Faint footsteps echoed in the distance. A soft tremor passed through his body. Suddenly, a memory from childhood—being on a boat—floated to the surface. As a faint smile formed on his lips, he felt someone press a soft kiss to his forehead.
Mother...?
Iwon slowly opened his eyes. A blurry figure came into view. It was a familiar face, though it took a little more time to register who it was.
“You're awake?”
He spoke gently. Iwon blinked up at him with hazy eyes. The rocking sensation hadn’t stopped. What is this…?
It took a bit longer for him to grasp the situation. Blankly shifting his gaze, Iwon first noticed that his body was wrapped in a blanket. Then, he felt warm body heat against his cheek. When he finally raised his drowsy eyes, he saw—right in front of him—Caesar’s face.
He snapped fully awake. Iwon’s eyes widened and he tried to bolt upright. But all he could manage was a feeble twitch; the blanket cocooned his body. Startled by the sudden movement, Caesar—who had been carrying him—came to a stop.
“What… happened? I… you… why—”
He tried to ask, but the words remained in his head. Every syllable slipped out slurred, his mouth heavy. Had speaking always been this difficult? He couldn’t understand. His mind was still foggy, and his body kept sinking back into stillness. He furrowed his brow, trying to force the memories to surface, groaning in frustration. But stringing his thoughts together was no easy feat. With a faint breath, Iwon closed his eyes again. Caesar said softly,
“It’s alright, you can sleep more.”
Iwon forced himself to stay conscious and murmured,
“I want to… get off…”
“Alright, alright.”
Caesar responded in a soothing tone, as if indulging a child’s tantrum. That only irritated Iwon further. But what frustrated him more was his own body, barely able to move.
“Where… are we going…”
Still wrapped in the blanket, Iwon asked weakly. Caesar replied,
“To my room.”
Iwon blinked with half-lidded eyes and whispered,
“My body… feels weird…”
At the soft murmur, Caesar answered,
“It’s fine. Just rest. It’ll be like that for a few days.”
The casual tone struck Iwon as strange. Suddenly, he remembered the last cup of tea he'd drunk. There had been something in it. That unbearably bitter taste. Struggling to move, he reached up and grabbed Caesar’s shoulder.
“The butler…”
With difficulty, Iwon continued,
“Gave me… the tea…”
“I know. I know everything.”
Caesar gently pried Iwon’s hand from his arm and smiled.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve taken care of it. The documents are safe too.”
Suddenly, a strange sense of discomfort washed over Iwon. What was this uneasy feeling? Caesar was smiling down at him, but something felt wrong. No way… Could it be—
“You… you knew… all along…?”
Iwon’s voice was hoarse with effort. Caesar didn’t answer. He only let out a short laugh.
And in that instant, Iwon realized it.
This had all been orchestrated by this man.
A chill ran down his spine. He had been used as bait. A tool to draw out the traitor and force him to reveal himself. The realization left him speechless. But what made it worse was knowing how much he’d agonized over someone like this. Someone capable of pressing a gun to a child’s head without flinching. A man who would use anyone for his own ends. This time, that “anyone” had been Iwon.
Treating people like fools with a smile on his face—
Furious, Iwon shoved Caesar’s chest. Caught off guard, Caesar lost his grip, and Iwon tumbled hard to the floor.
“Hey!”
Caesar’s voice rang out. But Iwon just lay there, eyes wide open.
Unbelievable.
Not even a gasp escaped him. He’d collapsed, and yet he felt no pain at all. The rage of having been so naïvely drugged overwhelmed him. Gritting his teeth, Iwon struggled to swallow his breath. Caesar rushed over, kneeling beside him.
“What the hell was that for, all of a sudden?”
Caesar tried to lift him again, but Iwon pushed him away with what little strength he had. The dizziness hit instantly, his vision spinning. As he slumped backward, Caesar caught him just in time. A sharp intake of breath, and Caesar’s hands cradled Iwon’s head, which had been about to hit the floor. Harsh breathing sounded in his ears.
Iwon barely opened his eyes at the warmth brushing his cheek. Caesar was holding him close. He could feel the other man’s rapid heartbeat, pulsing like he’d just run a marathon.
“Christ, I thought you’d gotten a concussion.”
Caesar muttered. But Iwon had no intention of staying in his arms. He bit his lip and pushed him away again.
“Let go.”
“Where do you think you’re going? Can’t you just listen for once?”
Caesar snapped irritably. Iwon gave a breathless laugh, even as his spinning head threatened to knock him out again. Always like this. Everything Caesar did was justified, righteous. Iwon shoved at Caesar’s shoulders with all his might and finally broke free of his grasp.
Staggering backward, Caesar looked at him with obvious confusion, like he truly didn’t understand what was happening. But Iwon was beyond furious now. His legs trembled as he forced himself upright.
His knees buckled beneath him. Iwon clenched his jaw and stepped forward. He swayed, and Caesar instinctively reached out—but Iwon sharply slapped his hand away. In Caesar’s shocked eyes, he saw Iwon’s glare—filled with seething hatred.
“I… can go by myself…”
“You can’t even stand. Stop talking nonsense.”
Iwon swatted Caesar’s hand away again. His voice was ice-cold despite the rage burning behind his bloodshot eyes.
“That’s enough.”
Through clenched teeth, Iwon pushed out the words.
“You used me… didn’t you use me enough already?”
Caesar’s face stiffened. But Iwon only glared at him a moment longer, then turned away. As he dragged himself slowly toward the door, Caesar, stunned, finally spoke.
“You were the most suitable option at the time.”
Iwon glanced over his shoulder. A sneer curled his lips.
“Of course… to you, I’m just a chess piece.”
Caesar’s face hardened. Iwon looked away. What truly enraged him wasn’t just that he’d been used—he had always known Caesar was that kind of man. No, he was angry at himself. For ever questioning his feelings because of that man. I must have lost my damn mind. Letting out a shaky breath, Iwon took another step.
Suddenly, footsteps thundered from behind. A long arm reached out, and in the blink of an eye, Caesar yanked him into a rough embrace.
“…It’s not like that.”
Caesar’s voice was low and hoarse. His breath hit the back of Iwon’s neck. Startled, Iwon blinked as Caesar leaned in close.
“…That’s not what I meant.”
The trembling whisper brushed his ear like a sigh. Iwon bit down on his lip, then let it go. Slowly, he turned his head. Caesar lifted his gaze.
Those stormy gray eyes—hollow and desolate—locked with his. Iwon stared back, struggling to stay conscious. Caesar slowly parted his lips.
“Mi—…”
But he fell silent.
It was like the word had been forced out from somewhere deep inside him. He bit his lip and stared at Iwon. The one who had been used—was Iwon. And yet the one who looked wounded was Caesar. Iwon stared at that pale face.
Idiot.
He thought.
Then you shouldn’t have done something you'd regret in the first place.
Just then, the strength in Iwon’s legs gave out. Caesar’s voice shouted something, but everything faded to black.
In the quiet room, the sound of soft breathing filled the space. Caesar looked down at the man sleeping like a child, drugged and helpless. For some reason, he reached out and brushed the hair from Iwon’s forehead. Right then, Iwon furrowed his brow, as if annoyed by the touch. Caesar chuckled faintly. Just then—
Knock knock.
A knock echoed. Caesar turned toward the door as a voice called from outside.
“Tsar, I have a report.”
At the formal tone, Caesar looked at Iwon’s sleeping face. The man outside spoke again.
“Tsar, may I come in?”
The faint tension in the voice was unmistakable. Caesar, looking displeased, lifted his hand from Iwon’s forehead.
“Wait.”
With a curt reply, he turned and left the room so he wouldn’t be pressed any further.
As the door clicked shut, the smile fell from Caesar’s face like a mask. His features turned cold and expressionless. The subordinate bowed quickly as Caesar asked,
“A report? What is it?”
The man replied stiffly.
“It’s been handled. As you ordered. What should we do with the body?”
In his usual chilly tone, Caesar answered,
“Cut it up and send it to Tyutchev and the others as a gift. Include a card.”
“What should the message say?”
The man asked again. A smirk tugged at Caesar’s lips. The subordinate flinched as Caesar replied,
“Returning something they left behind.”
“Understood.”
Once the man disappeared, Caesar turned and returned to the room. Seeing Iwon sleeping soundly again, a soft smile spread across Caesar’s face.
The knock that followed woke Iwon. Blinking blearily, he lay in bed. A stranger entered and bowed his head.
“You’re awake. Breakfast will be served soon. The bathroom is to your right, and fresh clothes are prepared inside. Please come down.”
With that, the man left. Iwon slowly sat up, bewildered. A stranger. A room he didn’t recognize. Caesar must have moved him after he passed out. The room was twice the size of his previous one, filled with art and antique furniture. Everything screamed of wealth. A lavish mansion, through and through. Must be his taste, Iwon thought bitterly, and memories of the previous day came rushing back.
And with them, a scowl.
He’d fallen for it so easily.
He had swallowed what was handed to him without a second thought, and ended up like that. The anger boiled up again. Why didn’t he suspect anything? There had been so many red flags. Falling for a trick that wouldn’t fool a five-year-old—how stupid. Cursing himself internally, Iwon clenched his teeth. Walking into a mafia den and letting his guard down like that had been a colossal mistake. And to top it off, he’d made a fool of himself under the influence of drugs. Caesar had carried him, seen him fall, stutter, lose control… The memories came flooding back. Iwon slammed his hand against the bed in frustration. A muffled thump echoed uselessly. Somehow, that only made him more irritated. He stood up and headed for the bathroom.
Inside the spacious bathroom, his clothes had been freshly laundered and neatly folded. Suddenly, he remembered that the old butler used to take care of that. Which meant the man from earlier must have been the new butler. So what happened to the previous one?
His thoughts grew increasingly tangled as he showered. When had Caesar figured out the butler was acting suspiciously? The question rekindled the disgust Iwon felt at being used as bait. Stepping out of the bathroom, he roughly dried his wet hair and dressed quickly, still seething. Everything about this situation was frustrating—but most of all, the fact that his own carelessness had brought it on.
With a scowl, Iwon left the room.
The first thing he saw upon entering the dining room was a familiar head of platinum blonde hair. Caesar turned his head at the sound of footsteps. Their eyes met.
“You’re up. Did you sleep well?”
Unexpectedly, Caesar greeted him after a slight pause. His faint smile and tone were as calm as ever, but Iwon didn’t miss that moment of silence. He turned away and walked to his seat without responding. His expression clearly said: Don’t talk to me. I’m still pissed. Caesar seemed to pick up on that and, unusually, said nothing more.
As Iwon sat in silence, the new butler who had woken him earlier approached and placed a plate in front of him. Iwon looked around again. As expected, the previous butler was nowhere to be seen.
“Something wrong?”
Caesar asked just as the butler returned with a basket of new bread. Iwon glanced at him, displeased, and spoke.
“What happened to the old butler?”
“Fired him.”
Caesar answered before Iwon even finished his sentence.
“Fired?”
That was it? He put someone through all that just to fire them? Iwon narrowed his eyes in disbelief. Caesar gave him a peculiar smile.
“His breathing was annoying.”
Iwon frowned instinctively. Then he remembered what Caesar had said the day before—
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Stop hiding it and tell me. What really happened? I have every right to know.”
Iwon’s voice was sharp. Caesar looked at him, puzzled. Iwon pressed on.
“What was he looking for? Is it something related to the trial? I’m your lawyer—I need to know everything. Was he connected to Councilman Zhdanov?”
The thought had just crossed his mind, but Iwon asked anyway. Caesar listened to the rush of questions in silence.
“There’s a connection,”
he finally said slowly.
“But you don’t need to know.”
“Then forget about winning the trial.”
Iwon said coldly.
“If a client hides things, they can’t win in court. And in case you’ve forgotten—I was assigned to defend Uncle Nikolai before you. My priority lies with him. If anything happens that could harm his case, I’m walking.”
The moment he said it, the room fell into a heavy silence. The men surrounding the dining room watched the two in breathless tension. After a long pause, Caesar finally spoke.
“Then I suppose the witness we finally found becomes useless.”
“What?”
The unexpected remark made Iwon blurt out. Caesar responded with a faint smile.
“Do you remember? That land deal between Zhdanov and Berdyaev?”
A flood of thoughts rushed through Iwon’s mind. As he stared at Caesar, brow furrowed, Caesar continued leisurely.
“We found the person who lent their name for the transaction. The one you were talking about.”
Iwon’s eyes snapped open wide. Caesar let out a short laugh.
“If you can meet them, that is.”
A quaint villa on the outskirts of town—something one might seek out for peace and healing—was oddly out of place in the quiet countryside. Heavily guarded men patrolled the grounds. Since the new owner moved in, the villagers had whispered about the unfamiliar men in suits roaming the area, but no one had dared approach to learn who they were.
Mafia, for sure.
That was the general consensus. Everyone could guess their identity, even if no one said it out loud. The locals did their best to stay far away. Even though the villa stood along the quickest road to town, people willingly took longer detours to avoid it. As a result, the area around the villa remained eerily quiet, devoid of any outsiders.
Mikhail Lomonosov sat in a comfortable armchair, gazing out the window. The only things visible outside were the men guarding the perimeter—no sign of a single stray dog. It had been nearly two months since he’d left the city to recover. Spring was approaching, little by little, but Mikhail’s health showed no sign of improvement.
I’ve lived long enough.
He thought. He and Sasha, head of the rival Sergeyev faction, were the same age, but lately Mikhail felt decades older. Not because of illness, but because of the difference between having someone to rely on—and not. His gaze turned blurry as he looked out into the distance.
I miss it…
As he was lost in nostalgia, a black sedan approached from afar. Mikhail sat still, eyes on the closing vehicle. It was his aide, Lev.
“Mr. Lomonosov, I hope you’ve been well.”
The man bowed deeply, then lifted his head. Mikhail’s gaunt face looked back at him. Internally, Lev felt a rising sense of worry. Mikhail, who had inherited the organization in his twenties, had no children. Though subordinates had urged him to marry, he had remained single. Rumors circulated about a secret wife, but no woman had ever shown up. When he was in good health, it hadn’t mattered. But now…
“You’ve lost weight. Are you eating properly?”
Mikhail nodded calmly at the concern in Lev’s voice.
“I’m fine. Thank you for worrying.”
His tone hadn’t changed, but Lev was still uneasy. If this man disappeared, the organization would collapse. Mikhail had to survive—he was the lion. Maybe his thoughts were too transparent, because Mikhail spoke again, gently.
“I’m still strong. Don’t look at me like that.”
“S-sorry.”
As Lev hastily apologized, Mikhail changed the subject.
“So, what brings you here today? Did Vladimir make a mistake?”
Lev quickly shook his head at the mention of the second-in-command, who was temporarily leading in Mikhail’s place.
“No, he’s doing very well. But sir, we’re all hoping for your speedy recovery. We need you back.”
Mikhail gave a knowing smile. Lev took a breath and continued.
“I’m here to report on recent developments. The Sergeyev side is stirring.”
Straight to the point.
“Taking out Mayor Berdyaev wasn’t enough—they’re going after what’s left of his estate. Things are moving fast. We’re watching for now, but if needed, we’ll act.”
The fire lit in Mikhail’s eyes. Lev flinched at the sudden intensity, inwardly marveling at the presence he still held.
“Someone’s daring to encroach on Lomonosov’s territory. Is it the son?”
“Yes. The Tsar.”
Lev answered immediately.
“We’re keeping tabs on him. If the chance arises, we’ll strike.”
“That son of a…”
Mikhail narrowed his eyes.
Caesar Sergeyev.
He remembered the boy who once seemed to glow like his father. That kid had become a mafia through and through—a monster without blood or tears.
To raise something like that…
Mikhail felt bitter. Then again, weren’t they all monsters?
“Go on.”
Lev resumed.
“They’re provoking us legally, rather than from the shadows. Even though Berdyaev’s assets clearly belong to our side. It’s an outright challenge.”
His voice trembled with indignation. Mikhail frowned deeply. Even eliminating Berdyaev had been a declaration of war. But now they were openly defying him.
Mikhail’s hand clenched slowly around the armrest. Lev watched, heart pounding, as his boss regained his resolve.
“This is everything we’ve gathered so far. It’s not much…”
Lev handed him the file. Mikhail frowned.
“This is it?”
It was thin—undeniably lacking. Lev explained awkwardly,
“That damned Sergeyev hired an external lawyer, not a family advisor. And everything’s happening inside his mansion. It’s hard to gather intel.”
“Then just capture the lawyer.”
Mikhail’s voice turned sharp. Lev flailed slightly.
“Sir, the lawyer’s staying in Caesar’s house. Unless we break in ourselves, it’s impossible.”
Mikhail let out a vicious curse. Lev watched anxiously as his boss flipped through the file. His eyes suddenly stopped.
There was a photo.
One man was clearly Caesar Sergeyev. But Mikhail’s gaze focused on the man beside him.
“That one. That’s the lawyer. Caesar picked him himself. We trailed him and finally snapped this a few days ago.”
In the photo, the two stood side by side at a bookstore register. Mikhail studied it closely.
No way… Could it be…?
“He’s not fully Russian, is he? Mixed?”
He asked in a flat voice, lowering his head to hide the sudden pallor in his face. Lev nodded.
“Yes. He’s half Korean. From Korea. His name is… um…”
He winced, embarrassed.
“It’s written there. I had trouble pronouncing it…”
He opened the file again and pointed. Mikhail scanned the text.
“Quite an unusual background.”
“He’s been in Russia for seven years. Supposedly very competent. We’re monitoring him in case he becomes a problem.”
“I see.”
Lev suddenly noticed Mikhail’s hand trembling faintly. But Mikhail casually closed the file, and Lev blinked, unsure if he’d imagined it.
Then came the surprise.
“I’ve rested long enough. It’s time to leave.”
“Sir? Go where?”
Lev asked instinctively, startled by the tall figure rising before him. Mikhail had lost weight but still stood straight, commanding. Lev shivered.
“To the organization, of course.”
Lev’s eyes widened. He stammered,
“You’re returning? Now?”
Joy and panic clashed inside him. Mikhail wobbled slightly as he stepped forward, and Lev rushed to support him.
“Are you sure you’re alright? Maybe you should stay and rest—”
Mikhail said nothing and simply pointed. Lev hurried off and returned with a cane. Mikhail stood straight, leaning on it.
“We can’t let Sergeyev’s heir run wild.”
From behind, Lev saw it—that dazzling light he hadn’t seen in so long. His chest clenched.
He had waited for this moment.
“I understand. I’ll prepare everything right away.”
It was the lion’s return.