Eun-jae hated snooping. He wasn't the type to stick his nose where it didn't belong. But this situation? This was different. This wasn't just curiosity—this was instinct.
And his instincts were screaming at him.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Eun-jae got up, moving silent and smooth. He crept toward the door and cracked it open just enough to peer through.
Down the dimly lit corridor, he spotted Caesar standing with his back partially turned, phone pressed to his ear.
The air around him was different—coiled. Tense.
Eun-jae narrowed his eyes, watching.
Caesar's posture was deceptively casual, but Eun-jae could see the micro expressions, the subtle shifts that most people wouldn't even catch. The stiffness in his shoulders. The way his fingers curled slightly when he spoke. The faint flick of his gaze, checking his surroundings.
Oh, yeah. He's up to something.
Eun-jae strained his ears, trying to catch snippets of the conversation, but he was too far away. All he could hear was the low murmur of Caesar's voice—smooth, calm, unreadable.
That only made it worse.
The fact that Caesar was keeping his voice so level, so controlled, meant that whatever he was talking about was important.
And then—Caesar turned.
Their eyes met.
For a single heartbeat, Eun-jae saw something flicker across Caesar's face.
Surprise.
It was quick—barely noticeable—but Eun-jae caught it. The subtle widening of his eyes, the fraction of a second where his guard slipped.
Then, just as fast as it appeared, it was gone.
Replaced by a smirk.
Smug. Mocking. Infuriating.
Eun-jae's stomach twisted.
Oh, fuck you.
He immediately shut the door, turning on his heel and stalking back toward the bed, his face blank, his mind racing.
He hadn't even been snooping that hard. He had just looked, barely out the door. But the fact that Caesar noticed him that fast? And the fact that he wasn't even mad about it?
I don't like this.
Eun-jae forced himself to sit down, gripping his book again as if he were still interested in reading. I wasn't spying. I just happened to look. That's all.
But even as he tried to brush it off, a nagging irritation itched at the back of his mind.
Minutes later, the door creaked open again.
Caesar stepped back inside—still smirking.
Eun-jae could feel his gaze without even looking.
He stubbornly kept his eyes on the book, pretending to be fully engrossed in whatever nonsense was on the page. But his grip was too tight, his breathing too even—like he was forcing himself to act normal.
And Caesar? He just stood there. Watching.
Saying nothing.
Why isn't he even asking why I spied on him?
If it were the other way around, if Eun-jae had been the one sneaking off to take a mysterious call, Caesar would've immediately grilled him for answers. Teased him. Made some snarky remark.
But this bastard?
Not a single word.
Just that damn smirk, like he knew something Eun-jae didn't. Like he had already won some invisible game that Eun-jae wasn't even aware they were playing.
A cold sensation slithered down his spine.
I don't like this.
Eun-jae finally turned to look at him, and their eyes locked—Caesar's still filled with that infuriating amusement, his smirk curving like he was having the time of his life.
Eun-jae's jaw tightened.
Why do I feel like I'm being played with?
Like he was nothing more than a piece on a chessboard, and Caesar was already ten moves ahead, watching with mild amusement as Eun-jae scrambled to keep up.
His fingers twitched against the book cover.
Caesar's smirk deepened.
I swear to god, if he keeps looking at me like that for one more second, I'm going to wipe that smug expression right off his face.
Eun-jae sat stiffly on the bed, arms crossed, eyes closed, doing his best to pretend he was anywhere but here.
This mission was already an ordeal, but Caesar? Caesar was his own personal circle of hell.
It's been two days. Just two goddamn days, and Hyunji had barely left his cabin. Which was fine—it meant less work for them. Thanks to Caesar's little James Bond stunt, sneaking into Hyunji's room and installing hidden cameras, they didn't even need to move around much to keep an eye on him. Easy work. Simple. Relaxing, even.
At least, it should have been.
But no. No, of course not.
Because this bastard, this disgusting, unhinged, men-are-embarrassing-to-humanity, absolute dog of a man—Caesar—was currently balls deep inside the second-class cabin attendant, right in front of Eun-jae's innocent, hardworking, mission-focused eyes.
And Eun-jae? Eun-jae was suffering.
"Nghhh… haahh…" The woman's moans filled the room, blending seamlessly with the rhythmic creaking of the bed and the occasional slap of skin.
Eun-jae cracked an eye open and immediately regretted it.
There he was. Caesar.
Completely unbothered, sweaty, his golden-blond hair slightly damp, looking like some arrogant playboy prince out of a trashy romance novel. He had that lazy, infuriating smirk on his lips—because of course, he did. And he was still going at it, his toned back flexing with each thrust as the woman beneath him writhed like she was auditioning for a low-budget porno.
Kill me. Just kill me.
Eun-jae shut his eyes again, took a deep breath, and forced himself to focus on anything else.
The mission.
Hyunji.
The fact that they were literally on a moving train right now, and if he just pushed this bastard out the window, no one would ever find the body—
"Haaah! Mmmh! O-oh f-fuck!"
Eun-jae twitched.
His eye. Twitched.
He could not believe he had let himself be put in this situation. He had been prepared for danger. For violence. For secrecy and deception. But never—never in his worst nightmares—had he imagined he would be trapped in a confined space with a man who had the self-control of a damn rabbit in mating season.
And the worst part?
This wasn't even the first time it had happened.
Two days. It had only been two goddamn days on this train, and already, Caesar had managed to sleep with not one, but two attendants.
First, it was the first-class stewardess. Now, the second-class attendant. At this rate, Eun-jae wouldn't be surprised if, by tomorrow, the damn train conductor was getting railed against the control panel while the whole train swerved off the tracks.
He didn't want to look. He really didn't. But his own unfortunate existence was forcing him to bear witness to this absolute depravity.
He chanced a glance up—and immediately regretted it.
Caesar was there, completely unbothered, still thrusting into the woman like he was on some personal mission to break a world record for stamina. His golden hair was damp with sweat, sticking slightly to his forehead, and his lips—those infuriating lips—were pulled into a lazily amused smirk.
Eun-jae hated him.
With every fiber of his being.
This man had no shame. Not a single ounce of it. In fact, if shame had ever tried to approach Caesar, the bastard had probably flirted with it, fucked it, and then tossed it aside like every other poor soul who fell victim to his endless libido.
"Nghh… haahh… oh—oh f-fuck!"
The woman's obnoxiously breathy moans filled the room, bouncing off the walls, drilling into Eun-jae's brain like a relentless migraine.
He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and told himself to stay calm.
Maybe—just maybe—if he ignored them hard enough, he could mentally escape to a world where none of this was happening.
Maybe he could pretend he was somewhere peaceful.
Like a warzone.
Or a burning building.
Anywhere but here.
But then—CRASH.
The sound of glass shattering made Eun-jae flinch, eyes snapping downward. He saw the broken remains of a whiskey bottle on the floor, its contents splashed all over his feet. The strong scent of alcohol hit his nose immediately, making his already-throbbing headache even worse.
He slowly—very slowly—lifted his gaze back up.
"Hey." His voice was flat. Dead inside.
Caesar?
Still smirking.
And because he was a certified menace to society, the bastard thrust even harder, making the bed frame slam against the wall with an audible bang.
Eun-jae saw red.
Oh. Oh, he was going to kill him.
Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, Caesar was going to wake up with Eun-jae standing over his bed with a pillow and a murderous smile.
He let out a slow, exhausted exhale and shut his book with a decisive snap.
"I'm leaving."
He grabbed his things, fully prepared to vacate the room before his last shred of dignity burned away. But before he could take a single step—
Caesar moved again.
And this time, the bastard pulled the woman upright, yanked her blouse open even wider, exposing her perky, sweat-slicked breasts to the cool air.
Eun-jae's body betrayed him.
For just a fraction of a second, his stomach clenched, a small, involuntary flicker of heat curling deep in his gut.
It wasn't much. Barely anything. But it was enough.
Enough to make his eyes widen in horror.
Enough to make his breath hitch.
Enough to make pure, undiluted panic seize his entire body.
Nope.
Nope, nope, NOPE.
He turned on his heel and bolted.
In record speed, he crossed the room, yanked open the bathroom door, and slammed it shut behind him. His back hit the door as he let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
His heart was pounding. His face felt hot.
He turned, gripping the sink, staring at his own reflection in the mirror with a thousand-yard stare.
He looked like a man who had just seen death.
And honestly?
Maybe he had.
Not his own death.
But his sanity's.
Because that?
That was definitely dead.
"Fuck."
Eun-jae hated this.
Hated it with every single atom of his being.
His hand was pressed against the cold, tiled wall of the shower, his head slightly lowered, his wet hair clinging to his forehead as steaming water cascaded down his tense shoulders. But that wasn't the real problem here.
No.
The real problem was the undeniable, rock-hard situation happening below his waist.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
This was a nightmare.
An absolute, soul-crushing, dignity-destroying nightmare.
Of all things—of all the goddamn things—it had to be this.
It had to be Caesar's stupid fucking antics that left him like this.
He wasn't even thinking about the guy!
Nope.
Not even once.
(And if he had to repeat that a few more times to convince himself, then so be it.)
But the damage was already done.
The soft bounce of perky breasts, the way smooth, supple skin had glistened under the dim light, the teasing arch of a delicate back—
He groaned, palming his face as if that would somehow physically slap the sinful thoughts out of his head.
What the hell was wrong with him?!
This was Caesar's fault. It was all his fault. That shameless, walking, talking STD magnet had infected the entire room with his corruption, and now Eun-jae was suffering the consequences.
He exhaled sharply, his other hand twitching at his side.
"…Just this once."
It was a pathetic excuse. A last-ditch attempt to salvage what little remained of his pride. But at this point, Eun-jae was drowning in frustration, and his own damn body was betraying him in ways he would never forgive.
So, against his better judgment, he gave in.
A sharp inhale. A low hiss. A muttered curse.
His body shuddered, thighs tensing as pleasure curled in his stomach like a tight coil ready to snap.
But then—shit.
It wasn't just the woman's breasts in his mind anymore.
No.
Now, there were other things.
Things he definitely didn't mean to think about.
Things like strong, veined hands pressing against soft flesh. A low, deep chuckle vibrating in his ears. A mischievous smirk and golden hair damp with sweat.
His stomach dropped.
Wait.
Wait, wait, WAIT—
"Fuck!"
His entire body jerked as he finally, violently unraveled, a choked groan ripping from his throat as his mind went completely blank.
For a few precious seconds, all he could do was stand there, panting, his heart hammering in his chest as the water washed away all evidence of his shame.
And then?
The horror set in.
Slowly, very slowly, Eun-jae opened his eyes, staring blankly at the tiled wall in front of him.
His breath hitched.
No.
No, no, no, no, no, NO.
His fingers twitched slightly. His jaw locked.
He wanted to disappear.
To vanish into thin air. To be erased from the timeline.
Because he had fucked up.
He had fucked up bad.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
He wasn't supposed to think about that bastard.
Not now.
Not ever.
With a deep, shaky exhale, Eun-jae stripped out of his damp clothes, yanked the shower knob, and let the now ice-cold water punish him for his sins.
He glared at the drain.
If anyone asked?
This never happened.