Apo's mansion loomed large over the pristine estate, an architectural masterpiece of glass and stone perched high above the surrounding city. The driveway was lined with imported palm trees, the kind that screamed wealth and power, and Seth felt the weight of both as he parked his car. He hesitated for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly before exhaling sharply.
The grand double doors swung open before he could knock, a sharply dressed attendant ushering him inside without a word. The walk to the sitting room was a gauntlet of wealth: marble floors, priceless artwork, and understated but unmistakable displays of Apo's influence. It made Seth's stomach churn.
The sitting room itself was no different, a space designed to intimidate. Apo lounged in a leather armchair near the fireplace, a glass of amber liquor in hand. Asyut, leaning casually against the mantle, exuded his usual smugness, his arms crossed as he watched Seth enter.
"Well, well," Apo drawled, his sharp eyes glinting as he gestured toward an empty chair. "Look who finally decided to join us. Seth, I was beginning to think you'd forgotten our little arrangement." Seth ignored the invitation to sit, his jaw tight. "Let's cut the crap, Apo. What do you want?"
Apo smirked, his expression as polished and dangerous as the rest of him. "What do I want? I want to make sure you're still a team player."
"I didn't sign up for this," Seth snapped, stepping closer. "Oh's accident wasn't supposed to happen."
"Wasn't supposed to happen?" Asyut interjected with a laugh, pushing off the mantle. "You're acting like you're innocent in all this. You knew the stakes when you answered Apo's call that night."
The memory of that night felt as if it had happened the day before.
Seth froze, his grip tightening on the phone. "Who is this?" He looked around cautiously, searching for any signs of cameras or audio devices.
The voice chuckled lightly, but there was no warmth in it. "Let's just say I've been… watching. I know what you're capable of—and what you're not. I also know you've been struggling. That fire of yours is burning out, isn't it?" Seth's jaw clenched. "I don't know who you think you are, but I'm not in the mood for games."
"Oh, this isn't a game," the voice replied, their tone turning sharper. "This is an opportunity. I can help you, Seth. Help you find that edge you've been missing. But only if you're willing to take a risk." There was silence for a moment… "What kind of risk?" Seth asked warily, his heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the punching bag he had been using moments before. "You'll find out soon enough," the voice said. "Check your email. There's a message waiting for you. Read it. And Seth… don't waste this chance. It might be your last."
The call ended abruptly, leaving Seth staring at his phone. Despite the heat in the room, he felt a chill run down his spine. His instincts screamed at him not to trust whoever this was, but curiosity and desperation gnawed at him. He tossed the phone onto the counter, walked over to his laptop, and opened his email. Sure enough, there was a single unread message from an address he didn't recognize. The subject line read:
"Are you ready to race again?"
Seth hesitated, his hand hovering over the mouse. Something told him this was bigger than just another race, but he couldn't walk away now. He clicked the message.
That night haunted Seth's mind, and he shook off the memories, full of regret and pain.
"I knew the stakes, but I didn't agree to that," Seth shot back, glaring at Asyut before turning to Apo. "I told you I wanted out before the race. I told you this was going too far."
"And I told you," Apo said smoothly, leaning back in his chair, "that there are no exits once you're in the game. You're too valuable, Seth. I wasn't about to let you walk away." Seth's fists clenched at his sides. "So, what did you do? You sent someone else to sabotage Oh's bike?"
Apo didn't answer immediately, taking a leisurely sip of his drink instead. The silence was damning.
"Oh's in a coma because of you. He could DIE!" Seth growled, his voice low and filled with fury. "If you think I'm going to keep quiet about this, you're wrong." Apo's expression hardened, his smirk fading into something colder. "Careful, Seth. You're walking a dangerous line."
Seth stepped closer, his voice rising. "You think you can scare me into silence? I'll go to the authorities. I'll tell them everything." Apo's chuckle was soft but menacing. He set his glass down and stood, his imposing presence casting a long shadow over Seth. "You really think you can play the hero now?" Apo grabbed Seth's throat, fingers pressing down on his windpipe. "Let me remind you, Seth—you're in this as deep as I am. It will say you tampered with Oh's bike first. There's a trail, and it leads straight to you."
Asyut joined in, his laughter sharp and cruel. "Face it, Seth. You're not clean. You'll go down just as hard as anyone else."
"I tried to stop it," Seth spat. "I tried to back out before anyone got hurt."
"And yet here we are," Apo said, his voice like ice. He brought his lips to Seth's ear, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You expose me, and I'll make sure the world knows your part in this. You'll lose everything—your career, your reputation… Your family. You'll be a pariah. And if you think that's the worst I can do…" He trailed off, his smile returning, cruel and calculated.
Seth glared at him, nails digging into the older man's wrist, but the weight of Apo's threat pressed heavily on his chest. "You'd risk that much just to keep me quiet?"
Apo tilted his head, his expression turning almost amused. "Risk? No, Seth. This isn't about risk. This is about control. And I don't tolerate loose ends." Seth's hands curled into fists, his voice dropping to a growl. "You're not untouchable, Apo. People like you always think you are—until someone proves otherwise."
"Try me," Apo said, his tone almost bored. "Go ahead, make your move. But let me remind you, accidents happen. Another crash, another 'unfortunate' headline. It wouldn't take much to turn the spotlight onto you." Asyut smirked, his voice dripping with mockery. "You might want to think twice, champ." Seth's mind raced, every fiber of his being wanting to lash out, to break free from the web Apo had spun around him. But he knew the truth: Apo had him cornered.
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the confrontation suffocating. Finally, Apo released the racer's neck, and Seth took a step back, his gaze hard. "This isn't over," Seth said, his voice low but resolute.
Apo smiled, his polished facade slipping back into place. "Oh, I'm counting on it."
Without another word, Seth turned and strode out of the room, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. Asyut's laughter followed him out, but it was Apo's chilling calm that stayed with him.
As he climbed into his car and slammed the door, Seth's breath came in ragged bursts. He didn't know how, but he knew one thing for certain: he had to find a way out of Apo's grip—before Apo destroyed him, or worse, someone else.
—On the other side of town—
Sun and Mel sat in a quiet corner of a bustling coffee shop, their table tucked away from prying eyes. Sun wore his usual baseball cap and surgical mask, leaning slightly forward as he spoke in a low voice. Across from him, Mel sipped his coffee, his notebook and pen at the ready.
"I need you to talk to Asyut," Sun said, his tone serious. "See if you can get anything out of him about his connections—specifically Apo."
Mel raised an eyebrow. "Asyut? You sure he'll actually say anything useful?" Sun smirked faintly behind the mask. "He's cocky. Cocky people love to brag. If Apo is as involved with him as I think, Asyut won't be able to help himself."
Mel sighed, setting down his cup. "Alright. For the mission. But don't blame me if I come back with a headache."
Sun chuckled softly. "Just don't let him get to you. Stick to the plan."
—A few days later—
The garage where Asyut kept his bike was a stark contrast to the sleek professionalism of the official racing pits. Tools were scattered haphazardly across workbenches, and the faint smell of oil lingered in the air. Asyut leaned against his bike, a smug grin plastered across his face as Mel entered, notebook in hand.
"Well, well," Astut drawled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "They said a reporter wanted to talk to me, but I didn't think they'd send someone this pretty."
Mel forced a polite smile, his pen poised over the notebook. "Asyut, thanks for agreeing to the interview. Let's jump right in—how do you feel about your performance this season?"
Asyut shrugged, his grin widening. "Couldn't be better. Every race, I'm proving I'm the one to beat. Seth has his moment for now, but I'm the future of this circuit."
Mel nodded, jotting down notes. "Speaking of the future, I noticed you've got some new branding on your jacket and bike. Can you tell me about that?"
Asyut's chest puffed up, clearly pleased. "Ah, you noticed! That's Apo—my new sponsor. Big deal in the racing world, and he's got big plans for me. With him backing me, the deals are gonna roll in. Brand endorsements, maybe even some international attention."
Mel tilted his head, his pen scratching across the page. "Apo is a prominent figure, isn't he? How did you end up working with him?"
The racer smirked, leaning closer. "He approached me, said he saw my potential. Said I've got the charisma to take racing to the next level. He's got connections everywhere—this is just the beginning."
Mel nodded, keeping his expression neutral despite the churn of thoughts in his head. "And what kind of expectations does he have for you as a racer?"
"Win," Asyut said simply, his grin turning sharp. "Win big, and look good doing it. That's what sponsors like him care about."
Mel jotted it down, then flipped to a new page in his notebook. "Do you think his involvement changes the dynamics of the circuit? Having someone with his influence behind you?"
Asyut laughed, his tone cocky. "It definitely puts me ahead of the pack. But hey, that's just business. You've got to have the right people in your corner if you want to make it big."
Mel nodded again, then glanced up. The other man was staring at him with an intensity that made his skin crawl.
"You know," Asyut said, his tone shifting to something more suggestive, "I don't mind interviews like this. Maybe we could grab a drink sometime…talk more off the record."
Mel kept his composure, offering a polite but firm smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I like to keep things professional. Now, about your training regimen—how has it changed since Apo came on board?"
Asyut's grin faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Ah, come on. You're all business, huh? Fine, my training. Apo brought in some new people to tighten up my game. It's intense, but you've gotta push yourself if you want to stay on top."
Mel scribbled down the response, ignoring the lingering glances the racer kept throwing his way. After a few more generic questions, he closed his notebook and stood.
"Thanks for your time, Asyut," he said, his tone curt but polite. "This has been helpful."
Asyut's smirk returned as he leaned against his bike. "Anytime, sweetheart. You know where to find me."
Mel resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he turned and walked out of the garage, his notebook clutched tightly in his hand.
—
The faint hum of the city outside provided a steady background noise in Mel's condo as he leaned back on his couch, phone pressed to his ear. His notebook rested on the coffee table in front of him, open to hastily scribbled notes from his interview with Asyut. A cold cup of coffee sat forgotten beside it.
"Hawk?" Mel said, his voice tinged with exhaustion but steady. "You there?"
"I'm here," Sun replied on the other end, his voice clearer without his usual surgical mask. "How'd it go?"
Mel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Exactly like I expected it would. Asyut's got the personality of a peacock and the charm of a used car salesman. He couldn't stop bragging about Apo."
There was a soft chuckle from Sun. "Sounds about right. What did he say?"
Mel flipped through his notes, his eyes scanning the page. "Apo is his new sponsor, and he's treating Asyut like his golden ticket. Wants to make him the face of the circuit. Asyut made it sound like Apo is pulling all the strings—brand deals, training, even Asyut's image."
"That's more control than a typical sponsor would have," Sun mused. "Apo isn't just backing him for the usual perks. He's planning something bigger."
"Exactly what I thought," Mel said. "And Asyut was all too happy to spill the details. Apo has been tightening his training regimen, bringing in specialists, upping the stakes. This isn't just about racing—it's about dominance. Apo wants to own the circuit, and Asyut is his pawn."
Sun was quiet for a beat on the other end of the line, his voice more carefully measured when he finally replied, "And Asyut? Did he say anything useful?" Mel let out a sigh, dragging a hand through his hair as he sank deeper into the couch. "Aside from trying to get my number? Not much. Called me 'pretty,' said we should grab a drink sometime."
There was a pause—just half a second too long—before Sun gave a short, forced-sounding chuckle. "Ah. Charming."
Mel raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly at the tone. "You good over there?"
"I'm fine," Sun replied a little too quickly. "I just didn't peg him for the type to hit on reporters mid-interview."
"He's definitely that type," Mel said dryly. "But he's clueless. He has no idea what Apo's actually up to. He's too busy looking in the mirror and flexing for the cameras."
"Guess that works out for us," Sun muttered. "If he's that distracted, he won't notice what we're doing." There was another pause. Then, more quietly, he added, "Anyway. Doesn't matter if he flirts. He's not your type."
Mel blinked, caught off guard. "Oh? And what exactly is my type?"
The sound of Sun clearing his throat came through the speaker. "You know. Someone… less obnoxious." Mel grinned to himself. "Sure, Sun. Whatever you say."
On the other end of the line, Sun was already regretting saying anything at all. He cleared his throat. "That's exactly what I needed to know," Sun said, his tone turning serious again. "Thank you. You did good."
Mel couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "You're welcome. But next time, you owe me. Asyut's winks? Never again."
"Fair deal," Sun replied, amusement creeping into his voice. "Next time, I'll make sure it's not him." Mel chuckled softly. "Good. Because I might throw something if I have to sit through that again."
There was a pause on the other end before Sun spoke again, his voice softer now. "We're getting closer, Mel. One piece at a time." Mel nodded, even though Sun couldn't see him. "We are. And I'm not stopping until we find the truth. For Oh."
"For P'Oh," Sun echoed.
As they ended the call, Mel leaned forward and closed his notebook. The weight of their mission pressed on his shoulders, but there was also a sense of purpose. Together, they were chipping away at the lies, and each piece brought them closer to uncovering the truth.