"The vents from every room in this mansion are interconnected."
He recalled the blueprint he had spent hours memorizing, his mind automatically pulling up the details. The mansion's ventilation system wasn't just a series of air passages—it was an entire network snaking through the building, linking rooms together like a hidden highway. Most modern estates had their vents compartmentalized for security reasons, ensuring that even if someone tried sneaking through, they'd hit a dead end.
But this place was old. And old meant vulnerable.
A subtle weakness, one Alexei and his men had likely overlooked.
Eun-jae's fingers drummed lightly against the wooden desk beside him as his mind raced through the possibilities. Could someone use this system for movement? Unlikely, unless they were small or desperate. The shafts were narrow, built more for airflow than for human passage. But as an audio channel? A discreet surveillance method? That was a different story.
"If there's a microphone planted somewhere in the system, someone could be listening in on everything."
That thought sent a slow wave of anticipation through him. If he could tap into it first, he'd have an advantage—a way to intercept conversations, monitor movements, maybe even locate Voron without ever stepping into a trap. The question was, had Alexei thought of that? Or was this just another relic of an outdated security system, left unchecked and ignored?
His grip tightened around the flashlight as he slowly exhaled. He needed to test it. See if sound traveled through these vents the way he suspected.
Eun-jae glanced toward the door, then back to the vent. His lips curled into a small, knowing smirk.
"Let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes."
Eun-jae rolled his shoulders back, his muscles tensing with anticipation as he directed his gaze back to the vent. His fingers flexed at his sides before he let out a quiet breath. He had climbed through tighter spaces before—this wouldn't be any different. But the question remained: would it hold his weight?
He stepped onto the cool tiled floor of the bathroom, his sharp eyes scanning the room for anything useful. His attention landed on the sleek marble countertop. It was sturdy enough. Without hesitation, he hoisted himself onto it, his movements fluid and precise. The faint clink of his belt buckle against the stone was the only sound in the otherwise silent space.
Now positioned beneath the vent, he reached up, brushing his fingers against the cool metal. Dust clung to his skin, and a small smirk tugged at his lips. No one's touched this in years. That was good. It meant he wasn't following someone else's tracks—it meant he was ahead of them.
Pulling a compact screwdriver from his pocket, he got to work on the screws, moving with practiced ease. Each twist of his wrist loosened the metal plate bit by bit, until finally, with a soft creak, the vent cover came free. He caught it before it could clatter to the ground, lowering it carefully to the side.
A gust of stale air rushed out, carrying with it the scent of aged wood, metal, and something faintly musty. Perfect. He angled his flashlight into the shaft, taking in the narrow space before him. The duct was just wide enough for him to squeeze through if he angled his body correctly, but there wouldn't be much room for movement. That was fine. He wasn't looking for comfort—he was looking for answers.
Eun-jae took one last glance at the door before pushing himself up, his forearms bracing against the edges of the vent as he maneuvered his body inside. The metal was cold beneath his palms, smooth yet unforgiving. His breath was steady as he adjusted his weight, pulling himself forward with slow, measured movements.
The inside of the shaft was tighter than he anticipated, the walls pressing in around him as he crawled forward. The only sound was the faint scrape of fabric against metal and the rhythmic beat of his own breath. His mind stayed sharp, focused on the blueprint he had memorized. If he was right, this ventilation system would lead him straight to his first target—the cellar.
"Just a little further," he muttered under his breath.
The air inside the duct was thin, making each inhale slightly strained, but he ignored the discomfort. He had been in worse situations. He had survived tighter spaces. His body moved instinctively, muscles shifting as he propelled himself forward inch by inch.
Then—he heard it.
A voice.
Faint. Muffled. But unmistakably close.
Eun-jae froze, his body going rigid as he strained to listen. The sound carried through the ventilation system like a whisper through the dark, distorted but present. Someone was speaking below him. He angled his head toward the nearest vent opening, his heartbeat steady but his mind racing.
Who's down there?
Eun-jae's breath hitched as he pressed himself flat against the cold metal, every muscle in his body tensed like a coiled spring. Below him, the guards stood just outside his room, their voices a low murmur that sent a fresh wave of adrenaline surging through his veins.
"Shit, I have to be careful," he thought, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from exhaling too loudly. He knew one wrong move could mean the end of everything.
Slowly, he tilted his wrist to glance at the tracker in his hand. The small device blinked in the dim light, indicating that he was close—so damn close. His target was just ahead, barely a few meters away. If he could just keep moving without making a sound—
Then—
Thud.
His elbow knocked against the metal. The sharp, echoing sound reverberated through the ventilation shaft like a gunshot in the silence.
His breath caught in his throat.
Below him, the guards went rigid.
"Did you hear that?" one of them asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
"What noise?" the other replied, though there was a hint of unease creeping into his tone.
"There's something in there," the first guard insisted, his instincts sharper than Eun-jae would have liked.
Eun-jae clenched his teeth, sweat forming at the nape of his neck as he willed himself not to move, not even to breathe. He pressed his body further into the narrow metal passage, his limbs starting to ache from the strain of keeping still.
Then—BANG.
The sudden impact sent a violent shudder through the vent as the guard below struck the shaft with his gun. The vibrations traveled up through the metal, rattling Eun-jae's bones, making his already precarious position even more unstable.
"Shit, shit, shit," he cursed internally, his pulse hammering against his ribs.
He could feel a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face, his fingers gripping the edges of the vent so hard his knuckles turned white. If they hit the vent one more time, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his balance.
"Come on, just leave already."
Another tense moment passed.
"Come on, nothing is there. Let's go," one of the guards finally said, his voice laced with irritation.
Eun-jae listened intently as their heavy boots scraped against the floor, the sound fading as they walked away.
He let out a slow, measured breath, his body still rigid with tension.
"That was too close."
But his relief was short-lived.
His fingers, slick with sweat, slipped against the smooth metal. His body wavered as his muscles trembled from the strain, and before he could catch himself—
THUD.
The air was forced from his lungs as he crashed down inside the vent, his entire body jolting upon impact. He barely managed to stifle a groan as the metal beneath him groaned from the force of his fall. His hands scrambled to grip something, anything, to stop his descent, but the shaft was too narrow, too unforgiving.
He landed awkwardly on his side, his shoulder slamming against the vent wall. Pain flared through his body, a dull ache spreading through his ribs. His breathing was ragged, his mind scrambling to assess the damage.
"Shit. That hurt."
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. He couldn't afford to make another mistake.
Pushing through the pain, he lifted his wrist once more, eyes locking onto the glowing tracker in his palm. The small blinking light pulsed steadily, and despite everything, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Almost there."
Ignoring the sting in his limbs, he adjusted his position, bracing himself against the metal walls as he prepared to move forward once again. There was no turning back now.
Eun-jae kept crawling, his arms aching as he pulled himself forward inch by inch. The narrow metal shaft felt suffocating, the stagnant air thick with dust. Every movement sent a quiet creak through the vent, making him hyper-aware of how exposed he was. But he was close.
His tracker blinked steadily in his hand, the signal growing stronger. The basement should be directly beneath him now.
"This has to be it," he thought, his pulse quickening.
He pressed his palm flat against the vent's floor, feeling the cold metal beneath his fingertips. It was thin—too thin to be reinforced.
"Two meters at most… that's not too deep," he reasoned, glancing down. He had jumped from worse heights before.
Taking a deep breath, he braced himself, pressed down on the vent cover, and—
CRASH.
The metal panel gave way beneath him, and before he could react, he plummeted straight down. His stomach lurched as the air rushed past him, the dim basement swallowing him whole.
And then—
THUD.
Eun-jae hit the concrete floor hard, landing straight on his ass. A sharp jolt of pain shot up his spine, making him suck in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.
"Ow—fuck, my ass," he groaned internally, wincing as he pushed himself up. His hand instinctively went to his lower back as he dusted off his pants, scowling at the sting of impact.
"Next time, I need to find a softer landing," he thought bitterly.
Shaking it off, he forced his mind back on track. He wasn't here to complain about his bruised tailbone—he had a job to do.
He scanned the basement, his sharp eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. The space was vast, cluttered with old furniture, forgotten crates, and cobweb-covered antiques. Dust swirled in the stale air, and the faint scent of aged wood and damp stone lingered around him.
"Where could this Voron be?" he mused, stepping forward carefully, his boots making barely a sound against the cold concrete.
His gaze flickered from one object to another, searching for anything out of place, anything that seemed… significant. And then—
Something caught his eye.
A large wooden bookshelf stood against the far wall, its surface worn with age. Unlike the other furniture in the room, it looked oddly well-maintained, as if someone had been taking care of it.
His instincts buzzed.
"Is this it?"
Narrowing his eyes, he stepped closer, running a hand along the wooden frame. The grain was rough beneath his fingertips, but the dust patterns were inconsistent. There was a section that seemed… cleaner, as if it had been touched recently.
He reached out and pulled back a thick rubber covering, expecting to find some kind of hidden compartment—
Only to be met with rows of dusty books.
Nothing.
Just an old bookshelf filled with old books.
Eun-jae stared at it, his fingers twitching slightly in irritation.
"You've got to be kidding me. I came all the way down here… for this?"
Frustration simmered beneath his skin. This basement was supposed to hold something important, something worth all this effort—yet all he had found was a glorified library.
He let out a slow exhale, forcing himself to stay calm. No use getting worked up now.
"Whatever. This was a waste of time. Let's just get out of here."
Reaching into his gear, he pressed a button on his wrist device. A thin, high-tensile rope shot out, unraveling smoothly. He caught the end with practiced ease and hooked it securely to a support beam overhead.
He gave the rope a firm tug, testing its strength.
"Good. That should hold."
Glancing up toward the vent he had fallen from, he tightened his grip and prepared to climb.
"Time to go back."
Eun-jae exhaled sharply as he dragged himself through the narrow vent, his muscles screaming in protest. Every inch of his body ached—his elbows were bruised from the earlier fall, his knees scraped raw from crawling over rough metal, and his palms burned from gripping the jagged edges too tightly. Sweat trickled down his temple, mixing with the dust that clung to his skin like a second layer. The heat in the vent was suffocating, making each breath feel heavier than the last. He just wanted to be done with this night. He just wanted to get back to his room, collapse on his bed, and forget the last twelve hours of chaos that had led him to this point.
"As soon as I get back, I'm going straight to bed," he told himself, ignoring the way his arms trembled from exhaustion. "Fuck everything else. Sleep first."
Then—
Knock. Knock.
Eun-jae froze mid-crawl.
His breath hitched.
Someone was at his door.
A cold chill ran down his spine, his instincts immediately sharpening into alertness. He held still, listening.
"Caesar never knocks when he barges into my room. So then… who the hell—?"
Slowly, carefully, he inched forward and peered through the narrow slats of the vent. His heart pounded against his ribs as his eyes locked onto the figure standing outside his door.
Alexei.
"Oh, shit."
Of all the people, Alexei was the last person he needed snooping around right now.
Eun-jae clenched his jaw, his mind already spinning in overdrive. He knew Alexei—knew how the guy operated. If he walked in and found an empty room, he wouldn't just leave. He'd start looking around. He'd notice the little things. The slightly shifted furniture. The faint trace of dust disturbed near the window. The lingering scent of sweat and metal in the air.
Alexei was perceptive. Too perceptive.
Another knock, firmer this time.
"Mr. Bitgaram." His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. Like he already suspected something was off. Like he already knew Eun-jae was there but was waiting to see how he'd respond.
Eun-jae bit back a groan.
He needed to get inside, now.
Every movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his body, but he pushed through it, dragging himself forward with gritted teeth. His room was directly below. He reached for the vent panel, hands shaking slightly from exertion. With careful precision, he pushed it open, wincing at the faint creak of metal. Then, with all the grace he could manage in his current state, he slipped through, twisting mid-air to land in a crouch on the floor.
The second his feet touched the ground—
The doorknob rattled.
Fuck.
Eun-jae's brain fired at lightning speed, searching for an excuse. An explanation. A reason why he wouldn't have answered the door immediately. His eyes darted around the room, assessing.
Bathroom.
Without a second thought, he bolted toward it, twisting the knob and stepping inside just as he heard the soft click of his door unlocking. His hand shot out, locking the bathroom door behind him before flipping the shower on. The sound of rushing water filled the space, thick steam already curling into the air.
His heart pounded.
He barely had a second to compose himself before he heard footsteps entering his room.
For a moment, silence.
Eun-jae closed his eyes, pressing his back against the cool tile wall. He forced himself to slow his breathing, even as adrenaline raced through his veins.
Outside, Alexei exhaled, his presence a heavy weight in the otherwise still room.
"Is he in the shower? Didn't he hear me?" Alexei murmured, his voice low but not low enough. His footsteps moved again, slow and deliberate. Searching.
Eun-jae swallowed, willing his body to stay relaxed.
"Think, think, think—"
Alexei wasn't leaving. His instincts had kicked in. Something felt off to him, and once that happened, he wouldn't stop until he found what it was.
The air outside shifted. Eun-jae could feel him moving closer.
His gut clenched.
Then—
The doorknob jiggled.
Locked.
A pause.
Alexei's lips pressed into a thin line, though Eun-jae couldn't see it, he could feel the weight of his irritation.
"Why would he lock the door if he's just showering?" Alexei muttered under his breath. "Unless…"
Without hesitation, he pulled out his keys.
Eun-jae's eyes snapped open. His body moved on instinct, pushing off the wall just as he heard the faint clink of metal against the keyhole.
His hand shot out—
The door swung open.
Steam billowed out, curling into the room in thick, humid waves.
And there stood Eun-jae.
Completely naked.