Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chay

Chay pressed his lips together, his arms trembling with the effort of holding himself suspended in the air, clinging to one of the bars in the training room. His instructor stood in front of him, face stern.

“Just a few more seconds, Chay,” the man murmured, and Chay would have loved to stick out his tongue at him—or at least roll his eyes in hysteria—but he was sure he wouldn’t be able to do either without falling straight to the ground. Why had he told the man he wanted to build his strength and endurance?

A sharp jolt of pain shot through his right arm, dragging a low growl out of him.
Yes—what the hell had he been thinking?!

“We’re done, but don’t let go immediately!” the man called, catching the flash of relief on Chay’s face. Chay clenched his teeth. What do you mean, don’t let go?!

“If you do it wrong, you could injure yourself worse. Release slowly—relax your muscles, as if you’re in no hurry to come down.”

Chay huffed. That was going to be difficult! But the man only watched him with calm patience.
“Get your legs ready. Loosen them so they’re prepared to hold your weight when you land… breathe, Chay.”

Chay closed his eyes, trying to put into practice what the man had been drilling into him for over five lessons now—forget the physical pain, don’t let it cloud his mind so badly that panic took control of his body. He drew in a deep breath, stretched his feet out, and relaxed his legs and hands as much as he could before finally releasing the bar.

The fall was short, and because he had prepared himself mentally, he managed to land more gracefully than in his previous attempts—bending at the knees before opening his eyes to meet the man’s gaze. His instructor nodded in approval.

The man was about forty years old, though the deep lines on his face and the almost total absence of hair could easily make him seem older.

But however aged he looked, Chay had already had more than one proof that the man was quicker than a snake, and stronger than he let on. In the short time he’d been teaching him, Chay had come to appreciate him and hate him in equal measure.

He had asked Kinn for a demanding teacher… and Kinn had taken it seriously—very seriously!

The man didn’t let him rest until he was fully satisfied with Chay’s movements, strength, or endurance. And while that pushed him to painful extremes… Chay loved seeing how the training was working.

Of course, a big part of it was the way his physique and body were changing more and more, leaving behind that frail-looking boy who seemed like the wind could carry him away. But that was only the surface. The truly important thing was how he was learning, more and more each day, to defend himself—and to rely on himself.

He knew he would never reach the level of Porsche, Kinn, or Vegas. They had been training since childhood—fighting was as natural to them as breathing. But the more he trained, the less fear he felt when walking through the halls of that vast mansion. The sensation of being a small child, lost and frightened in a dark world, no longer followed him at every step. Little by little, his mind had begun to change, helping him read situations, rooms, even people, in terms of combat and survival.
It was exhausting… but priceless in the environment he was moving through more and more.

He stood up slowly, and his instructor motioned for him to come closer.
Chay obeyed at once, his whole body vibrating with anticipation. The man had reached that point in the training where, at any given moment and without warning, he would attack Chay—expecting him to always be ready. Not to strike back for real, but to dodge as many blows as he could, studying the best way to escape or, in some cases, to try and win.

“Your technique is still weak,” he had told him since the very first day of this exercise. “Focus on protecting yourself and finding weak points in your opponent—or exit routes.”

But even when Chay was just a few steps away, the man didn’t move. He only watched him intently, before raising an eyebrow.

“I think you should try fighting with our observer.”

Chay frowned. He was reluctant to turn around to look for someone—it could be a test, to see if he would take his eyes off his enemy. Buddha knew he had already made that mistake more times than he cared to admit. Besides, what observer? Weren’t they alone in the training room?

But soft footsteps approaching told him there really was someone behind him.

Ohm placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.
“Calm down, Chay. I’m sure he’s fine.”

Chay shook his head.
“Everyone keeps telling me the same thing, but the truth is no one knows what’s really happening!” He looked at Ohm, feeling his eyes burn. “Ohm… this is almost more desperate than before! I have to do something… I have to…”

Ohm frowned.
“Chay, we are doing something! We’re… we’re doing what we can.”

Chay took a deep breath, letting his head fall into his hands.
“Yes, but… it doesn’t feel like enough.”

Deep down, Chay knew that wasn’t fair—not to Ohm, and not to himself. They were risking their lives, memorizing endless messages. And what about Macau, who had barely slept? Or Vegas and Pete, who had practically thrown themselves into the most dangerous corners of the city? Or… or Porsche, who grew more worried about Kinn each day? kinn...Who never stopped, always working, always investigating, his eyes cold, his smile gone ever since he had seen the memories?

Yes… they were all doing what they could. And yet… Chay still felt it wasn’t enough. They were still so far from Kim… so far.

Ohm stayed quiet for a long while, letting the sound of the fountain be the only thing they heard, before finally speaking in a calm tone… strange for him.

“Maybe you feel that way because everything you’re doing revolves around… around Kim,” he whispered. “And I get it… believe me, I get that sometimes it feels like all your thoughts just circle around one person.”

Chay looked at him with a raised brow, and Ohm quickly continued, not giving him time to tease him about Macau.
“But! Maybe if you distract your mind with something else… if you set more goals beyond just saving Kim… I’m not saying you should exclude him from those goals, just… maybe stop thinking about the bad things for a moment?”

Chay was about to say that it was impossible—no matter how hard he tried to think of good things, his mind would always return to all the terrible possibilities that could happen with Korn in charge—when a group of first-year students headed their way, all smiles and shy, flirty glances.

Both he and Ohm immediately relaxed their expressions, sitting comfortably as Ohm began talking about one of the girls in his class. By the time the newcomers reached them, Chay was already forcing a laugh, as if Ohm’s funny story was the only thing on his mind.

“Excuse us… sorry to bother you,”
said the bravest of the group, her gaze fixed on Chay. Her two friends behind her giggled softly. He looked at her with a smile, and the girl blushed visibly. Chay bit his lip—had he done something wrong?

Ohm, for his part, just laughed and spoke up.
“Yes, ladies? How can we help you?”

The girl blinked several times before finally speaking.
“Uh… we wanted to know if you were planning to study music?”

Chay nodded slightly, still confused by the girl’s strange behavior. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree at his response.

“Oh, that’s great!” she exclaimed, and her two friends seemed to lose their nerves, stepping closer too, smiling at him.

“We’re organizing a music competition to welcome our new members to the faculty. The idea is that on music fair day, anyone who wants to can sing a song they wrote themselves. The phi from the upper years will be the judges,” explained the first girl, her big brown eyes so wide and full of excitement at the possibility of Chay joining the competition that he almost felt bad about having to turn her down.

Yes, he was planning to go to university, but right now he had no time to be writing songs and competing, he had too many things on his mind—

“Oh, that’s really great! He’s going to compete,” Ohm cut in, and Chay nearly snapped his neck with how fast he turned to look at him.

“What? What do you mean I’m going to…?”

But Ohm didn’t even glance at him, his eyes fixed on the girls—who, for the first time, were actually looking at him.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just shy. Yeah… I know he looks all tough, but he’s a good kid,” he said, stretching his hand out to grab Chay’s cheeks. But Chay quickly pulled away. What the hell was Ohm thinking?!

“Oh, Phi, that’s wonderful! I’ll sign you up for the competition then, just give me your name,” exclaimed the smallest one, already pulling out a notebook.

Chay immediately began shaking his head furiously.
“No, thank you, but I really can’t—”

“Porchay Kittisawasd” Ohm said, standing up. “His enrollment papers are already being processed for university. Do you also need his number?”

Chay clenched his fists.
“Ohm! I just said that—”

But Ohm was already giving out his number, all smiles, before shooing the girls away, promising that Chay would be at the meeting tomorrow to learn all the rules of the competition.

Chay was left completely stunned, his face twisted in disbelief, while the girls smiled at him, batting their lashes far more times than necessary, before walking off in a cluster of whispers and glances tossed over their shoulders at him.

When they were alone again, Chay couldn’t hold back anymore. He grabbed Ohm by the ear.
“Ahh! Chay!”

“Don’t ‘Chay’ me! What the hell was that, Ohm?! I’m not competing!”

Ohm whined, his ear turning redder by the second, until Chay finally let go—still glaring furiously at him.

His friend took a few steps back before straightening up and smiling.
“And why not?”

Chay raised his hands.
“I don’t have time!”

Ohm shook his head.
“Right, I forgot—you’re way too busy driving yourself crazy with all your stress and imagination.”

Chay growled.
“That’s not the only thing I do, Ohm!”

His best friend looked at him in disbelief.
“Look, deny it if you want, but I think keeping yourself busy with something else could actually help you. Besides…” Ohm leaned a little closer, “it’d give you another real excuse to come to the university all the time to talk to me.”

Chay opened his mouth to keep arguing, but unfortunately, his brain chose that exact moment to remind him that, actually… Ohm had a good point.

Out of arguments, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“You’re not doing this for the mission… you just want to distract me!”

But Ohm didn’t lose his cool.
“So what if I do? You can’t deny it works for both things.”

It was true, he couldn’t… but he also didn’t want to give in so easily.
“Ohm… I haven’t composed in a long time.”

His friend gave him a smile, his eyes sad.
“Chay, inspiration is the one thing you won’t be lacking. Just channel your feelings in another direction, towards other goals… that way you don’t drive yourself crazy—
and you don’t drive me crazy either.”

Chapter Text

Porsche

Porsche shot upright in bed, a sharp gasp—almost a scream—escaping his throat, his whole body trembling and drenched in sweat.
Chay’s desperate cries… and even Ohm’s… still echoed violently in his mind.

He ran a hand down his face, letting out a long, shaky sigh.

It was already the third time that week he’d dreamed the same thing.
Complete darkness—yet the voices of Chay and Ohm begging him to save them.
Begging, because Korn had caught them.

The worst part?

No matter how fast Porsche ran, no matter how loudly he screamed their names… the darkness never lifted.
Not even a single ray of light illuminated his path.
And in the end, he always failed.

Fuck, he thought with a growl.
When they’d decided that Chay, Macau, and Ohm would be their damn messenger pigeons, no one had thought about his poor nervous system—or his sleep schedule, for that matter.

Porsche exhaled deeply, exhausted, already missing the days when his biggest fears were ghosts—ghosts he believed in with all his soul.

With reluctant resolve, he pushed the covers aside and swung his legs out of bed.

He didn’t bother looking at the other side of the mattress anymore.
He no longer worried about waking Kinn—after all, you can’t wake someone who isn’t there.

Porsche froze at the thought, his feet touching the cold floor.

Yes… there was a time when he would’ve woken in his boyfriend’s arms—Kinn rocking him gently, whispering that everything was okay… that it was just a bad dream—then calming him with soft kisses until Porsche’s breathing finally slowed.

He swallowed hard, trying not to let the ache of nostalgia take over.
But he couldn’t help it.
He longed for that time… that fleeting time when Kinn had allowed himself to be—even just for a moment—a little bit happy.

Porsche got to his feet, walking slowly toward the bathroom. With how drenched in sweat he was, he couldn’t even imagine trying to go back to sleep without a shower… and without checking on Chay—to make sure he was okay—even if it was one in the morning.

The hot water worked wonders on his tense back and sore muscles, pulling a sigh of pure relief from his chest.

And yet, his mind and heart refused to stop thinking about his boyfriend.

Porsche ran a hand through his wet hair, closing his eyes for a moment.

It was almost cruel, how their relationship never seemed to get a break.

Just a few weeks ago, the problem had been that they couldn’t trust each other—that they’d kept secrets too important, too painful to ignore.

Now, they had finally overcome that stage. Both he and Kinn knew everything they needed to know about each other, and if a question ever arose, it was enough to speak it aloud to get an answer.

But despite the complete trust between them… on a good day, Porsche could give Kinn a soft good morning kiss.
And on a bad day… he clenched his fists in exhaustion… on a bad day, they couldn’t even speak.

Once upon a time, Porsche would have drowned himself in suspicion and jealousy—seeing shadows everywhere. He wasn’t a saint, and he knew just how… possessive he could get.

But this time, that was the last thing on his mind.

He knew, without a single doubt, that Kinn still loved him with all his soul—that the man would still throw himself in front of a bullet for him.

No, the problem wasn’t a lack of love or passion.
It wasn’t infidelity or a third person.

The problem wasn’t even Kinn.
And it wasn’t him, either.

The problem was… guilt.

As much as Kinn wanted to blame it on vengeance—

Porsche let out a quiet huff, unable to hold it back.

Oh yes, no one could deny it—ever since they’d gone to see Yakuza, or even more, since Kinn had seen his brother’s memories (which he’d only spoken about once, right after waking up to explain what had happened—and never again), Kinn had been living with a thirst for blood. Day and night, all he wanted was vengeance.

And this—unlike what Vegas and Porsche had feared—hadn’t made him explode in rage.

On the contrary… Kinn was calmer than ever.
He showed no emotion at all—not anger, not pain, not fear.
He simply worked. Tirelessly. Restlessly.
He only stopped when it was absolutely necessary.
Nothing could pull him away from his goal.

And this state of mind—the cold, focused one—was what Kinn used as a shield every time Porsche tried to do something for him, or even show him a bit of affection.

“I’m sorry, I can’t think about that right now.”
“You know how angry I am—I just can’t.”
“I have to keep working, love. When this is over, I’ll—”

All valid excuses. And Porsche never got angry hearing them…
He only got sad, because deep down, he knew they were nothing but lies.

Porsche turned off the tap, frustrated that not even the hot water could wash away the heaviness in his chest.

Because yes, Kinn wasn’t thinking about anything other than revenge—
making his father pay for everything he’d done, freeing Kim, and… well, that was it, wasn’t it?

Kim.

Kinn was so weighed down by guilt, so horrified by everything his brother had sacrificed for him—
all the pain Kim had swallowed in silence for years—
so crushed by the knowledge that, all that time, he hadn’t protected him… that he’d simply ignored him…
that now he lived in a constant state of punishment.

Porsche grimaced as he got dressed.
It wasn’t like the heir took out a whip and lashed himself while chanting “through my fault, my own fault.”

No.
It was worse.
It was real.
And sometimes, Porsche thought it might even be subconscious.

It was as if Kinn’s heart had decided that if Kim hadn’t been happy, then neither would he.
If Kim hadn’t been allowed to have friends, then he wouldn’t either.
And if Kim hadn’t been able to receive love or affection… then Kinn, even less so.

Porsche let his head fall against one of the closets, resting it there as he took a deep breath.

He hadn’t found a way to explain to Kinn that he couldn’t go on like this—that Kim hadn’t sacrificed himself so that he could live a life of pain and bitterness.

But… how could he even say it, when he was also an older brother? When he understood the pain—though his own was smaller—of what his boyfriend must be feeling?

At least he had Chay by his side. He could go see him anytime. He knew his brother was alive and safe.
But… how could he scold Kinn… when neither of them knew where Kim was?

Porsche took another deep breath and straightened up, finishing getting dressed in a fresh pair of pajamas, shaking his head as he did.

He had waited, naively, thinking that with time, joy would return to Kinn—that he would find a way to forgive himself. But now he saw that maybe that day would never come.

That maybe…

His thoughts came to a sudden halt when he stepped out of the bedroom and found Kinn sitting in his study, eyes locked on his computer, fists slightly clenched.

Porsche immediately walked toward him, his heart skipping a few beats in nervousness.

“Did something happen? Everything okay?”

Kinn looked up. He looked so tired… so worn out. But his eyes remained cold and focused, as if the rest of his body’s exhaustion didn’t even register.

“Everything’s fine, Porsche. Go back to sleep.”

Porsche kept walking toward him until he sat down beside him and glanced at the screen.

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you, Kinn? You haven’t slept properly in days, and now I find you looking at pictures of… a casino? Seriously?”

His boyfriend didn’t get annoyed by the scolding—he almost never did, not lately—and just sighed.

“I was about to go to bed… or at least try.”

Porsche stopped looking at the screen and turned his gaze to Kinn, his expression softening with sadness.

Yes… he wasn’t the only one haunted by nightmares.

The almost overwhelming urge to hug his boyfriend consumed him, but Porsche bit his lip, forcing himself to stay still. If he tried… Kinn would immediately pull away.

So he decided to take another route.

“Maybe if you took something, some pills, you could—”

But he didn’t even get to finish before Kinn shook his head firmly.

“No, love. I can’t take anything that dulls my mind—especially not now.”

Porsche had never been known for his great patience. In fact, it only ever seemed to appear when he was dealing with Chay or Tankhun. Other than that, the damn thing apparently liked to go on vacation.

Even so, he tried to sound calm when he replied,

“Love, you’re not going to be right in the head if you don’t sleep. We don’t know when your father’s going to call you, and you need to be fully focused for that conversation—you said it yourself!”

A flicker of acknowledgment crossed Kinn’s cold face before he frowned again and turned his eyes back to the screen.

But before he could say anything else, Porsche snapped.

“No! I don’t want to hear another word, Kinn! You have to go to sleep, period! Whatever job your father gave you involving some casino can wait until—”

Kinn shook his head.

“This isn’t work from my father… not even from the company, Porsche.”

Porsche blinked, weighing the seriousness and concern in his boyfriend’s eyes before groaning and giving in—if only for a few minutes.

“Then what is it? What’s so important that—” He glanced at the screen again, frowning. “Where even is that?”

Kinn didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Macau.”

Porsche looked at him, confused.
“Your cousin?”

For the first time in days, Kinn’s face almost showed a smile—just the faintest ghost of one—before he shook his head.

“No, Porsche. I’m talking about the city… in China?”

Porsche blinked, trying to dig through his memories of school and geography class.

“Isn’t that the place where gambling’s legal and all that?”

Kinn nodded.

“Yes. Macau is, let’s say, the Las Vegas of Asia—except they make a lot more money.”

Porsche ran a hand over his face, utterly exhausted.

“Kinn, I love you, and you know that—but you’d better have a damn good reason for looking at pictures of a city at two in the morning.”

Kinn pressed his lips into a thin line, his expression serious enough for Porsche to drop the sarcasm and lean in closer.

“Kinn?”

“It’s not exactly a reason,” Kinn murmured. “It’s more of… a gut feeling.”

“And what’s it telling you?” Porsche whispered, no longer sure what else the night could possibly throw at them.
Kinn looked at him, then back at the screen.

“It’s telling me I know where Vegas and Pete are going on their spy trip.”

Porsche froze for a moment before looking back at the screen—more images of different casinos and city streets flashing one after another.

“And… and how do you know that?” he murmured, lost. “The last time Vegas sent a message, he only said he was going to spy on the other powerful families… so why start in Macau? What family is even there?”

Kinn grimaced, and Porsche couldn’t tell if it was from exhaustion or from that particular mix of worry and strategy that always came over him.

“Vegas would never have told me exactly where he was going, love… and especially not through the boys. Even if it doesn’t look like it, we’re both trying to keep the details we give them to a minimum.”

Porsche didn’t doubt that for a second.
Maybe to Chay, Ohm, and even Macau it seemed like they were getting a lot of information—but he, who had sat through enough boring meetings about business deals and trade routes, knew better. He knew just how much Kinn and Vegas could say between the lines.

He looked at Kinn, who went on,

“For a moment, I really thought he was going to travel from country to country, keeping an eye on each family. But I quickly threw that idea out—it would take months to do something like that, and there’s no way Vegas could leave Macau alone for that long. Not to mention, his absence would immediately alert my father.”

Porsche tilted his head.
“Then… how does he plan to gather the information we need?”

Kinn sighed, clasping his hands together in his lap.
“In the least expected way… and the riskiest one. Typical Vegas.”

Porsche pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“And what does that mean?”

He asked, no longer sure if he even wanted the answer. God, how many risky things could they do before finally being discovered?

Kinn looked at him, a flicker of concern swimming in those cold eyes, before replying,

“The most powerful families in China aren’t in Macau, love. You’d find them more easily in Hong Kong, or spread across different headquarters. Macau is… too chaotic to host one. But…” —he hesitated, as if searching for the right words— “it’s the perfect place for… meetings.” He finally said. “Meetings big and massive enough to gather fortunes that, even in our business, would take a very long time to earn… in just one night.”

Porsche didn’t know if it was the lack of sleep or the fact that Kinn seemed to be choosing every word with surgical precision—but he was even more lost than before.

“Kinn… Kinn, I didn’t understand a damn thing. What do you mean, fortunes in a night? What kind of meetings are we talking about?”

Kinn looked straight ahead, then opened his hands, moving them slightly as he spoke—trying to make himself clearer.

“Porsche… imagine a night without laws. Giant casinos, huge races, markets where you can buy anything—and when I say anything, I mean it. Anything you could ever think of. A place where, if you get lost, no one will look for you. If you disappear, the police won’t even know. And even if you’re from an important family, not even the mafia could find you. A place you can enter easily… but only leave if you’re very lucky. A place where the darkest deals in all of Asia’s underworld take place.”

Porsche’s eyes went wide as he shook his head.

“But… but how can they—no, Kinn, how could a place like that even exist without the government finding out?”

Kinn looked at him with a calm that Porsche didn’t like at all.

“Porsche, plenty of people know. But they’re easily bought off. Besides, it’s not open all year, like the black markets the mafia runs in every country. It’s only one night each year… a night that feels like fog—and whatever happens there… stays there.”

Porsche shook his head, already halfway to losing his composure.

“And… and you think Vegas and Pete—no, no! Why would they go there!? That doesn’t make any sense, Kinn!”

Kinn bit his lip before looking at him cautiously—and Porsche instantly knew he wasn’t going to like what came next.

“I admit it’s insane. Vegas knows perfectly well that we, the Theerapanyakuls, have never gone there—it’s far too risky. But… it’s not without logic, love.”

Porsche almost stood up, glaring at Kinn with rising anger.

“Logic? How the hell does that make sense, Kinn? What could Vegas possibly need to buy that’s important enough to expose himself—and even worse! To expose Pete like that?!”

Kinn didn’t even hesitate to answer.

“Information.”

Porsche stopped breathing.

“What?” he rasped.

“Information, Porsche,” Kinn repeated without missing a beat. “I already told you—you can buy anything there, for the right price. You could hold in your hands secrets that entire countries guard with obsession. Vegas could get, in one single night, what it might take us months—or even years—to uncover… if they survive.”

Porsche blinked, feeling lost in a sea of possibilities and risks… with no solid ground in sight. Kinn’s expression softened slightly, surprising him as he shifted a little closer—though not quite enough to touch him.

“Porsche… I never told him to go there. I’ve only ever heard of that place through rumors. What goes on there is… horrifying. Deals even we aren’t involved in. But now… there’s no way to stop them.”

Porsche swallowed hard.

“Pete… Pete’s my best friend, Kinn, I—” He shook his head, unable to finish, but Kinn seemed to know exactly how.

“And Vegas is my younger cousin, Porsche. If it were up to me, I’d tie him down to stop him from going… but I’d still go myself.”

Porsche immediately started shaking his head, his heart racing at the thought of Kinn putting himself in that kind of danger—but his boyfriend only sighed.

“It’s… it’s a golden opportunity, love… no matter how dangerous it is.”

Porsche made an annoyed, defeated face, but Kinn didn’t budge.

“It is, love. I can’t believe it’s happening right now.”

Porsche looked at him with exhausted eyes.

“When is it?”

Kinn hesitated for the first time that night before speaking.

“If you insist on knowing, I’ll tell you, but I think you’d just torture yourself for no reason. Besides… it’s only a hunch of mine—maybe they aren’t even—”

“Kinn,” Porsche murmured, his voice firm, “when is it?”

Kinn couldn’t kid him or beat around the bush like a child. No matter how much they’d hated each other when they were younger, his boyfriend and Vegas thought in similar ways when it came to plans and decisions. If Kinn had come to the conclusion that, were it up to him, he’d take the risk and go, then Vegas and Pete were almost certainly already in Macau.

There was nothing Vegas wouldn’t do to protect his family… what he considered his.

Kinn sighed, somewhat defeated, before answering.

“It’s in five days.”

In five days? A quick count told Porsche it would be Friday night.

Porsche simply closed his eyes—too tired and too scared to do anything else. In his mind, only one sentence repeated over and over:

"They have to come back. If they don’t, I’ll go get them myself—whatever hellhole they’re in—and bring them home by the collar."

Pete 

(Macau City, five days later, 3:00 pm)

Pete smiled at the sight of Vegas utterly “focused” on his laptop, brow furrowed, and started counting in his head.

Three… Vegas bit his lip.

Two… Vegas shook his head.

One… Vegas took a deep breath…

Zero — here came the attempt to push him away again.

“Pete… Pete please listen to me.”

Pete nodded calmly, secretly wondering how many more of these attempts he’d have to endure before his silly, overprotective boyfriend understood he couldn’t get rid of him.

“Look… it’s fine. You can stay near the meeting place, and if I need help, I swear I’ll let you know.”

Pete just kept watching him, half-touched and half-ready to laugh at Vegas’s desperate expression. Vegas let out a sigh.

“Pete,” he tried again, “this is new territory even for me, I already told you the meeting is—”

“A lawless place where not even the strongest mafias rule, and only the toughest survive… yes, Vegas, I know.”

Vegas looked like he was about to tear his hair out, but Pete didn’t let him continue. He picked up a magazine, flipped it open, and spoke again without looking at him.

“That’s exactly why I decided to come with you. And that’s exactly why you can keep sucking the oxygen out of this city trying to convince me not to go, and my answer will always be the same. I’m going, end of story.”

Vegas clenched his fists, and in one swift move, he was on top of him—snatching the poor magazine out of the way and tossing it to the floor, his hand gripping Pete’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Pete was torn in two.
On one hand… he almost smiled. So Vegas had finally decided to bring their sex life to his rescue? Hoping Pete would just obey?

It was so… touching, seeing Vegas this desperate. After everything, after how careful he’d become with their games—after all the effort he put into never crossing a line again—he was now risking even that.

But on the other hand… Pete blushed, unable to stop it. His body wanted to betray him, wanted to just surrender immediately, to tell Vegas he’d obey, and a part of him even grew annoyed when he refused to give in.

Vegas smiled at the reaction, his gaze sharpening even more.

“Pete,” he murmured in a low, hoarse voice. Pete swallowed hard, but still didn’t lower his eyes or relax his body.

“It’s not going to work, Vegas. Not this time,” he said, tense but resolute.

Vegas raised an eyebrow.
“So sure of that?”

Pete didn’t even hesitate.
“Of course,” he said, staring straight at him but placing a hand on his chest. “I love your body, and being with you,” he murmured. Vegas’s eyes widened slightly, though that stubborn determination in him didn’t waver.

Pete continued, voice steady even as his face turned red.
“I love obeying you, giving you my will,” he said, eyes closing for a moment, the words burning but sincere. “I love taking everything you give me… losing myself in you.”

Vegas looked thrown off for a second—but still tightened his grip, without hurting him, and whispered,
“If you love it that much, then you’ll obey me, Pete.”

Pete smiled and shook his head.

“That’s what you don’t understand, Vegas. I love you more.”

Vegas froze above him, his strength leaving him all at once. Pete took advantage of the moment, stretching up to kiss his stunned boyfriend’s face before whispering,

“I love you much more than I love my desires and my pleasure. And that’s exactly why… this isn’t going to work.”

Vegas looked at him for a second longer, his gaze completely lost, before squeezing his eyes shut—though not before Pete caught the trace of tears glimmering in them.

“Oh, Vegas…”

Vegas trembled above him before letting himself collapse, and Pete opened his arms to receive him, gently stroking his back.

“Pete… Pete, please, if something happens to you, I could never… I could never keep living if—please, Pete! I didn’t want to cross the line, but it’s just—”

His boyfriend’s voice broke, and with it, Pete’s heart—but still, he didn’t give in. He couldn’t.

Didn’t Vegas understand that Pete couldn’t live without him either? That it was impossible for him to watch Vegas run into the fire and not throw himself in after him?

“Vegas,” he whispered, his voice drenched in love—love that still surprised him with how much it grew every day. How had he ever hated him? “Vegas, you haven’t done anything wrong… but please understand—I can’t let you go alone either. I can’t.”

He held him tightly against his body, feeling the faint tremors that ran through the former mafia heir, who buried his face in Pete’s neck.

“Stop being so stubborn, Pete!” Vegas pleaded in despair, but Pete only laughed softly.

“Look who’s talking—a mule calling another mule stubborn.”

Vegas growled under his breath but didn’t move, letting himself be held.

For a while, they stayed like that—quiet, clinging to each other—until Vegas suddenly tensed.

Pete was about to ask what was wrong when the young man spoke.

“Then… then we just won’t go.”

For a second, Pete froze. He had expected everything—everything! None of Vegas’s tactics up to that point to push him away from the night ahead had surprised him.

But… not once had he even considered that Vegas, for him—for the sake of protecting him—would be willing to throw his plans to the ground. To give up his golden opportunity to gain a massive advantage over Korn.

Korn… the man Vegas hated so deeply. And yet… he was ready to lose the game—but not Pete.

Pete felt his eyes sting at the thought, his chest swelling with something so powerful and overwhelming that he almost smiled from the sheer force of it.

Vegas, confused by his silence, lifted his face.

“Pete? What—?”

That was as far as he got before Pete, without the slightest trace of grace, grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in—crashing their mouths together so hard it hurt. But Pete didn’t care.

In that moment, the only thing that mattered was Vegas—his hands, his ragged breathing, the way he immediately caught Pete’s lips between his own, parting them with his tongue and invading his mouth.

Pete moaned against him, intoxicated, still full of that consuming emotion, kissing Vegas back with desperate hunger—a hunger to share somehow what he felt inside.

They clung to each other fiercely, arms and legs tangling together.

It wasn’t lust or passion—no. It was something wilder. A desperate need to melt into one another, to never be separated again, to be absolutely certain that the person they loved was safe.

Vegas grabbed him by the waist, and taking advantage of the way Pete had let him settle between his legs, he lifted him—leaving Pete straddling him—all while their mouths were still locked together.

But even in the middle of that whirlwind of emotions—love, and, well, let’s just call it what it was, the growing fire between them—Pete somehow managed to grab onto reason by the thinnest thread and pull away for a second.

Yes, he loved Vegas even more than he had just seconds ago for the decision he’d made… but he still knew it was the wrong one.

“Vegas,” he whispered. And instead of trying to kiss or touch him again, Vegas just stopped and looked him in the eyes… as if he already knew what was coming. Pete smiled softly and forced himself to go on, even as every survival instinct in his body screamed at him to just keep kissing his boyfriend.

“Vegas… you don’t know how much I want to just stay here with you—to spend the whole night in this damn position and never leave this crappy two-star hotel you’ve complained about nonstop but still chose yourself… but we can’t.”

Vegas closed his eyes, stress once again washing over his face.

“Pete…”

Pete shook his head.

“No, Vegas. We came here with a purpose. We’ve spent days studying the place—there are more than five emergency exits, and I know you’ve got over ten disguises in that closet,” Pete said, pointing without hesitation to the farthest one in the room, the same one Vegas had insisted they not use. “Plus more weapons than the two of us could possibly carry, and an absurd amount of money in cash, cards, and accounts. Everything’s ready… and we’re not wasting it.”

Vegas opened his eyes—wide, dark, and beautiful—and looked at him in silence.

Pete stayed quiet too. It wasn’t like he was dying to go to that place either.

Behind Vegas’s back, he had allowed himself to tremble at the thought of everything that could go wrong… and there was a lot.

They could be killed, captured and sold to the highest bidder. Someone could even recognize Vegas—and if that happened, who would help them there?

The answer was chilling, but always the same.

No one.

There, no Theerapanyakun name would matter. No power, no ring could protect them.

But the prize… the prize was too great to pass up.

He knew it—and so did Vegas.

“Pete… if we’re in danger, if for any reason something goes wrong… we leave. I don’t care if we accomplish what we came for or not. We drop the mission and get out. Okay?”

Pete nodded immediately.

“I have a feeling I’ll be the one saying that to you tonight, but fine.”

Vegas looked at him, eyes full of quiet defeat, before leaning back against his chest. Pete instantly wrapped his arms around him.

“We can’t… we can’t waste energy, but…”

Pete didn’t need him to say more. He nodded right away.

“Let’s just stay like this… a little longer,” he whispered, and Vegas nodded too—standing up and making Pete wrap his legs around his waist so he wouldn’t fall.

His boyfriend carried him to the rickety bed they had rented, lowering him down gently and not wasting a single second before covering him with his body, kissing his face softly.

Pete closed his eyes and simply let himself enjoy it.

Yes… just a little longer. Later they would talk about plans, code words, fake names. Later they would face whatever waited for them that night.

For now… he just wanted to enjoy the warmth of his boyfriend.

Just a little longer.

Pete hummed in contentment, wrapped in warmth, comforted by the weight of Vegas on top of him. Even with all the tension of the night ahead, he was sure that if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up falling asleep—lulled by the safety and completeness his boyfriend always made him feel.

He took a deep breath, frowning slightly. Truth be told, they’d been working so hard these last few nights that a little nap wouldn’t kill him, right? Just fifteen or twenty minutes… just enough to recharge his energy a bit more.

Pete tried to blink himself awake… something told him sleeping now was not a good idea! But Vegas’s skilled fingers threading through his hair and massaging his scalp clearly disagreed, whispering that he could relax, that everything was fine… that it would only be… a few… minutes…

Pete’s eyes snapped open, and the darkness of the room made him sit up instantly—his heart leaping from total calm to sheer panic.

How long had he been asleep? Why was it already night? And… where the hell was Vegas?!

Pete shot to his feet so fast he felt dizzy, but he didn’t care—his mind was spinning too fast, his eyes darting wildly around the empty room in terror.

That piece of shit! he thought furiously when he saw no trace of his boyfriend. He let me fall asleep and went without me?!

Pete clenched his teeth until they hurt, not even sure who he was angrier at—Vegas, or himself for falling so easily into Morpheus’s arms.

He shook his head with fierce determination. He wasn’t staying here. If Vegas thought he’d gotten rid of him, he was dead wrong. Pete would follow him straight into hell, and oh, when he caught him, he was going to—

Just then, the old bathroom door creaked open, and his boyfriend stepped out—clearly fresh from a shower, hair wet, chest and back bare, a towel hanging loosely around his waist and completely ruining the dramatic moment.

Vegas blinked at the sight of him standing there before smiling.

“Finally awake, Pete.”

Pete was so confused it took him several seconds to thaw the pure rage frozen on his face.

But however brief those seconds were, the mocking little laugh that escaped Vegas told him they had been far too long.

Vegas walked up to him—still not bothering to put any clothes on—and cupped Pete’s face in his hands, squeezing his cheeks.

“Oh, who was already planning how to kill me? Who? Who is my cute little puppy who was planning my murder just because he thought I left him behind?

Pete groaned as the heat rushed to his face, unbearable.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, swatting his boyfriend’s hands away, but Vegas only laughed harder, placing a dramatic hand over his chest.

“Oh, the betrayal! They always think the worst of me!”

Pete bit his lip. He knew his boyfriend was teasing him… but still, guilt crept in anyway.

“I—I’m sorry, Vegas… but I woke up and you weren’t here! And it was dark, and it’s already night, and… and I thought that—”

Vegas’s eyes softened, filled with tenderness and a hint of resignation.

“It’s okay, Pete,” he murmured. And before Pete could apologize again for jumping to the worst conclusion, Vegas stretched his lips into that charming, troublesome smile of his.

“Truth is… I did think about it.”

And just like that, Pete lost any trace of guilt he’d been feeling.

“Vegas!”

“But I didn’t do it! I didn’t!” Vegas exclaimed, throwing his hands up in surrender—though Pete still caught the low mutter that followed, “even if I kinda wanted to.”

Pete chose to ignore the comment and looked around instead.

“What time is it?”

Vegas walked over to one of the small tables in the room and checked his phone.

“It’s only seven p.m.”

Pete fell silent. The anger and panic he’d felt when he thought Vegas had left him were gone now—but in their place came the nerves, the dread of what they were about to do, pressing tightly against his chest.

Vegas seemed to catch Pete’s seriousness, because his smile slowly faded as he stared at him in silence.

“There’s nothing that’ll make you change your mind… is there?” the young man finally asked, letting out a sigh as his shoulders sank—like he could already feel the weight of guilt pressing down on him for bringing Pete to that place.

Pete felt that same heaviness settle in his chest. Knowing that with just one word he could make Vegas smile, that simply agreeing to stay would give him peace… and yet knowing he couldn’t do it—that was what tore him apart.

Knowing that no matter what he chose, Vegas would suffer.

“But better he suffers… than dies,” he thought, swallowing his guilt as he hardened his gaze.

“I’m going with you, Vegas. There’s no turning back.”

His boyfriend didn’t look surprised—after all, that was the answer he’d been expecting—but his eyes did darken, growing heavier, deeper.

“Alright then… let’s go over the plan one last time—before we start with the disguises.”

Pete stood tall. He wasn’t a stranger to dangerous situations or risky plans.
Working with the Theerapanyakul family since his early youth had made sure of that.

But there was something terrifyingly different about going on a mission with the person you love—the one you’d give your life for without hesitation—while knowing he’d die just as easily for you.

As romantic as that might sound in books or movies… in real life, it created a dangerous imbalance.

Who protected who? Who ran, and who fought?

As a bodyguard, the answer had always been simple: the boss runs, and he fights. The boss hides behind him, and he takes the hit—or the bullet.

But here… Pete looked at his boyfriend, and almost winced at the image of them arguing over who should take the blow.

Vegas met his gaze knowingly. After all, the plan was already set, the routes memorized—days spent pretending to be tourists had helped them get familiar with the area.

The only thing they hadn’t settled… were the roles.

Silence grew heavier by the second, until Pete, unable to stand still any longer, turned around, found one of Vegas’s shirts, and tossed it at him.

“Here. Put something on. You’re distracting me.”

It should have made Vegas laugh, maybe even stroke his ego—but the weight of what they were about to do didn’t leave room for that.

Vegas got dressed without even looking at what he was putting on, then sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair.

“Pete… this isn’t going to work unless we’re willing to follow a few rules.”

Pete frowned.

“Why do I feel like you’re not talking about we, but I—that it’s only me who has to follow the rules?”

Vegas shook his head right away.

“That’s not what I meant, Pete… but it’s true that I’m going to ask you to do things that… I doubt you’ve ever done before.”

Pete fell silent, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Things I’ve never done?” Buddha, that would be a tough one. As a bodyguard, he’d gone on so many missions, played so many roles… the idea almost sounded funny to him, though he didn’t say it aloud.

One thing that didn’t even need to be discussed was who was in charge of logistics and planning.

And that was, without question, Vegas.

Pete wasn’t bad when it came to strategy, but his training and experience had always centered on combat and defense.
Vegas, on the other hand, had been trained to lead, to command.

And none of that would’ve mattered if his boyfriend didn’t naturally have the gift of leadership—but the truth was, he didn’t just have it… he was damn good at it. Especially when it came to planning deceptions, missions, and mind games.

He wasn’t just good—no, Pete knew that a part of the man he loved thrived on danger, craved getting close to the fire, watching the people around him fall into his traps like a spider watching poor insects struggle and struggle… never realizing they’ll never escape the web.

Pete almost smiled. He must’ve had a screw loose somewhere in his head, because what others feared about his boyfriend—what terrified them—Pete found so damn hot.

“And what exactly is this role you think I’ve never done before?” he asked, trying to focus on the mission.

But when Vegas grimaced and walked over to the closet—packed with weapons, communication devices, and disguises—and pulled out a long silver chain—with a bracelet on one end…and a black leather collar on the other...

All of Pete’s curiosity vanished, replaced by utter disbelief.

“What… what the hell are you thinking, Vegas?!”

Vegas had the audacity not to even look at him—his eyes fixed on the chain in his hands. Then he sighed and did something Pete had never seen him do before, leaving him frozen where he stood.

Vegas completely ignored the bracelet… and slowly fastened the collar around his own neck. Then he looked at Pete and extended the bracelet toward him.

Pete’s eyes went impossibly wide as realization hit him—finally understanding the insane idea that had gone through his boyfriend’s damn head.

“No.”

He muttered it, and Vegas closed his eyes.

“Pete…”

But Pete was already speaking again.

“No, Vegas! Are you out of your mind? You want me to take you into one of the most dangerous markets in the world as my… my what? My submissive?! My pet?! Are you—?! No! Someone could try to buy you, or—no!”

Vegas pressed his lips together, and Pete saw his fists clench, but still, the young man spoke.

“We could call it karma.”

Pete stopped breathing for a second—watching the flash of pain and guilt that crossed his boyfriend’s face. In two quick strides, he closed the distance between them, his hands going straight to Vegas’s neck.

“Take it off!” he demanded, voice shaking. But Vegas didn’t move.

“Take it off, Vegas! This isn’t—this isn’t like what happened before! I already forgave you for that! When are you going to forgive yourself?!”

Vegas let out a soft huff that broke Pete’s heart—because he understood what his boyfriend hadn’t dared to say aloud.

Never… Vegas believed he could never forgive himself for the pain he’d caused Pete at the beginning of their complicated relationship.

Pete’s hands trembled against the leather wrapped around Vegas’s neck, and he moved to tear it off—by force if necessary. But then Vegas’s soft yet steady hands covered his own, stopping him. His boyfriend finally opened his eyes to look at him.

“Pete,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. He took a deep breath, clearly trying to clear his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Pete. I shouldn’t have brought up the past… not now, when we have so much to do. But please—try to understand my plan.”

Pete opened his mouth, ready to refuse even to listen, when Vegas leaned in and kissed him—gently, guiltily—silencing him completely. Then he pulled back just enough to speak in a low murmur.

“If we go in without any kind of cover or disguise, we’ll draw attention. If anyone recognizes my face in there… it’s over. We have to blend in—to look like we belong, like we’re in sync with everything happening there. A young master looking for some fun.”

Pete groaned, shaking his head, but Vegas cupped his face to stop him.

“Pete, please. Your Chinese isn’t that good—you can understand it, but still. If you take me as your slave, you can ask me anything at any time—to translate, to protect you, to compete for you… and no one—absolutely no one—who knows me will recognize me in that role.”

Pete bit down on his lower lip so hard he nearly broke the skin, hating that some part of him actually understood his boyfriend’s reasoning.

“Vegas… Vegas, let me be the slave. I can—”

Vegas shook his head immediately, but when he spoke, his voice was as soft as it had been a moment ago.

“It won’t work, Pete. They’d recognize me right away. Besides… I could never act calm and playful seeing you in that position again… I can’t.”

Pete clenched his fists.

“And I’m supposed to be able to?!”

Vegas looked at him with so much love that Pete felt like he might start crying any second.
Why did this always happen to them? When were they ever going to be able to live in peace?

“You can, love… and you’ll know the whole time that it isn’t real.”

Pete groaned, but Vegas didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before launching into all the “good things” about his plan.

“No one will be able to separate us. We’ll be literally connected to each other. And if I’m your ‘translator,’ we’ll be able to talk all the time without raising suspicion.”

Pete looked at him, torn between wanting to kiss him again—or punch him square in the face.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this plan before?!”

He muttered, and Vegas smiled faintly—so faintly it was almost invisible.

“Well… I was hoping I could leave you here.”

Pete rolled his eyes. No. That wasn’t going to happen.
But when he looked again—at the bracelet in Vegas’s hand—his stomach turned with hatred and disgust. Vegas noticed his stare and lifted the bracelet toward him again, his gaze pleading.

“Please, Pete… it won’t be real. You and I will know that. Isn’t that enough?”

Pete swallowed hard. Time was running out… and he had already decided he’d do anything to get Vegas out of this mission alive. So…

He raised his trembling hand toward Vegas, who smiled in relief before fastening the bracelet around his wrist—never breaking eye contact for even a second.

Once it was done, Pete could only stare at his wrist—moving his hand slightly and following the chain with his eyes all the way to Vegas’s neck, then up… until he met his eyes. Eyes drowning in emotion, yet steady.

“You see? It’s not real,” Vegas murmured. Pete fought the urge to rip that damn thing off his hand in one violent motion, managing instead to nod.

He’d said yes… now he had to follow through.

Vegas smiled, stepping closer to him.

“Now, love, we’ve got just under an hour to train a bit. But I know you’ll do fine. I trust you.”

Pete closed his eyes, trying to focus.

Unlike Vegas, he didn’t enjoy the adrenaline of danger—but he’d learned how to ride it without drowning in it. All he had to do was find that same coldness and control inside himself.

When he opened his eyes again, Vegas was smiling—his gaze darker now, sharp and icy, ready for the mission.

“All right, love. Now remember—you have to see me as an object, at most a pet. You can show affection, but you need to be firm and cruel enough to sell the idea that…”

Pete listened silently, trying to memorize everything… while also trying not to lose his stomach when, during training, Vegas ordered him to make him crawl, or follow him on his knees.

And with great effort, he managed not to vomit.

“I can’t do this… I can’t!” he muttered, raising his hand—but unable to bring it down on his boyfriend, who only looked up at him with affection.

“Of course you can, Pete. You know I’ve endured far worse pain.”

Pete almost hit him for that.

“That doesn’t help, you idiot!” he groaned, and Vegas frowned, biting his lip before speaking again.

“Then think of it this way—the pain you cause me won’t be anything compared to what I’d feel if you got hurt, or if we failed this mission. In a way, you’re protecting me, Pete.”

Pete raised an eyebrow.

“Protecting you?! By hitting you in the face?! Vegas, you’re insane!”

Vegas had the audacity to laugh.

“I am—but that’s not the point, love. The point is that this could help us beat Korn. And if you think of it that way, then whatever you do to get us out alive tonight… it’ll protect me from that man, from his plans for me, for Macau… it’ll protect our family.”

Pete almost wanted to cry.
It didn’t make any sense—and yet… and yet, it did.

In the end, wasn’t that what they were doing all of this for? For their family?

Didn’t he want to stop Korn so they could finally live without the fear of his power and cruel hand?

Pete closed his eyes, struggling to understand, to sort through his ideas and ideals.

If they were going to put on such a show… he was going to have to make it convincing, no matter how much it broke his soul to cause Vegas pain and humiliation.
And to do that—

He was going to have to believe it.

He was going to have to believe he was doing the right thing—for Vegas, for Macau, for Porsche, and even for Kinn.

He was going to have to accept it as an absolute truth.

He took a deep breath… then another… and another… until he opened his eyes, and fast as a hawk, brought his hand down, turning his boyfriend’s face with a blow so hard it sent him straight to the ground.

Vegas didn’t move for a second, his whole body tense, before he looked up with a mask of fear and pain.

“Master,” he whimpered in a weak, submissive voice that made Pete’s stomach twist—but he forced himself to keep his expression cold and steady.

This was for them… for Vegas, for Macau… for their family.

“Stop crying and get up!” he shouted, his voice so harsh it even startled himself—but he didn’t stop. “Do something useful!”

Vegas made his eyes water, his lower lip tremble—but Pete didn’t give in.

He didn’t tremble.

He didn’t lean toward him.

He only pushed the chain upward.

“I said, get up!”

And that was all it took. Vegas smiled with satisfaction, his face still red from the hit but his eyes shining with pride, before jumping to his feet and kissing Pete.

“Perfect, love… perfect.”

Pete trembled in his arms, aching to beg forgiveness, to heal his face—but he didn’t. He couldn’t step out of the illusion he’d created—not until that night was over.

Vegas pulled away and caressed his cheek before sighing and glancing around.

“We’d better change and get ready. We have to leave soon.”

Pete nodded, but before Vegas could take a step away, his hand moved on its own, grabbing his arm tightly.

“Pete?” Vegas asked, a little worried, and Pete swallowed hard before speaking, his voice trembling for a moment, raw with emotion.

“You… you won’t hate me?”

Vegas immediately shook his head.

“Never, love… never.”

Pete nodded… then looked again at the chain.

“No… it’s not real?”

Vegas came closer and pulled him into his arms, pressing Pete’s head against his chest and kissing his hair.

“The only thing that’s real, Pete, is the love you and I have. The rest… the rest doesn’t matter.”

And Pete… Pete did his best to believe that too.

Macau

(Bangkok, 9:00 p.m.)

Macau stared at his phone.
He had already read the message more than six times… and still couldn’t stop.

Anyone who knew him had told him at least once that he needed to spend less time on electronic devices—that they didn’t hold all the answers to life.
He would’ve agreed that he should live a little more connected to reality…
But this time, he wasn’t on his phone for pleasure—or even for work.

No… he supposed what kept him trapped there, reading the same lines over and over again… was fear.

It wasn’t a threatening message.
It wasn’t from Korn.
And at first glance, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary at all…
But that was exactly what made it so horrible—what only he could read between the lines.

And the fact that the person who had sent it was the one he loved most in this world.
The same person he hadn’t seen in over seven days.

His older brother—Vegas.

Macau began to bounce his leg up and down, trying to control his impulses, and even more so, his cursed imagination.
Vegas had always told him—in a difficult situation, if your mind isn’t trained and disciplined, your imagination can become your worst enemy.

Just like it was happening to him right now, staring at the screen as if it had offended him, that poisoned message nearly reading itself after being repeated so many times:

“Cau, I’ll finish the job soon. I hope you’re doing well, taking care of yourself, and always know how much I love you. Greetings from the sun.”

That was all.
Anyone else would have been happy to receive something affectionate, right?
Well, he would’ve preferred a whole encyclopedia of scolding and anger from Vegas—anything except… a goodbye.

Macau almost dropped the phone at that thought, his hands shaking.

“No,” he whispered, closing his eyes and rocking on his bed. “No, I can’t think like that… this… this is just a message of… of precaution… of…”

But the more he spoke, the more he trembled.

Precaution? Why?
What was Vegas afraid of?
Why had he told him he loved him—when he had never done it through a message before?

Oh, how he wished he could believe that someone had stolen his brother’s phone and was pulling a prank—or setting a trap… but… he looked down at the phone again, eyes glassy. That wasn’t possible.
The word sun in the message gave him away.

Neither he nor Vegas had ever called Pete that in front of anyone else. In fact, Macau doubted Pete even knew that’s how Vegas saw him… as the sun that had entered their lives and changed them—warming their home, filling it with light.
Yes… the more he thought about it, the more certain he was. It was a nickname only the two of them knew.

His fingers itched—itched to trace the message, to find out where his brother was, to go to him and stop whatever madness he was planning. To stop him from taking the risk that had frightened him enough to send that message in the first place.
But… Vegas had forbidden it.

Macau wasn’t supposed to try to find him or trace him—or he could put Vegas further under Korn’s radar, drawing even more attention to his journey.

Macau wanted to throw the phone against the wall from sheer frustration—the kind that grew stronger with every passing second. And that was new for him. He’d always cared for his phone almost more than for himself, but now…

Almost without thinking—his fingers slick with sweat and nerves—he found himself dialing the number he’d memorized long ago.

It took a moment, but soon a soft, slightly sleepy voice answered.

“Cau?… Is everything okay?”

Macau didn’t know what to say—or how to explain what he was feeling. He had thought hearing Ohm’s voice would calm him, but for some reason, though it did stop his imagination from sprinting through the thousand nightmarish scenarios he’d been replaying since reading the message, it only made the lump in his throat harder to bear. And before he even realized it, tears were already rolling down his cheeks.

“Macau? What’s wrong? I can hear you breathing but… is everything okay?”

The desperation in Ohm’s now fully awake voice forced him to swallow somehow and answer.

“Yeah… everything’s fine, Ohm.”

Ohm went silent for a second, then sighed.

“You can’t talk, can you?”

Macau covered his face with his free hand, forcing himself to breathe.

“I… I just need to hear someone’s voice… that’s all,” he murmured.

But instead of starting to talk about his day or all the wild plans he usually had—like Macau had expected—Ohm stayed quiet for a moment, then said softly:

“Wait a second.”

Macau blinked, confused—until he felt his phone vibrate against his cheek. He pulled it away, puzzled… only to see that his sweet Alvin was video calling him.

He wiped his face and was about to answer immediately, but at the last second, he remembered what was lying on his bed—the surprise he’d been preparing for his boy… the thing he’d been working on to ask him to be his boyfriend.

Shaking his head, he began carefully putting everything away in one of his drawers. It would be pointless to have spent the whole week working on the project if he ended up showing it to Ohm before the right time.

When his bed was finally clear of anything that could ruin his plans, he answered the video call.

Ohm’s sleepy, worried, and tender face filled his screen. The young man looked so concerned for him that he was practically glued to his phone, as if that would help him see Macau better.

Despite the weight in his chest and the fear still lingering inside him, Macau couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection at seeing Ohm’s eyes scan his face and body, as if making sure Macau wasn’t hurt.

Once the physical inspection was over, Ohm focused on his eyes before smiling softly and opening his mouth. But instead of asking what was wrong, or trying to figure it out with clever questions, his sweet boy simply started talking nonstop.

“Believe it or not, I’ve got experience in distracting people—and I know exactly how to distract that head of yours that looks about to explode from stress.”

Macau raised an eyebrow. He could’ve argued that just seeing Ohm’s face was already enough to ease his poor heart, but he let him talk, watching in a daze as Ohm’s expressions, pouts, and shining eyes came to life while he spoke about his hobbies, his day, and yes—even Chay—with such passion that Macau slowly felt his body begin to relax.

Not because the danger had passed.
Not because he was now certain everything was fine.
But because Ohm was managing to show him that not everything in the reality of that night was bad.

“And you know,” Ohm murmured after a while, smiling proudly, “at first I didn’t think it’d work, but Chay got so caught up in writing his song that he barely talks to me anymore.”

The young man pouted adorably, and Macau almost smiled when he saw the pride shining in his eyes.

“But at least he’s not losing his mind with worry anymore,” Ohm finished, hesitating for a second before biting his lip and looking at Macau with a mix of tenderness and caution.
“Sometimes… sometimes not knowing anything about the people we love is almost worse than knowing. But Chay decided to focus on what he can do… and trust that the people he loves will come back to him.”

Macau blinked, completely caught off guard—both by the comment and by the fact that Ohm had been able to read the reason for his stress so clearly on his face.

Ohm had spent so much time talking about random things that Macau had been sure his only goal was to distract him, to make him forget what was weighing on him.

But Ohm, for all his talkativeness and humor, had a sharp mind—and what he had really done was calm him down… only to remind him of the truth.

He couldn’t do anything to stop his brother from taking risks. He couldn’t go looking for him.
But that didn’t mean he had to sit there, feeling helpless and shaking with fear.

If Chay had decided to focus on his music… couldn’t he do the same with his part in this war—and keep at it until… until his brother sent him another message?
Couldn’t he have faith in him—just wait, helping from wherever he could, until his brother reached out again?
Even if it took him all night?

Ohm, miraculously, stayed quiet, just watching him with affection until Macau finally looked back and gave a small nod.

“Yeah… you’re right, Alvin. I’ve got a lot to do too.”

Ohm smiled, relieved—but immediately stopped when Macau reached out to hang up.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Macau blinked.

“Letting you go back to sleep? I’m going to get to work,” he said, unsure why he was being scolded. He was following Ohm’s advice!
But the young man just shook his head.

“And who said you have to work alone? I’m staying with you.”

Macau froze for a second, then shook his head firmly.

“No, Alvin. Tomorrow might be Saturday, but you need to rest and—”

Ohm didn’t let him finish.

“And you need to stop thinking you have to do everything by yourself, Cau. I’m staying, and that’s final. Oh—and don’t worry,” he added quickly when he saw Macau about to argue again. “I won’t talk.”

And true to his word, Ohm stopped looking at him, grabbed a notebook from his bedside table, leaned back with it in his hands, and started humming softly.

Macau didn’t move for a second, before a small smile managed to break through his fear and frustration.
Yeah… he couldn’t deny it. Having company that night—even if Ohm fell asleep in a few minutes—was the best gift he could’ve received.

With that thought, he headed to his desk, turned on his computer, and positioned his phone so he could see Ohm flipping through his notebook, while Ohm could see his face—now lit by the glow of his laptop screen.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing.

Wherever Vegas was… he would know how to take care of himself. He would know how to keep the promise he’d made before leaving—and come back to him.
Macau had to believe that. He had to.
And while he waited… he’d do what he could to help.

Even if it meant another sleepless night… searching all over Asia for his cousin.

He almost smiled, opening his eyes with renewed determination.
Yes—nothing better to occupy his mind than the mystery of Kim.

“Where are you, cousin… where the hell are you?”

He thought, as he opened his list. Most of the locations he’d considered at the start of his search were already crossed out.

He hadn’t seen a single trace of Kim at major galas, powerful family events, or anywhere in Thailand…
But he had no intention of giving up.

“I’ll find you… no matter where Korn sent you.”

He thought, and for a moment—listening to Ohm’s quiet breathing and the soft rustle of pages turning, focused on his mission, his eyes fixed on the screen—
he almost forgot the message Vegas had sent him.

(Macau city, South of China, 10 p.m.)

Li sighed, feeling a little tired as he drove toward the hotel.

He already knew that once he got home, he’d be in for a colossal scolding for working so late—especially on nights like this, so close to those dangerous dates—but… if he didn’t work, if he didn’t push himself, how could he pay the rent? What about his little girl’s school fees, or the food they needed on the table?

Yeah… maybe his city wasn’t the safest lately, and even less so at this hour, but… these late-night trips—especially with what were most likely tourists desperate to experience Macau’s dark nightlife—well, they always paid well.

He glanced nervously at the elegant building he was approaching, fully aware that he was lucky to have been called for the job. After all, his car wasn’t exactly luxurious; it practically squeaked against the bright, colorful opulence of the place. But… that wasn’t too unusual.

Tourists, trying to escape the public eye, sometimes requested cars that could blend in with the less… reputable areas of the city.

Li almost groaned at the thought as he parked in front of the main entrance, remembering with disgust how many times he’d had to grit his teeth while driving spoiled rich men around—men who thought their money paid for everything and, worse, covered up everything too.

With a heavy heart, he looked toward the hotel entrance as the doors slid open slightly.

Would it be the same kind of night again?
Would he have to put up with yet another entitled brat with no morals or ethics?

He got his answer when he saw a young man step out of the hotel—dressed in dark, clearly designer clothes, sharp-faced, head held high, black hair perfectly styled, his walk confident, and his eyes fixed on the car.

Li sighed, getting out and circling around to open the back door for his new client.

“Good evening, sir,” he murmured in English when the young man was close enough—fully expecting to be ignored, for the young man to slip into the car and start barking orders before the ride even began.

But instead, a soft, somewhat tired voice answered him in Cantonese.

“Good evening. I’d like to sit in the front… if that’s not a problem.”

Li blinked, surprised, looking again at the young man standing before him.
Yes… he was clearly someone with a lot of money.

In his line of work, Li had become an expert at telling real wealth apart from the kind of people who only liked to pretend—and everything about this young man screamed born into luxury.
His posture—relaxed, yet regal. His clothes—simple, but captivating. Even his beauty… Li blinked in astonishment. He was certain he had never seen someone so flawless, so perfect, it was almost unreal.
Weren’t people like that only supposed to exist on screens?

And yet… something didn’t quite fit his profile.

The young man had spoken to him in Cantonese, even though it was obvious the language wasn’t native to him. And instead of giving an order… he had asked—calmly—if he could sit in the front seat.
His eyes were steady but… yes, there was sadness in them too.

The young man blinked when Li didn’t respond, then looked down.

“If it’s not allowed, that’s alright,” he said softly.

Li flushed, mortified at himself for just standing there gawking at his client like an idiot.

In a rush, he shut the back door and hurried to open the front one.

“Please forgive my distraction, sir—go ahead,” he muttered in his native tongue.

The young man inclined his head slightly, murmuring a quiet thank you before slipping into the seat—causing yet another small short circuit in Li’s brain.
He thanked him? Ha… how long had it been since someone had done that?

Feeling a little lighter—thinking maybe this trip wouldn’t be what he’d feared—Li hurried to climb in, started the car, and glanced at the young man beside him.

The stranger had rolled the window all the way down, his gaze lost in the night, before Li asked:

“Where to, sir?”

The young man stayed silent for a moment, then answered in a low, tired voice:

“Take me to the casinos near the docks—by Fisherman’s Wharf.”

Li’s heart sank.
The casinos? By the docks?

Oh, and here he’d been thinking he’d finally come across someone different.

“Yes, sir,” he murmured, starting the car with a bitter taste in his mouth… almost disappointment.

Weren’t there more beautiful places to visit in his city?
Why did no one ever ask to go to the A-Ma Temple, or to Senado Square?
Why did it always have to be the bad places?

He glanced sideways at the young man, whose face was resting against his hand, elbow propped against the window.
He had been so kind… so humble and respectful…

Li sighed. If the young man wanted to be like the rest of his class—spending his money on casinos and nighttime pleasures—then the least Li could do was guide him to the better ones.
Maybe that way, he could at least repay the bit of kindness he’d been shown.

“Sir?” he asked nervously.

Experience had taught him, the hard way, that it was never a good idea to bother the powerful when they didn’t wish to speak.
But the young man immediately stopped gazing out the window and turned toward him.

“Yes?”

Li took a deep breath, feeling a little braver before taking the risk.

“Sir, if you’d like a better experience, the casinos in the city center are much nicer.”

The young man regarded him quietly, and Li bit his lip, already bracing for the usual—
You just want to get more money out of me with a longer route!

But instead, what came was a small sigh, followed by the young man’s gentle voice filling the car.

“Thank you… but as much as I’d like to, I can’t change my destination.”

Li’s eyes flicked from the road to the young man, confusion flickering across his face.

“Why—”

But he bit his tongue just in time. What was he thinking?!
The young man had been kind so far, but that didn’t give him the right to start asking personal questions.

"i am sorry, sir."

Li turned his eyes back to the road, determined not to say another word for the rest of the ride.
One of these days, he really had to learn to keep that damned curiosity to himself.

But the young man, miraculously, didn’t seem upset with him. He just shook his head slightly, turning back toward the darkness outside the window and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Li fixed his eyes on the road, trying to fight off the sudden—and somewhat irrational—urge to understand his passenger.

He’d made this kind of trip more times than he could count, but there was something different about this young man.

And it wasn’t just his unusual calmness and humility, or the way he treated even his driver with quiet kindness.

No… it was the exhaustion that seemed to radiate from him—the nostalgic look in his eyes, the tension in his posture, the quiet resignation—that made Li, who seconds ago had sworn not to speak again, find himself unable to keep his mouth shut.

He blamed it on his fatherly instinct—the one that had awakened the day his daughter Xion was born—the one that simply couldn’t stand seeing a young person looking so sad without wanting to help somehow.

But when he opened his mouth, he realized… he had no idea how to help this kind young man.

By now it was clear the young man didn’t want to go to the casinos… but Li didn’t dare ask him why.
That would be crossing a line.

Still… if he couldn’t change his route or his destination… what could he do?

A wild idea struck him.

“Don’t worry, sir! If you’d like, tomorrow I could show you other parts of the city—free of charge!”

He blurted it out in the end, fearing the young man might think he was just trying to get more money out of him.

But by now, Li was hardly surprised when the young man simply looked at him—raising a single brow, no anger at all in those dark eyes—before shaking his head gently.

“Thank you… but I’ll only be in Macau for one night.”

He should have left it there—shouldn’t have said another word.

After all, it was clear that no matter how hard he tried, there was nothing he could do to help the young rich man.

But Li had always been a hopeless optimist, determined never to give up, always searching for the bright side of things.

Honestly, with the economy he lived in, it was  that or becoming a bitter, miserable man… well, that simply wasn’t an option for him.

“Well then, sir, we’ll save it for your next visit,” he said more calmly now, no longer afraid of angering the other.

The young man opened his mouth as if to respond, then just closed it again, giving a faint nod.

But he couldn’t fool Li—he recognized that look.
It was the face of someone who didn’t believe what they were saying would ever come true, but didn’t want to ruin it for the other person.

Well, Li was ready to paint him such a beautiful picture that the young man would want to come back.

“I mean it, sir,” Li continued with warmth in his voice. “I’ll take you anywhere you’d like—the Macau Tower, the famous Senado Square, the hilltop viewpoints at sunset… you just tell me what you want to see, and I’ll get you there.”

The young man froze for a second, then turned to look out the window.

“The beach,” he murmured softly. “It’s the only place I’d want to see.”

Li smiled.

“Then you’d get along great with my little Xion. She loves the sea too.”

The young man looked at him with quiet curiosity, his posture easing a little, though his eyes still held that distant, aching look.

“Xion is your daughter?”

Li nodded, unable to hold back the smile that always came whenever the beautiful face of his four-year-old appeared in his mind.

“She’s been fascinated by the ocean since she was tiny. I remember the first time I dipped her little feet in the water—she was only a few months old, but she burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. Ever since then, it’s become a sacred ritual to take her to play at the beach every weekend.”

Silence filled the car.
And when Li finally glanced at the young man again, he froze.

Those black eyes were swimming in their own sea of longing—and beneath it, a deep, quiet sorrow.

But before he could say anything, the young man smiled—for the first time that night.

“Your daughter is very lucky to have a father like you… truly lucky.”

Li blinked, surprised by the compliment, before smiling as well and turning his eyes back to the road.

“What’s your favorite beach, sir?” he asked curiously. After all, someone who traveled that much must’ve seen countless landscapes worth mentioning…

But the young man beside him tensed again, clearing his throat before clasping his hands together on his lap, his gaze falling low.

“I don’t know any… not in person.”

Li barely managed to bite his tongue to stop himself from shouting.

What do you mean you don’t?!

Hadn’t he just said he wanted to visit the beach in Macau? That it was the only thing he wanted to see?

With all that money… did it make any sense that he had never been to the sea?

Li frowned, trying to understand, and apparently the young man read his silence perfectly—because he soon spoke again.

“I’ve been… very busy. But one day I’ll go.”

Li took a deep breath at the resigned tone in the young man’s voice and searched for a way to lift his spirits again.

“Of course you will, sir… though if I may, I think there are beaches far more beautiful for a first visit than the ones in Macau.”

The young man beside him shrugged, leaning back against the window once more.

“Macau is fine for me… it smells like the sea… and it’s the closest I’ve ever been to it.”

Li grimaced slightly before taking a deep breath—
but… he couldn’t catch any scent yet. They weren’t close to the docks.

“I don’t smell anything, sir,”
he murmured, and the young man beside him let out a soft, weary laugh.

“I know… I know you don’t. But I can smell it... It’s incredible.”

In any other situation, with any other passenger, Li might’ve assumed the young man was drunk—no matter how early it was.
But there was such certainty in his voice… such wonder and tenderness when he spoke of the sea, that Li couldn’t bring himself to dismiss it.

He shrugged to himself.
Maybe he was just too used to the smell of the ocean to notice it anymore.

Then an idea crossed his mind.

“Oh—so that’s why you wanted to sit up front, sir? So you could roll the window all the way down and… smell the sea?”

He asked it still a little unsure whether such a thing was even possible, but the young man turned to him again—
offering another one of those unfairly beautiful smiles.

“That’s right. I have to… I have to make the most of what I can.”

Li nodded.
It was the most optimistic thing the young man had said the entire ride, so he supported it… even if, deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a lot more behind that simple phrase than he could ever understand.

“That’s the right attitude, sir,”
he said, turning off one of the main avenues. They were getting close to the destination now, and the young man drifted back into silence—breathing deeply and methodically, as if every breath was both a pleasure and a quiet pain.

But Li had to stop playing detective when they finally entered the area the young man had asked him to go to.

A bad feeling settled in his gut.
He hadn’t seen a police car in quite a while, and around them, the shops and streets were all shuttered, as if the whole place were hiding from something.

He bit his lip. He knew these nights weren’t safe—rumors spread by word of mouth said that a lot was won and lost at the docks after dark, beyond the government’s reach.
Yes, he knew it was dangerous—that many went there, but few came back.

But… he needed the money. He needed this job. And—

“You can drop me off here,”
the young man said suddenly, opening his eyes and sitting up straight, his entire body tense once again.
“It’s not safe for you to go any further.”

Li should have felt relieved.
But one look at that angelic face, framed by expensive clothes, and he couldn’t feel thankful at all.

“No, sir. It’s not good for you to be around here without protection, believe me.”

The young man looked at him calmly.

“It’s not good for you to go further either. I’ll be fine. You… you should go back to your daughter.”

Li opened his mouth to argue further, but for the first time that night, the young man spoke with authority.

“Right here, please.”

He hadn’t been rude or harsh—not even for a moment did he drop his manners—but the sudden change in his tone, so firm and full of quiet command, made Li stop the car before he’d even realized what he was doing.

The young man gave a small, satisfied nod, his expression softening again.

“Thank you,” he murmured, unbuckling his seatbelt before adding,
“You don’t have to come back for me.”

Li struggled not to look disappointed at the news.

On one hand, that was good—it meant he could go home, finally rest, and stop putting himself in danger.
But on the other hand… it also meant he’d be paid much less than he’d hoped to earn tonight.

Still, he refused to let that ruin his good mood.
If he was being honest… this job, no matter how little it paid in the end, had been the most pleasant one he’d had in a long time.

“It was a pleasure, sir. I hope you have… a good night,”
he said at last, a little unsure, but the young man didn’t correct him—only nodded, opening his bag and pulling out his wallet.

“The pleasure was mine,”
he said sincerely, before extending the payment toward him.

Li was about to take it—but froze when the dim light of the car and the street revealed the amount being offered.

He shook his head immediately.

“No, sir, that’s far too much! I couldn’t charge you that much even if I drove for you an entire week!”

The young man just shrugged.

“Take it as a tip.”

Li shook his head, confused.

“A tip? But why? I only drove you!”

The young man smiled faintly, his gaze drifting toward the night ahead of them.

“Believe me… you gave me peace on a night when I swore it would be impossible to find any.”

He whispered it softly, and when he saw Li’s puzzled look, he only shook his head and stepped out of the car, placing all that money gently on the seat he’d occupied.

“If not as a tip,”
he said, now standing with his bag slung over his shoulder,
“then take it as an advance for that trip you promised to give me.”

Li stared at the money, stunned.

He couldn’t be fooled—he knew the young man had never truly believed they would take that trip. That excuse was just a kindness…
And for some foolish reason, it also felt like a goodbye.

His trembling hand hovered over the pile of bills—the same amount that could easily pull him out of the financial hole he was trapped in—before he lifted his teary gaze toward the young man.

He was ready to thank him a thousand times, to call him an angel sent from heaven, to give him his number and promise to be his personal driver every time he came to Macau.

But when he looked up… the young man was gone.

Li looked around in disbelief.
It was as if he’d vanished into the darkness of the night, leaving behind only the trace of his kindness and calm.

Li swallowed hard, feeling in his chest a strange urge to step out of the car and find him—to make sure he was safe, to not let him disappear like that.

Because somewhere deep in his mind, he knew… he would never see him again.

And that—for reasons he couldn’t quite explain—hurt all the way home.