the seraphim paradox

"Aahh— nghh— GEU… GEUMANHAE!! N-NEOMU SHINHAE… A-AHH NEOMU APA… B-BAEGA JJIJJYEOJILGEOT GATA… J-JEBAL… BU… BUTAKHAE…!! AAH!!!" (St-Stop it…!! Y-you're too much… a-ahh, it hurts so much… i-it feels like my stomach is going to rip apart… p-please… I… I'm begging you…)

His voice broke, cracking between desperate gasps, but the plea only made Caesar smirk.

Cruel. Dangerous. Unforgiving.

Without warning, Caesar's fingers tangled into Eun-jae's damp hair, gripping tightly before yanking his head back.

A startled cry left Eun-jae's lips.

His spine arched, his knees buckling beneath him—but Caesar held him up effortlessly. Forced him to stand, to face himself.

And that's when he saw it.

The mirror.

His own reflection stared back at him.

A complete wreck.

His lips were swollen, parted as he struggled for breath. His skin was flushed deep crimson, strands of damp hair clinging to his face. His eyes—heavy-lidded, dazed, ruined—looked nothing like his usual sharp, confident self.

And the worst part?

Dripping.

The remnants of his undoing trailed down his thighs, leaving burning traces in their wake. The shame, the heat, the overwhelming realization that he looked like this—that Caesar made him look like this—

His stomach twisted.

His fingers pressed weakly against the mirror, trying to steady himself, but his knees—his entire body—betrayed him.

He was falling.

And Caesar knew it.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he drank in the sight, his blue eyes locking onto Eun-jae through the glass.

"Look at yourself," he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction.

"You can barely stand."

Eun-jae whimpered.

His breath hitched, his vision swimming, the remnants of their intensity trailing down his skin, marking him, claiming him.

Then—without effort, Caesar lifted him again.

His body was pressed against the mirror, leaving no space between them, the heat, the tension, the overwhelming control swallowing him whole.

Eun-jae gasped, his body trembling, unable to process, unable to fight.

"Nghh— aah… stop—" he tried to speak, but the words dissolved into another sharp gasp.

Caesar chuckled, his lips brushing against Eun-jae's ear, voice thick with amusement—

"Why would I stop when you look this good?"

Eun-jae's breath came in short, shaky gasps, his body burning, trembling uncontrollably. His fingers clenched weakly against the sheets, muscles tight, his legs useless beneath him.

He felt wrecked.

Yet, Caesar wasn't satisfied.

He was still watching him, still drinking in every little reaction.

A wicked smirk curled on Caesar's lips.

"You look so fucking good like this."

Eun-jae gritted his teeth, breath hitching. Even now, even in this pathetic state, he refused to let Caesar have the last word.

"Shut… the fuck… up," he growled, his voice hoarse, raw.

Caesar's expression darkened.

Then—his grip tightened.

"Oh? You still have that sharp little mouth?"

His words were mocking, dangerous.

And then—he moved.

The world snapped white.

Eun-jae's eyes widened, his entire body locking up as a strangled, breathless sound tore from his throat.

"AAH—!!"

His breath stuttered, his back arching involuntarily. The sensation was too much.

"B-Baega… n-neomu apa…!"

('My stomach—it hurts so much…!')

A breathy laugh slipped from Caesar's lips.

It was low, amused, dripping with satisfaction.

His fingers dragged along Eun-jae's spine, slow and taunting, tracing every little shiver.

"I've always wondered…" Caesar murmured, voice smooth as silk.

"Is it really possible for someone to die just from being ruined like this?"

Eun-jae's chest heaved. His thoughts were gone, his body weak, his mind nothing but white-hot static.

He barely noticed when Caesar's hand slid lower, cupping, pressing, teasing.

And then—he moved again.

Eun-jae let out a ragged gasp, his body jerking, trembling uncontrollably.

His fingers curled uselessly into the sheets, his lips parted as he tried to breathe through it.

"Hah—!"

Caesar's blue eyes flickered. He felt it.

The way Eun-jae tensed, the way he squeezed so tightly around him.

And it made something in Caesar's expression darken with hunger.

He chuckled.

Low, dark, satisfied.

"Oh? You're squeezing me so damn tight."

Eun-jae barely registered the words.

His vision was hazy, his body burning, every nerve fried.

"Y-you… piece of shit…" he muttered, voice weak, shaking.

Still—his tone held defiance.

Caesar's smirk widened.

"Still talking back?"

His fingers tangled in Eun-jae's damp hair, gripping firmly, tugging his head back—forcing their eyes to meet through the reflection in the mirror.

Eun-jae's half-lidded gaze flickered, dazed, his breath coming in shallow pants, his lips slightly parted.

He looked wrecked.

And Caesar?

Caesar just smirked.

Because at this moment—he owned him.

Eun-jae's legs trembled, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His body felt weak, feverish, utterly wrecked. But Caesar—he wasn't finished.

"Stand."

His voice was deep, commanding—absolute.

Eun-jae barely had time to react before strong hands clamped around his waist, yanking him upright. His knees almost gave out, but Caesar's grip was unyielding. Unforgiving.

Then—teeth.

A sharp, possessive bite to the back of his neck.

Pain flared for a brief moment, then heat flooded his veins. A rush so powerful that his breath hitched, his body locking up.

"No." His mind screamed, but his body—his body betrayed him.

A shudder ran through him.

Behind him, Caesar's breath was hot against his skin, his voice a low, satisfied growl.

"You know exactly what I just did, don't you?"

Eun-jae squeezed his eyes shut, his nails digging into his palms. His body wasn't listening to him anymore.

Because that wasn't just a bite.

It was a claim.

And those icy blue eyes were watching him—taking in every reaction, every tremble, every unspoken plea for mercy.

Then—everything spun.

Caesar grabbed him, tossing him onto the bed like a ragdoll. The mattress barely had time to settle before Caesar was on him again, his weight pressing down, suffocating, inescapable.

His blue eyes gleamed, hungry, predatory.

"You think you can handle me?" His voice was laced with amusement, dark and mocking.

Eun-jae's chest heaved, his body tense beneath him.

It didn't matter what he answered. Caesar had already made the decision for him.

And then—movement.

A sharp, involuntary gasp tore from Eun-jae's lips, his fingers clawing at the sheets, his mind spiraling.

"Ngh—ah—"

A low groan rumbled in Caesar's throat—deep, primal, utterly in control.

His grip tightened, keeping Eun-jae right where he wanted him.

"Look at you…" His breath was hot against Eun-jae's ear, teasing, taunting. "You act like you hate it, but your body? It's telling me something else."

Eun-jae wanted to fight back. Wanted to curse him out, tell him to go to hell—

But he couldn't.

Because he wasn't sure if he was still capable of speech.

His body shook beneath him, muscles locking, mind blanking out. His vision blurred, overwhelmed by heat, by the suffocating pressure, by the sheer force of everything Caesar was making him feel.

And then—the peak.

Caesar let out a low groan, his grip tightening, his breath uneven, his blue eyes darkening with satisfaction.

Even as the tension finally snapped, even as he pulled back, those piercing eyes never left Eun-jae.

Watching. Studying. Possessing.

Eun-jae lay there, wrecked, dazed, unable to move. His body limp, trembling, his breathing shallow.

And yet—Caesar only smirked.

Reaching for his tobacco, he lit one up with ease, taking a slow, indulgent drag before exhaling the smoke.

His icy blue eyes gleamed with something dangerous.

"No doubt about it…" His voice was low, lazy, drenched in amusement.

"By the end of this week… you'll be in heaven."

Day 7.

Eun-jae's body wasn't his anymore.

Seven days. 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨.

No food.

No water.

Nothing but Caesar, his cock and cum.

His body was wrecked, fevered, trembling from the inside out. He felt hollow, like something had been torn out of him and replaced with nothing but exhaustion and pain. His limbs barely responded anymore, yet his nerves were raw, overworked, stretched so thin that every tiny movement sent shockwaves of agony through him.

And yet—he was still alive.

How?

Eun-jae's dry, cracked lips parted as he exhaled shakily. His vision swam, the dim light of the room blurring Caesar's silhouette as he moved.

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦.

A soft metallic click.

Then—Caesar's voice. Smooth. Dark. Drenched in amusement.

"Can't believe you're still alive."

A shiver ran down Eun-jae's exhausted, feverish body.

Caesar turned, a small glass vial held between his fingers. Inside it—a sickly red liquid, viscous and unnatural.

"You really are strong."

Eun-jae didn't have the energy to glare, but his pulse stuttered in warning.

Not that it mattered. Caesar could read him like an open book.

A syringe.

The needle gleamed under the dim light as Caesar drew the liquid into it, every movement slow, deliberate—meant to be seen. Meant to make Eun-jae watch.

Then—those blue eyes locked onto his.

"Let's speed things up, shall we?"

Eun-jae's breath caught. His blood turned to ice.

"You know what this is, don't you?"

His heart slammed against his ribs. His body, too weak to even flinch, still screamed in protest.

"Havoc-9."

Eun-jae's chest seized.

𝘕𝘰.

The moment Havoc-9 enters the bloodstream, it's like igniting a chemical wildfire inside the body. its effects are both devastating and unpredictable.

At first, users experience a surge of adrenaline so intense that their heart rate skyrockets to near-lethal levels. Blood vessels constrict rapidly, forcing oxygen through the system at a breakneck pace, heightening reflexes, dulling pain, and granting a terrifying burst of strength and speed. But the human body was never meant to endure such a strain.

Within minutes, overheating begins—body temperature rising dangerously as muscles overclock, often leading to painful cramping and tremors. Sweat glands shut down, causing rapid dehydration. Vision blurs, and the brain, flooded with overstimulation, starts misfiring signals, leading to paranoia, hallucinations, and uncontrollable aggression.

Then comes the internal breakdown. The heart, pushed past its limit, begins to stutter, struggling against the extreme pressure. The kidneys, unable to filter the toxic compounds, start shutting down, and the liver, overloaded, begins to fail. Some victims report feeling like their veins are on fire, as if the drug is corroding them from the inside out.

The final stage is brutal. Within an hour, if the dosage is high enough, cerebral hemorrhaging occurs—small blood vessels in the brain burst, leading to seizures, violent convulsions, and, ultimately, death. Those lucky enough to survive Havoc-9 even once are often left with permanent neurological damage, organ failure, or a ravenous addiction that drives them to chase another hit, despite knowing it's suicide.

The underground calls it "the demon's kiss"—because once it touches you, it never lets go.

"You look terrified."

Caesar chuckled, crouching beside the bed. The mattress dipped slightly as he leaned in, his breath ghosting against Eun-jae's damp skin.

"And you should be."

𝘕𝘰. 𝘕𝘰, 𝘕𝘖.

Eun-jae tried to wrench his arm away, but Caesar was stronger. The grip around his wrist was iron.

"Body found at Amur River."

Eun-jae froze.

Caesar leaned in, pressing a slow, burning kiss against his pulse.

Then, with a smirk, he whispered—

"Sounds like a great headline, doesn't it?"

Eun-jae struggled against Caesar's grip, his body weak from exhaustion, yet his mind racing with unanswered questions. The weight of Caesar pressing against him made his muscles scream in protest, but he refused to give in so easily.

"I'll let your comrade come retrieve your frozen corpse... oh wait," Caesar murmured, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'm sure he's still pissed at you for beating the shit out of him."

Eun-jae's breath hitched. Which comrade is he talking about? His mind scrambled through the possibilities, pulse hammering in his ears. Wait… could it be—?

A realization was clawing at the edges of his consciousness, but before he could grab onto it, Caesar sighed dramatically, dragging a finger along the length of the syringe he held in his other hand.

"But it seems like your own people hate you," Caesar continued lazily. "I'm just wondering how a highly capable intelligence agency could send the wrong photo. Impossible, right?"

Eun-jae gritted his teeth. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his temples, each word making his blood run colder. The wrong photo? His superiors had made an error? No. No, that couldn't be. Everything about this mission had been meticulously planned—except now, he was here, trapped, with Caesar looming over him like a predator playing with its prey.

Caesar tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Oh? Did you find out about your superior's dirty little secrets?" His grin widened as he pressed a knee down harder against Eun-jae's torso. "Ohhh… looks like you don't know." He chuckled, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Eun-jae's breathing quickened. His mind felt sluggish, fogged by exhaustion and the cold that clung to his skin like a death grip. What is he talking about? His instincts screamed at him that he was missing something. Something big. Something deadly.

Caesar tugged Eun-jae's arm forward, the syringe glinting in the dim light. "Well then, I suppose I'll enlighten you… in another life."

Panic shot through Eun-jae's veins like an electric current. Too much information. Too many gaps. I still have questions to ask. I can't die now.

With the last ounce of strength he could summon, Eun-jae wrenched his body sideways, twisting against Caesar's iron grip. The sudden movement caught Caesar off guard for a fraction of a second—just enough for Eun-jae to shove him back. But the moment was fleeting.

Caesar recovered instantly, slamming Eun-jae back down with inhuman ease. His hand clamped around Eun-jae's throat, fingers digging into his windpipe as he lowered the needle toward his exposed neck.

"Shhh, kotyonok," Caesar whispered, his voice almost tender. "Don't fight it."

The sharp sting of the needle punctured Eun-jae's skin.

"ARGH!!" he choked out, his body arching against the bed as heat spread from the injection site, venomous and burning.

Is this the end? The thought drifted through his slowing consciousness. His ears buzzed, the room swaying as his eyelids fluttered. The world dimmed, his senses drowning in the abyss of unconsciousness.

Then, amidst the void, a sound—

Chop.

A wet, heavy sound. Like metal sinking into flesh. Like something severed. The sharp, unmistakable scent of blood invaded his nostrils, stirring something primal in his fading mind. The weight above him shifted slightly. A deep, rich chuckle vibrated through the room, dark and amused.

"Ty glupyy kotyonok…" Caesar murmured, voice dripping with cruel amusement.

Another chop.

Eun-jae fought against the thick pull of darkness, his mind clinging to the sound, to the laughter, to the feeling of something warm splattering against his cheek. But his body was slipping, drowning, his senses swallowed by oblivion.

And the last thing he felt… was the sensation of fingers tracing over his cooling skin as the world around him fell into silence.

Humming...

Music played softly in the background, distant and almost distorted, like it was coming from the depths of water. Everything around Eun-jae felt heavy, like he had been pushed into a deep ocean, his body sinking, weightless yet suffocating. The darkness pressed against him, cold and unrelenting, making his limbs feel sluggish, his thoughts foggy. Was this death? Had he finally slipped into the abyss?

'...Eun-jae...promise me you'll come back to me.'

A voice echoed through his head, fragmented and distant, like a whisper through static. Familiar, yet unreachable. His mind scrambled for an answer, but before he could grasp onto it—

A hand. Gripping his throat. Tightening.

A chuckle. Dark. Mocking.

"Ty glupyy kotyonok..."

Eun-jae's eyes snapped open as he gasped for air, his body jerking forward. The sound of a monitor beeping registered in his ears, the rhythmic drip of an IV attached to his arm. His chest heaved, the suffocating weight still lingering on his throat like phantom hands squeezing the breath out of him. His head was pounding, a dull, relentless ache pulsing behind his skull. His body—weak, exhausted, unfamiliar. What the hell had happened?

His gaze darted around, scanning his surroundings. A hospital room. White walls. The sterile scent of antiseptic filling his lungs. The dim glow of the overhead light cast shadows that flickered against the walls like ghosts watching him.

'Where am I... How did I even get here?' he thought, trying to push through the haze clouding his mind.

A voice broke the silence. "You're finally awake. I thought you were going to sleep forever."