codename: Seraphim

"Guys, thank you so much for the power stones—I really appreciate them (^.^) ! Please don't forget to comment below... it would really help (≧∀≦)ノ"

Beom could hardly believe it. His mind raced, torn between throwing a punch and backing away, knowing full well Sasha was far from done with him. The smirk on Sasha's face, the nonchalant way he spoke, made Beom's skin crawl. His fists trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer force of his restraint.

"This isn't a game, Sasha," Beom said through gritted teeth, barely able to contain the anger simmering beneath the surface. "People could have died back there. I could have died. Do you even care about anything beyond your twisted games?"

Sasha exhaled another cloud of smoke, letting it drift between them as he studied Beom with a detached curiosity. "Care?" he repeated, arching a brow. "I care… that you survived. Shows you've got potential. I like that."

Beom's patience snapped. "Potential?" he seethed, voice laced with venom. "You nearly got me killed to satisfy your own sick curiosity? And you think that's some sort of compliment?"

Sasha shrugged, unimpressed by Beom's fury. "You're tougher than you think, Beom," he said with a hint of smugness, as if he'd just done Beom a favor. "Consider this a lesson in resilience." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur that was both taunting and sinister. "Besides, if you want to survive around here, you'll have to get used to a little... unpredictability."

Beom's chest heaved, the weight of Sasha's words settling heavily on him. He had barely survived Sasha's "test," and the man was already hinting at more trials to come. Beom bit down his anger, glaring up at Sasha with a mixture of defiance and determination, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

"You're a twisted bastard, you know that?" Beom spat, his voice low and steady.

Sasha simply laughed, a cold, mocking sound that sent a shiver down Beom's spine. "And you're just starting to realize that?" Sasha replied, amused. He flicked his cigarette onto the ground, grinding it under his heel as he cast one last smirk Beom's way. "Welcome to the real game, Beom. Try to keep up."

Beom let out a low mutter, barely audible, "Crazy bastard," his tone laced with a mixture of irritation and disbelief as he watched Sasha, who seemed completely unfazed by everything that had just happened. But something was off—Sasha's gaze was fixed on him, an intense, unwavering stare that felt as though it were peeling back layers, delving deeper than any normal look would.

"The fuck are you staring at, bruh?" Beom snapped, unsettled by the scrutiny, his brows knitting in irritation.

Sasha's lips curled in an almost playful smirk, though his eyes held a glint of something sharper, more discerning. "Your face," he replied, his tone casual, almost as if they were discussing the weather. "It's peeling."

Beom blinked, confused for a second, before realization hit him. His hand instinctively moved to his face as he remembered he still had his mask on, the thin layer that usually kept him anonymous, hidden. Before he could react further, Sasha's hand was already reaching toward him, his fingers stretching out to touch the edge of the mask.

Without thinking, Beom's own hand shot up, grabbing Sasha's wrist firmly. "What do you think you're doing, huh?" he demanded, his voice a warning, eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip. Sasha, however, didn't flinch. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, unfazed by Beom's resistance.

With a quick movement, Sasha reached up with his other hand, ignoring Beom's grip as he slid his fingers around the edge of the mask, and in one swift pull, he yanked it off.

"Hey!" Beom shouted, his voice sharp as he tried to snatch it back, but it was too late. Sasha's gaze had already fixed onto Beom's now-uncovered face, a mix of surprise and satisfaction settling in his expression. His eyes widened slightly, but only for a moment before a slow, knowing smirk curved his lips.

"Why do you even need it?" Sasha's tone was mocking, but there was an edge of curiosity as well. "Have you forgotten we're partners?" he said, holding the mask in his hand as if it were some trivial thing. "No need for masks between us, don't you think?"

Beom's jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling over as he reached out, grabbing Sasha by his tie and yanking him down to eye level. Their faces were mere inches apart now, close enough for Beom to feel Sasha's breath, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and defiance.

"Don't you know about something called personal space?" Beom growled, his voice low, almost dangerous. He held Sasha there, refusing to back down, his grip on the tie tight enough to convey his annoyance.

Sasha merely raised a brow, his lips quirking into an amused grin as he looked down at Beom's hand still gripping his tie. "Says the person still holding my hand," he replied smoothly, a glint of mischief flashing in his eyes as he leaned in just a fraction, closing the distance between them even more.

Beom's breath hitched as their faces were practically touching, and he instinctively dropped Sasha's tie, pushing him back slightly to put some distance between them. But Sasha was relentless. Before Beom could fully turn away, Sasha's hand darted forward, his fingers catching Beom's chin in a firm but almost gentle grip, tilting his face up so their gazes met once again.

"You have beautiful eyes… and those lips," Sasha murmured, his voice dropping into a low, smooth tone that sent a shiver down Beom's spine. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint. "It'd be very hot if that mouth of yours was on my—"

Before he could finish, Beom slapped Sasha's hand away, his cheeks tinged with a faint hint of color as he glared at him, appalled. "Shut up, you pervert!" he snapped, his voice sharp, though the flush on his face betrayed the impact of Sasha's words.

Sasha let out a low chuckle, seemingly unfazed by Beom's reaction. He rubbed his hand where Beom had slapped it, feigning a look of mild offense, though the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. "Ow," he mocked, still grinning. "That's no way to treat a partner, you know."

Beom rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he tried to suppress the frustration bubbling up. "You're impossible," he muttered, shooting Sasha a glare that could cut through steel. Yet, despite himself, he couldn't shake the lingering warmth in his cheeks, the way Sasha's words seemed to echo in his mind.