"Now I get it."
"His access. His intel. The way he waltzed through Romanov's security like he belonged there. He probably did."
"This guy's not just in the shadows — he owns them."
Rin's glare sharpened. His fingers tightened around the ice-cold rim of the bowl.
"But still..."
"Even after all this, there's something that doesn't fit. Something off."
"He's too relaxed. Too clean. Too calculated. It's not just manipulation. It's like he's always five steps ahead, like he's already planned what happens if I walk away… or if I don't."
"What?" Kai asked with mock offense. "Are you still suspicious of me just 'cause I left a bad first impression?"
Rin blinked once.
"Oh, please… shut your pink lips."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a recorder — the encrypted kind used only by upper-agency field operatives.
Kai's eyes flicked to it, then back to Rin. Amused.
"Oooh, what's this? Interrogation 2.0?".
A quiet, deliberate clink as it touched the wood.
A challenge. Silent. Cold. Calculated.
Kai's eyes flicked to the object, a trace of amusement tugging at his lips. But he didn't speak. He just sipped his whisky, letting Rin take center stage for once.
Rin finally leaned forward, elbows on knees, his voice low and serious — the tone of someone who's been chewing on this intel for days.
"I happened to record the conversation between Tsar and someone from the Dragunovs."
He didn't look at Kai when he said it. His eyes were locked on the recorder, like it was a chess piece in the middle of the board.
"I'm sure you picked up parts of it too, but the Romanovs… they're leading something."
He paused, letting the implication linger like smoke.
"Some kind of weapon."
Kai raised a brow, but stayed silent. Swirling his drink. Watching. Measuring.
"I'm not sure if it's Persephone…" Rin continued, voice taut with focus. "But the thought came to mind, considering Russia's General of the Armed Forces, their Foreign Affairs Director, and even Japan's own Ministry are involved."
"It's too connected. Too deliberate. The pieces don't scatter like this without a central plan... a weapon like Persephone doesn't just 'almost' happen."
"It is happening."
"So, here's the plan," Rin said, finally glancing at Kai — sharp and assessing.
"I'll program Nochi's voice from that recording into a voice-changer. Then I'll use it to bait Dragunov."
Kai's smirk twitched slightly, amused but alert now.
"If I can get Dragunov out, I'll know who the Japanese technician is. The one that got smuggled in under their radar. And…"
Rin leaned back slightly.
"…their final destination."
The air hung heavy.
Kai didn't speak. Not at first. He just stared at Rin over the rim of his glass, something simmering behind his gaze. Something unreadable.
And then—
"Mafias have tattoos," Kai said casually.
A beat of silence.
Rin's brow furrowed.
"Is that important now?" he asked, voice flat. Almost annoyed. "Are you seriously pivoting to tattoos?"
Kai didn't laugh. He just set his glass down gently and leaned in, resting his elbows on the table as he stared into Rin like he was about to read his palm.
"Tattoos tell stories," Kai said, calm and cryptic as always. "Each symbol, each placement... they mark rank, alliances, betrayals. They carve out history into skin."
"Here he goes again. The deflection. The poetic dodge. He's always three miles away from giving a straight answer."
"But why now? Why bring up mafia tattoos in the middle of intel about Dragunov?"
Rin's eyes narrowed.
"He's not just being weird. He's hinting at something."
"You want to lure Dragunov," Kai continued, eyes still locked on Rin. "Fine. But you'd better know what you're stepping into. You think they'll come out of hiding for a phone call? No. These people don't move unless they smell blood... or betrayal."
He leaned back again, looking almost bored.
"You better make sure the story your voice-changer tells... is one they're willing to believe."
Rin didn't answer right away.
"He's not warning me. He's testing me."
"He wants to see how far I've thought this through. How far I'm willing to go."
"Or maybe he's just enjoying the thought of me dangling bait while he watches from a rooftop with a scope."
"I'm not stupid," Rin said finally. Voice firm. "I've read Dragunov's profile. He doesn't respond to desperation — he responds to risk. If he thinks Nochi flipped… if he hears enough panic in that voice sample, he'll come."
Kai grinned, slow and foxlike.
"Ooh, psychological warfare. Now you're starting to sound like me."
Rin shot him a glare.
"I'm nothing like you."
"You say that, but here we are," Kai said, gesturing lazily around the room — at the bloodstained jacket tossed in the corner, at the half-melted ice, the recorder, the gun disassembled on the nightstand.
"You're sitting in a dingy hotel with a half-twisted wrist, planning to impersonate a mafia informant to lure out a war criminal while the entire Japanese and Russian government plays hot potato with nuclear secrets."
He paused, tilting his head with a smirk.
"You sure you're not a little like me? Makes me wonder where you got all this confidence from…" he said, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His voice came like honey over a blade — smooth, almost affectionate, but laced with something sharp.
Rin didn't immediately answer.
Instead, he lifted his hand slowly from the bowl of half-melted ice. Droplets ran down his skin, trailing along the ridges of his bruised wrist like tiny rivers flowing through pain.
He stared at it, eyes unreadable.
That wrist had been twisted, yanked, slammed into the edge of a car roof — and yet it was still attached. Still moving.
Still his.
"I don't get confidence from nowhere..."
He rotated it slightly. Wincing, but not flinching. His jaw tightened.
"I just..." Rin started.
Kai leaned in with casual interest.
"You just?"
Rin finally looked up — his eyes locking with Kai's, calm and flat but with something simmering just beneath.
"I have the unexpected advantage…"
A pause.
"…of a monster as a companion."
The room seemed to still for a second.
Kai's smile twitched — the smallest stutter in his usual script. His eyes widened, just for a breath. Not shock… not offense… but recognition. Like he'd just seen something in Rin that hadn't been there before. Or maybe it had — he just hadn't expected Rin to weaponize it.
Then, as quickly as it came, his expression slid right back into place. That cool, unreadable charm. The kind of grin you wear when you're playing chess and you've already taken the queen.
"Very well then," Kai said, rising to his feet, brushing invisible dust from his sleek black slacks.
"Let's make the call."
Then a beat.
"…But first, I'm starving. I should get us some food."
Rin just nodded, but said nothing. He moved toward the bathroom wordlessly, walking past Kai without a glance.
"He's always hungry, huh? For food, for blood, for answers. For chaos."
"Always a mask. Always a move. Never silence just for the sake of peace — only for the next plot to breathe."
Inside the bathroom, Rin shut the door behind him. Not slamming it — just a low, controlled click.
He stared at himself in the mirror.
The fluorescent lights buzzed above, harsh and cold. It threw the shadows on his face into sharp contrast, emphasizing the bruise under his left cheekbone, the slight cut on his collarbone. Every inch of him looked used — not broken, but functioning under pressure. Like a blade that had been used for the wrong purposes far too many times and still held its edge.
"A monster, huh?"
"Funny... that I say that like it's an asset now."
"But what else would you call someone like him? Someone who throws bodies out of moving cars, shoots a man in the mouth because he talks too loud, and then quotes foreign poetry in the same breath."
"And here I am... working with him. Strategizing. Even trusting him... to a point."
He peeled off his shirt, the blood from earlier dried into the fabric. Tossed it in the sink like it was the evidence of a crime. Then stepped under the hot stream of the shower.
Water poured down his shoulders, and for a moment, the world dulled into the hum of steam and pressure.
"I shouldn't let him get under my skin."
"But he's right... I'm starting to talk like him. Think like him."
"I made that joke about having a monster for a companion… but what if that's just a way to avoid realizing I've stopped seeing him as the enemy?"
"Worse... what if I've started seeing him as necessary?"
He leaned his head back, letting the hot water sting the bruises on his collar.
"This mission isn't clean. It never was."
"But if I start thinking like him, I might just survive it."
Rin stepped out of the steamy bathroom, towel draped lazily over his shoulder, his skin still damp from the scalding water. His usually sharp, calculating eyes were softer now, half-lidded with the fatigue of the past few days. The white tank top clung to his torso — cheap, thin fabric — and the black boxers Kai had bought him were… fine. Functional. He didn't even ask where Kai got them. He didn't want to know.
The room was dim, save for the lamp on the bedside table that flickered like a dying firefly. Rin sighed, toweled his hair a bit, and walked over to the table, intent on picking up the voice changer device he left there earlier.
And that's when he saw it.
The cockroach.
Perched boldly on the table like it owned the goddamn place. Its long antennae twitching. Its shiny brown shell gleaming under the lamp like the armor of a miniaturized demon.
Rin froze.
Literally stopped mid-step, one hand in his hair, towel limp in the other. His pupils dilated as if he was staring down the barrel of a gun.
"Nope. Nope. No. Hell no. What the hell is that thing doing in my airspace?"
He forced a chuckle. Just a bug. A literal insect. He's killed grown men with his bare hands — men — and here he was psyching himself out over a bug.
"Okay, okay Rin… pull it together. It's not that deep. It's just a damn cockroach. You can kill it. You should kill it."
He slowly reached for something nearby. A hardcover travel guide — "Eastern Europe: Hidden Cities and Black Markets." Appropriate.
He gripped the book like it was a brick, tiptoeing like a cartoon cat, his eyes locked on the insect. It hadn't moved yet.
"I can do this. I've got this. I've trained in close quarters combat. I've outshot snipers. I have a belt in—"
The cockroach turned.
Like it saw him.
Rin flinched, mid-step.
Then —
WHIRRRRRRRR
It FLEW.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" Rin screamed, voice cracking with raw terror. "IT FLIES. IT FREAKING FLIIIIIEEEESSSS—!!!"
He dropped the book and bolted for the door. Right as it creaked open from the other side.
Kai stepped into the room, carrying a greasy bag of food and a smug expression, completely unprepared for what came next:
A grown man — soaking wet hair, tank top, bare legs — launched at him like a panicked cat.
"THE HELL—?!"
Rin leapt, hands locking around Kai's neck, legs curling instinctively around his waist, like he was trying to climb him to get to heaven. His grip was tight — combat tight — but trembling.
"Ma, mama… so, soko ni go, gokiburi ga iru…! Boohoo..." Rin whimpered in rapid-fire Japanese, shaking like a soaked puppy, burying his face into Kai's shoulder.
Kai blinked, genuinely confused. "What…? What language are you even—?"
Rin lifted his head just enough to whisper:
"There's a cockroach in the room…"
His voice was shaky, soft, haunted.
Kai turned his head, and there it was — the bug, still buzzing smugly around the table like it paid rent. Kai stared at it.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Rin. You— you're afraid of cockroaches?" Kai said, still chuckling, his voice practically glowing with amusement. "Seriously?"
He adjusted his grip on the food bag, then — with one hand — slid the other under Rin's ass to better support him. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Rin didn't budge. Not even a twitch.
"Shut up and kill it... they're dangerous," Rin muttered, glaring sideways, his arms locked around Kai's neck like a life preserver.
"Dangerous?" Kai wheezed, leaning slightly so Rin wouldn't fall. "It's a bug."
"You think I care??" Rin snapped, voice a touch higher than normal. "It's malicious. It has wings. Kill it!"
Kai tried again, "Alright, alright, princess. Get down and I'll kill it."
"NO." Rin tightened his grip.
"Rin."
"Nope."
"Get down."
"Hell no."
"This is humiliating." Rin thought, clinging tighter. "This is peak embarrassment. I am clinging to this man like a tree frog. He smells like cigarettes and aftershave and god I hate how solid he is right now."
Kai sighed theatrically. "Fine. I'll kill it with you on me then."
He turned toward the table — cockroach still there — reached over to the counter, grabbed a slipper, and SMACKED the demon bug into oblivion with a wet, ugly crunch.
Rin flinched. "Is it dead??"
Kai showed him the slipper, bug guts and all. "Do you want a funeral or...?"
"…burn the body."
"Of course."
Rin finally unclenched, his limbs reluctantly loosening as he slid down Kai's body — the descent painfully slow, like every inch between them had its own gravitational pull. His bare feet touched the cold floor, but Kai's arms didn't release.
"Okay. Hands. Off. Now."
Rin stiffened again.
"Let go," he said, voice clipped, all sharp angles and forced composure.
But Kai? Kai didn't move a muscle. In fact, his grip tightened — a subtle flex of toned arms around Rin's waist, hands placed way too low on his back to be casual.
"No thank you, princess," Kai murmured, voice low, almost purring — and then, like the bastard he was, he deliberately released his pheromones.
It was immediate. Heavy. Warm. Clinging.
The air thickened with a scent that was far too tailored — rich spice with undertones of musk and something darker, sharper — something almost chemical in how fast it hit Rin's brain.
Rin recoiled slightly, jaw tightening as he tried to ignore the way his pulse skipped.
"Thank you," he hissed through his teeth, eyes narrowing. "Stop releasing your pheromones. It's choking and dangerous. I don't want to go into any rut."
Kai tilted his head, mock-innocent, the corner of his mouth curled in that infuriatingly smug grin.
"Oh… sorry." He wasn't sorry. Not even close. In fact, he was enjoying every second of Rin's restraint cracking like glass under pressure.
Rin placed a firm hand against Kai's chest, trying to push him away. "I said thank you. Can you let go now?"
Kai just held on tighter, like this was some kind of romantic drama instead of an escalating hostage situation.
"No," he said plainly, with that same damn smirk. "Give me a peck and I'll let you go. You made me carry you for minutes, baby boy… I think I deserve something."
"He's insane."
"He's literally blackmailing me for a kiss. He just used his pheromones like a weapon. Again."
"I'm going to end up killing this man or accidentally mating with him and I genuinely don't know which will happen first."
Rin stared up at him, stone-faced. But there was heat in his ears, rising frustration curling under his skin like a fever. His wrist still throbbed, his hair was damp, and now Kai had the audacity to ask for a kiss like this was some schoolyard crush and not a literal espionage-fueled manhunt.
"That's extortion," Rin said flatly.
Kai leaned in slightly, their foreheads almost brushing. "You've called me worse. And you're still here."
Rin's eye twitched.
"Don't give him the satisfaction. Do NOT give him anything."
"…But I kind of want to punch him and that requires getting out of his arms first."
He let out a slow, dramatic sigh, then leaned forward just enough to brush his lips against Kai's cheek, cold and clinical — like kissing a statue — and immediately pulled back with all the grace of a hostage completing a forced negotiation.
"There. You got your damn peck. Now let go."
Kai blinked. Then burst out laughing.
"Oh wow, you kiss like a dead fish."
"LET. GO."
"Fine, fine." Kai finally unwrapped his arms, stepping back with both hands raised — like he was innocent. Like he hadn't just caused psychological warfare using his own damn hormones.
Rin brushed past him with the cold dignity of a man wronged by life, snatching the voice changer from the table like it owed him money.
"Never again. Never. Again. The next time I see a cockroach, I'm burning the room down."
Kai, behind him, tossed a piece of sushi into his mouth and spoke with a mouthful.
"Next time, I want it on the lips."
"Say that again and I'm flipping you off the balcony."
"Hot."