CHAPTER 9
Noi was huddled in the far corner of his bed, his small body shaking with quiet sobs.
His bunny plushie was squashed against his chest, damp from where he'd buried his face in it, crying until his cheeks were raw and red.
The bedsheets were rumpled and half-kicked off, showing his bare legs pulled tight against his chest, as if trying to make himself smaller.
His soft, choked cries were the only sounds in the huge room, filling the silence with his pain.
But he wasn't alone.
Standing in the doorway, leaning one shoulder casually against the frame, was Inthorn Thanawanich.
His arms were crossed over his chest, and a slight smirk played on his lips.
His eyes were dark—not mean, but not gentle either—just amused, as if he was enjoying watching something delicate break apart, enjoying Noi’s sorrow.
“My Noi,” he said softly, his voice a low hum.
Noi didn't answer. He just kept crying, trying to disappear.
Inthorn took a step forward, his polished boots making soft clicking sounds on the marble floor as he approached the bed. His tall shadow fell over the crying boy, but Noi still didn't look up. He just sniffled, his shoulders shaking, refusing to meet Inthorn’s gaze, trying to avoid him.
“Still upset?” Inthorn's voice was low and teasing, as if Noi’s pain was a game. “You didn't like my little gift?”
Noi whimpered, a small, pained sound. He turned his face away, burying his nose deeper into his bunny, seeking comfort, and mumbled, “Y-You’re a monster…”
Inthorn chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound.
Without warning, he sat down on the bed and reached out, easily lifting Noi into his lap as if he were a beloved pet or a doll.
He held him there with one arm wrapped firmly around his waist. Noi struggled for a moment, whimpering in protest, trying to push away, but Inthorn’s grip was strong, warm, and strangely comforting all at once, trapping him but also offering a strange sense of safety.
“There,” Inthorn murmured, his voice soft. “Much better.”
He gently wiped away one of Noi’s tears with his thumb, a surprisingly tender gesture. “Why are you crying, hmm? What happened to make my bunny cry like this?”
Noi didn't speak. He just pouted, his eyes glossy with tears, his lips pushed forward as if he was intentionally sulking more, like a defiant child.
Inthorn laughed softly, a low, rumbling sound. “Scared?”
Noi nodded, a small, quick movement.
This time, Inthorn’s expression changed slightly. Something in his eyes became sharper and softer all at once, a complex mix of feelings. He leaned in, pressing his lips gently to Noi’s temple and whispering into his hair.
“That’s what it means to be loved by a monster,” he said. “I don’t feel things, Noi. Not the way you do. Not the way other people do. I don’t know fear. Or guilt. Or sadness.”
His arms tightened around Noi, a possessive squeeze.
“So if you ever try to run from me again… I might kill you.”
Noi flinched, his body tensing, but he didn’t pull away.
The words were spoken so calmly, so intimately, like a secret confession instead of a cold threat.
Yet, despite the chill they sent down his spine, Noi didn't pull away.
He just cried again—softer this time, his breath catching in his throat, a quiet acceptance of his fate.
Inthorn sighed dramatically, as if bored by the tears. “Enough of this crying.”
He stood up with Noi still in his arms and easily carried him out of the bedroom, down the long hallway toward the sitting room.
The golden chandeliers sparkled on their skin as they passed beneath them, casting a warm glow.
The air was thick with the scent of incense and citrus, a blend of luxury and mystery.
“Saowalak!” he called out when they reached the soft velvet sofa, his voice cutting through the quiet.
The head maid immediately appeared from a side corridor, bowing deeply.
“Bring him ice cream,” Inthorn commanded. “And marshmallows. All of them.”
Saowalak didn't question him. She disappeared and returned within minutes with a silver tray loaded with sweets: a crystal bowl of strawberry ice cream, a dish of pastel-colored marshmallows, and a silver spoon shaped like a crescent moon.
Noi sniffled, then slowly reached out and took the bowl into his lap with trembling fingers.
He began to eat—taking tiny bites at first, then faster, as if the cold sweetness could somehow melt away the pain inside him.
Inthorn leaned back, watching him quietly, a small, possessive smile on his lips.
“My good boy,” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else, a dark satisfaction in his voice.
_____
Meanwhile...
Kawin Siriprasert stood at the edge of the balcony of their safehouse base, looking down at the dark forest below.
His dark tactical uniform was covered in dirt and smoke from the raid.
The mission was over, and now it was time for the aftermath, the cleanup, and the planning.
He couldn't stop thinking about it.
About him.
“Noi…” He whispered the name like a forbidden secret, like something fragile that would disappear if he said it too loudly, too carelessly.
A voice interrupted his thoughts.
“You okay, Kawin?” asked his other best friend, Tawan Prapanakul, the youngest and sharpest member of their team.
Tawan had a lean build, dark chestnut hair, and a quiet, unyielding strength in his eyes.
Kawin turned to him, his face etched with worry. “I saw my brother.”
Tawan blinked, surprised. “What?”
“At the masquerade. Among the monsters. He was there. I saw him.”
Tawan’s face instantly went pale, understanding the horror of what Kawin was saying. “Are you sure it was him?”
Kawin nodded, his jaw tight. “He had the same rabbit plushie. Same eyes. Same mouth. It was Noi.”
“But… he was supposed to be living with your uncle in Chiang Mai,” Tawan said, confused.
“I know,” Kawin replied, his voice strained.
Kawin’s jaw tightened even more.
Tawan stepped closer, his voice quieter now, grave. “What was he doing there? That party was full of drug cartels and human traffickers. It was a bloodbath. If he’s in their hands—”
“He’s not,” Kawin interrupted, his voice sharp. “He’s in his hands.”
Tawan’s voice dropped even lower, recognizing the implied name. “You mean… Thanawanich?”
Kawin nodded slowly, confirming the worst. “I saw him take Noi. Hold him. Claim him.”
There was a long, heavy silence between them.
Then Tawan said the only words that could follow such a terrifying truth:
“We’re going to get him back.”
_____
Back at the mansion…
Noi was almost finished with his marshmallows, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk's, when Dae Kittisak entered the room and bowed to Inthorn.
“Master,” he said, glancing briefly at Noi, his eyes unreadable. “There’s something you should hear.”
Inthorn slowly rose, brushing a hand over Noi’s head, a final, lingering touch.
“Wait here,” he murmured to Noi. “Eat your sweets. Be a good boy.”
He turned to the butler guarding the room. “Watch him.”
Then he followed Dae to his private office, leaving Noi alone with the butler.
Inside, the doors shut behind them with a metallic click, sealing them away.
Inthorn poured himself a glass of red wine and swirled it casually, his mind already on business.
“Talk,” he said, his voice a low command.
Dae crossed his arms, his posture formal. “Pramote. Wimondevi. Sarut. Thanaboon. The daughters. They all escaped the raid. Our informants say they’ve gone dark—they're probably hiding in one of their forest compounds.”
Inthorn took a sip of wine. Then he laughed, a cold, satisfied sound.
“Perfect,” he said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Absolutely perfect.”
Dae didn't smile, his face serious. “What do you want to do?”
Inthorn turned to the huge painting of his mother on the wall—her cold eyes, her orchid crown, her bloody hands, a constant, dark presence.
“This year,” he said. “On her death anniversary…”
He turned back, his eyes gleaming with a terrible purpose.
“We follow the plan. We finish what she started.”
Dae bowed his head, accepting the order. “As you wish, Master.”
Inthorn raised an eyebrow, a slight challenge in his gaze. “I told you… when we’re alone, call me Inthorn.”
Dae smirked faintly, a rare show of emotion. “Then what next, Inthorn?”
There was a pause, a moment of silence hanging in the air.
Then—
Dae’s voice became serious, holding a warning. “What about Noi’s brother? Kawin. He’ll come back.”
Inthorn’s jaw tightened slightly, a flicker of irritation. He turned and refilled his glass, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.
“If he does, treat him like a guest.”
Dae froze, recognizing the hidden meaning. Then nodded slowly. “Understood.” He didn't have to ask for clarification. He knew exactly what “guest” meant: straight to the basement.
Still, he sighed, a rare display of concern. “Noi won’t like it. If he finds out what you did…”
“I won’t kill his brother,” Inthorn said flatly, a cold assurance. “Just… warn him.”
There was a long silence between them, the weight of the unspoken hanging heavy.
Then Inthorn smiled again. That twisted, dangerous smile that promised pain.
“Besides,” he murmured, “Noi loves me. He’ll understand.”
_____
Meanwhile…
In a hidden forest compound hours outside the city, the Thanawanich exiles gathered around a long wooden table covered with imported wine and blood-red curry.
Pramote sat at the head, looking tired but still fierce, his power undiminished.
Wimondevi rested her sharp nails against her glass, dressed in a sheer silk robe, looking regal and dangerous.
Sarut lounged on the bench beside his sisters—Kannika, Suthida, and Thanaboon—each one sipping eagerly from jeweled goblets, their faces relaxed but their eyes sharp.
“You saw him, didn’t you?” Sarut asked with a smirk, swirling his wine, a hint of malice in his voice.
“Who?” Wimondevi said without looking up, uninterested.
“Inthorn’s new toy,” he replied, his eyes glittering with amusement. “That boy in the rabbit mask.”
Thanaboon laughed, a light, cruel sound. “He looked barely old enough.”
“They say he’s Inthorn’s favorite now,” Kannika purred, her voice sly.
Suthida tilted her head, a thoughtful, predatory look on her face. “He did look delicious.”
They all laughed, a chorus of dark amusement.
But Pramote did not. He only muttered under his breath, his voice low and dangerous, “Let Inthorn enjoy his toy…”
His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fist.
“Because soon… we’ll burn his house down.”