Kinnporsche, Volume 4, page 3
I gulped the water down in my thirst, then scanned the room. “Where is he?”
“At university, of course. He has exams this entire week. I guess it’s stressing him out, so he’s taking it out on you.” Nop took the glass from me and put it back on the tray.
I held on to Nop’s arm and shook him gently. “You…you don’t have to help me yourself, Nop. But please, call the Major Clan—Arm or Pol. Maybe even Nont will help me. I’m begging you.”
“There’s a new set of sheets at the end of the bed. Vegas wants you to change them once you get up,” Nop said, changing the subject and ignoring my pleas.
“Nop… Please,” I begged.
Nop let out a sigh, then gently pried my hand off him. “Pete… A guy like Vegas treats everyone like shit, except for the few people he loves. Just deal with it, man.”
With that, Nop left the room.
I was left sitting on the floor, watching sadly as he walked away. Vegas treats everyone like shit, except for the few people he loves? I replayed Nop’s words in my head. He was right, I guess, because look at how well Vegas treated Porsche!
Speaking of Porsche…if he were in this situation, what would he do? He was really lucky that he’d met Mr. Kinn. He loved Mr. Kinn, and Mr. Kinn loved him in return. So, there was no chance Mr. Kinn would have done these kinds of vile things to Porsche…right?
Vegas couldn’t possibly be human; he was the devil incarnate. Everyone was someone’s child, a person who was loved and cherished—he couldn’t just trample on someone’s labor of love like that! No! People had feelings. I can’t wait for the day karma catches up to you, Vegas. By then, no one you care about will be left in your life!
Vegas was no different from any other spoiled rich kid, but he was deeper and more calculating than most. He was full of horrible thoughts that had been building up since childhood. It was probably from the lack of love he received from his father. Vegas must have put up walls in his heart and locked his demons in there.
Whenever he met someone weaker than him, he’d let those demons out one by one. If I kept playing his game, how long would it take for it to end? But what if…?
“Hah. Just go, Porsche. Mr. Kinn’s already in a bad mood today, and I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“Fucking hell! What the fuck does he want from me?!”
“Just go with the flow.”
“What do you mean, go with the flow?!”
“Spoiled people like Kinn… If you go along with them for a while, then they’ll get bored and stop. If you keep resisting, it’ll only rile them up.”
The advice I’d given to Porsche a while back bubbled up in my brain. What if I refused to entertain Vegas? What if I didn’t play along with his twisted game? What would happen if I made him get bored with me?
I had taught Porsche this strategy so he could deal with Mr. Kinn bossing him around. Vegas seemed to be cut from the same cloth. That was how you defeated these damned attention-seekers who didn’t know when to stop.
All right. I’d survive this situation, in case there was a way out. The worst thing that could happen was Vegas killing me—I had nothing to lose.
Come on, Pete! Give it a shot!
Side Story:
Vegas × Pete 6
PETE
I GOT OUT OF BED and struggled toward the bathroom. I didn’t think it was possible, but the pain was even more excruciating than before. How long would I have to live through this hell?
Reliving the same torture again and again had left me exhausted and distraught. The Major Clan probably thought I was dead. Had Mr. Kinn really forgotten about me? Was Mr. Tankhun going about his day like nothing was out of the ordinary? Suddenly, I felt betrayed.
But maybe they were looking for a way to rescue me. I was sure that Porsche, Pol, and Arm would remember me. They had to be trying to find me. Please hurry up and save me. I don’t know how much longer I can bear this pain.
I was so weak, so utterly powerless. I’d never felt this way before—like all the life had been drained out of me. Damn it!
I decided to take a shower. Luckily, Vegas had left all his toiletries in here. I didn’t know what he’d allow me to use, so I just picked one at random.
Or…maybe I shouldn’t clean myself? If I stayed filthy, Vegas wouldn’t want to come near me. But the stains he’d left all over my body disgusted me. The thought of the vile acts he’d committed made me want to scrub my skin raw. No, it was a stupid idea to stay dirty—I couldn’t stand myself in that state.
After I showered, I turned up the AC. It was cold, but I couldn’t put on a shirt, thanks to the chains. The only thing I had on was a pair of pants I dug out from Vegas’s closet. Luckily, we were about the same height and build. I didn’t want to touch his stuff, but I had no choice.
I went to eat the breakfast Nop had brought for me and sighed heavily when I saw what was on the plate: sausages, a fried egg, and a single piece of bread. How could this satisfy anyone’s hunger? But I couldn’t blame these rich bastards; they all ate like birds, apart from Mr. Tankhun, who ate anything and everything. I felt wistful at the thought of Mr. Tankhun—I’d rather endure his childishness than be tortured like this…
The difference between the Major Clan and the Minor Clan was stark. Even though the atmosphere was thick with expectations and responsibility, the Major Clan’s house felt like a home. Everyone respected each other, and under Mr. Korn’s nurturing love and kindness, the family remained as strong as a deep-rooted tree.
The Minor Clan’s house, on the other hand, was entrenched in flames. Everyone struggled to survive, like withering plants in desperate need of water. The two brothers’ love for each other wasn’t enough to make up for the lack of affection from their father; the family languished as a result.
I’d been following Mr. Vegas for weeks before my capture, and I knew that he barely came home. Mr. Macau was the same. I was surprised at first, but I eventually noticed the cracks in the Minor Clan’s foundation.
After I’d finished my breakfast, I got up from the sofa and turned to glare at the dark-blue sheet folded on the foot of the bed. I was absolutely furious that I had to act like a slave for the Minor Clan, but I tamped down my rage and hastily changed the sheets before Vegas could get angry with me again—I wanted to avoid that at all costs.
It wasn’t exactly a surprise that he’d grown up to become like this, since he’d had these problems since he was a child…
After haphazardly throwing the sheet over the bed, I focused on replacing the pillowcases. At that moment, Nop returned to the room; I quickly dropped everything and approached him.
“Nop…”
“I’m here to take the food tray,” Nop said without looking at me. It seemed like he was trying to walk away from me, but I followed him until the chain holding my wrist went taut.
“Nop, please help me,” I begged. I knew my chances were slim, but I needed to try everything I could.
“Don’t forget to use the air freshener spray,” he added. “Mr. Vegas is a clean freak, and he doesn’t like the smell of food in his bedroom. And look at the way you put on the bedsheet! Do you want him to hit you again? This room needs to be pristine!” Then he slammed the door in my face.
“Damn it!” I cursed. With my hands on my hips, I glared at the bed—the sheet was tucked in at all the corners.
“How is this not neat?” I grumbled. “Do I need to iron it too, you son of a bitch?!”
I collapsed on the bed, questioning what the hell I was doing. Did that asshole Vegas have anything good in his life? Well, he had good looks, but everything else about him was utter garbage.
I looked around the room, cursing Vegas under my breath. Everything in this room was very tidy indeed. What a perfectionist. Should I try driving him crazy? I bet he’d go batshit if anything in this room was out of order. The thought made me chuckle.
I started rearranging the books on his desk, making them lay in a zigzag pattern. I turned everything upside down, putting things the opposite of how they should be. I rummaged through his clothes until his wardrobe was a total disaster.
I smiled broadly at my masterpiece: Vegas’s room was a total wreck. His clothes were strewn across the floor, no longer organized by color, and the bedsheets were wrinkled. Vegas would lose his shit when he got home. He’d glare at me hard, and a vein would pop out on his forehead like it was about to burst. Then, he’d start going on a rampage…
Shit! What the fuck did I just do?! Why did I want to rile Vegas up? I was gonna be in deep shit! Why are you so stupid, Pete?!
Twenty minutes after I’d started making a mess of things, I set about putting everything back in its place. I cursed myself for spending so much effort tidying up his room. I told myself that I needed to do as he pleased until he got tired of me. The angrier that man got, the more he wanted to control me. I couldn’t get caught up in his mind games.
I spent almost the entire rest of the day putting everything back in its exact spot. If I’d had a ruler right then, I’d have arranged things down to the inch!
Finally done, I flopped restlessly on the bed. It had been so easy to mess up Vegas’s room; why was it so difficult to put it back in order?
Creak.
I started at the sound of the bedroom door opening. I immediately sat up and put my back flush against the headboard.
“Yeah… I’ll send my part to you tonight. Don’t come over. It’s not convenient for me. Leave it for tomorrow.” Vegas spoke into his phone as he came in with my dinner. He carelessly dropped the food tray near the sofa while my eyes darted around nervously. I was so hypervigilant, my body reacted automatically; I couldn’t control my anxiety.
“Ugh, I have more exams to take and reports to do,” Vegas said wearily once he’d hung up. “I’m fed up with all of it.”
I remained silent, staring at him fearfully.
He glanced at me. “Come eat. I brought you dinner.”
Vegas’s demeanor sent a cold sweat down my spine. I was afraid to move; my body tensed up so tightly that my muscles practically spasmed.
“Eat!” he snapped.
I did as I’d planned to do: I would not argue with him, resist him, or talk to him. I would do as he said without argument. I would keep my emotions as neutral as possible, even if I felt reluctant to follow his orders.
I dropped onto the sofa, frowning at what I saw on the food tray—a fish fillet and some salad. Fucking hell! How is this supposed to fill me up? I was going to lose a lot of weight staying here. The portions they served were for ants!
“So obedient,” Vegas said flatly as he watched me. “Good.”
I ignored him and ate my food. I sighed with relief when Vegas finally grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom. Thankfully, he wasn’t in a bad mood today—I’d be dead otherwise.
I put the empty plate on the desk and remembered to spray the room with air freshener. I’d do everything I could to prevent Vegas from getting angry. I was tired of taking his beatings.
Vegas returned from the bathroom. He got dressed, and then he watched me as he leisurely dried his hair. I sat on the bed, still ignoring him, and tried to look for something to read from the collection of books in his room. Oh, hell! Why are most of these in English?
I wouldn’t be able to read them. The only books in Thai were on philosophy. Great, that’ll be exciting…
“Do you like to read?” Vegas asked.
“Mm-hmm,” I replied, hoping he’d stop talking. I didn’t really care about reading, but there was nothing to do in this room besides lie around. I was starting to understand what people in prison must feel like.
Vegas went to retrieve his laptop from outside the bedroom. He sat on the sofa before arranging some books on the coffee table and turning on his computer. I didn’t know what he was doing with it.
“Pete, come here.”
I put down the book and obediently walked toward him. I stood over him with my eyebrow raised, silently asking him what he wanted.
“You’re acting weird. Did you eat something strange? Are you sick? Do you have a fever?” Vegas asked, pulling me down to sit next to him. I cursed and tensed up when he pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. I kept telling myself not to resist him, but he was making the hair on my arms stand on end.
“No fever. Why aren’t you throwing a fit today?” Vegas asked, frowning. I pretended to be interested in the items on the coffee table, still not answering him. He looked surprised. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he said, leaning closer. He stared at me like I was some kind of freak.
I turned and gave him a small smile. “Yes?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I cursed at him internally but didn’t dare say anything else. What if he didn’t like what I said and decided to beat me?
“What’s wrong with you, Pete?”
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice a pitch higher than usual before I lowered it back to its normal tone. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“All right. I’m glad you’re cooperating. I’m exhausted from today’s exam, but I still have to finish my report. Why don’t you help me?” he suggested.
I paled. “H…how?” Shit! I wasn’t sure if his definition of ‘help’ was the same as mine. The ambiguity of his words worried me.
“Do you know how to type with a computer?”
“Hey! I went to school,” I protested—and then snapped my mouth shut. Shit, I’d blurted that out before I could stop myself. I didn’t want him to think I was arguing with him. Argh!
I was frustrated that he’d asked for my help, but at the same time, it was a relief. The help he was asking for wasn’t something vile like I’d first thought.
“Ah…that’s good. Can you help type my report? The part I highlighted—type those words in.”
I gritted my teeth, wondering why he couldn’t just ask one of his men instead. Why did he have to ask me?
“Of course,” I replied cheerfully. Vegas kept staring at me in disbelief.
I looked at the computer in front of me, lighting up when I realized I might be able to sneak onto Facebook and DM someone to ask them to rescue me.
“Pfft! Don’t look so optimistic,” Vegas said. “I already disconnected the internet. Nice try.”
I sighed, disheartened. Why did he have to be such a smart-ass? I sat on the floor, resting my back against the sofa so I could type on the laptop comfortably.
Copying his report was difficult because everything was in English. I silently swore, wondering if Vegas would beat me up if I made any mistakes. I needed to say something so he wouldn’t blow up at me.
“English isn’t my strong suit. You better check everything—I might make a mistake,” I said, tilting my head to look at him. He was already staring at me, and our eyes locked briefly. For a moment, I was stunned. I couldn’t tell what was going on in Vegas’s head. I quickly averted my gaze and went back to typing his report, trying to focus on the text in front of me instead of Vegas’s stare.
Vegas seemed very busy today. He kept switching between reading books and highlighting the parts he wanted me to type. And that wasn’t all—he also talked to his friend on the phone every ten minutes.
Mr. Kinn and Mr. Tankhun had been busy studying like this during their midterms too. When Mr. Tankhun had his exams, Arm, Pol, and I had to take turns reading his textbook out loud for him all day. It didn’t matter if he was sleeping, eating, or showering; I had to shout each sentence from his textbook until the subject was drilled into his brain cells. Luckily, Mr. Tankhun had already been in his fourth year of university when I’d started working for him. Otherwise, I’d still be reading textbooks to him.
“How’s it going?” Vegas asked, leaning over from behind me and bracketing me between his arms. I jumped.
Vegas pressed the touch pad to scroll down through the document. I glanced at the side of his face, my heart racing with fear as I inhaled his familiar scent.
“Did…did I do it correctly?” I asked, shifting slightly away from him. He nodded before moving back to his spot on the couch.
“You did fine,” he said casually, before returning his attention to the book in his hand.
I sighed. He wasn’t acting like a maniac today. He was acting almost like the old Vegas—the one I knew before he took me prisoner. Somehow, it only made me more uneasy.
Time passed, and the room fell silent save for the sound of my fingers against the keyboard and Vegas turning the pages of his book. I concentrated on the screen, trying to repeat the words in my head before I typed them so I wouldn’t make any mistakes. I concentrated on the task at hand, relieved that Vegas had stopped threatening me like before.
Abruptly, Vegas’s fingertip touched the corner of my mouth. I flinched and snapped my head around to stare at him.
Vegas was lying down on the sofa with his eyes fixed on me. “Does it hurt?” he whispered, his finger brushing my mouth again before moving to my cheek.
I wanted to yell at him, Yes, it fucking hurts! The cut near my lips burned, and on my cheek still bloomed a bruise in the shape of his hand.
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, not daring to say more. I didn’t know what he was trying to get at. He might hit me again if I said something that annoyed him.
“Never resist me again,” Vegas said. “I’ll be nice to you if you behave…and you won’t get hurt.” He removed his hand from my face and propped it behind his head. His eyes went back to his book.
I was shocked. Who the hell are you, and what have you done with that evil bastard Vegas?! Spit him out, now!
I paused that train of thought. Why did I want that horrible monster to return? Please swallow that demon and never let him out ever again. Amen!
It took a while before I could concentrate on typing again. I didn’t really understand why, but my decision not to fight Vegas seemed to have worked. From now on, whatever he told me to do, I’d immediately comply! I’d obey him until he stopped abusing me for his own amusement.
