looking at me like that?" The man's unyielding stare bore into him, sharp and invasive, like Caesar was trying to solve some unsolvable riddle written on Eun-jae's skin. It wasn't just a glance—it was a full-on dissection, the kind of look that made Eun-jae feel like he was being mentally stripped down layer by layer. He shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to swipe a hand across his cheek just to make sure he hadn't sprouted a second head.
Caesar didn't even blink. His eyes, dark and calculating, scanned Eun-jae with the precision of a predator assessing its prey. "Does he get some kind of sick thrill out of this?" Eun-jae thought, his irritation growing with every passing second. His lips twitched, and he contemplated snapping at the man to stop gawking like a creep.
Finally, Caesar broke the silence, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife through butter. "It's kinda creepy," he drawled, his tone laced with mockery as his lips curled into a smirk.
Eun-jae's jaw tightened. "Oh, you think I'm creepy?!" Before he could retort, Caesar pointed lazily at his face.
"Your mask," Caesar continued, gesturing with all the grace of someone utterly unbothered. "It's peeling off."
The words landed like a slap, and Eun-jae froze. His stomach twisted into a knot as his hand instinctively shot up to touch his face. Sure enough, the edge of his synthetic disguise—the mask that had been his shield in this relentless cat-and-mouse game—was fraying, a small but glaring imperfection that he hadn't noticed until now. His fingers brushed against the uneven seam, and his pulse spiked.
"Fantastic," he thought bitterly. "Just the cherry on top of this disaster sundae."
He glared at Caesar, who stood there grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Eun-jae's gaze flickered to the man's outfit—an ostentatious white fur coat that screamed drama queen—and his irritation boiled over. "Why does he look like a villain in some over-the-top spy movie? And why is he always so smug?!"
Without a word, Eun-jae spun on his heel and started walking. His movements were stiff and deliberate, each step radiating barely-contained fury. Caesar's gaze was still heavy on him, and Eun-jae could practically feel the man's amusement prickling against his back.
The sound of footsteps behind him made him tense. "Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I am not doing this today."
"STOP FOLLOWING ME, YOU CREEP!" Eun-jae snapped, whipping around to glare at Caesar. His voice carried enough venom to make a lesser man flinch, but Caesar, of course, was utterly unfazed.
"Not following you," Caesar replied smoothly, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather.
Eun-jae's eye twitched. He clenched his fists, a dozen biting comebacks dancing on the tip of his tongue, but before he could unleash them, he spotted a taxi approaching. Relief flooded him, and he raised his arm, shouting, "TAXI!"
The cab slowed, and for a brief, shining moment, it seemed like the universe was finally throwing him a bone. But then the driver took one look at his peeling mask and hit the gas, speeding off as if Eun-jae were a walking biohazard.
Eun-jae stood there, dumbfounded, his arm still raised in a futile gesture. "Seriously?!"
"Probably because of your face," Caesar remarked, his voice dripping with faux sympathy.
Eun-jae snapped his head toward him, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. Caesar, completely unbothered, stepped closer, his grin widening.
"Why don't you just peel it off?" he suggested, his tone so casual it made Eun-jae want to scream. Caesar's hand lifted slightly, as if he actually intended to help.
Eun-jae jolted back, his instincts kicking in. "Oh, hell no!" He swatted Caesar's hand away like it was a mosquito, stumbling a step backward as his glare turned molten. "Don't you dare!" he hissed, his voice low and venomous.
Caesar raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "What's the big deal?" he asked, as if Eun-jae were the one being unreasonable. "It's just a mask."
Eun-jae's blood boiled. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he shot back, his voice rising with each word. "You don't just go around touching people's faces! Do you have any concept of personal space?!"
Caesar tilted his head, his expression the perfect blend of curiosity and amusement. "Why are you so difficult?" he asked, his voice carrying the faintest hint of exasperation, like he was dealing with a particularly stubborn child.
"Difficult?!" Eun-jae's voice cracked, and he threw his arms out in disbelief. "I'm not the one stalking people down the street and trying to rip off their faces!"
Caesar leaned in slightly, his smirk turning predatory. "You're awfully feisty," he said, his tone low and teasing.
Eun-jae recoiled, his face twisting in disgust. "THEN STOP HITTING ON ME, GEEZ!" he exploded, his frustration spilling over like a dam breaking. "I'M NOT INTERESTED IN ENIGMA MEN!"
The declaration hung in the air, loud and biting.
Caesar leaned forward slightly, his height making the movement feel almost menacing. "You think I'm hitting on you?"
Eun-jae threw his hands in the air, letting out an exasperated groan. "YES! And let me make this very clear—I'm NOT interested, okay? So stop following me, stop staring at me, and stop being a weirdo!"
For a moment, Caesar just stared at him, his blue eyes fixed on Eun-jae's face with an intensity that could melt steel. His expression was unreadable—equal parts shock, curiosity, and maybe just a sprinkle of smugness. And then, to Eun-jae's utter disbelief, the man had the audacity to chuckle.
Not a polite little laugh, not a snicker, but a full-blown, chest-rumbling chuckle that grated on Eun-jae's nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
"Is this man serious right now?" Eun-jae thought, his jaw clenching so hard it could crack walnuts. He didn't even bother responding. Instead, he spun on his heel, his footsteps heavy with annoyance as he stomped away.
"The universe really sent me the deluxe edition of annoying today," Eun-jae muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. "And of course, it's non-refundable. Figures."
But before he could put any meaningful distance between them, there it was again—that dreaded hand. Caesar's grip latched onto his arm like a vice, yanking him back around. Eun-jae barely had time to process the sudden movement before Caesar's other hand darted out, grabbing his face with a firm, almost surgical precision.
"What the—HEY!" Eun-jae shouted, but the words barely left his mouth before Caesar's fingers curled around the edge of his mask and ripped it clean off.
The cool air stung Eun-jae's face as the mask came away, leaving him exposed. His hands flew up instinctively, palms pressing against his cheeks as if he could somehow shove the anonymity back on. His heart was pounding so loudly he swore it echoed in the space between them.
"Are you insane?!" Eun-jae barked, snatching at the mask dangling from Caesar's fingers. "Give that back, you lunatic!"
But Caesar wasn't listening. His eyes widened for a split second, his usual calm cracking as he took in Eun-jae's uncovered face. Then his expression shifted back to something more neutral—cool, calculating, and infuriatingly unreadable.
Eun-jae glared up at him, his thoughts a chaotic spiral. "Why is he looking at me like that? I mean, it's not like this is the first time he's seen my face, right? He should already know what I look like from the pictures they sent him. Unless he just loves being a creep. Yeah, that tracks."
"Why is he staring at me like that?" Eun-jae finally asked aloud, his voice sharp with irritation. "What, is my face so fascinating that you've forgotten how to blink?"
Caesar tilted his head slightly, his gaze roaming over Eun-jae's features like he was examining a piece of art. "It's different in person," he said, his voice calm, almost matter-of-fact.
"What's different?" Eun-jae snapped, his patience wearing dangerously thin.
"More like this…" Caesar began, gesturing vaguely at Eun-jae's face. "Did you have angel bite piercings?"
Eun-jae blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Of all the things Caesar could've said, that wasn't even on his list of possibilities. His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to cover the faint scars where the piercings had once been.
"I removed them because of the mask," Eun-jae muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Not that it's any of your business."
Caesar raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable once again. "Nunya," Eun-jae added sharply, his tone dripping with sass.
"Nunya who?" Caesar asked, his lips curling into that insufferable smirk again.
Eun-jae let out a frustrated groan, throwing his hands up. "None of your business, lunatic!" he snapped, his voice rising an octave.
Caesar chuckled again, the sound low and almost melodic. It only made Eun-jae's irritation spike higher. "What is it with this guy? Does he get off on being infuriating? Is there a handbook I missed titled 'How to Annoy Eun-jae in Five Easy Steps'? Because he's clearly a damn expert!"
"Relax," Caesar said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk on his face remained firmly in place. "I was just curious."
"Well, maybe try keeping your curiosity to yourself next time," Eun-jae shot back, snatching the mask from Caesar's hand. "You're not a cat. You don't get nine lives to waste being nosy."
Caesar's smirk widened, and he leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto Eun-jae's. "You're a lot more entertaining without the mask," he said, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of something Eun-jae couldn't quite place.
Eun-jae scowled, his cheeks flushing despite himself. "And you're a lot more tolerable when you're not talking," he retorted, slipping the mask back into his pocket with a sharp tug.
Caesar reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black credit card with intricate golden accents that gleamed in the sunlight. It looked so pristine, so absurdly fancy, it might as well have been dipped in liquid arrogance. Without so much as a second thought, he handed it to Eun-jae, who stared at it like it was a bomb set to detonate.
"Here," Caesar said, his tone annoyingly casual, as if this was just another mundane interaction. "Take this. Go find something to eat, stay somewhere decent for the night, and, for the love of God, change your clothes. You look like a total mess."
Eun-jae blinked, his hand automatically reaching out to take the card even though his brain was screaming at him to refuse. His fingers brushed against the cool surface, and he almost dropped it, half-convinced the card might zap him out of sheer spite.
"Uh, excuse me?" Eun-jae began, his voice teetering between confusion and indignation. "What is this supposed to be? Some kind of pity handout? Do I look like I need your charity?"
Caesar ignored him entirely, stretching out his arm and hailing a taxi like he owned the entire city. A sleek black car pulled up almost instantly, and before Eun-jae could even finish processing what was happening, Caesar was already stepping inside.
"Wait—where are you going?" Eun-jae asked, his voice rising with a mix of irritation and bewilderment. But the car door slammed shut with a smooth click, and the taxi sped off, leaving him standing there like an idiot holding a card that probably cost more than his entire existence.
Eun-jae stood frozen for a moment, staring at the spot where the car had just been. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of which made any sense.
"Uhhh…what?" he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned the card over in his hands, inspecting it like it might hold the answers to life's great mysteries. "What just happened? Did I black out? Did I hallucinate that entire exchange? Who does that? Who hands someone a gold-plated credit card like it's a flyer for a pizza joint?"
His gaze darted around the street, half-expecting Caesar to pop out of nowhere and yell "Gotcha!" But the man was gone, leaving Eun-jae stranded in a puddle of confusion and indignation.
"Is this guy for real? First, he rips off my mask like some deranged drama villain, and now he's throwing expensive plastic at me like I'm his personal charity project? What does he think I am? A stray cat?"
Eun-jae shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the card still pinched between his fingers like it might spontaneously combust. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in hours. He glanced down at his clothes—soaked, wrinkled, and stained from whatever hellish series of events had brought him to this point.
"Okay, fine," he muttered, rolling his eyes as if someone were there to witness his reluctant surrender. "Maybe I do look like a total mess. But that doesn't mean I need him swooping in like some overbearing sugar daddy."
Still, the card practically glowed in his hand, taunting him with its promise of food, warmth, and a decent bed. Eun-jae's stomach growled again, louder this time, and he groaned in defeat.
"Guess I'm stuck with this," he muttered, pocketing the card. But as he started walking down the street, he couldn't help but glare in the direction Caesar's taxi had disappeared. "Where the hell did he go, anyway? Probably off to some five-star hotel to eat caviar and sip wine while I'm out here looking like a drowned rat."
He shook his head, his pace quickening as he scanned for the nearest restaurant or hotel. "Deluxe edition of annoying," he grumbled under his breath. "That's what he is. With gold-plated accessories, no less."
But even as he fumed, a small, grudging part of him had to admit that the card felt reassuring in his pocket. "Still a lunatic, though," he thought. "Just a lunatic with expensive taste."
Eun-jae stepped into the modest hotel lobby, the door creaking softly as it swung shut behind him. The air hit him first—a mix of industrial-strength cleaning products that stung his nose and a faint trace of cheap air freshener that tried, and failed, to mask it. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly, but it had that distinct "trying too hard to be clean" vibe that places like this often carried. The floral scent was overly sweet, clinging to the back of his throat like it had something to prove.