Daotok gazed down at Arthit, who had fallen asleep using his lap as a pillow. His fingers, which had been absentmindedly stroking the younger man's dark hair, stilled for a moment as he took in the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. Just earlier, Arthit had been restless, caught in the throes of a nightmare, his brows knitting together in distress. Daotok had let him sleep on the sofa in his room for the night, knowing full well that the bed had been off-limits.
When Arthit had asked, his voice laced with something fragile, something unspoken, Daotok hadn't been able to refuse. Once he was certain that Arthit was in deep slumber, Daotok carefully shifted, replacing his lap with a pillow before slipping away. He stepped onto the balcony, letting the cool night air brush against his skin as he gazed at the vast, starless sky. Only the moon hung above, lonely in its radiance.
His heart softened as he recalled the way Arthit had looked at him not long ago—eyes pleading, stripped of all his usual bravado. The man who was often rough around the edges had, for once, let his walls crumble entirely.
His voice had been raw, desperate, as if every word he uttered had been a surrender, a silent confession of how much Daotok truly meant to him.
Strong arms had wrapped around him then, trembling with an unfamiliar fear. Arthit's heartbeat had pounded against Daotok's chest, erratic and wild.
It was a feeling Daotok couldn't quite put into words, an unshakable truth settling deep within him. In that moment, he hadn't just wanted to hold Arthit's body—he had wanted to hold his heart, to guard it, to make sure it never shattered again.
Daotok understood Arthit in ways others never could. He knew the weight of the pain that clung to him on his worst days. He had witnessed it, felt it, even shed silent tears for the wounds that ran far deeper than what was ever spoken aloud. Arthit had once believed himself incapable of loving anyone, yet here he was, choosing Daotok as his second heart, as the one person he couldn't bear to lose.
Daotok hadn't lied when he told Arthit that he wasn't fragile. When that woman had called him out earlier, he had willingly followed her, though he hadn't been pleased about it. The moment she had approached Arthit, an unsettling frustration had crept up his spine, and he had chosen to walk away rather than watch.
He hadn't expected her to come after him, to pick a fight. But Daotok was never one to let someone trample over him without fighting back. The second she had pushed him, he had grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. If Arthit hadn't intervened, it wouldn't have been him who ended up in danger.
Daotok hadn't considered himself the jealous type—until that moment. Seeing another person lay their hands on Arthit, seeing them attempt to stake a claim, had ignited something primal within him. Looking wasn't a problem. But interfering? That was absolutely out of the question.
He had brushed off the incident, but when Arthit had come running to him with worry painted across his face, Daotok had felt something indescribable bloom in his chest. He had wanted to get Arthit out of there before things escalated further.
"Why are you out here?"
Daotok blinked, pulled from his thoughts by the familiar, groggy voice. He turned to find Arthit standing at the balcony door, rubbing his eyes, still drowsy from sleep.
"You should be resting," Daotok said.
Arthit leaned against the railing beside him, stretching slightly. "You weren't there."
"So you expected me to sit there all night?"
"Yes."
Daotok scoffed. "I'd be stiff by morning."
"I'm not that heavy."
"Oh, really?"
Arthit grinned slightly, though it was laced with exhaustion. "What were you thinking about?"
"Nothing much."
"About today?"
"Not exactly. Just been a while since someone picked a fight with me."
Arthit smirked. "Didn't you say you used to get into fights a lot?"
"I did."
"Tell me about it. Did it lead to you becoming a gang leader or something?"
"Not even close."
"So, you were the one getting picked on?"
Daotok sighed, nodding. "Yeah."
Arthit raised an eyebrow. "But not all the way till graduation, right?"
"What if I said it was?"
"No way."
"Why not?"
"Because I remember the time you made Kram cry like a baby. Plus, you said you weren't weak. I'd like to hear more about that."
Daotok chuckled, shaking his head. "Back then, I was smaller than most kids my age. I guess it made them feel strong to pick on someone weaker."
"Really? I've never thought like that."
"Have you ever bullied someone?"
Arthit hesitated before grinning mischievously. "In kindergarten, I lifted a girl's skirt."
Daotok narrowed his eyes. "Really? Was it fun?"
"Not really. Seeing just underwear wasn't that exciting."
"So, you pulled it down too?"
"Ugh, no! That would've been too much," Arthit groaned. "I stopped lifting skirts and started pulling down boys' pants instead."
Daotok snorted. "Your friends' or your own?"
"My own."
"Good thing I wasn't around in that era."
Arthit nudged him playfully. "But don't you want to see?" His voice took on a teasing lilt. "Earlier tonight, you were already touching it."
Daotok rolled his eyes. "You pulled my hand there."
"If you wanted to touch, you could've just said so. But be warned—it might be too much for your hand to handle."
"Ugh," Daotok groaned. "But..."
"But what?"
"I don't need protecting."
Arthit fell silent for a moment before exhaling. "I never said I wanted to protect you because you were weak." His voice was softer now, almost hesitant. "If anyone's weak, it's me."
"Why?"
"Because I can't live without you."
Daotok's breath caught in his throat, the weight of those words sinking in. He nodded, understanding now.
"Good. If you understand, take care of yourself. There's only one you in this world."
"You too." Daotok smiled slightly. "There's probably just one of you in this world."
"Someone like me might exist somewhere," Arthit murmured, voice gentle.
"But someone who loves you as much as I do? That's definitely one of a !kind."
Daotok huffed a laugh. "You're good at sweet-talking. Now go to bed."
"Stay and watch me."
"What? Are you a kid who needs someone to watch him sleep?"
"Just for tonight."
Despite his protests, Daotok let him back into bed. By morning, Arthit was gone, leaving behind fried doughnuts and soy milk. Their schedules clashed, their time together dwindled. But even so, Daotok's life had changed. He now had someone to wait for, someone to think about, someone to miss.
A few days ago, Min had assured Daotok that she had handled the person who had caused trouble for him at the gym. Though Daotok hadn't thought it was necessary, Min had acted on her own accord. It was her decision, one she made out of goodwill, and he had sincerely thanked her for it.
After a long day at school, Daotok returned to his condo with a bag of cat food slung over his shoulder. Days ago, he had stumbled upon a mother cat and her newborn kittens hidden behind the building, nestled in a secluded area that required a short walk to reach. If not for the desperate mewls of the mother cat leading him there, he never would have known about them.
As he made his way toward the familiar spot, the sharp sound of raised voices caught his attention. His steps slowed. If it hadn't been for the mother cat and her kittens being so close, he would have turned the other way—he preferred to steer clear of trouble whenever possible.
He pulled a mask over his nose and mouth; the area was dusty, and he had considered moving the kittens to a safer place. But since they had just been born, their mother was fiercely protective. Any interference might cause her to abandon them. He hoped, at the very least, that whatever conflict was brewing nearby wouldn't endanger them.
As he drew closer, peering around the corner, his unease deepened. The argument was unfolding dangerously close to the pile of old wood under which the kittens were hidden. Though he had tried to secure the wood days ago, any strong impact could still bring it crashing down, crushing the fragile lives beneath.
Daotok debated his next move. He wanted to avoid involvement, but he couldn't abandon the cats. As he hesitated, a large, familiar-looking stray cat—one he had seen prowling around before—suddenly hissed at one of the figures who had stepped too close to the kittens. In the next instant, a cruel kick sent the cat flying.
His hands clenched into fists, his body going rigid with anger. As he observed more closely, he realized it wasn't just an argument—it was an assault. A group of men was attacking a single person. And that person was—Min.
She stood her ground, gripping an iron pipe in her hands, her stance fierce despite the overwhelming odds. Four—no, five—men surrounded her, but she held her own, striking out with practiced precision. The sheer number against her made it clear that this was an ambush rather than a fair fight, yet somehow, they were struggling to subdue her.
Daotok barely had time to process the situation before he saw one of the men raise a wooden plank, poised to strike Min from behind.
"Behind you!" he shouted, moving before his brain could fully register the action.
He threw himself between Min and the attacker, bracing as the impact landed squarely against his arm. Pain shot through him, but he gritted his teeth, ignoring it. Min turned sharply, her eyes flashing with confusion as she saw him.
"Why the hell are you here, kid?!" she snapped.
Before he could answer, another assailant lunged at him. Daotok reacted instinctively, ducking beneath the wild punch, grabbing the attacker's arm, and using his momentum to flip him onto the ground with a loud thud.
"Get out of here! It's dangerous!" Min barked, swinging her pipe to fend off another opponent.
"I can't," Daotok shot back, quickly assessing their surroundings. "I have cats to protect."
"What? Cats? Not me? Ow, you little—!" Min grumbled but had no time to argue as she dodged another swing.
As Daotok blocked another attack, his gaze flickered toward two figures standing at a distance—one seated calmly while the other stood beside them, watching like a leader overseeing his subordinates. Whoever they were, they weren't just bystanders.
He grabbed a discarded wooden plank to defend himself, his pulse hammering in his ears. The memories of childhood bullying resurfaced—the overwhelming sense of being cornered, the rush of adrenaline, the way his body moved purely on instinct. He hadn't been in a fight like this in years, but the muscle memory hadn't faded.
At first, he had thought there were only five of them. Now, he realized there were at least eight. They had completely surrounded him and Min.
His vision sharpened, his body heating up as instinct took over. One by one, their opponents fell, groaning on the ground, beaten into submission.
"You've got some fight in you," Min remarked, panting.
Daotok ignored her, his attention snapping to the pile of wood. "Somsi!" he called for the mother cat, panic rising when he couldn't see the kittens.
"They're gone."
His breath hitched. "Where did they go?"
"Is this what you're looking for?"
The seated man had finally stood, holding up one of the kittens by the scruff of its neck. He didn't cradle it—he dangled it carelessly, like a worthless object.
Daotok's blood boiled.
"Give it back."
The man smirked. "This thing? Is it really that important to you?"
"Yes."
"It's just a filthy cat. Killing one or two, what's the big deal?"
Daotok's body went rigid as the man continued, "I caught it while it was trying to carry its kittens away. My guys roughed it up real good."
A heavy silence stretched between them.
"Come closer. And take off your mask."
Daotok stepped forward, pulling the mask down, revealing his face. The moment the man's gaze landed on him, his expression twisted in shock.
"Y-You...? Why is it you?!"
The once-confident look crumbled, turning pale with fear. Ging, the woman beside him, looked equally alarmed.
"What's wrong, brother?" Ging demanded. "Why are you scared of him?!"
The man—Guard—staggered back, pointing at Daotok with a trembling hand. "Stay away from me, you freak!"
Daotok tilted his head, a slow smirk curling his lips. "Still want to hug me?"
Guard recoiled violently.
"Oh? Why not?" Daotok took another step forward. "It's been so long. Have you forgotten me already?"
"You psycho! You freak!" Ging shrieked, stepping protectively in front of her brother. "Do you have any idea how much you hurt him?!"
Daotok's smirk deepened. "Did it hurt that much?" His voice dripped with mock sympathy. "I honestly thought he enjoyed it."
Ging's face twisted in fury. "You monster!"
Min rolled her eyes. "You're calling my kid that?"
"Enough!" Ging snapped. "We won't bother you anymore, so don't mess with us again!" She grabbed her brother and helped him retreat, his fear still palpable.
Daotok barely paid them any mind. He rushed forward, scooping up the freed kitten, cradling it gently. It was shaken but unharmed. Relief flooded him.
Min sighed. "You sure know how to make an impression."
"We need to take them to a vet," Daotok said, his voice calmer now.
Min glanced at the mother cat, still curled around her remaining kittens inside a cardboard box. "Yeah. Let's go."
Leaving the fallen men behind, they made their way to the vet. Their bodies ached, their wounds stung, but none of that mattered.
The cats were safe.
And that was all that mattered.
The veterinarian's examination confirmed their worst fears—many of the rescued cats were malnourished, their frail bodies weakened by prolonged exposure to unsanitary conditions. Some suffered from infections, while others had visible wounds, likely from fights over scarce food. Given the severity of their condition, it was clear that immediate medical care was necessary.
Daotok and Min agreed to leave them at the clinic for treatment, splitting the medical expenses between them. Min had even mentioned wanting to adopt one of the kittens once they were nursed back to health.
Later that evening, after ensuring the cats were in good hands, Daotok and Min returned to his condo, their bodies aching from the earlier altercation.
In his room, Min carefully tended to Daotok's wounds, dabbing antiseptic on his bruised arm while he sat on the edge of the bed, silent but watchful.
"So, what's the deal? You gave me a fright showing up out of nowhere,"
Min remarked as she gently cleaned a cut on his forearm.
"At first, I just came to check on the cats."
"Ah, I see." Min nodded, her expression unreadable as she applied a bandage over the wound.
"But when I saw you about to be attacked from behind, my body just moved on its own."
Min chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "Ha! Thanks, kiddo. You're the sweetest. I knew it—you might seem cold, but you're incredibly kind."
"Really?" Daotok tilted his head slightly, his voice laced with skepticism.
"Yup. And a damn good fighter too. Without you, I would've had a much harder time."
"But you're amazing, P' Min."
"Of course! They couldn't take me down. I never expected things to escalate like this, though. I just wanted to deal with Ging for messing with you. Who knew she'd bring a whole gang to gang up on me? Ridiculous, right?"
Daotok's gaze darkened, his voice quieter than before. "Yeah... Very."
Min glanced at him, noting the tension in his shoulders. "Why are you apologizing?" she asked, her tone lighter but firm.
"If you hadn't gone to confront her for me in the first place, none of this would've happened."
"Oh, stop overthinking it. I did it because I wanted to. Besides, I already knew that Ging had a thug for a brother. Who cares? Getting some exercise like this actually helped relieve a lot of my stress."
Daotok shot her a deadpan look. "Sure, you're less tense, but now you're injured instead."
Min shrugged. "Eh, it's nothing. It was worse when I was in prison."
His lips parted slightly at that revelation. "Oh."
"Because you were the one who helped me out of there, I just wanted to return the favor. But in the end, you had to help me again. Sigh, I look so useless now."
"Not at all, P' Min. You were already fighting them before I stepped in to help."
"Yeah, true," she admitted, flashing him a quick smirk. "But honestly, I didn't think you'd be this good at fighting."
"Don't judge me by appearances, P' Min."
"True, true." She exhaled, leaning back slightly. "But what do we do now?
If Arthit sees you like this, he'll probably lose his mind. Last time, he was already so upset when you got into trouble."
Daotok fell silent. The thought had already crossed his mind, and he wasn't eager to face Arthit's reaction. If only he could heal as fast as some sci-fi cyborg.
"Ugh, just thinking about it gives me chills," Min muttered, rubbing her temples. "If he finds out who did this to you, they're done for."
"..."
"Just beating them up probably won't be enough for him."
Before Daotok could respond, the door suddenly burst open with a loud thud.
"Shorty! I'm back!"
The familiar voice sent a jolt of dread through Daotok's spine. Arthit stood in the doorway, eyes widening in shock as he took in the scene—Min sitting beside Daotok, a medical kit open between them, the faint smell of antiseptic lingering in the air. His expression shifted from confusion to sheer fury in an instant.
"What the hell is this?! What happened? Who hurt you?!" Arthit's voice boomed through the room as he stormed forward. His eyes darted to Min accusingly. "Min! What did you do to my boyfriend?!"
Min groaned, rolling her eyes. "Calm down, Arthit. Sit down first. Calm down, and I'll explain everything."
"Explain now!"
"Geez, you loudmouth. I'm injured too, you know," Min snapped, visibly annoyed. Arthit turned his gaze to Daotok, his brows furrowed with concern, his earlier anger momentarily replaced by worry.
"Are you okay? Where else are you hurt?" His voice softened, trembling slightly as he knelt in front of Daotok, his fingers ghosting over the bruises on his arm.
"Just a bruised arm," Daotok admitted, lifting it slightly. "And maybe my ribs and back. I got hit there too."
Arthit muttered a curse under his breath, his jaw tightening. "Damn it. Min, explain."
"That Ging girl who started trouble with my kid? She brought her brother and some lackeys. Today, as I was walking back to the condo, they ambushed me, tied me up, and dragged me off. I managed to break free but couldn't escape, so I had to fight back. Then Dao showed up to help me. At first, I thought he was worried about me, but nope, he was worried about the cat."
Arthit glared, unimpressed.
Min grinned. "Kidding! Of course, he cared about me. He even stepped in to take a hit for me. Such a good kid."
"Why would you do that? Min could've handled it. She's tough!"
"Listen, I was the only woman surrounded by seven or eight guys. You think I'd just chill? I was holding my own, sure, but thanks to my awesome kid here, we managed to handle those idiots. Right, kid?"
"Huh? So Dao got involved too?"
"Yup," Min answered for him. "And he's really good. I was shocked at first, he's like someone who's been through this a lot."
Arthit's gaze sharpened, his expression unreadable. "So, when you said you used to get into fights a lot, this is what you meant?"
"Yeah," Daotok nodded slightly.
Min leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Also, let me tell you something weird. Their leader was scary at first, and I thought we were in trouble. But as soon as he saw Dao's face, he turned pale and backed off like he'd seen a ghost. What was that about, Dao?"
Arthit's head snapped up. "Really?"
"Yeah. Turns out he's Ging's brother. Looks like he knows Dao too. I heard Dao call his name, something like Guard?"
"Yes," Daotok confirmed.
Arthit's expression darkened. "How do you know him? And why was he so scared of you?"
☆☆☆☆☆
[FLASHBACK]
Daotok stared at the unfamiliar box sitting on his desk, a putrid stench wafting from it, making the air in the room unbearable. His classmates had already backed away, whispering among themselves, unwilling to come any closer. He didn't need to open it to know what was inside. The foul odor alone was enough to confirm it.
Without a word, Daotok grabbed the box and walked out of the classroom. No one dared to stop him. He carried it to the back of the school, where the trees provided enough cover, and buried it in the dirt with practiced ease.
This was not the first time. He dusted off his hands, his expression unreadable, when a familiar voice slithered into his ears.
"Not accepting my gifts anymore? What a shame."
Daotok stiffened at the sound of that voice but didn't turn around. He already knew who it was.
"Do you know how hard it was to get that?" Guard's voice was laced with amusement, but there was an undercurrent of something far more sinister.
Daotok remained silent, choosing to ignore him, and started walking away. But before he could take more than a few steps, a strong hand gripped his arm, yanking him to a halt.
"Hey, how long are you going to keep ignoring me?" Guard's grip tightened. "Playing hard to get isn't cute, you know."
"Annoying," Daotok muttered, barely above a whisper.
"What did you just say?" Guard's voice darkened.
Daotok didn't hesitate. "Annoying."
The sneer on Guard's face twisted into a scowl. "You're getting a bit too mouthy, aren't you?!" He raised his hand, fingers curled, intending to slap him—but before the blow could land, a sharp whistle cut through the air.
"Hey! What's going on over there? Why aren't you in line yet?!" The janitor's voice rang out from a distance.
Taking the opportunity, Daotok wrenched his arm free and walked off without another glance. Behind him, Guard's voice echoed in frustration.
"I'll let it slide this time, but if you throw away my gift again, I won't forgive you!"
Annoying...
A gift? It was just the carcass of a dead animal.
It had all started a month ago when Daotok transferred to this school following an incident at his previous one. A fight had broken out—not one he started, but one he finished. He had endured months of bullying, insults, and mockery, turning the other cheek until they crossed the line. They had insulted his Dad and Daddy. That was the last straw.
By the end of the day, three people had been sent to the hospital. But the ones he fought against had influential parents, and Daotok, who had defended himself, was deemed the problem. Transferred to a new school, he had hoped for a fresh start. Instead, he found himself in an even worse situation.
Guard was the self-proclaimed king of the school—a senior with a notorious reputation, leading a gang of boys who spent their days fighting, brawling, and asserting dominance over others. Girls were nothing more than temporary accessories to him, discarded at a whim. He was used to getting whatever he wanted.
And for some reason, he wanted Daotok. The first time had been in the cafeteria, in front of the entire student body. With arrogant confidence, Guard had publicly asked him to be his boyfriend, disregarding the gasps and whispers around them. Daotok's refusal must have bruised his ego.
From that day on, the harassment began. Guard made sure no one in class spoke to Daotok, warning them of the consequences. His belongings were thrown into the lotus pond, his textbooks shredded, his personal items destroyed. Every time, a note was left behind—threatening, possessive. A warning that this wouldn't stop unless Daotok 'belonged' to him.
Worse still, Guard's father was the school principal. The teachers wouldn't help. Even with evidence, Daotok's complaints fell on deaf ears. It was never about love or attraction.
Guard simply enjoyed the game—the challenge of breaking someone who wouldn't submit easily. He thrived on seeing Daotok's resilience, on knowing that no matter what he did, Daotok refused to cry or beg.
Then, five days ago, the 'gifts' started arriving. Dead animals, placed neatly on his desk each morning. Birds, rats—each offering more grotesque than the last.
Daotok felt neither fear nor disgust—only cold, simmering rage.
That evening, he lingered in the library, knowing Guard wouldn't cause a scene there. But the moment the library closed, Daotok found himself cornered.
Three of Guard's lackeys grabbed him, dragging him toward the secluded storage area behind the school—the gang's territory. The air reeked of cigarettes, and a dozen pairs of eyes watched as Guard lounged in the center, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"So, you finally came."
Daotok didn't answer.
"Trying to run? No chance. Don't you get it, Daotok?" Guard's voice dropped to a whisper. "I want you so much it drives me crazy. I've been chasing you for a month, and you're still playing hard to get."
Daotok met his gaze, silent but defiant.
Guard scowled. "Tch. Stop looking at me like that." He grabbed a fistful of Daotok's hair, forcing his face closer. "Look at me with sweet eyes. Like you would your husband."
The jeers and laughter from his lackeys grew louder.
Daotok inhaled slowly. The moment had arrived.
"P'..." For the first time, he spoke softly, a fragile tremor in his voice.
Guard's grip loosened slightly in surprise. "P' Guard, please don't hurt me."
Guard smirked. "Hah, finally giving in?"
"No tricks," Daotok murmured, fingers brushing against the hand still gripping his hair. "I give up."
Guard chuckled, pleased with his submission. He wrapped an arm around Daotok, smug and satisfied.
Daotok bit his lip, feigning hesitation. "Can we go somewhere more private?"
Guard's eyes gleamed. "You finally get it, huh?" He turned to his gang.
"Wait outside."
Inside the storage room, the door locked, Guard wasted no time pushing Daotok to the floor.
"Hey, I've wanted to do this for a long—"
Daotok moved swiftly. A lighter flicked open in his hand. The scent of lighter fluid filled the air as he emptied it onto Guard's back. The moment Guard froze in confusion, Daotok struck the lighter and let it fall.
Flames erupted. Screams filled the storage room, drowning out everything else. Daotok held him in place, his arms locked around the thrashing boy, his voice eerily calm. "You thought I couldn't fight back?" Guard shrieked, struggling, but Daotok didn't let go. "Beg me," he whispered. "Beg politely, and maybe I'll let you go."
"N-never!! Ugh, Daotok, I'll kill you!" Guard spat, his voice hoarse with pain and rage. He reached out with a trembling hand, aiming to wrap his fingers around Daotok's throat, but his strength had already waned. He was powerless now—weak, vulnerable, exactly as he had once made Daotok feel.
"Murderer! If you don't let me go and I die, you'll go to jail, you psycho!"
Daotok tilted his head, amusement flickering in his dark gaze. "Is that what you think?" His voice was eerily calm, his lips curling into a smirk. "Oh, but I'm very good at surviving." He crouched down, leaning in just enough for his whisper to send a chill through the trembling boy before him. "You see, I've already recorded you threatening to rape me. How loyal do you think your lackeys are, hmm? Are you sure they won't spill everything to the police out of fear?"
Guard's breathing hitched.
Daotok continued, his tone light, almost conversational. "And me? I've been bullied for a month. Everyone at school knows. Plus, I have plenty of evidence—the threatening letters you so kindly wrote yourself. Setting fire to someone who was about to assault me? That's just self-defense."
"Y-you're insane! Aaaaagh!!" Guard's wails grew more desperate as the searing heat ate away at him. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, acrid and nauseating.
Daotok's eyes darkened. He watched, unmoved. "It's hot, isn't it? Can you smell it? Your own skin charring?" His voice was devoid of emotion, a quiet whisper of vengeance.
Guard's screams twisted into sobs. The fire had sapped every ounce of fight from him. "P-p-please, I'm sorry!" he choked out, tears streaking down his soot-stained face. "I'm sorry for everything I've done to you, Dao! Please! Please help me—I'm begging you!"
Daotok merely straightened, staring down at him with cold indifference. He said nothing. He simply turned, opened the door, and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.
The moment he emerged, gasps echoed around him. Students who had been eavesdropping scattered back, their faces pale as they took in the horror inside the room. No one dared stop Daotok. No one dared meet his eyes.
He walked swiftly, his body still shaking, his adrenaline masking any lingering fear. He needed to find a teacher—someone in authority. He found the one on duty that evening, their expression immediately shifting to alarm at his disheveled state.
He told them everything. The truth. How Guard had tried to force himself on him, how he had threatened to let his lackeys do the same. How Daotok had tricked him into lowering his guard and used a lighter to defend himself. How he had burned him.
The investigation moved quickly. There was no doubt of Guard's guilt. The evidence spoke louder than any plea he could make—Daotok's recordings, the threatening letters, his destroyed belongings, and the testimony of the students who had watched from the shadows but never dared to intervene.
The conclusion was inevitable: self-defense. For his safety, the school and his family arranged for Daotok to transfer. He left without looking back. Without regrets.
Rumors later reached him—whispers of Guard's fate. That after his recovery, he was sent to a juvenile detention center. That he had developed a deep, paralyzing fear of fire. That even the warmth of sunlight sent him into a panic.
Daotok felt nothing.
No pity. No guilt. No remorse.
The only crime he had committed was surviving. And he would never let himself be a victim again.
☆☆☆☆☆
[PRESENT]
"That bastard deserved it," Min muttered, her voice filled with raw disgust.
Her fists clenched at her sides as she paced the room, her expression dark.
"He tried to rape my kid? If it were me, I'd have cut it off and thrown it away. Serves him right. And even after all that, he still had the nerve to act tough? Unbelievable."
Daotok sat silently, his hands resting on his lap, fingers curled slightly as if still gripping the remnants of that terrifying night. The flickering light overhead cast long shadows across the room, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.
Arthit, sitting beside Daotok, reached out and gently cupped his cheek, his thumb brushing soothing circles against his skin. His touch was warm, grounding. "Were you scared?" he asked softly, his voice thick with concern.
Daotok blinked up at him, his gaze steady. "Not at all. I wasn't scared." His voice was firm, unwavering, though the memory of flames licking at his skin still burned in his mind.
Arthit studied him for a long moment, as if searching for cracks in his composure, but Daotok only held his gaze.
"You're amazing, kid," Min said, shaking her head in admiration. "Don't ever let someone like that intimidate you. The things he planned to do... him and his lackeys? Just thinking about it makes my blood boil." Her jaw tightened as she exhaled sharply.
"Honestly, I shouldn't have let him off so easily."
"But you didn't let him off," Arthit said, his voice calm but laced with something darker—something dangerous. "You left an impression, Dao. No wonder, when that bastard saw your face, he looked like he'd seen a ghost."
A small, knowing smirk played on his lips.
Daotok tilted his head slightly. "Am I scary?"
Min chuckled. "Scary? Maybe. But I'd call it impressive. You endured everything for almost a month without retaliating because you didn't want to worry your family. And even when things got terrifying, you handled it with strength." Her voice softened, a hint of admiration shining through her usual teasing tone. "That Guard guy? He was the worst, Dao. And he got exactly what was coming to him."
"Mm," Daotok hummed in quiet agreement, his mind drifting elsewhere.
Min arched a brow. "What? Why aren't you making this more dramatic for me?" She nudged Daotok's shoulder playfully, trying to lighten the mood.
Arthit, however, wasn't laughing. His expression remained unreadable, his fingers still resting against Daotok's skin. "I'm just thinking about how to deal with him," he said, his voice even.
Daotok sighed. "It's fine. I've already dealt with him. Ging said they're done with us now."
Arthit's lips pressed into a thin line. "That might be their agreement, but it's not mine."
Min snorted. "Heh, you're the type that never lets things go, huh, Dao?"
Arthit's grip on Daotok's arm tightened ever so slightly. His dark eyes locked onto him, unwavering. "Should I really let someone who did this to my wife walk free?" His voice was eerily calm, but the underlying menace in his words was unmistakable.
Daotok glanced at him but said nothing.
Min groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I figured you wouldn't. Anyway, Dao—" she paused, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly, "—when you didn't let go of Guard, did you get burned?"
Daotok blinked at the sudden change in topic, then hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. "Yes. On my upper arm."
Arthit tensed immediately. "Really?" His concern was instant, his fingers already reaching to check.
Daotok nodded, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the faded scars, now masked by intricate inkwork. "So I got a tattoo to cover the scars," he said, his tone nonchalant, as if it were nothing.
Min whistled lowly. "Wow, kid, you're seriously tough." A broad grin stretched across her face. "Come here, let me kiss your head."
Before she could make a move, Arthit shot her a glare sharp enough to kill.
"Min! Don't you dare touch my boyfriend."
Min raised her hands in mock surrender, laughing. "Alright, alright! Possessive much?"
Arthit didn't respond—he simply pulled Daotok closer, his grip firm, his touch protective. And Daotok, for the first time in a long while, allowed himself to lean into it.