A petite woman walked into the lobby. Shimmering chandeliers sparkled against the black marble walls and tiles. Her heels clicked through the empty hall and echoed to the high ceilings.

“Good evening, Money kha,” greeted the young concierge.

“Another one was delivered just five minutes ago.” She gestures at the rows of flower stands flanking the lobby corridor.

Money walked towards the lift and picked out the greeting card of the latest floral addition.

“This is his third gift this week,” she said, clicking her tongue, “You really should stop accepting these.”

Placing a hand on her chest in mock shock, the concierge said, “And throw these away? The residents loved it—it’s become our little garden.”

“You'll need to dump these cause Khun Hi will not accept these—they will wilt eventually.”

“Exactly,” said the concierge, clapping excitedly, “We should enjoy their beauty before they wilt!”

Money rolled her eyes and walked into the lift. Turning to face the lobby, she went wide-eyed and screamed, “Is that a bee?”

The concierge shrieked and hid behind the counter, failing to see the cheeky smirk behind the closing lift door.

The ride to the top was long, but it didn't bother Money because her favourite song was on.

What started as a simple sway transformed into a full choreography when the chorus dropped.

“You got a body,” she sang, pointing at the door.

“I got a body,” she continued, hands sliding from her chest to her hips.

“Let's have a party,” she did the chicken wing stance before rocking her hips side to side to the last chorus line.

Money stopped dancing when someone cleared their throat. She smoothed her crumpled blouse as if she wasn't caught mid-twerk.

A man in black stood outside the lift, his expression hidden behind a pair of dark shades. Hands clasped in the front.

Walking up to the imposing man, Money flipped her hair in his face.

“First time seeing a beautiful woman dance?” Money teased.

“I wouldn't call that dancing,” the man grunted.

“Ha! So you're not denying the fact that I’m beautiful.”

The man gave an annoyed grunt.

“You’re so adorable,” she said, giving the man a quick pinch on the cheek, before stealing his shades.

Money dashed into the foyer before the man could react, slamming the doors behind her. Another annoyed grunt came from the door, but the man didn't barge in.

Loud music rocked the penthouse. Ceiling high windows shook with the deep bass while the mirrors struggled to remain hung on the wall.

Articles of clothes spread out across the living space. Skirts on the floor, workout clothes on the chair and a couple of bras decorated the plain, but enormous sofa. It was as though a tornado had ripped through the place and blessed the land with fashionable clothes.

Money called out to her mistress, but she could not overcome the booming music.

Clicking her tongue, she picked up the loose clothes. She had a wardrobe worth of clothes in her arms when a voice came from the bathroom,

Tossing the clothes into the laundry basket, she made a beeline to the bathroom.

The music stopped when she reached the bathroom door, her ears still ringing from the heavy bass.

Turning the handle, she called out, “Khun Hi? We need to go now or we’ll be late—”

“Hands up,” said a serious feminine voice.

Money looked at the foggy bathroom mirror. A woman in a bathrobe appeared behind her. Raven black hair, porcelain skin and a piercing gaze, the woman looked like a cold-blooded assassin.

Money gulped, feeling something poking her upper back. Afraid to meet the woman’s intense gaze, Money kept her head down. A bead of sweat ran down her face.

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The woman lifted her arm to reveal a remote.

“Aaand drop that ass!”

The bass boomed and Money twerked without missing a beat.

“Yeaaah, work that booty, baby!”

“I don't see you working yours, Khun Hi.”

“Ugh, stop calling me that,” said the woman, lightly tapping the remote on Money’s head.

Money rubbed her head while the woman known as Khun Hi sashayed towards the sink. Her lustrous mane fluttered behind her as she sang into a makeup brush.

“Khun—Sasha kha, we are gonna be late,” Money said, picking up a luxurious-looking container, “You haven't started on the foundation yet?”

“I’m going for a natural look tonight—grab me an eyeliner.”

Money searched the counter beside the sink. It resembled an artist’s studio. Powder and makeup stained the marble top littered with half-opened bottles, shadow palettes, cream of various consistencies and many other products that would make most men scratch their heads. Fortunately, Money was not a man.

“Thanks, babe,” Sasha said, receiving the thin pencil-like stick, “Do you think they will come tonight?”

“Wouldn’t know if we’re late.”

“I’m drawing my eyes now—don’t make me roll them.”

“I’m not worried about them coming—I’m worried for you, Khun Hi. There are better ways to find him. Trading your life for this… I mean, is he even worth it?”

Sasha slammed the eyeliner on the sink.

“I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him,” Sasha said, looking at Money from the mirror.

“But he left you.”

“He hasn't—he couldn't.”

“Because he's dead.”

“He. Is. Not. Dead. He can't be—he promised.”

Money shook her head. “Oh, Khun—”

She was interrupted by a tap on her head. Sasha made a face, daring Money to complete her sentence, to which the petite woman put her hands up in surrender.

The doorbell rang.

Sasha and Money shared a confused look.

“I'll check the door,” said Money.

Sasha changed into a black gown while Money went to get the door. She entered the living room surprised to see a strange man sitting on the sofa. He was wearing an intricate black and gold mask with white fangs—a Khon mask, the kind one would find in Thailand.

Folding her arms, Sasha asked, “Where's Money?”

“She is… occupied,” said the masked man.

“I’m calling the police.”

“I'm Kai Kaew.”

Sasha raised an eyebrow.

“I am a practitioner of the… arts.”

“And breaking into my home wearing that hideous mask is supposed to impress me? I've met many like you trying to sample my wealth.”

“Yet, none of them are sitting here right now having this conversation with you.”

“Ki! Money! Get this man out of here—now!”

“Like I’ve said—they are… occupied.”

Sasha made a dash for her phone, but Kai Kaew didn't react.

“I don't need your money,” he said.

“Yeah, right,” Sasha said, dialing the cops.

“I can help you find him.”

She stared at him, unconvinced, but she also didn't answer the operator.

“I know your fiancé.”

Sasha tapped the red button on her phone and tossed it aside. She sat opposite him, hands clasped in contemplation.

“How did you know?”

“I know the arts.”

“Is he alive?”

“I don't know.”

“Bullshit!”

“I don't know… yet.”

“If it's not my money, what are you after?”

“Your influence.”

“You practice the arts yet you can't influence others?”

“You know very well what the arts require. Think of it as a trade—you have something I want, and I have something you need.”

“If it is my hand you're after, then you can go s—”

“A land.”

“Huh?”

“And a statue.”

“Are you building a temple?”

“Have you ever wondered why the birth rates are declining? Or why mental health issues plagued the current generations?”

“Do I look like I care?”

“You should,” the masked man said. His expression was unreadable, but Sasha could see him staring at something behind her.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you f—”

“You have nothing on you. I've never seen such a clean spirit—your fortune must be the envy of all.”

“This has got nothing to do with my fiancé.”

“Oh, but I believe it has everything to do with your fiancé. He might even be the cause of every ill fate the world is experiencing. If it's true, even heaven and hell would be after him.”

“Are we still talking about my fiancé?”

“Oh, he might have been so much more than your fiancé. My time is up, we will meet again when the time is right to find the prince of hell.”

Sasha tried to interrogate him, but the man just stood up and headed for the door right before Gai and Money burst in.

“Khun H—Sasha, are you alright?”

“I’m… fine. Where did he go?”

“Who?”