Chatchawin emerged through the heavy door, waving a hand with a faint smirk playing on his lips, a large blanket draped casually over his arm.
“Welcome back to your second life,” Chatchawin greeted smoothly, stepping forward to swiftly wrap the blanket around both Ohme and Phueak. Phueak immediately clutched the fabric tight, clutching it to shield his fully exposed, naked body.
“Welcome back my foot! Another couple of seconds and we would’ve been residing at the bottom of the ocean!” the chubby boy grumbled under his breath, glaring up at Chatchawin, whose dark sunglasses and smug grin were infuriatingly provocative.
“Listen here, Mr. Chatch! I almost kicked the bucket and went to shake hands with the King of Hell for real! You said this was just 'theatrical performance' this was more hyper-realistic than a 4K movie! What if we actually died? What then?!” Ohme exploded instantly.
Chatchawin folded his arms, giving a calm, unbothered nod. “You wouldn't have died. I was keeping an eye on you every single second. There was no need to worry.”
“Keeping an eye on us?! We were deep underwater! How could you possibly see with your own eyes?!” Phueak muttered peevishly.
Chatchawin raised an eyebrow. “I did see with my own eyes. Around your position, we had over a dozen professional divers monitoring you every step of the way.” He gave a serene smile while Ohme and Phueak gaped at each other in utter disbelief.
“You deployed a team of divers to tail us... yet nobody stepped in to pull us out when Phueak and I were on the absolute brink of extinction underwater?!” Ohme pointed at himself, his eyes wide with sheer astonishment.
“Precisely,” Chatchawin replied crisp and short. “The specialists evaluated that both of you were still within safety thresholds. Besides, Mr. Ohme is so remarkably resilient and sharp-witted that the team reached a unanimous consensus: your survival rate was a absolute 100%.” The young tycoon offered the compliment while Ohme stood slack-jawed.
“Unbelievable... You are ruthless as hell,” Phueak swore through gritted teeth, squinting at Chatchawin, who reached out to pat both of their shoulders reassuringly.
“You two were exceptionally strong. You have my utmost admiration,” Chatchawin said, his smug smile so exasperating that the two young men could only let out dry, sarcastic chuckles.
“No wonder everyone says Godfather Chatchawin has a heart of ice and blood of pure coldness. So this is the legendary ruthlessness in the flesh,” Ohme muttered.
“I shall take that as a compliment,” Chatchawin replied smoothly, utterly unfazed.
Ohme yanked out the cotton plugs jammed into his nostrils, turning around to catch his reflection in the side mirror. He winced sharply he hadn't anticipated looking so terrifyingly like a corpse. Meanwhile, Phueak exhaled a sharp snort through his nose, shooting the cotton wads straight onto the floor out of sheer irritation.
“And what’s with all this anyway?! Why did you have to stuff our noses like this? You’re acting like we’re actually dead!” Ohme demanded, his brows furrowed.
“For absolute authenticity,” Chatchawin answered coldly. “Chairman Li Ming’s operatives had to personally verify your deaths.”
“That old bastard’s people...” Ohme repeated the words, his brain still struggling to process the revelation.
“Yes. To ensure beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were truly dead, so that they achieved the exact objective they desired,” Chatchawin elaborated.
Ohme fell silent for a moment. Suddenly, a haze of faint memories flickered through his mind like a surreal dream, yet sharply vivid as though it had transpired moments ago.
“Did you verify it thoroughly... Are these two definitely dead?”
The voice of a woman echoed faintly in his recollection. Peeking through slit eyelids, he had caught a fleeting glimpse of a slender, graceful figure with a striking yet mysterious face—Rose, the undercover operative from his own team, holding a phone in her hand.
“Yes, ma'am. Fully confirmed. Both subjects drowned to death without a doubt,”
a man’s voice answered.
“Then go ahead and issue the death notifications to their designated contacts,”
she said, handing the man a business card.
“Understood,”
came the reply before she turned on her heel and glided out of the room.
Ohme’s eyes snapped wide. He whipped his head toward Chatchawin.
“Rose!... She was the one who came to check the bodies! Which means... she’s the mole!” Ohme blurted out in shock.
Chatchawin merely cast a quiet glance over him before giving a calm nod. “Indeed...”
Ohme tilted his head, exchanging a bewildered glance with Phueak. “You... you already knew?”
The young tycoon’s lips curled into a subtle, dangerous smirk. “Is there anything in this game... that I do not know?”
The rush of recalled memories snapped back to the present moment. Ohme and Phueak nodded rapidly, exchanging glances with Tum, who still looked deeply perplexed.
“Rose... was the mole all along?” Tum whispered softly before sinking into thought once more. “Then why... why didn't I detect any malicious aura from her?”
“Because that girl knew you possessed the ability to read auras!” Ohme explained, pointing his forefinger sharply at his own eye for emphasis. “She suppressed her true intentions and concealed her inner emotions so you wouldn't catch a trace of it. Honestly, she’s terrifyingly good fooling an aura reader like you without leaving a single seam.”
Tum folded his arms, his eyes wandering between Phueak and Ohme. “By the way... why on earth did you choose to become 'Chef Lom'? You’ve never pulled off anything like this before.”
Ohme narrowed his eyes, tightening his arms across his chest. “Pure, unadulterated vengeance.”
Rewinding back to the aftermath of their fake deaths...
After wrapping up the strategic meeting on the sandbox project, Chatchawin prepared to board a flight back to Thailand. But before departing, he made a pit stop to meet Ohme and Phueak at a safehouse in the heart of the metropolis.
“My mind is made up, sir! From this point forward, I will handle the next phase of the game myself,” Ohme declared with resolute certainty.
Chatchawin settled onto a large suitcase, using a slender finger to push up his dark sunglasses while a sly, amused smile formed on his face. “Back then... didn't you insist that I mastermind the entire blueprint for you?”
Ohme placed his hands on his hips, tossing his head back with a dark, cynical laugh. “A wretched bastard like that old man... needs to face a retribution of my own making. Because I am going to be the Grim Reaper who personally drags him straight down to hell.”
“HELL YEAH!” Phueak shouted out, pointing an aggressive finger forward in fierce solidarity.
Chatchawin raised his brow, nodding slowly. “Now this... makes things significantly more entertaining. I can practically feel the raging inferno of vengeance crackling into life... It’s quite an invigorating rush for the blood, isn't it?” The young mastermind grinned wickedly, while Phueak squinched his eyes at the provocative smirk.
“And how do you intend to execute your moves?” Chatchawin inquired.
Ohme’s lips curved into a sharp, devious grin as he leaned in closer. “I am going to become... Chef Lom.”
Chatchawin tilted his head slightly, his eyebrows arching high in surprise. “Why Chef Lom?”
“Because... if I’m just some nobody, I’ll never get close to the high-society titans. But as Chef Lom a world-renowned, prestigious culinary legend bathed in the spotlight—I become the ultimate bait to lure the moths to the flame,” Ohme explained, spreading his hands as if bathing in the morning sun.
From that day onward, a brilliant, covert blueprint was set into motion without anyone realizing it.
Chef Lom’s exclusive pop-up moved stealthily across China, beginning in Shanghai—the closest hub to their targets. And as predicted, Wenjie was the very first target to walk straight into the snare.
On that fateful day, Chef Lom’s pop-up was staged inside a historic Shikumen alley house along Yongjia Road. A mysterious creation was served before the young heir: 'Carved Floral Gemstone' an exquisite edible blossom crafted to resemble a thumb-sized cut crystal, forged from clear carrageenan jelly. Nestled at the core of the stamens was a rolling drop of chrysanthemum extract blended with stingless bee honey. The delicate petals were infused with the subtle orange tint of ixora blossoms and the sweet essence of white jasmine, topped with tiny, pale-pink mint leaves, served elegantly on a small dessert plate.
“Please... lift the plate and consume it in a single bite,” Ohme instructed, clad in a gold-trimmed white silk Chinese robe and wearing a feather mask. Wenjie, who had arrived with a cynical heart to challenge whether this legendary chef could truly tailor cuisine to a diner’s emotional state, raised the dish and let the jelly slide onto his tongue.
POP!
With the very first bite, the burst of chrysanthemum and the sweet, tangy stingless bee honey exploded across his palate. POP! Followed immediately by the velvety harmony of ixora and jasmine, unleashing a dreamy, lingering perfume that left him feeling as though he were floating through thin air. A vision of summer blossoms blooming swept across the young heir's cold, hardened heart like never before.
“A pleasure to meet you. Consider this a warm welcome from us,” Ohme said softly.
From that moment onward, the botanical culinary craft of Chef Lom opened a brand-new portal for Wenjie.
No matter where the elusive pop-up relocated, the arrogant heir spared no effort in tracking down the fragrance of those blossoms, hunting them down relentlessly.
It wasn't merely because of Chef Lom’s culinary genius—it was because this sanctuary had become the one place where he could unleash every ounce of suffocating agony buried deep within his soul.
“Trust in yourself...” Ohme urged, staring deep into the eyes of Wenjie, who was collapsing under the crushing weight of his own deep-seated inadequacy.
“Do you... really think someone like me can pull it off?” the wealthy heir had asked, his voice trembling with self-doubt.
“Of course you can! Because you are a dragon!” Ohme responded, thumping his own chest twice with force! “Not just any hatchling... You are a Sovereign Dragon! The time has come for you to declare your absolute dominance and show those beneath your feet who reigns supreme!” he declared passionately, stirring a fierce fire within his listener.
Behind the kitchen counter, Phueak sneaked a glance, shaking his head with a smirk of utter exasperation.
“Damn, bro’s playing it way too grand! At this rate, the line between a scam artist and a motivational life coach is completely blurred!”
Ohme met Wenjie’s gaze, giving a slow, firm nod. “Trample over them! Step right over their heads and don't give a damn about what they think. Treat them as nothing more than stepping stones emerging from the water put there solely for you to tread upon to reach your dreams... That is all that matters.”
Ohme flashed a devious smirk and shot a subtle wink.
And that... was the exact spark that emboldened Wenjie to claim his own identity, transforming his view of Adisorn and Mingzhi from trusted strategists... into mere stepping stones beneath his boots.