"Let me take a guess…" Ohm's voice was a low, melodic taunt. "You're terrified of losing your throne, aren't you? Drowning in paranoia, waiting for the blade in your back. Your ambition overflows yet every time you act on it, you fail. Like buying lottery tickets only to get eaten alive, or investing in a dream only to watch it turn to ash."
Ohm stared directly into Lu Rong's soul. "Right now you feel like a man adrift, grasping at shadows. Everywhere you look, there are enemies… But what scares you most is the realization that you might be the first one eliminated. Because you have no one. Not a single soul standing behind you."
The accuracy of the reading struck like a physical blow. Lu Rong's chopsticks slipped from numb fingers, clattering against the leaf-shaped plate the sharp crack echoing through the suffocating silence of Ros-Lom.
"What right do you have to judge my thoughts!"
His roar tore through the room. The composed mask shattered his face drained to a sickly pale before flushing deep, humiliated red. His body trembled uncontrollably as this stranger ripped away the secret truths buried in his darkest corners.
Ohm pursed his lips, gave a mocking nod, then let a sharp smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.
"Would you like me to help you find a way out?" he asked, arching a devious eyebrow.
Lu Rong slammed his fist onto the counter. Thud! "You're nothing but frauds! You think cheap psychology can twist someone like me? I will never fall for your pathetic games!"
Phueak, standing nearby, unfurled his bamboo fan with a graceful snap raising it to obscure the lower half of his face. Only his sharp, knowing eyes remained visible.
"You aren't fighting us, sir… You are fighting the chaos within yourself. The louder you scream the louder your inner weakness cries out."
The words poured oil on a raging fire. Lu Rong erupted, desperate to patch the cracks splintering across his facade. "Shut up! I will never believe a word from scammers like you!"
He spun on his heel and stormed toward the exit. For one fleeting second, his eyes lingered on the remaining flower-filled xiaolongbao still resting on the plate. The lingering fragrance and the unforgettable taste still clung to his tongue filling him with an inexplicable, wordless regret. But pride forced his feet forward. He had to leave. Now.
Just as his figure reached the doorway, Ohm's voice rang out resonant, unhurried, filled with absolute certainty.
"If the day comes when you can no longer see the path ahead… walk back to me."
Lu Rong didn't turn around.
"No matter how slowly you come I will always leave the door open. And I will show you the way out myself."
Lu Rong's eyes trembled.
He hurried away pursued by a truth that refused to let go.
Inside, Ohm and Phueak looked at each other and high-fived with devious satisfaction.
The Shanghai night was a tapestry of shimmering lights, the glow of the traffic below reflecting off the hotel window in shifting bands. Adisorn stared out at the sprawling metropolis his eyes burning with the embers of a long-simmering revenge. He had been sent here as a pawn on someone else's board, and the realization tasted like bile.
He gripped his phone so tightly his hand shook. One question pierced his heart like a needle:
Why must I risk my life for the success of Chatchawin the man I loathe to my very core?
He looked down at the screen again. A message from the person he loved had arrived amid the fire raging in his chest only to hammer home the wretched truth. His life back in Thailand had been stripped of all value by Yong Chang and CK Group, who had crushed him until he had nowhere left to stand. No matter how deeply he hated Chatchawin, he couldn't deny it these people had thrust him into this mission. A gilded cage. And his only chance to break free and claim what was owed to him.
Slowly, he raised his hand to his throat. His fingertips brushed the deep, jagged scar. It still throbbed a rhythmic reminder of the day he was broken. The physical wound flared alongside mounting paranoia. Yesterday's assault now felt like a mere prologue.
The real game was only beginning.
Knock… Knock…
The sound sliced through the silence. Adisorn flinched, heart dropping. He shoved his phone into the wardrobe and moved toward the door with ghost-like footsteps.
But the memory of the ambush flooded back a jagged replay of being cornered and beaten. His body recoiled instinctively. He scanned the room, hand darting out to grab the tall wine bottle from the dining table. He gripped the neck tight and drew a slow, deep breath to steady the tremors remembering the feeling of gasping on a cold floor, soul barely clinging to his body.
He reached the door. Leaned in. Peered through the peephole.
Nothing.
Only a silent, empty corridor bathed in soft neutral light. No shadow. No figure. No sound.
A chill raced down his spine. His breath hitched. He tightened his grip on the bottle and glanced back at the heavy curtains behind him. If someone broke in this shard of glass would be nothing against a gun aimed at his life.
Knock… Knock…
The sound came again.
Adisorn flinched. He stared at the door surrounded by nothing but silence and his own ragged breathing then made up his mind. He placed his hand on the knob and leaned once more into the peephole, heart hammering against his ribs.
And in that instant
A large, wide eye suddenly filled the entire frame.
Adisorn recoiled in pure, unadulterated terror his composure shattering instantly.