"Your pride is just the first layer of skin—
I strip away with a smile."
—Kao
An hour past dusk, just as the city's sky turned to ink, a rare black beast slid to a halt in front of Neptune Music's towering glass façade.
**Bugatti La Voiture Noire—**a car more legend than machine.
Its engine purred low and menacing before it went still.
The door lifted with a hush of precision.
Phawin stepped out.
Dressed in obsidian silk, his presence struck like a gust of cold wind—subtle, swift, and impossible to ignore. Behind him, Assistant Chai followed with calm composure, eyes sharp beneath lowered lashes.
As the two entered the building, silence fell like snow.
Employees who had been speaking, laughing, breathing—froze mid-motion.
Even the ticking of the clock seemed to hesitate.
Lava, who had been organizing promotional files, startled to her feet. "M-Mr. Phawin... today?" she stammered. "You didn't—there was no notice..."
Phawin didn't stop walking.
His gaze didn't flick toward her.
Only three words left his lips, each one a blade:
"Where is Kao?"
Lava swallowed. Her steps quickened as she led him down the corridor toward Kao's personal office.
But the room was empty.
She reached for her phone, fingers unsteady, and called Sian.
"Where's Kao right now?"
From the other end, Sian's voice came, hushed but alert. "Seventh floor. Recording room." Then after a pause, "Why? What happened?"
Lava glanced at the man behind her, sitting now as it was carved for him.
"Mr. Phawin came. No prior notice."
A beat.
"...Alright," Sian said. "Have him wait there. I'll inform Kao."
"Understood."
Fifteen minutes passed.
Lava returned with cautious steps. "He should be here any moment, sir—"
"I don't like waiting," Phawin's voice cracked like a whip across the air, low but vicious. "Tell him to hurry up before I forget why I came civil."
Lava forced a smile, polite to the edge of trembling. "Understood, sir."
Just as she turned, the door opened.
Kao entered, flanked by Shian and two junior staff. His steps were steady, but the air around him shifted—sharp as wind before rain. His gaze swept the room and landed without hesitation.
"Mr. Phawin," he said coolly. "To what do I owe this... visit?"
Phawin's eyes flicked toward Chai.
Chai bowed slightly. "Everyone, please step outside. Mr. Phawin wishes to speak in private."
They hesitated—especially Shian—but Kao gave the barest nod. That was enough. The room emptied, the door clicked shut.
A pause.
Kao sank into his chair with the same composed indifference one might wear before a battle. His fingers touched the lacquered edge of his desk. "Speak."
Phawin seated like stone, his voice low and smooth—dangerously so.
"Remove that waiter from the cast."
Kao's brow lifted, subtle but sharp. "reason."
Phawin exhaled through his nose, as if the act of speaking disgusted him. "He refused to be kept."
He turned, pacing once, then stilled.
"I called him to me the other night. Offered him a place—my place. Told him to kneel like the rest do when they want something." A pause. "He looked me in the eye and said..."
Phawin's jaw twitched.
"'You can buy a hole, not a soul. And I was born with both intact.'"
Kao's eyes burned—not red, not wild—but sharp, molten, like a forge sealed in glass. When he spoke, it was with a voice like a blade drawn in a quiet temple.
"Shut up."
The words were soft.
But in the silence that followed, they echoed like thunder against stone.
Phawin's eyes widened in disbelief. "What did you say?"
"No one—no one—has ever raised their voice to me," Phawin snapped, each word trembling with fury. "I am your senior!"
Kao's gaze didn't waver. He didn't even blink.
"Then don't cross your line."
Phawin stepped forward, his breath ragged with anger. "Are you going to throw him out or not?"
"No."
The answer came without hesitation, like a sword dropped clean into the earth.
"No?" Phawin spat. "Then I will destroy you."
Kao leaned forward slightly, his voice dangerously calm.
"Give it a try."
Phawin's mouth twisted. "I'll pull every cent I ever poured into Neptune. And I won't stop there. One word from me—just one—and every investor will follow. Your entire market value will plummet overnight."
A pause.
Then Kao smiled.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't cold.
It was the smile of a man who has already seen your grave.
"Your wife is of royal blood, isn't she?" he said, voice quiet, almost conversational.
Phawin froze.
"All that wealth. That lovely empire of yours. It's not yours—it's hers. Everything you've ever had," Kao continued, tone still maddeningly calm, "was handed to you through a name you married into."
He tilted his head. A slow, cruel smile curled his lips.
"What happens... if she finds out about your little affair?"
He said the last word with deliberate clarity.
Then, colder:
"I'm sorry—your homosexual affair."
Phawin barked a laugh—sharp and desperate. "Don't bluff. You have nothing. No proof."
Kao stood.
In one smooth motion, he opened the drawer beneath his desk.
His hand emerged—not with words.
Not with threats.
But with a stack of photographs clenched between his fingers.
He tossed them across the desk.
The glossy prints spilled through the air like falling leaves.
They landed at Phawin's face—on his chest, on his hands, on the polished wood—silent and damning.
A body bent forward. A hand on a thigh. A face caught mid-moan. All of it: him.
Every photo was a loaded gun.
Phawin surged to his feet, his voice cracking like thunder.
"Kao—!"
But the name barely passed his lips before his gaze dropped.
Hundreds of photos. Spread like cursed petals across the floor, the desk, the window ledge—his face in every one, twisted in pleasure, lips parted in sin. Exposure in print. Guilt immortalized in color.
His breath hitched.
"How..." The fury faded into confusion. He was sweating now—through silk, through skin. Panic had teeth.
"Chai!" he barked.
The door swung open immediately.
Chai stepped in, but froze at the scene—his polished shoes crunching softly on a photograph beneath his heel. His eyes widened. Even he couldn't hide the shift in his expression.
There were too many to gather.
Still, they tried. Kneeling, scrambling, palms sliding desperately over glossy prints. As if they could scoop dignity back into their hands.
Across the room, Kao stood motionless.
Arms folded.
Expression unreadable—except for his eyes.
Eyes like still ice over deep water.
He watched the scene unfold without pity.
Then he spoke. Softly. Like brushing ash from silk.
"Little dog."
The words weren't loud.
But they sliced deeper than any scream.
Phawin froze. Rage flooded his face—but shame leaked beneath it, slow and acidic.
Kao's smirk curled lazily, like a knife edge against skin. "I have a thousand more," he said, tone light. "In higher resolution. Better angles."
He stepped closer, slow, calm.
"Documents too. You'd be surprised how easily corruption trails leave footprints—when you don't bother wiping the blood."
His voice dropped an octave.
"Government tenders rerouted."
"Fake invoices."
"Entertainment startups used for laundering."
A beat.
"Sex traded for contracts."
Another.
"Renowned actors bent over for a role—none too shy under your hand."
Phawin's frantic hands scrambled over the scattered photos, trying desperately to snatch them up—an ocean of exposure flooding the polished floor.
But one image slipped just beyond his grasp, lying cruelly close to Kao's immaculate black leather shoe.
Without hesitation, Kao stepped down on Phawin's hand.
A sharp, stifled "Ouch!" broke from Phawin's lips.
Kao's voice was ice wrapped in silk. "Don't pretend this hurts too much."
Pressure increased, slow and deliberate.
"This is the hand that dared touch Nil," Kao said, each word a deliberate strike. "Your gravest mistake."
Phawin's eyes flared red with rage and pain, a strangled cry caught in his throat.
He struggled to pull away, but Kao's gaze pinned him like iron chains.
Chai moved forward instinctively, but Kao's eyes blazed fire — a silent command — and Chai froze, helpless.
Phawin's palm writhed beneath the weight of Kao's shoe, but Kao didn't relent "You think you can ruin my career?''
''Destroy my reputation? Foolish."
His smirk sharpened. "But I can obliterate your personal and professional life with a single call."
Phawin gasped, breath shallow and ragged.
"Fine," he spat through clenched teeth, pain threading every word. "Let's settle this."
Finally, Kao lifted his shoe from Phawin's bruised hand. Phawin clutched the injury with trembling fingers, breath shallow.
"Just forget what happened..." His voice was a ragged.
Kao leaned back against the marble desk, legs crossed with effortless dominion, arms folded like a king surveying his prey. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk curled his lips—devilish, irresistible.
"I do want to," he murmured, voice silk hiding steel.
"But first... do me a favor."
Phawin's chest heaved, breathless.
"What now?"
Kao rose, gliding back to his seat with the grace of a stalking predator. He crossed his legs, resting his polished leather shoes atop the desk.
"Lick."
Phawin's eyes flickered in disbelief.
"What—?"
Kao tilted one shoe forward, voice sharp and cold as a blade.
"Shoe."
"Bastard," Phawin spat, voice thick with shame and fury.
Kao's gaze sliced through him, merciless.
"Now."
Chai's voice rose in protest, trembling with outrage.
"How dare you—"
Phawin's glare cut him down, fierce despite defeat.
"Chai. Out."
Before Chai could move, Kao's hand raised in a silent command.
"Stop."
Chai froze, bound by Kao's unyielding stare.
Kao leaned forward, voice low, an irresistible command that brooked no refusal.
"Do."
Phawin's eyes were burning red — not with rage, but humiliation. Sweat clung to his temples. His lips trembled. He lowered himself, held Kao's leg with trembling hands, and touched the tip of his tongue to polished leather.
Phawin's hands trembled as he grasped Kao's leg, barely daring to touch the polished leather with the tip of his tongue. Kao's smirk twisted into dissatisfaction.
"Useless."
His words were cold, razor-sharp.
"Look at the photo. Your slave once held your filthy, rotten dick in his hand...''
Phawin's hesitation vanished. His tongue traced the contours of Kao's shoe — deliberate, slow, every stroke an act of submission and broken pride. Kao's eyes gleamed, watching with detached cruelty.
Chai averted his gaze, unwilling to witness such ruin.
Kao's voice dropped low, venom seeping into each word.
"Son of a prostitute... she taught you well."
Phawin's body shook, shame burning beneath his skin. Kao withdrew his foot and struck Phawin's chest with a harsh kick.
"Get out."
As they turned, Kao's voice stopped them cold.
"Wait."
Phawin froze, heart pounding like thunder. Kao's gaze was ice, sharp and unforgiving.
"Keep your eyes off Nil," he warned.
"Or next time, I won't just blind you — I'll destroy everything you are."
A dangerous pause.
"If You Touch What's Mine, I'll Take What You Are"
Phawin said nothing. Not a word. His breath came shallow, his ears still ringing with humiliation. His hand—still aching from where it had been crushed—hung useless at his side. With no pride left to gather, he turned and left the room.
Behind him, the heavy doors of Kao's office closed with a hollow sound. No one called after him.
Inside the black car, silence reigned. Chai sat beside him, eyes low, as if afraid even air might set off the fury that clung to Phawin like oil.
After a while, Chai spoke cautiously, "Sir... I've never seen him like that before."
Phawin didn't answer.
Chai swallowed, voice softer. "Kao Neptune... he's dangerous."
That word—dangerous—landed like a curse.
Phawin's grip tightened around the armrest. His voice was low, tight. "I'll take revenge."
Chai hesitated. "Sir... I am your servant. I only speak because I fear for you."
Phawin turned to him slowly, his expression unreadable.
"What did you say?"
Chai's eyes met his for a moment too long. "Don't cross Kao Neptune."
The sound of the slap cracked through the car like thunder.
Chai's face whipped to the side.
"You little bastard," Phawin snarled. "You dare speak to me like that? Give me advice?"