In the dimly lit room, shadows danced across the walls, creating an eerie atmosphere. Kiet sat in the center, flanked by two imposing bodyguards. His stern, menacing expression contrasted sharply with the tablet in his hand, which displayed a series of funny videos. Despite the humorous content, his face remained stone-cold. With a sigh, he turned off the tablet and handed it to one of the bodyguards.

"I can't laugh," Kiet muttered, a hint of frustration in his voice. He took a deep breath and added, "What should I do? My doctor told me to laugh often."

Kiet's gaze shifted down to the man lying at his feet, covered in blood. The man's hand was pinned under the leg of Kiet's chair, eliciting groans of pain through the cloth gag covering his mouth. Kiet bent down, his eyes boring into the man's terrified ones.

"Tell me, what should I do?" Kiet asked softly, his voice a dangerous whisper.

The man tried to speak, but the gag muffled his words into incomprehensible sounds. Kiet straightened up and issued a cold command to his bodyguards. "Tie him up."

The bodyguards moved swiftly, lifting the man and binding him securely with ropes. Kiet walked over, his eyes filled with a lethal determination. He ripped the gag off the man's mouth, allowing him to speak.

"Pl... please have mercy. Please spare me... please," the man begged, his voice trembling with fear.

Kiet looked at one of his bodyguards, who promptly handed him a knife. Kneeling down to the man's level, Kiet's expression turned sinister. "Don't worry," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "I will kill you with less pain than others."

Without hesitation, Kiet stabbed the man twice, then a third time, each thrust precise and merciless. Blood splattered onto Kiet's face, and he stood up, wiping the knife clean on his once pristine white shirt. He tossed the knife aside and glanced down at his blood-stained shirt in annoyance. 

"Damn it," he muttered, removing the soiled garment.

One of the bodyguards handed him a fresh black shirt. As Kiet was buttoning it up, the door to the room opened, and Arhit, his trusted assistant, walked in. Handsome and composed, with glasses perched on his nose, Arhit surveyed the scene with a casual air.

"I thought you would kill him more cruelly," Arhit remarked, glancing at the lifeless body on the floor.

Kiet finished buttoning his shirt and gave Arhit a cold smile. "He didn't deserve my full attention," Kiet replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "Besides, I have more pressing matters to attend to."

Arhit nodded, understanding the unspoken message. "Very well. Shall we move on to the next task, then?"

Rolling up his sleeves and revealing his tattoo of an angry snake on a dagger on his left arm, Kiet nodded, his demeanor shifting back to his usual commanding presence. "Yes. Let's ensure that everything is in place."

Together, they walked out of the room, leaving the gruesome scene behind. The two bodyguards followed closely, their faces as expressionless as ever. Arhit stood by the sleek, black car, holding the door open as Kiet approached. Just before stepping inside, Kiet turned to his bodyguards, his eyes cold and commanding. "Take care of the body," he ordered.

The men nodded, their expressions grim, and headed back inside to deal with the aftermath of Kiet's earlier brutality. Kiet slipped into the car, and Arhit closed the door behind him before taking his seat in the driver's position.

As the car pulled away from the scene, Kiet adjusted his watch, his mind already on the next matter at hand. "What's the update on the boy?" he asked, his voice calm and controlled.

"The boy?" Arhit echoed, glancing at Kiet through the rearview mirror.

"Milin Channarat," Kiet clarified, his tone impatient.

"Except for his two friends, he hasn't told anyone yet," Arhit responded, his eyes returning to the road ahead.

"And the police?" Kiet inquired, his gaze piercing.

"He hasn't gone to them yet," Arhit said. He glanced at Kiet again, the reflection of his glasses catching the light. "It looks like the boy piqued your interest."

Kiet's lips curled into a slight smirk. "That's right," he replied, his eyes drifting to the passing scenery outside the window. "But unfortunately, we have to kill him."

                                                                                     ***

Milo wandered the bustling campus with his friends Som and Waan. The sun was shining, but Milo's heart felt clouded with a mixture of anxiety and sadness. Suddenly, his heart sank as he saw King and Jay together, their heads close, giggling as if sharing the world's most intimate secrets. The sight was unbearable—a sharp stab of jealousy and hurt twisting in Milo's chest.

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, Milo marched towards them, his annoyance evident in every step. "King," he called out, his voice tinged with frustration.

King and Jay turned to face him, their expressions instantly shifting from light-hearted to cold. It was as if Milo's presence was an unwelcome intrusion into their perfect world. "Oh, Milo," King said, his tone flat and uninviting. "What's going on?"

Milo's heart raced, a mix of anger and desperation fueling his words. "Why haven't you been replying to my messages or calling me back?"

King's eyes remained indifferent as he replied in a chilled voice, "It's not necessary to stay updated with each other all the time, Milo."

Som and Waan, standing a few steps behind Milo, exchanged irritated glances. Som stepped forward, his voice edged with frustration. "Do you even know what Milo has been going through these days?"

King sighed, his expression one of weary exasperation. "He's always in some kind of trouble. It's not a new thing, and it's not like he's dying."

The callousness of King's words struck Milo like a blow to the chest. Jay, sensing the tension, put a hand on King's arm. "C'mon, King. Don't be harsh on him," he said softly, trying to defuse the situation.

Seeing the tender interaction between King and Jay only made Milo's heart ache more. Unable to take it any longer, he turned on his heel and stormed away, his vision blurred with unshed tears.

Som and Waan exchanged a glance, their expressions hardening with resolve. Som took a step forward and kicked King hard in the leg, causing him to stagger. "He's your boyfriend, you bastard! Your duty is to take care of him," he yelled, his voice shaking with fury.

King groaned in pain, clutching his leg. "Hey, how could you kick me? That hurts," he complained, his face contorted with discomfort.

Before he could recover, Waan delivered another kick to his other leg, making him fall to the ground. "You never deserved him, you bastard," he spat, his eyes blazing with anger.

As King lay on the ground, clutching his legs in pain, Jay kneeled beside him, his face pale with shock. "What the hell is wrong with you two?" he shouted at Som and Waan.

But Som and Waan were already walking away; their only concern now was finding Milo and comforting him. They found him sitting on a bench, his face buried in his hands. Without a word, they sat beside him, each placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

The pain of King’s betrayal felt like an open wound, raw and unhealed. As he tried to compose himself, Milo's phone suddenly rang, cutting through the silence. He glanced at the screen and saw his brother Nuea’s name.

With trembling hands, Milo answered the call. "Hello?"

Nuea's voice was frantic, filled with a sense of urgency that made Milo's blood run cold. "Brother, get home fast! Our... our parents, they are in danger!"

Milo's heart skipped a beat. "What?! What happened?" he exclaimed, his voice rising with panic.

"Just come home, now!" Nuea shouted, his voice breaking.

Without wasting a moment, he jumped to his feet and began sprinting towards his home, with his friends immediately following suit. Milo reached his house, breathless and filled with dread. He burst through the front door and froze at the sight before him.

His parents were kneeling on the floor, their faces pale with fear. Seated on a chair in front of them was a man with a gun in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Behind him stood his assistant, Arhit, and two imposing bodyguards. The man exuded an aura of menace and control. It was none other than Kiet.

Milo's voice cracked with a mix of shock and fear. "What's wrong?"