codename: Seraphim

As expected, Yaroslav stepped out, exuding his usual aura of commanding presence. His heavy white fur coat flowed around him like a king's mantle, stark against his impeccably tailored deep blue suit. The contrast of his regal appearance against the stark winter backdrop made him look almost mythical, like a snowstorm personified.

Beom couldn't suppress a wry smile. "Of course, he'd make an entrance like that," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. His gaze then fell to the large box Yaroslav was carrying, the sight sparking immediate curiosity. What could possibly be so important that it warranted arriving by helicopter?

Yaroslav strode toward the house with purposeful steps, his long legs carrying him effortlessly across the snowy ground. Even from a distance, Beom could hear the crunch of his boots against the snow, a sound that seemed to echo with authority. The moment Yaroslav entered, Beom was there to meet him, leaning casually against the doorframe with a practiced air of nonchalance.

"Welcome back," Beom greeted, a smile playing on his lips. "So, how's the baby? Is it a girl or a boy?"

Yaroslav paused mid-step, his piercing eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Beom. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of suspicion in his gaze. Beom wasn't exactly the type to ask such questions with genuine interest, and Yaroslav knew it.

"The baby is fine," Yaroslav replied, his tone measured and cautious. "It's a girl."

"Oh," Beom said, nodding as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Cool." He folded his arms across his chest, leaning slightly closer as his gaze shifted to the large box Yaroslav carried. "So… what's in the box?"

Yaroslav tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. "A Christmas tree."

For a moment, Beom simply stared, his expression blank as his brain processed the words. Then, without warning, he burst into laughter, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. "A Christmas tree?" he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief and amusement. "Seriously? You brought a Christmas tree?" His laughter echoed through the hall, loud and unabashed. "I never thought I'd see the day. You, of all people, celebrating Christmas?"

Yaroslav raised an eyebrow, his smirk remaining firmly in place as he set the box down with deliberate care. "I'm full of surprises," he said coolly, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

Beom straightened, still chuckling as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "What's next? Are you going to bake cookies and sing carols?" he teased, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall.

Yaroslav turned his head slightly, fixing Beom with a level stare. "Do you want me to?" he asked, his tone so deadpan that Beom froze, unsure if he was serious or joking.

Beom blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected response. "You're unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head as he trailed after Yaroslav, who had already begun moving toward the living room.

The large box was opened with meticulous precision, revealing a beautifully crafted artificial Christmas tree. Its branches were dusted with faux snow, giving it an elegant, wintry charm that seemed out of place in Yaroslav's cold, austere world. Beom watched as Yaroslav began assembling the tree, his movements precise and almost reverent.

"I have to admit," Beom said after a moment, his voice softer now, "I didn't think you had it in you. You don't exactly scream 'holiday cheer,' you know."

Yaroslav didn't look up, his hands busy arranging the branches. "Christmas isn't about cheer for everyone," he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual sharpness. "Sometimes, it's just a reminder of what's important."

Beom frowned, caught off guard by the weight of Yaroslav's words. For a moment, he said nothing, simply watching as Yaroslav worked. There was a solemnity to his actions, a care that hinted at something deeper than mere holiday tradition.

"Well," Beom finally said, his tone light but tinged with curiosity, "I guess even you have a sentimental side."

Yaroslav glanced at him briefly, his expression unreadable. "Don't push your luck," he said, the sharpness returning to his voice, though there was a faint glimmer of something softer in his eyes.

Beom smirked, leaning back into the couch as he watched the tree slowly take shape. Perhaps Yaroslav wasn't as cold and unfeeling as he let on. Perhaps, beneath all the layers of fur and frost, there was something warmer—something human.

Beom stretched and got up from the couch, his initial hesitation fading into curiosity. Watching Yaroslav fuss over a Christmas tree was not something he'd ever imagined seeing in his lifetime. It was such a strange sight—a man so stoic and intimidating, assembling a tree with the same level of focus and intensity he probably reserved for his darker pursuits. The scene was both absurd and oddly fascinating, and Beom couldn't help but let out a soft snort of amusement as he walked over.

"Lemme help you," Beom said, reaching for the instruction manual lying beside the box. He flipped it open and began scanning the diagrams. His brow furrowed in mock concentration as he muttered, "Wow, this is complicated. Never thought putting a tree together required a PhD."

Yaroslav didn't respond, merely giving a slight nod before turning and leaving the room. Beom raised an eyebrow, watching him disappear down the hallway. "What's he up to now?" Beom muttered under his breath. He glanced back at the half-assembled tree and the mess of branches and lights scattered around. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the manual, muttering sarcastically, "Sure, just leave me to figure it out. Why not?"

Before Beom could make much progress, Yaroslav returned, carrying a smaller box. His movements were deliberate, each step exuding the same effortless confidence that always seemed to follow him. When he set the box down and opened it, Beom's eyes widened slightly. Inside was an assortment of decorations: shimmering baubles, intricate glass ornaments, strands of golden tinsel, and even a sparkling star for the top of the tree.

Beom let out a low whistle. "Well, well, look at this. Someone came prepared," he said, his tone laced with amusement. He crossed his arms, leaning slightly toward the box as he inspected its contents. "So, what's the deal? Do you bring your lover here for romantic getaways or something? This setup is giving major Hallmark Christmas movie vibes."

Yaroslav didn't look up, his hands methodically sorting through the decorations. "No," he replied curtly, his tone flat. "None of your business."

Beom raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "None of my business, huh?" he echoed, watching as Yaroslav untangled a strand of tinsel with almost surgical precision. For a guy who probably doesn't have a single sentimental bone in his body, he's putting an awful lot of effort into this, Beom thought, shaking his head.

Still, he found himself drawn to the task. Picking up a few baubles, Beom began hanging them on the tree, his movements casual yet precise. His fingers brushed against the cool surface of the ornaments, and for a moment, he allowed himself to focus on the simple act of decorating. It was a strange experience—something so mundane and domestic in a place that felt anything but.

"You're really into this, huh?" Beom teased, glancing sideways at Yaroslav. "Never thought I'd see the day you'd be untangling tinsel like your life depends on it."

Yaroslav shot him a brief, unimpressed look. "If you're not going to help properly, keep your commentary to yourself," he said, his voice as cold as the winter air outside.

Beom rolled his eyes but continued working, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. As much as he liked to tease, there was something oddly satisfying about the whole process. The tree slowly began to take shape, its branches filling with shimmering decorations that caught the soft light filtering through the windows.

"Hey," Beom said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. "Do you even celebrate Christmas? Or is this just some new hobby of yours?"

Yaroslav didn't answer right away. He finished attaching a strand of lights, stepping back to inspect his work before finally turning his gaze toward Beom. "Sometimes it's not about celebrating," he said quietly. "It's about tradition."

Beom frowned, caught off guard by the response. He opened his mouth to ask more, but something in Yaroslav's expression stopped him. There was a weight behind those words—a heaviness that Beom couldn't quite place. Instead of pressing further, he turned his attention back to the tree, hanging another ornament as his thoughts began to wander.

Tradition, huh? Beom thought, glancing sideways at Yaroslav again. What kind of traditions does a guy like him even have? Probably something dramatic and over the top, knowing him. Still, there was a part of him that couldn't shake the feeling that this meant more to Yaroslav than he let on.

As they worked in silence, Beom found his mind drifting back to his own memories of Christmas—or rather, the lack thereof. His childhood hadn't exactly been filled with festive cheer or family traditions. The closest he'd ever come to a real Christmas tree was the plastic one they'd put up at the convenience store he worked at during his teenage years.

"Not bad," Beom said finally, stepping back to admire their handiwork. The tree stood tall and glittering, its branches adorned with golden lights, colorful ornaments, and just the right amount of tinsel. "For a couple of amateurs, we didn't do half bad."

Yaroslav hummed in agreement, his sharp eyes scanning the tree with a critical gaze. "It'll do," he said, his tone neutral as ever.

Beom smirked, unable to resist one last jab. "Careful, Yaroslav. If you keep this up, I might start thinking you're actually human."

For a brief moment, something that almost resembled a smile flickered across Yaroslav's face. It was gone just as quickly, replaced by his usual stoic expression. "Don't get used to it," he said, his voice sharp but lacking its usual edge.

Beom chuckled softly, watching as Yaroslav began gathering the empty boxes. Weird as hell, he thought, shaking his head as he glanced back at the tree. But maybe not the worst way to spend a day.

Beom stood on the stool, carefully balancing as he reached for the very top of the Christmas tree. His fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted the shimmering crystal star, tilting his head to ensure it was perfectly aligned. The tree was already a spectacle of colors and lights, adorned with golden tinsel, intricately designed ornaments, and twinkling fairy lights. But the star was the finishing touch, the crown jewel that would tie everything together.

He climbed down with deliberate steps, brushing his hands together as if he'd just completed a masterpiece. Turning toward Yaroslav, Beom flashed a mischievous grin. "Alright, Mr. Cold and Intimidating, light it up."

Yaroslav raised a brow at the comment but didn't respond. Instead, he walked over to the switch, his movements as calm and composed as ever. With a single flick, the room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of the tree. The lights reflected off the ornaments, creating tiny dancing patterns on the walls and ceiling. It was mesmerizing, the kind of sight that made even the coldest of hearts pause and take it in.

Beom stepped back, his arms crossed as he admired their handiwork. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying a rare note of genuine awe. "It's… pretty."