The next morning felt colder than usual.
Karan stood at the kitchen counter, hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea, staring at the rising steam as if it could show him a way out. The truth he had spilled yesterday still hung in the air, thick and heavy, like the moment before a storm.
He didn't know what Arthit would do.
He didn't know what Mr. Sakda would do next.
He didn't know if anything would ever be "normal" again.
And he couldn't wait any longer.
He had to leave.
---
"ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS?"
Mrs. Kim looked at her son with soft, worried eyes as she folded clothes into a suitcase.
"Karan… sweetheart… you didn't even tell us which university this is."
"I told you, Mom," Karan said quietly, "it's a culinary scholarship program."
"But overseas?" His mother frowned. "You've never been this far from us. At least tell us where—"
"Mom…"
Karan forced a smile, even though it hurt.
"It's better if you don't know yet. I promise I'll be safe."
Mrs. Kim touched his face gently.
"You've been sad lately… distant. Is something wrong?"
A rush of memories hit him—
Arthit's trembling voice,
his furious eyes,
his warm hands holding his face,
his whispered "I'd die before I let him touch you again."
Karan swallowed the ache.
"No, Mom. I'm just… growing up."
She didn't believe him.
But she hugged him anyway.
When she left the room, Karan whispered into his hands:
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."
---
ARTHIT'S TRAINING — BLOOD, SWEAT, FURY
Far across the city, the sound of fists hitting sandbags echoed like thunder inside an empty gym.
*Bam.*
*Bam.*
*BAM.*
Arthit punched the heavy bag relentlessly, sweat pouring down his temples, breath ragged. His knuckles were bleeding, but he didn't stop.
His trainer watched in alarm.
"Arthit, slow down! You're going to break your hand—"
"I said again," Arthit growled, shaking off the trainer's grip.
"Start the next set."
"You're not listening—"
"I don't have time!"
Arthit roared.
The trainer stepped back, eyes widening.
Arthit wasn't fighting for a trophy.
He was fighting for someone's life.
"Karan…"
His voice trembled as he threw another punch.
"I'll protect you. I swear."
But every time his fist hit the bag,
he remembered Karan's broken voice—
"He kidnapped me."
Another punch.
"He threatened my family."
Another punch.
"I didn't leave because I wanted to."
Another punch—
a brutal, painful strike.
"I left because I was scared."
Arthit slammed his fist into the bag so hard it rattled the chain from the ceiling.
Then he leaned his forehead against it, breathing hard, eyes burning.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier…" he whispered, voice shaking.
His entire body wanted to run to Karan.
To hold him.
To tell him he wasn't alone.
That he didn't have to suffer in silence.
But he couldn't.
He had to win.
Or nothing would change.
---
MR. SAKDA WATCHES FROM AFAR
Upstairs in the office, Mr. Sakda observed the training room through the glass window.
His eldest son, Anant, stood beside him.
"He's pushing too hard," Anant said quietly.
"He hasn't slept. He's not eating."
Mr. Sakda smiled coldly.
"Good. Pain sharpens a warrior. Weakness burns out."
Anant narrowed his eyes.
"You're using this to force him into the mafia throne, aren't you?"
Mr. Sakda didn't deny it.
"Once he wins, he will have the respect of the underground world. He will inherit my empire. That boy he loves… will mean nothing."
Anant frowned.
"You think Arthit will accept that?"
"He will," Mr. Sakda said confidently.
"Love fades. Power does not."
But Anant said nothing.
Deep down, he knew his father was wrong.
---
BACK TO KARAN — PACKING PAIN AWAY
Karan zipped his suitcase slowly, his hands trembling. Every folded shirt, every cooking notebook, every chef's knife felt like a goodbye.
His phone buzzed on the bed.
**ARTHIT:**
*Karan, please. Let me see you.*
Karan squeezed his eyes shut.
The truth was out.
The damage was done.
The danger was real.
He typed slowly.
**KARAN:**
*We said everything yesterday. There's nothing left.*
The reply came instantly.
**ARTHIT:**
*Don't do this.*
*Karan, please. Don't push me away.*
Tears blurred Karan's eyes.
He typed again.
**KARAN:**
*I'm leaving the country.*
There was a long pause.
Then:
**ARTHIT:**
*…Where?*
**KARAN:**
*I can't tell you.*
**ARTHIT:**
*Karan, don't do this.*
*Don't disappear on me.*
**KARAN:**
*I have to.*
*Goodbye, Arthit.*
The phone vibrated again.
**ARTHIT:**
*KARAN—*
Karan turned the phone off.
And he cried silently.
---
ARTHIT FINDS OUT
That evening, Arthit rushed into the Kim restaurant, chest heaving, desperately searching every corner.
Mrs. Kim looked startled.
"Arthit… what's wrong?"
"Where's Karan?"
His voice shook.
"Please—I need to see him."
Mrs. Kim blinked.
"He left for the airport an hour ago."
Arthit's heart dropped.
"What?"
"He said it's for higher studies," Mrs. Kim said softly. "But he didn't tell us where."
Arthit stumbled back, breath caught in his chest as if someone had stabbed him.
"He really left…"
His voice trembled.
Mrs. Kim touched his arm gently.
"Arthit… please sit down. You look pale."
"I have to find him," he whispered.
"I promised… I promised I'd protect him."
Mrs. Kim's eyes softened with sorrow.
"Maybe protecting him means letting him go for now."
But Arthit shook his head violently.
"No.
No.
I can't lose him."
And then—
he ran.
---
ARTHIT'S FURY AT HIS FATHER
Arthit burst into the mansion, slamming the door so hard the guards flinched.
"FATHER!"
His shout shook the entire hallway.
Mr. Sakda appeared at the top of the staircase.
"Arthit. You're loud."
"You made him leave!"
Arthit screamed.
"You threatened him until he ran away from me!"
Mr. Sakda's eyes glinted.
"Good. He finally listened."
Arthit charged up the stairs, fury boiling in his veins.
"You ruined everything!"
"You took the one person who made me feel—"
"Human?"
Mr. Sakda scoffed.
"Humans are weak. You are my heir. Not a child chasing romance."
Arthit grabbed his father's collar.
"If anything happens to him—"
"Let go," Mr. Sakda said calmly, "or I will have the guards break your arms."
Arthit released him with disgust.
"I'll win your damn boxing tournament," he hissed.
"But not for you."
"For Karan."
Mr. Sakda smiled coldly.
"Good."
Arthit stared at him with hatred.
"But hear this," he whispered.
"If Karan suffers even a scratch…"
"I will destroy you—father or not."
For the first time, Mr. Sakda's eyes narrowed.
"…Are you threatening me, Arthit?"
"No," Arthit said softly.
"I'm promising you."
Then he walked away, leaving his father standing in rare silence.
---
KARAN'S FINAL NIGHT BEFORE LEAVING
At the airport hotel, Karan stared out the window at the glowing runway lights. His flight left at sunrise.
He should have felt relieved.
Safe.
Protected.
But instead—
He felt empty.
He looked at his phone, wishing it would ring.
Wishing Arthit would appear outside his door.
Wishing things were different.
"Arthit…"
He whispered the name like a secret prayer.
"I'm sorry."
He pressed a hand to his heart.
"But I can't let your world destroy mine."
A single tear rolled down his cheek.
And for the first time, Karan felt truly alone.
---
ARTHIT'S VOW
Back in his dark bedroom, Arthit sat on the floor, exhausted, injured, and broken.
His fists were bruised.
His heart was bleeding.
His lungs felt tight.
"I'll find you," he whispered into the darkness.
"No matter where you go…"
"No matter how far…"
He closed his eyes.
"I'll win this championship."
"And when I do…"
"You won't have to run anymore."
But he didn't know—
Mr. Sakda had no intention of keeping his promise.
---
End of chapter 21