Chapter Text
The ballroom of the Grand Imperial was a suffocating sea of silk, vintage champagne, and smiles that didn't reach the eyes. Tonight, the air was thicker than usual; the Jirachotikuls were celebrating a century of dominance, a hundred years of the HC Industries carving its name into the bedrock of the Thai economy. For the elite, it was a celebration of prosperity; for Por Suppakarn Jirachotikul, it was a battlefield.
Standing at the edge of the velvet-draped hall, Por was the picture of frigid elegance. He wore a crisp, light blue button-up shirt paired with a perfectly tailored beige blazer and matching trousers. The outfit was sharp, minimalist, and expensive,much like the man himself. He adjusted a platinum cufflink on his left wrist, the metal cold against his skin, mirroring the stoic expression he wore to keep the vultures at bay.
To Por, the industry was a dirty, invisible masquerade where every handshake felt like a hidden contract and every compliment was a lie. He had learned the ABCs of survival early: remain unreachable, remain unreadable, and never, under any circumstances, let down the guard.
"You look like you’re rehearsing for your own funeral, Suppakarn."
The voice was a low-frequency hum, vibrating with a maddening playfulness that made Por’s teeth ache. He didn’t need to turn around to recognize the scent of expensive sandalwood and the reckless edge of top-shelf gin.
TeeTee Wanpichit Nimitparkpoom—the sole heir to TP Industries,stepped into Por's peripheral vision. While HC and TP were the undisputed giants of Thailand, their fathers were close friends rather than rivals, choosing to consolidate power rather than fight for it. The sons, however, were polar opposites. Tee leaned casually against a marble pillar, his suit jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder and his white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to be a deliberate insult to the evening's formal dress code.
"And you look like you’re treating a high-stakes merger like a beach party, TeeTee."
Por replied, his voice clipping every syllable. He refused to grant Tee the satisfaction of eye contact, keeping his gaze fixed on the crowd."Life’s too short for top buttons and long faces," Tee chirped, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with a narcissistic grin. He stepped closer, invading Por’s personal space with the ease of a man who had never heard the word 'no.' With a slow, deliberate movement, Tee reached out, his fingers ghosting toward a stray lock of hair near Por's face to tuck it behind his ear.
Por jerked back instantly, his eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp heat. "Get your hands off of me," he hissed, his voice a low, lethal warning.Tee simply laughed, unfazed by the frost, but the banter was cut short by the sharp clink-clink of crystal. Their fathers stood at the center of the room, raising their glasses. The crowd fell into a respectful silence for the two titans at the top of the industry.
Then, the bomb dropped.
"To ensure another century of prosperity," Por’s father announced, his voice booming with a terrifying finality, "the heir of TP Industries will be marrying the heir of HC Industries, merging our empires into one."
The roar of the crowd was instantaneous—a mix of shock and celebration. For Por, the world went silent. He stood frozen, the realization hitting him like a physical blow: he was nothing more than a bargaining chip. His own father was willing to dismantle his life for the sake of a ledger. Beside him, Tee’s flippant mask slipped for a fraction of a second, his eyes wide with a rare, genuine shock before he quickly smoothed his expression back into an unreadable smirk.
Unable to breathe in the suffocating heat of the ballroom, Por turned on his heel and excused himself, heading toward the biting chill of the balcony. He didn't look back, but he could feel the shadow of the 'Spoiled Prince' following him into the night.