Chereads / crimson and code(bl) / Chapter 46 - chapter 42

Chapter 46 - chapter 42

Eun-jae nearly choked on air.

Excuse me?

His mind blanked for half a second before irritation crashed right back in, hot and fast.

"Yah—" He pointed an accusing finger at Caesar, his hazel eyes narrowing dangerously. "I swear to god, if you're about to say some corny shit, I will personally throw my glass at your head."

Caesar chuckled, the sound deep and annoyingly smooth. "Relax. I was just appreciating the view."

Eun-jae scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Appreciating the view?" He gestured to himself, then waved his hand dramatically around the room. "This is not a goddamn art gallery. If you want a view, go stare at a wall."

Caesar shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Why would I, when you're much more entertaining?"

Eun-jae groaned, rubbing his temples. "I swear, you are the most infuriating person I have ever met."

Caesar grinned. "And yet, you're still sitting here with me."

Eun-jae opened his mouth—then promptly shut it, realizing he had no immediate comeback. He hated when Caesar had a point.

With a dramatic sigh, he snatched his glass and took another sip, grumbling under his breath. "I need stronger alcohol."

Caesar simply chuckled, raising his own glass in silent agreement.

The alcohol had started to settle in Eun-jae's veins, warming him from the inside out, dulling the sharper edges of his thoughts. He wasn't drunk—no way—just loose. Relaxed in a way he rarely let himself be, especially in the company of a man as unpredictable as Caesar.

His hazel eyes flicked up lazily, studying the blonde across from him. Even under the dim bar lighting, Caesar's hair still stood out—a striking shade of gold that seemed almost unnatural against the cold backdrop of Russia. Eun-jae had always thought it looked too perfect to be real, like those expensive wigs people wore in dramas.

His brows furrowed slightly.

He had to know.

"Your blonde hair…" Eun-jae started, swirling the drink in his hand before looking at Caesar with mild suspicion. "Is it real?"

Caesar arched a brow, clearly amused by the sudden question. "Huh?"

Eun-jae clicked his tongue, already growing impatient. "I heard there aren't a lot of natural blondes here in Russia." His words slurred slightly, but he waved off the thought. It wasn't important. What was important was solving the mystery of Caesar's annoyingly perfect hair.

Caesar smirked, lazily running a hand through his golden locks. "Yep. It's real."

Eun-jae squinted, skeptical. "You sure?"

"Positive."

A pause.

Then—Caesar tilted his head down slightly, his smirk deepening. "Wanna touch?"

Eun-jae blinked.

A challenge.

Or maybe just a tease.

Either way, he wasn't about to back down.

Narrowing his eyes, he slowly set his glass down and reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against the strands of Caesar's hair.

And then—

Oh.

His mind went blank for a second.

His fingers curled slightly, feeling the texture between them. It was—soft. So soft. Like silk. No—like clouds. Or maybe like expensive fur coats that rich old ladies wore in winter.

Eun-jae blinked again, his lips parting slightly as he muttered in his head.

'It's so… soooooffffftttt…'

His eyes widened just a little, a faint glimmer of awe flickering in them. His fingers twitched before he abandoned all pretense of subtlety and used both hands, running them through Caesar's golden locks with an almost childlike fascination.

His mind was buzzing—not just from the alcohol, but from the pure betrayal of reality itself.

How the hell did this man have hair softer than half the expensive silk pillows he had ever touched?!

Unacceptable.

Unfair.

It was ridiculous.

He continued petting it, fingers raking through the strands as if trying to find one imperfection, one flaw—something to justify why it felt this damn nice.

Caesar, meanwhile, remained completely still, his smirk never fading. "Enjoying yourself?"

Eun-jae froze.

His hands stopped mid-motion.

His eyes flicked up, meeting Caesar's gaze—filled with amusement.

Heat rushed to his face.

His fingers twitched, still buried in the golden strands, before he abruptly ripped his hands away like he had just touched fire.

"Tch." He cleared his throat, immediately reaching for his drink as if that would erase the last thirty seconds of his life. "It's whatever."

Caesar chuckled, tilting his head slightly. "That's not what your eyes were saying."

Eun-jae shot him a glare, but it lacked its usual fire. His brain was still struggling to process the betrayal of Caesar's unfairly soft hair.

With a dramatic sigh, he took another sip of his drink before muttering under his breath.

"…Fucking rich people and their good genetics."

Caesar only smirked wider.

Eun-jae exploded into laughter, his voice ringing out in the dimly lit space like a chaotic melody. It was the kind of laughter that came from deep in the stomach, the kind that shook shoulders and made it hard to breathe. His body swayed slightly as he poured another drink, the alcohol sloshing over the rim of the glass.

Caesar, on the other hand, simply snorted at the scene unfolding before him. He didn't laugh—not the way Eun-jae did—but the amusement in his expression was evident. His lips twitched, his sharp eyes gleaming under the dim glow of the room.

Eun-jae was wasted.

There was no denying it now. His face was flushed a delicate shade of red, his usually sharp, calculating gaze softened into a dazed, half-lidded expression. His lips jutted out in an unconscious pout, making him look more like a grumpy, sulking kid than a man who had survived more battles than he cared to count.

If he was sober, he'd probably be horrified at himself.

But right now?

Right now, he didn't give a damn.

He rocked slightly in his seat, eyes lazily drifting across the table until they landed on Caesar—who was still as a statue.

A frown tugged at his lips.

Wait.

Was he…?

Eun-jae blinked.

Was this man really asleep?

He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward as if that would give him a better look.

Caesar had his arms crossed, his head tilted ever so slightly, his eyes shut, his breathing steady.

Out.

Gone.

Completely unconscious.

A mischievous grin spread across Eun-jae's face, his intoxicated brain immediately jumping to conclusions.

"Hehehe~" He giggled, nudging Caesar's shoulder lightly with a finger. The blonde didn't stir.

Eun-jae's grin widened.

"Someone can't handle their liquor~" he sing-songed, voice teasing, eyes glinting with satisfaction.

And then—

Bang.

His body gave out.

Like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut, Eun-jae slumped forward, his head hitting the table with a dull thud. The world spun for a brief second, and then—darkness.

A small, amused chuckle echoed in the quiet.

Caesar's eyes fluttered open, sharp and alert, not a single trace of drunkenness in his gaze. His lips curled into a smirk as he exhaled a thin wisp of smoke from his freshly lit cigarette, the ember at its tip glowing faintly in the dim lighting.

He flicked his gaze downward, his attention drawn to the unconscious man beside him.

Eun-jae's fingers were still curled slightly, resting near his own hand. Without really thinking, Caesar reached out, lightly pinching the tip of Eun-jae's smallest finger between his own.

He turned it slightly, inspecting it.

"Tch."

A small chuckle rumbled in his chest as he rolled the digit between his fingers, feeling the warmth of Eun-jae's skin against his own.

"Such a small finger."

His voice was low, almost to himself.

His smirk widened as he took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling a slow stream of smoke into the air.

Interesting.

This was getting more fun by the second.

Eun-jae's eyes cracked open, his vision blurry and his head pounding like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his skull. Ugh. His body felt heavy, like he had been buried under a mountain of bad decisions and even worse alcohol.

"Owww, my head..." he groaned, his voice raspy, his throat dry like he had been chewing on cotton all night.

For a moment, he just laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling, the dim glow of the room doing absolutely nothing to ease the nausea twisting in his stomach. His brain was struggling to catch up, stuck between the miserable haze of a hangover and the sharp clarity of reality.

Then—

His nose twitched.

The hell is that smell?

The sharp tang of alcohol clung to the air, but beneath it was something else. Something more distinct.

Caesar.

It wasn't just the lingering scent of cigarettes and whiskey—it was his damn pheromones, thick in the air, wrapping around Eun-jae like an invisible chain. Sharp, dominant, laced with something both intoxicating and dangerous.

His lips curled in irritation.

Great. Just great.

His last functioning brain cells sluggishly pieced together the events of the night before.

Drinking. Laughing. Touching his stupid, soft blonde hair.

Ugh.

His brows twitched in frustration as he slowly pushed himself up, rubbing his temples as if he could physically massage the hangover out of his skull. He turned his head, expecting to see Caesar slumped in the chair where he last saw him, but—

Nothing.

Empty.

The bastard was gone.

Not my problem.

He groaned again, shoving the covers off his body and flopping onto his proper bed. The mattress was soft—too soft. He melted into it, sighing heavily.

Sleep. That was all he needed. If Caesar was off somewhere being an insufferable bastard, then good for him. Eun-jae wasn't going to waste another second thinking about him.

His eyelids were just about to shut—

Click.

The door creaked.

A cold chill crawled up his spine.

His body tensed immediately.

The air felt different.

Something was wrong.

Before he could move, a hand shot out of the darkness, clamping around his throat.

Tight. Cold. Unforgiving.

His eyes flew open in shock, his breath snagging in his throat. He couldn't see—just shadows. Just fingers tightening, cutting off his air.

"K-Kueek… Hngh—" His hands shot up, instinctively clawing at the fingers squeezing his neck, his pulse thundering in his ears.

Then—

A chuckle.

Low. Mocking.

"Ah ty, glupaya Bombéyskiy!!"

Russian.

The voice was smooth, deep, and far too amused—like whoever it belonged to was enjoying this.

Eun-jae's brain screamed at him to move, fight, do something, but his limbs were slow, unresponsive. The darkness around him was pressing in, suffocating—

And then—

He woke up.

"GAHH—!"

His body jerked upright, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. His heart was hammering so violently against his ribs that he swore it might burst out of his chest.

His fingers immediately flew to his throat, rubbing at the phantom sensation of cold hands still lingering there.

A dream?

No. A nightmare.

But it felt too real.

His pulse was still racing, his skin clammy with sweat. The voice, the grip, the suffocating darkness—it all lingered, refusing to fade.

He swallowed, his gaze flickering around the room. Nothing. Just the dim glow of the lamps. Just the usual shadows cast by furniture. Just—

Water.

His breath hitched.

The shower was running.

Eun-jae's spine stiffened.

Wait.

Wait.

Who the fuck was in the shower?

A fresh wave of unease crawled up his back, his senses sharpening despite the lingering haze in his head.

Had someone actually been in his room? Had someone been strangling him?

Or—

His sluggish brain supplied an even more ridiculous thought.

Was this it?

Was this how it happened?

Was this the dream coming true?

His traitorous imagination immediately painted a picture—Caesar. Shirtless. Hair damp. Steam curling around his absurdly tall figure, clinging to his toned body in a way that looked straight out of some dramatic, over-the-top mafia romance scene.

Eun-jae physically cringed.

Holy shit. Stop.

STOP.

Get a grip, you idiot!

He violently shook his head, pushing away the thought before it could take root.

This wasn't some damn fanfiction.

If someone was in that shower, it could be anyone.

And that meant one thing—

He needed his gun.

His fingers curled around the cool metal, his breath steadying as he silently slid out of bed. Despite the headache pounding behind his eyes, his movements were smooth, precise.

If someone was trying to kill him, they picked the wrong fucking day.

His bare feet barely made a sound as he moved toward the bathroom. His muscles coiled, every nerve on high alert.

The water kept running. No movement. No sounds.

One deep breath.

Then—

Eun-jae kicked the door open, gun raised—

Ready to shoot.

Eun-jae's breath was still heavy, his heart hammering violently against his ribs from the sheer shock and adrenaline pumping through his veins. His grip on the gun was tight, his fingers stiff from how hard he was clutching the cold metal. His mind was a mess, tangled between the lingering fear from his near-death experience and the growing irritation at the very idea that someone had been in his room—in his space—choking him in his sleep.

His throat still felt sore, like an invisible hand was still wrapped around it. He exhaled sharply, trying to clear his head, to process, to rationalize. But before he could make sense of what had just happened—

Click.

His head snapped toward the front door.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Slow. Careless.

Then—

Caesar.