Golden Nightingale (KinnPorsche/MileApo)

Chapter 1: Songbird's Melody

"No family members to speak of his affiliations were purely with the casino; however, the owner said as long as his debt was paid, he didn't care about the individual."

"And the percentage minus what the owner owes me was provided correct?"

"Yes sir. All of it accounted for."

"Perfect," Kinn shifted to step away as two came to lift the corpse, stared into eyes that held no life, no color, a flame extinguished by the extinguisher that was no longer in his hand but in one of his guards who went to have it refurbished. He was in the comfort of the compound, his home, his fortress. What need did he have to carry it? An ankle pistol, one that once weighed him down, now saved his life on one than more occasion, felt like an extension of himself that was kept close. A small, folded knife that was simple in its design, engraved with 'K.T' on its steel, resided in his pocket that he often doubled as a stress ball. His fingers curled against the item, traced the lines of it, before he heard himself called again, "What?"

"Khun Kinn. I'm sorry to disturb you but something else requires your immediate attention—"

"And it can't wait why?"

Those long days that took him out of bed and straight into hellfire; the boardrooms, the tediously winded meetings with old men and women who rarely took him seriously till he brought a literal finger or ear to the table, the threat of a replaying that process in front of them to gain respect, it shook them all into silence, and then interrogations. As much as he might have enjoyed the exhilaration of being begged and pleaded with; Kinn did not regal in torture. He left that nasty business to the minor family. The sick fucks. He knew Vegas had a disturbing chain kink, having once watched a session of his cousin electrifying a man to get him to confess to something, and he felt squeamish to the point of being unable to eat lunch or dinner. Whereas Vegas just tossed a smirk at him, ate both his and Kinn's bowl of ramen, and went back home without a care on his face. It was difficult to swallow that pill down.

No. Kinn preferred to make it a quick, relatively painless process of disposal – one shot to the head, clean, and swift. The idea of drawing it all out also was energy-consuming and for Kinn, it was a waste of time. Something that he hated above anything else.

Much like now. He finished his meetings of his day, he went over the planned itinerary in detail specifically to be able to unwind with a drink and a fuck, so what was this all of a sudden?

"Your father requested your presence sir."

"Ah."

Despite being like a clock that worked on solar power on a good day, Kinn still had his pyramid head to report to, his father. A man that lacked in even more emotions, morals, and convictions than himself, Tankhun, and Kimhan combined; he secretly thought the man was a robot. Impressively functional on the go, his father once commanded the whole of Thailand's underground, nothing was not stamped with his name. Burned to ashes and built his foundation atop it. With his growing age and obvious contenders, it was not easy to maintain an empire without the appropriate contacts, allies, and partnerships. His father often told him this and he just became oblivious to the thought of being used for one of these so called 'alliance by marriage'. He vehemently put his foot down, threatened to eat his gun if it ever came up again, and his father stopped.

But every now and again, his father entertained the thought and told him that it was for Kinn's sake he was so adamant and insistent. Kinn chocked it up to old man sentimentality he supposed because his father never intervened with his decisions. Everything, all of it, was left to Kinn to handle, maneuver, and manipulate to his desire.

"Lead on Chan."

~~~

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