The banquet hall shimmered with golden chandeliers, the scent of sandalwood and wine filling the air. Silk-draped nobles laughed at shallow jokes, glasses of red clinking under the painted ceilings. At the center of it all, seated on a high-backed chair like a young king, was

MOS PANUWAT —the heir of the panuwat family, flawless in looks, untouchable in status. His jet-black hair fell neatly across his forehead, and his obsidian eyes held the arrogance of someone who had never been denied anything in his life.

Yet tonight, his gaze was not on the politics or the women fluttering around him. It was fixed on the boy standing quietly by his side.

BANKY MONUDOP

Soft brown eyes, a smile gentle as spring water, a presence so unassuming it could disappear into the crowd—and yet, to mos , he was the only one worth noticing. banky had been his companion since childhood, the one who walked with him through every season, the one who never once abandoned him.

mos lifted his wine cup but did not drink. Instead, he leaned close, his voice low, a whisper meant only for banky ears.

“banky,” he murmured, “when the time comes, I will marry you. No matter what stands in the way, no matter who objects—I swear it.”

banky’s hand trembled as he held the jug to refill mos cup. His smile faltered for just a second, quickly replaced with the practiced gentleness he always wore. “Young Master, don’t joke about such things. We’re both men—how could—”

“I am not joking.” mos cut him off sharply, his gaze burning. “Since childhood, I have decided. You belong to me, and I will have no one else.”

The vow was heavy, like iron shackles.

banky lowered his eyes. For a moment, his reflection wavered in the dark wine, and in that reflection, his lips curved with sorrow. He had known this day would come. mos panuwat was a man who always got what he wanted. To be loved by him was like being adored by the sun: warm, dazzling… but blinding, and dangerously close to burning.

From the far side of the hall,

JAMIE watched in silence. She was beautiful in her embroidered gown, a jade hairpin glinting under candlelight, yet her eyes held no joy. She had grown up with them as well. She knew mos obsession better than anyone else, and she knew the cost.

Her fan snapped open with a soft click. That vow will be his downfall, she thought. And perhaps, Banky too.

mos reached out, gripping banky’s wrist with a force that made the younger man flinch. “Promise me, banky. Promise me you’ll stay by my side. Say the words.”

The entire hall seemed to fade—the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the music of string instruments—all drowned under the weight of his demand.

banky’s lips parted, but no words came. He felt the chain tightening already, invisible yet unbreakable.

And in that moment, under the glowing lights of celebration, the future was sealed. The vow that should have been tender became the first stone laid on the path of tragedy.

✨ This is just the opening scene, setting the stage for mos panuwat’s vow → his obsession → his eventual downfall.✨

The weeks after the banquet passed in quiet ripples, but within the panuwat residence, the air grew heavier with each day.

mos had never been the type to let go once he had spoken his mind. A vow, to him, was as binding as an imperial decree. And his vow to BANKY MONUDOP—to marry him at any cost—etched itself into every thought, every glance, every decision he made.

From the moment banky woke, mos shadow followed.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” mos voice was sharp one morning as he entered banky's chamber without knocking. The servants bowed hastily, retreating at his signal.

“I—yes, Young Master.” banky set down his porridge bowl, startled.

mos scanned the tray, frowning. “Too plain. You’ll lose weight. From now on, have the kitchen prepare double portions. And no more late-night studies—you look tired.”

banky opened his mouth to protest, but the words died under mos gaze. That gaze was unwavering, dark as obsidian, layered with an intensity that felt less like care and more like chains.

“I’m fine,” banky said softly, lowering his eyes.

“Fine?” mos laughed coldly, tilting banky's chin upward with a gloved hand. “Do you think I don’t notice? Every detail of you—I see it all. Don’t hide from me.”

banky's breath caught. For a moment, the warmth of childhood friendship flickered behind mos harshness, but it was gone too quickly, replaced by that suffocating possessiveness.

Later that day, jamie found banky in the garden, watering a small cluster of chrysanthemums. His movements were steady, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the heaviness in his silence.

“He’s getting worse, isn’t he?” she asked quietly.

banky flinched. He turned, offering her the same gentle smile he offered everyone. “Who?”

“Don’t act with me, banky ,” jamie said, stepping closer. Her fan snapped open, shielding their conversation from prying eyes. “mos" You think I haven’t noticed the way he watches you, follows you, dictates your life? He’s not protecting you. He’s caging you.”

banky's fingers trembled around the watering can. His lips parted, then closed again.

“He’s only… concerned,” banky whispered, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Concern does not crush a bird’s wings,” jamie said firmly. Her eyes softened. “You’re his childhood friend, not his possession. Don’t let him drag you into ruin with him.”

banky turned away, gazing at the chrysanthemums—yellow, delicate, fragile against the autumn wind. His chest ached with a truth he could not speak: that he had once prayed for mos gaze, longed for it, cherished it. That he had wanted, secretly, desperately, to be the only one mos saw.

And now that he was the only one, he felt like he was drowning in it.

That evening, mos summoned banky to his study. The room was lit by a single lantern, casting shadows across the lacquered desk. Piles of scrolls and documents lay untouched.

“Sit.” mos command was quiet but heavy.

banky obeyed, folding his hands on his lap.

“I’ve dismissed Zhou Ming.”

banky blinked. “Your steward? But why—”

“He was too close to you,” mos interrupted coldly. “Always lingering, speaking to you unnecessarily. I won’t have men like him buzzing around you like flies.”

mos heart sank. “He’s served your family for years…”

“And he overstepped,” mos said, eyes narrowing. “From now on, no one is to speak to you without my knowledge. If they do, they’ll face consequences.”

The words settled like iron shackles. banky lowered his head, hiding the pain in his eyes.

“Why?” he whispered.

“Because you are mine,” mos said simply. He leaned forward, gripping banky's wrist with bruising force. “And I will not let anyone—anyone—steal you from me.”

The lantern flickered. Shadows danced across mos sharp features, turning his devotion into something darker, more frightening.

banky's lips trembled. He wanted to scream, to break free, to tell mos that love was not meant to feel like prison bars. But when he lifted his eyes, he saw the madness hidden behind mos affection—the madness of a man who would destroy the world rather than lose him.

And so he said nothing.

jamie warning echoed in his mind: Don’t let him drag you into ruin with him.

But deep in banky's chest, beneath the fear, a stubborn ember of love still glowed.

If only… if only he could learn to love without chains.

✨ End of Chapter 2: The Obsession.

This shows the shift from tender vow → controlling obsession, banky's conflicted emotions, and jamie's role as the voice of reason.

The whispers began long before the storm arrived.

In the city streets, merchants muttered about Mos’s ruthless temper. Servants in the panuwat estate—once loyal—now spoke in hushed tones of his growing paranoia. Every day, more people fell under his suspicion. Every day, another life was ruined in his desperate attempt to keep Banky bound to him.

But the world would not stay silent forever.

It was on a night thick with rain that fate delivered its judgment.

Banky sat alone in his chamber, staring at the faint glow of the oil lamp. His reflection shimmered faintly on the lacquered table—a young man with kind eyes, weighed down by chains invisible to all but himself.

His heart trembled with a decision he could no longer avoid.

“Jamie was right…” he whispered, clutching the sleeve of his robe. “If I stay by his side, I will vanish piece by piece until nothing remains of me.”

A soft knock came at the door.

“Banky,” Jamie’s voice called gently. “It’s time.”

He opened the door to see her, drenched from the rain, her eyes burning with urgency.

“Mos is spiraling,” Jamie said. “The ministers petition the court. His family is losing their influence. If you stay, you’ll be dragged down with him. You have to leave tonight.”

Banky’s chest clenched with guilt. Leave him? After all the years… after the vows he made…

But another voice inside him whispered cruelly: Stay, and you’ll never breathe again.

They had only made it to the courtyard when Mos appeared, his figure looming through the sheets of rain.

“Going somewhere?”

His voice was calm, but the calmness was more terrifying than rage. His eyes locked onto Banky, burning with betrayal.

“Mos—” Banky began, stepping forward, his robe heavy with water.

But Mos’s hand shot out, gripping his arm. “You think you can leave me? After everything? After I gave you my vow, my life, my soul?”

His voice cracked, desperation bleeding through. “Banky, you’re mine. You swore it with your silence. You looked at me and let me believe. You can’t—don’t you dare—turn your back now!”

Banky’s eyes stung with tears. “I never swore, Mos. You chained me with words I never spoke. This… this isn’t love.”

For the first time, Mos faltered. The rain washed down his face, mixing with something rawer than fury—grief, disbelief, fear.

“No…” His grip loosened, trembling. “No, you don’t mean that. You can’t mean that.”

Jamie stepped between them, her fan snapping shut with a sharp clap. “Enough, Mos. If you truly loved him, you’d set him free.”

The words struck like a blade. Mos staggered back, eyes wide, chest heaving.

“Free?” he repeated, almost laughing. “You want me to set him free? Do you know what happens when I let go? There will be nothing left. Without him… I am nothing.”

And in that single breath, the truth became clear to all three: Mos’s love was not love at all. It was a hunger, a void dressed in devotion.

---

The end came quickly.

The court turned against him. Allies abandoned him. His family name crumbled under scandal and ruin. And Mos, stripped of power and standing, was left with nothing but the hollow echo of his own vow.

On the night of his downfall, he returned to the garden where Banky once watered chrysanthemums. The flowers had withered, their fragile petals scattered by the wind.

Mos sank to his knees, rain soaking through his robes. He pressed his forehead to the cold earth.

“I only wanted you,” he whispered into the darkness. “Even if it destroyed me.”

And with those final words, the villain’s end was sealed.

His story—the first one—closed with chains of his own making.

But fate was not finished with him yet.

Because villains, too, are given second chances.

✨ End of Chapter 3.