It was a night drowned in shadows, the kind that seemed to stretch endlessly into the void. The fog hung thick in the air, its ethereal presence curling and twisting as it swallowed the streets below. The chill that came with it crept into every corner of the city, but in Sky Wongravee's mansion, that coldness felt far more deliberate. It was as if the very atmosphere within the walls bore the weight of untold stories—stories of power, betrayal, and a darkness that no light could ever quite chase away.

Sky, the undisputed Kingpin of the underworld, stood alone at the balcony of his master bedroom. The towering structure around him felt like a cage of luxury and control, yet in this moment, he was a prisoner to his own thoughts. His figure was silhouetted against the night sky, almost blending into the void, as if he were one with the darkness itself. His breath misted in the cold air, a single stream of smoke curling upward from the cigar between his fingers.

The cold wind tousled his dark hair, but it was his gaze that commanded attention. There was a certain emptiness in his eyes, a cold numbness that seemed to be forged over years of ruthlessness. His left hand dug deep into the pocket of his tailored jacket, while his right remained occupied with the cigarette, which he held delicately between two fingers. His lips were curved in a faint smirk, but it was the kind that didn't suggest amusement, rather a cruel satisfaction. He was a man who had seen it all—the wreckage, the chaos, the bloodshed—and yet, the world around him no longer seemed to matter. His focus was on something far beyond the physical.

As he stood there, lost in the fog and his own quiet thoughts, the buzz of his phone broke through the silence. The sudden vibration startled the stillness, pulling him back into the reality of his kingdom. His cold fingers reached for the device, the smooth surface of the phone a stark contrast to the roughness of his life. His eyes, still distant, scanned the screen briefly before his face unlocked the device with a simple touch.

The notification that greeted him was from his right-hand, a man who had served him with unwavering loyalty. Sky's lips barely moved, but his expression shifted, a single brow arching slightly in curiosity as he read the message.

"Boss, I've been informed from my sources that someone is trying to dig upon us."

The words lingered in his mind for a moment, but his reaction was immediate. A low, husky chuckle rumbled from his chest, a sound that carried no warmth, just the cold certainty of a man who had lived through countless betrayals.

"Who is this unlucky person..." Sky mused aloud, his voice rich with dark amusement. "Whose trying to dig up their own grave suddenly..." The chuckle slipped from his lips, harsh and mocking, as if the thought of anyone trying to challenge him was laughable. It was a grave mistake, one they would come to regret.

His fingers tightened around the phone, the weight of his anger and amusement both evident in the way he gripped the device. His heart didn't race, nor did his breath quicken. This was nothing new—this was the life he had chosen. Yet, a quiet sense of satisfaction washed over him. Someone was making the fatal mistake of underestimating him. And that, in itself, was enough to pull him back into the game.

The cigar dangled lazily from his lips as his hand reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. With practiced precision, he dialed the number of his right-hand man. The phone rang twice before the call was picked up, and Sky could almost feel the obedience in the way the man answered immediately.

"Boss," the voice on the other end was calm, measured. "I've already sent our men to keep watch. We'll handle this swiftly."

Sky's eyes narrowed slightly, as if scrutinizing the man through the phone. He could sense the loyalty in the voice, but the Kingpin wasn't easily satisfied. He needed more.

"Don't disappoint me," Sky murmured lowly, the words carrying an edge of warning, the undertone of something far more dangerous. "Find out everything. Who's behind this, and how far they've gone. I want them to regret even thinking about crossing us."

The connection was silent for a moment, before the obedient reply came, a simple, "Yes, Boss." Sky's fingers drummed against the edge of the phone, the sound a quiet rhythm in the otherwise silent room. He took a long drag of his cigar, the smoke swirling around him, before exhaling it slowly. The dark air of his bedroom was now laced with the heavy scent of tobacco, a lingering reminder of his own coldness.

With a flick of his wrist, the window slid shut, sealing him away from the outside world once more. The door to his private domain clicked softly behind him as he walked back into the center of the room, where the shadows played at the edges of the light. He placed the phone down on the polished surface of a nearby table, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous resolve.

Tonight, someone had unknowingly stepped into his web, and Sky would make sure they learn the cost of their mistake.

🂾

The city was cloaked in the hushed silence of the early hours, the streets abandoned except for the occasional hum of a passing vehicle or the distant murmur of nocturnal life.

It was 2 AM, when the world stood still, and the weight of exhaustion seeped into every crevice of existence. Yet, amid the vast expanse of darkness, one building stood apart from the rest, its windows glowing with an exotic golden light, like a jewel nestled within the void. The radiance was neither harsh nor blinding but rich and elegant, cascading in soft, golden hues that spilled into the night like molten caramel atop a dark chocolate dessert.

A black luxury sedan rolled up to the grand entrance of the apartment complex, its engine purring softly before coming to a stop. The driver's door swung open with a muted click, and a figure emerged, stepping out with effortless grace.

Nani Hirunkit, a well-known criminal detective in his late twenties, carried an air of quiet authority, the kind that left an imprint wherever he went. His tall frame was wrapped in a well-tailored black coat, its folds catching the glimmer of the golden lights, while his neatly styled hair remained impeccably in place despite the long hours he had just endured.

He exhaled a quiet breath, the night air crisp against his skin. Without breaking stride, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his car keys, and tossed them effortlessly towards the watchman standing near the entrance. The watchman, an older man with sharp reflexes honed over years of service, caught the keys midair with practiced ease, nodding in acknowledgment.

"Get the car ready by six." Nani instructed, his voice smooth but firm.

"Yes, sir." the watchman replied, his tone respectful yet familiar.

With that, Nani strode forward, the faint click of his leather shoes against the polished marble entrance blending seamlessly with the quiet symphony of the night. His right hand clutched a briefcase—not just any briefcase, but his briefcase. The weight of it felt heavier than usual, as though the secrets contained within had manifested into something tangible, something pressing against his palm, whispering of danger yet to unfold.

The moment he stepped inside, the air changed. The building exuded an aura of understated opulence—luxury without excess, elegance without ostentation. The scent of fresh lilies, faint traces of expensive cologne, and the lingering musk of aged wood filled the space, a fragrance Nani had come to associate with late nights spent returning home, carrying the burden of yet another unsolved case.

His fingers found the elevator button, pressing it with a brief but decisive touch. A soft chime signaled its descent, the metallic hum reverberating through the marble-lined hallway.

As he waited, he glanced down at his wrist, checking the time.

2:03 AM.

He had worked later than usual today, but there had been no choice. This case—it had consumed him for weeks, sinking its claws into his very being. Every lead, every detail, every whispered name in the shadows had led him deeper into a labyrinth with no clear way out.

The elevator arrived with a muted ding, the doors sliding open to reveal the sleek, dimly lit interior. Nani stepped in, his reflection staring back at him from the mirrored walls, his sharp eyes carrying the weight of exhaustion yet brimming with unwavering determination. He pressed the button for the 12th floor, watching as the numbers ascended one by one.

Somewhere deep inside, he knew he was treading on dangerous ground. He wasn’t just investigating a crime anymore—he was prying into the very heart of the underworld, into the domain of a mastermind whose name was spoken in hushed tones, if at all. And yet, he couldn’t stop.

Not now.

Not when he was so close.

The elevator chimed once more, its doors sliding open with a smooth precision that matched the rhythm of his thoughts. He stepped out, his briefcase still clutched firmly in his grasp, his pace unhurried yet deliberate. Each step carried the weight of something unseen, an invisible force pressing against his back like a phantom lurking just beyond the edges of his vision.

His apartment was at the far end of the hall, isolated from the others. He preferred it that way—privacy was not just a necessity but a rule he lived by.

Digging into his coat pocket, he retrieved a key card, sliding it through the scanner with practiced ease. A second later, his fingerprint was pressed against the scanner, followed by the input of a six-digit passcode—a sequence only he knew, one he had burned into his memory like an unspoken vow.

A faint beep confirmed his access, the door unlocking with a smooth click.

Nani stepped inside, immediately locking the door behind him.

The apartment was exactly as he had left it—pristine, meticulously arranged, yet carrying a quiet opulence that was neither loud nor excessive. The golden lighting bathed the space in a warm, intimate glow, accentuating the deep mahogany wood and the sleek, modern furnishings. To his left, the kitchen stood in immaculate order, its black marble countertops gleaming under the lights. To his right, the door to his bedroom remained slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of neatly arranged shelves, a well-made bed, and a single desk stacked with open files and handwritten notes.

The living room was the heart of the space; an expansive yet carefully curated area that reflected both his personality and profession. A dark leather couch rested in front of a low glass coffee table, its surface devoid of any clutter except for a single unopened bottle of scotch and a short glass beside it.

Against the farthest wall, a bookshelf stood in solemn silence, its shelves burdened with countless case files, criminal psychology books, and aged documents—each one a fragment of crimes dissected, mysteries unraveled, and minds profiled. It loomed like an unspeaking witness to his relentless pursuit of the truth, its presence both comforting and suffocating in the stillness of the night.

Nani exhaled, his fingers reaching up to loosen the knot of his tie, the tension in his muscles finally making itself known. The weight of exhaustion settled into his bones, but his mind refused to rest. It never did. Not when the puzzle was still incomplete.

His voice, barely above a murmur, broke the quiet.

"They might be… sleeper cells?" His brows furrowed, thoughts spiraling into the depths of uncertainty.

"Weeks of digging, chasing shadows, tracing every thread; yet, still nothing solid. Whoever they are, especially the mastermind… they're precise, meticulous, calculated to a degree I haven't encountered before. Every lead dissolves before I can grasp it, every clue feels like a ghost of something real, yet untouchable."

His gaze flickered toward the files stacked on his desk, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

The underworld thrived on secrecy, but this—this was something else.

It was as if he was standing at the edge of a labyrinth where the walls shifted with every step he took, an unseen hand ensuring he never got too close to the truth.

Nani rubbed his temples, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips as the weight of the day pressed down on him like an unrelenting force. The exhaustion coiled around his muscles, stiffening his movements, yet his mind refused to slow down. His thoughts were restless, tangled in the threads of unsolved mysteries.

With sluggish movements, he began undressing as he made his way to the bedroom, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath him. As soon as he entered, he instinctively tossed his coat onto the soft-cushioned chair positioned beside the balcony—its usual resting place after a long day. The coat landed in a careless heap, the lingering scent of cologne and city air still clinging to the fabric.

"Alexa, turn on the AC." His voice, though quiet, carried the remnants of exhaustion.

"I've turned on the AC, Nani," the AI responded in its smooth, programmed tone, the subtle whir of the air conditioning unit humming to life almost immediately.

"Thanks." he muttered absentmindedly, his attention already drifting elsewhere.

His fingers moved to the cufflinks adorning his sleeves; customized, finely crafted, bearing his initial 'N'—a small detail of luxury that he rarely paid attention to. But as he reached for the one on his left wrist, his movements froze. It was missing.

A frown etched itself onto his face as he stared at his bare cuff, the absence of the small accessory more unsettling than it should have been. His mind rewound, scanning back through the day's events.

This morning… it was loose. I remember feeling it shift.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Did it fall off? At the station? At the crime scene? Or… somewhere else?

"Need to check it tomorrow at the office…" he muttered to himself, his voice laced with a hint of unease.

Shaking the thought away, he moved to unbutton his shirt, eager to shed the remnants of the day. But before he could even pull the fabric off his shoulders, a sudden vibration buzzed against his thigh.

His phone.

The low, rhythmic hum resonated from his pocket, an unwelcome disruption in the quiet of the night. His fingers, heavy with exhaustion, slid into his pocket, pulling out the device. The screen illuminated his face with a cool, bluish glow, and his gaze flickered to the caller ID.

His brows lifted in mild surprise.

Arthit.

The name alone made the weight in his chest settle deeper. He immediately swiped to answer.

"Look who's calling," Nani drawled, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His tone was playful, teasing, but beneath it, there was curiosity. Arthit rarely called him this late.

On the other end, a sigh.

"I know it's unusual for me to call, but listen—" There was a pause, a hesitation that made Nani’s expression shift.

"Tomorrow, we have a meeting with the authorities. One of our biggest case files has gone missing."

The words hit Nani like a cold slap. His entire body stiffened, the air around him seeming to thin.

"What?" His voice was sharper now, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Missing? That wasn't something that just happened.

"This is insane! When did this happen?"

"Just a few minutes ago…"

Nani's fingers clenched around the phone.

A few minutes ago? But… I was just there.

"I was at the office. I left not long ago─how did I not notice anything unusual? You know how strong my instincts are, Arthit. I would've felt something off."

"I know," Arthit admitted. "And I trust you on that. But the situation is serious. We don't know how it happened or who’s behind it yet. Just be there on time tomorrow—10 AM sharp."

There was no room for argument, no room for questions that wouldn’t lead to immediate answers.

"Yeah… I'll be there." Nani muttered, his voice low, controlled.

A brief silence stretched between them before the call disconnected.

Nani stood there for a moment, phone still in hand, the weight of the situation sinking into him like an anchor in deep water.

He rubbed his temples again, this time more aggressively, frustration brewing beneath his calm exterior. The air conditioning hummed softly, the chilled air brushing against his skin, but it did little to cool the fire raging inside him.

He dropped down onto the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he clasped his hands together tightly, his knuckles whitening from the pressure. His mind reeled.

"Missing. How? Why now?"

His gaze flickered toward his bookshelf—the silent witness to his struggles, to his victories, to his failures. It stood there as always, but tonight, it felt… different.

Like a reminder.

Like a warning.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he pushed himself back to his feet.

There was no use spiraling.

Not tonight.

Stripping off his shirt, he moved toward his massive, custom-designed wardrobe—one that looked more like an upscale boutique than a storage space. The shelves and racks stretched high, filled with neatly arranged clothing, expensive watches, ties, and shoes polished to perfection. Everything in its place, just the way he liked it.

Grabbing a fresh set of clothes, he turned toward the bathroom.

A hot shower—that's what he needed.

Something to drown out the unease clawing at his insides. Something to silence the thoughts that refused to leave him alone.

For tonight, at least.