the seraphim paradox

The car swerved slightly before he corrected it, but the pure offense on his face was impossible to hide. "EW." He whipped his head around, shooting Caesar a look of absolute horror. "No."

Caesar smirked, clearly entertained by the reaction. "Why not? It's a perfectly reasonable option." He gave a slow shrug, like the idea of waltzing into a crime syndicate's party with Eun-jae on his arm was no big deal. "Besides, I was the one invited. I don't exactly need an escort, but I wouldn't mind one."

Eun-jae nearly gagged. "I would rather fling myself into that fountain and let the expensive-ass koi fish devour me."

Caesar just laughed again, shaking his head. "Your loss. I hear they treat partners of VIPs very well at these events. Private lounges, complimentary drinks, luxurious treatment…" He sighed dramatically, as if he were the victim here. "But no, you'd rather struggle."

Eun-jae rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised he didn't sprain something. "Yeah, no thanks. And anyway, it wouldn't be that difficult to just blend in with the guards." He gestured vaguely at the uniformed men stationed near the entrance, their presence almost blending into the extravagance of the mansion. "There are so many of them. I could easily zap one, knock him out, and steal his outfit. Boom. Problem solved."

Caesar's smirk turned knowing. "You really love trouble, don't you?"

Eun-jae scoffed. "I thrive in it."

Eun-jae exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Well, at least we got an invitation to this... whatever. His inner monologue was laced with pure, unfiltered irritation. That's the only silver lining here. But why— why, in the name of all that was holy, did I have to be this asshole's chauffeur?

He wanted to scream. Or maybe crash the car into one of the unnecessarily grand marble pillars lining the driveway. Either option seemed preferable to this humiliating charade.

The mansion in front of them was practically oozing with wealth. The kind of wealth that smelled like aged whiskey, overpriced cigars, and generational power that had never been questioned. The kind of wealth that created men like Caesar—smug, untouchable, and insufferably arrogant.

Eun-jae sighed, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment before finally pulling the car into a perfect, seamless stop. He shifted into park, yanked the keys out, and sat there, gripping them like they were the only thing keeping him sane.

Then he turned to Caesar, who was, of course, lounging in the backseat like he had all the time in the world. Like he belonged here. Like he wasn't making Eun-jae suffer on purpose.

"Well?" Eun-jae snapped, his tone as sharp as a blade. "What are you waiting for? Won't you get down?"

Caesar didn't move. Didn't even blink. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. His lips curled into that godforsaken smirk that made Eun-jae want to commit a crime.

"Have you forgotten your job?" Caesar drawled, his voice positively dripping with mockery.

Eun-jae swore he felt his soul leave his body. His eye twitched. His grip on the keys tightened. He imagined—just for a second—whipping them at Caesar's perfectly sculpted face.

Instead, he inhaled deeply through his nose, forcing himself to stay civil (barely).

"Fuck you," he gritted out before yanking the door open with far more force than necessary.

The door swung wide, and Caesar, still smirking, took his sweet, sweet time stepping out, adjusting his coat like he was royalty gracing the world with his presence.

Eun-jae clenched his jaw so hard he swore he could hear his teeth grinding.

This was going to be a long night.

The second they stepped inside, Eun-jae had to physically stop himself from gaping like a starstruck idiot.

The hallway was massive—high ceilings, marble floors polished to perfection, and walls lined with gold-trimmed mirrors that reflected the opulence back at them from every angle. Chandeliers hung like floating constellations above their heads, their crystal prisms catching the light and scattering it across the room in a mesmerizing dance. The air smelled expensive—subtle notes of aged bourbon, exotic spices, and the kind of fresh-cut flowers that probably cost more than Eun-jae's rent.

Holy shit.

"So this is inside the mansion," Eun-jae thought, his steps slowing slightly as he took it all in. His skin prickled with an involuntary chill. The sheer grandeur of it all was breathtaking—in the kind of way that made him feel out of place. Like he was walking through a museum where he wasn't supposed to touch anything—or worse, a predator's lair, where one wrong move could spell disaster.

He didn't belong here.

Caesar, on the other hand, looked perfectly at home.

The bastard barely spared a glance at the surroundings, walking forward with the confidence of a man who owned the place. He moved like the air itself bent to his will, every step exuding effortless dominance. And when he glanced at Eun-jae—just a brief, side-eyed look—it came with a smirk that sent warning bells ringing in Eun-jae's head.

Smug ass bastard.

Eun-jae scowled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Then, something else hit him.

The scent.

It was thick in the air—heavy with something instinctual, almost primal. There was no mistaking it, not with the way it clung to his senses like invisible smoke.

Pheromones.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

This place reeked of them. Wealth, power, and something much darker simmered beneath the surface of the luxurious atmosphere. The sheer intensity of it made his skin crawl. His mind flickered with the image of a room filled with powerful Alphas and delicate, needy Omegas, the tension crackling between them like a live wire.

Eun-jae smirked slightly to himself.

If I were a damn Omega, I'd probably be in heat right now. The thought alone was enough to make him roll his eyes. But thank the heavens I'm a Beta. He might not have the raw, commanding presence of an Alpha, but at least he wasn't a slave to pheromones like some poor, unsuspecting Omega caught in the crossfire of a power play.

As they reached the entrance to the grand hall, the guards stationed at either side barely spared them a glance before pushing open the massive doors.

And just like that, the world inside changed.

The grand hall was a sight to behold.

Towering pillars framed the vast space, their intricate carvings telling stories of history and legacy. A massive chandelier hung in the center, glowing like a suspended sun, casting golden hues over the sea of elegantly dressed figures below. The hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the clinking of fine crystal glasses and the soft notes of a live orchestra playing somewhere in the background.

Eun-jae let out a low whistle.

"Wow," he muttered under his breath.

Caesar, naturally, didn't even pause. He strode inside with that same infuriating ease, immediately melding into the crowd like he belonged there—because of course he did.

Eun-jae was about to follow when—

A firm grip closed around his arm.

He froze.

The touch wasn't gentle—it was authoritative, demanding. Like a leash snapping onto a collar.

"The chauffeurs' room is this way. Follow me," a deep voice instructed, no room for argument.

Eun-jae's brain stalled for half a second.

Wait. What?

He turned his head sharply, coming face-to-face with a broad-shouldered man in a suit, one who clearly worked here. Eun-jae's mouth opened, ready to protest, but—

His eyes flickered toward Caesar.

The bastard wasn't even looking at him.

He was already deep in conversation with a group of men, his entire demeanor exuding effortless charm and authority. He looked like he belonged, standing among them like some untouchable figure draped in wealth and influence.

Eun-jae felt his eye twitch.

This asshole.

He could've at least thrown him a glance. Could've acknowledged that he was being manhandled into some backroom where chauffeurs probably sat around drinking cheap coffee and waiting to be called like trained dogs.

But no.

The moment it was convenient for him, Caesar had completely switched roles.

Eun-jae clenched his jaw, his patience snapping like a rubber band stretched too far.

I thought we were partners. I thought we were in this together. But the moment I actually need backup, what does he do?

Fucking ignores me.

His lips curled into a tight, irritated smile.

The chauffeur's lounge was a cramped, dimly lit space filled with the low hum of conversation, the rustling of fabric as men changed into fresh uniforms, and the occasional burst of laughter. The scent of cheap cologne, motor oil, and faint traces of cigarette smoke clung to the air, making Eun-jae wrinkle his nose slightly.

This is so not my scene.

The other chauffeurs barely acknowledged him, too preoccupied with their own business. Some were fixing their ties in the smudged wall mirror, others were swapping stories about their clients—boasting about tips, complaining about ridiculous demands, or just shooting the breeze about random gossip.

Eun-jae, on the other hand, wasn't interested in any of that.

His mind was already working at full speed.

Okay, so I need to get out of here.

With the party in full swing, now was the perfect time to slip in unnoticed and gather information. But there was a problem. As a chauffeur, it would be suspicious if he was caught roaming around. If any of the guards or staff saw him outside of this room without a proper excuse, they'd start asking questions. And if they started asking questions, things could spiral out of control fast.

He could, of course, just let Caesar handle things.

…

Yeah. No.

Not doing that again.

Eun-jae scowled at the very thought. He still hadn't forgiven that bastard for ditching him at the entrance like some disposable underling. He was not about to sit here like a good little driver while Caesar got all the fun.

His sharp eyes flickered around the room, scanning for an opportunity.

Most of the chauffeurs were either too busy chatting or changing—no one was paying attention to him. If he timed it right, he could just walk out, and no one would bat an eye.

Simple.

Moving with casual ease, Eun-jae slipped toward the door, his movements fluid, natural—like he belonged there. His heart pounded just a little as he crossed the threshold, but—

Nothing.

No one called him back.

No one stopped him.

Phew. That was easy.

He smirked slightly, letting out a breath of relief. He was about to make his way toward the main hall when—

"Where are you going?"

The voice sliced through the air like a knife.

Eun-jae froze.

Shit.

His shoulders tensed, but he quickly forced them to relax before turning around, carefully schooling his expression into something neutral.

One of the staff members—a broad-shouldered man with sharp, observant eyes—was watching him closely.

Eun-jae blinked innocently. "Restroom," he said smoothly. "I need to use it."

The man narrowed his eyes slightly.

Come on, just buy it and move on.

"Hmm…" The man studied him for a second longer than necessary before finally turning. "Follow me."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Eun-jae resisted the urge to groan out loud as he trailed behind him.

Okay, not ideal, but not terrible.

"Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad." His mind raced as he followed the man down the corridor. The bathroom was too far from the main hall, meaning he was heading in the opposite direction of where he needed to be. Not only that, but if he actually went inside and came out too quickly, the man might get suspicious. But if he took too long, he'd lose precious time.

"Damn it. I need a new plan. Fast."

Except—

Wait.

As they walked through the dimly lit hallway, something clicked in Eun-jae's head.

This area… there were no cameras.

His sharp gaze flickered around discreetly, scanning the corners, the ceiling—nothing. No little red blinking lights, no black domes.

Interesting.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

This is my chance.

It was risky, but risk was kind of his thing.

The staff member finally stopped in front of a door and gestured. "Here it is."

Eun-jae turned to him, tilting his head slightly.

"You've done enough," he said smoothly, switching to Korean. "You need to rest."

The man blinked, confused. "Pardon?"

He didn't get to finish his sentence.

Eun-jae moved in a flash—quick, precise, and efficient. Before the man could react, Eun-jae delivered a swift, expertly placed strike to his pressure point.

The man's eyes rolled back. He slumped forward, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Eun-jae exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders.

Textbook execution. Beautifully done.

Without wasting time, he crouched down and yanked off the man's uniform, changing into it swiftly. The material smelled faintly of detergent and something vaguely musky, but it would have to do. He tightened the belt, adjusted the sleeves, and gave himself a once-over.

Then, as a final touch, he reached up and tied his hair back.

The loose strands were too recognizable—better to keep them out of the way.

Satisfied, Eun-jae straightened up, rolling his shoulders once more.

Alright. Now the real fun begins.

"Hey, move it! We don't have time to waste—they're waiting!" a voice boomed, thick with a heavy Russian accent.

Eun-jae barely had a moment to react before a tray of red wine glasses was shoved into his hands. The sheer force of it nearly made him lose balance, but he quickly adjusted, gripping the tray firmly before any of the crystal glasses could tip over.

"Hey, you! What the hell are you just standing there for? Get your ass to work!" the head staff barked at him before stomping away, not sparing him another glance.

Right. Just another faceless worker in a sea of servants.

Eun-jae exhaled, schooling his expression into something neutral as he stepped into the grand hall. The moment he crossed the threshold, his senses were hit with an overwhelming wave of luxury and power.

The room was massive—easily larger than an opera house. Chandeliers dripped from the high ceiling, their golden lights reflecting off the polished marble floors, casting an ethereal glow over the extravagant scene. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, imported cigars, and aged whiskey.

The guests were dressed in the finest tailored suits and opulent gowns, their conversations laced with quiet arrogance, laughter tinged with the kind of confidence that came from generational wealth and absolute power. These weren't just rich people. These were the untouchables. The kind of people who could start wars with a phone call, destroy companies over dinner, and make governments bow with a simple nod.

"Damn. This isn't just a party. It's a power gathering."

Damn. This place reeks of money. If I was some poor bastard looking for a sugar daddy, this would be heaven.

Eun-jae's sharp eyes flickered through the sea of influential figures as he carefully navigated the room, keeping his movements smooth and deliberate. Blending in was crucial. One wrong move, one misplaced glance, and his cover would be blown.

The real problem? How the hell was he supposed to gather information in a place this crowded?

As he pondered his next move, his left eye's scanning device quietly activated, pulling up data on the individuals around him. Lines of text scrolled across his vision, names and statuses appearing in real-time.

Moroz Aleksandr Volkov

Eun-jae stiffened. The President of Russia.

His lips barely moved as he muttered under his breath, "Well, I guess this party isn't for the poor."

Before he could process the full weight of the information, a hand suddenly plucked a glass of wine from his tray.

He didn't even need to look to know who it was.

"Well, I was expecting there to be a lot of people," Caesar's smooth voice drawled lazily, amusement flickering in his dark eyes as he sipped from his glass.

Eun-jae didn't bother responding, his attention instead shifting to the woman standing next to the Russian president—a striking figure with an air of quiet dominance.

"The lady talking to him is the daughter of the Emperor," Caesar continued, swirling the wine in his glass.

Eun-jae's brows lifted slightly. "Which emperor?"

Caesar smirked. "Emperor Nikolai Petrovich Romanov. And that, my friend, is Seraphina." He took another slow sip before adding, "She also happens to be the mother of Bes."

Eun-jae nearly choked. "Wait. Bes is related to the royals?"