Hi guys—ahem
Did I say the Epilogue was officially the last chapter? 👀
Well—I lied....😊
Enjoy the surprise 😉✨
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There was a stillness in the room.
Not the comfortable kind — but the sort that wrapped itself around the walls, holding its breath.
As though time knew something was about to shift. As though the very floor beneath had bowed in silent deference.
The mirror stood tall against the far wall — catching only glimpses. A hand. The slope of a shoulder. The faintest brush of dark fabric.
A figure moved in the reflection — not hurried, not idle — just... deliberate. As if every gesture carried weight.
The rustle of fabric whispered across the quiet, followed by the soft metallic click of a watch strap being adjusted. The sound was small. Insignificant. And yet it echoed.
Fourth hadn't spoken.
He didn't need to.
The mirror caught him fully now, and for a moment — it was hard to look away.
He stood still, the kind of stillness that wasn't born of hesitation but of control. Precision. Power. The suit he wore wasn't just tailored — it was sculpted. A deep, endless black that clung to his frame like shadow, trimmed with the faintest edge of gold at the cuffs and collar — subtle, royal, impossible to ignore.
His shirt was pristine white — not stark, but almost glowing beneath the soft, amber light. The collar framed his throat, upright and severe, giving way to the barest glimpse of collarbone beneath the undone top button. The waistcoat was a deeper tone, wine-dark, the kind of color that came alive only under close scrutiny — much like the man himself.
He wore no rings. No pin. No insignia.
And yet everything about him screamed legacy.
His features were impossibly poised — jawline clean, nose proud, lips set in something that wasn't quite a smile, but carried the memory of one. His hair, dark and styled with just, framed his face like a crown he hadn't yet put on.
He didn't wear the ceremonial jacket yet.
But he already looked like a king.
A Greek tragedy rewritten in silk and gold. A god who had walked through fire and chosen to stay.
His eyes — when they finally lifted to meet the mirror — were still.
Not cold. Not burning.
Just... certain.
And somewhere beyond that door, the world was waiting.
But for now — in this moment — he was just Fourth.
Almost ready.
Almost crowned.
And utterly unforgettable.
The air shifted — only slightly — but Fourth felt it.
A presence. Familiar. Heavy, not in weight, but in gravity. The kind of presence that made lesser men straighten their spines without knowing why.
He didn't turn.
He didn't need to.
Behind him, the door closed with a soft click.
The silence stretched.
And then — in the mirror — he appeared.
Gemini.
Stepping into the frame like he'd walked out of a different realm, his figure cutting sharp lines through the golden light. He wore black too — of course he did — but not just any black. His suit was brutal in its elegance, the fabric catching the light like oil on water. No embellishments, no distraction — just clean, commanding lines and undeniable presence.
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The Bound Collision
FanfictionSome people are just not meant to be "allies," but it's not always we who decide it. Fourth Nattawat Jirochtikul, heir to the Jirochtikul mafia clan, had his life decided since birth. He was meant to rule, and he knew it. But it wasn't in Fourth's c...
