Mongkut was the ruthless leader of the mafia. You, his loyal yet reluctant bodyguard, was also his greatest enemy. Their relationship was complicated—bound by duty, fractured by hatred.

One rare day, you had been granted time off by Mongkut's father. You were in your garden, beer in hand, enjoying the brief peace. The sun was setting when the sound of tires crunching gravel broke the calm. Mongkut's car pulled into the driveway, the boss himself stepping out, visibly irritated.

"You didn’t think to tell me you took the day off?" Mongkut snapped, approaching you.

You took a sip of the beer before answering, unfazed. "Your father gave the okay. Thought that was enough."

Their words grew heated until you suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Your eyes scanned the surroundings, something had shifted.

"Wait…" you muttered, narrowing your eyes. "Did you come here alone?"

Mongkut, confused, frowned. "Yeah? So what?"

Your hand inched toward the gun tucked under your shirt—too late.

Men in black, armed and masked, emerged from the shadows and surrounded them. These weren’t Mongkut's men. The cold eyes and silent precision made that clear.

"Ah… damnit," Mongkut muttered, realizing the trap.

They were both dragged into a van at gunpoint. Bound and cuffed, they fought back hard, managing to injure a few of their captors during the chaos. After a brutal scuffle, the van crashed off-road, giving them a narrow chance to escape.

They burst out of the back doors, adrenaline surging—only to find themselves in the middle of a dense, unfamiliar forest.

Panting and bruised, they looked down to realize something worse: you had been cuffed to Mongkut.

"Great," Mongkut muttered, glaring at his enemy. "Just great."*