Chapter Text
In this world as an individual turns eighteen, they awake the morning of their birthday alongside an animal. This animal is a piece of their soulmate's soul, a physical manifestation meant to guide its owner towards their destined other half.
In the Theerapanyakul family matters of the heart are never a private affair. Every time a member of the mafia family is about to turn eighteen, the bodyguards carry out a barbaric ritual where they strap the young charge onto a chair and wheel them out and place them before their family who sit in a semi-circle around them. According to their history, it is all done in an effort to ensure the soulmate's animal isn't an embarrassment to the family name. In the present day, it is a reminder from Korn, the main family head, that no soulmate can protect them from the harsh and painful cruelties of their world.
Vegas lies in his shackles, staring as the digital clock slowly ticks upwards minute by minute. It is thirty minutes until midnight, when time crosses over into his birthday.
Macau, Vegas’ beloved little brother, fidgets in his seat. He is thirteen, five years away from the family's interesting choice of bonding experience. Kim, Vegas’ not so beloved younger cousin, is visibly annoyed as he is dragged into the chamber despite the three years before he meets his own animal. Vegas’ father Kan and his uncle Korn sit without their soul animals. He knew his uncle's black swan died with his aunt, and his father's crane died with his mother.
The only two members of the family who retain their soul animals are Vegas’ older cousins. Tankhun, the flamboyant basket case, currently snuggling with his freak of nature hybrid between a sun bear and an elephant on the chaise, and Kinn, the pretentious main family heir, currently gently petting his prankster of an imperial eagle. The flying rat always stole Vegas’ jewelry to bring back to its master.
With a tick, the clock strikes midnight.
It's long hand ticks another second into the new day.
Eventually, they are officially a minute into Vegas’ birthday.
“Hmm,” Uncle Korn hums. “Maybe he doesn’t have one.”
Tankhun snorts. “It would be him.”
Vegas blinks.
When he opens his eyes again a blinding crimson light dashes across his chest towards the spot where his heart beats against his ribcage. Jagged lines cross his skin until the cracked sections fall into his body leaving a gaping crimson hole in his chest. He looks like he is bleeding from a massive gaping heart-shaped womb.
Then, a shadow emerges.
The shadow isn’t fast. It didn’t shoot out like Kinn’s faux phoenix or stumble like Tankhun’s misshapen creature. Instead, long claws latch onto the sides until all four giant paws land on the ground. In the darkness of the night, it takes a second for the family to recognize the creature crawling out before them.
Macau cheers in delight. “It is a leopard!”
It is a leopard, one with fur as dark as the minor family’s cells, and it paces back and forth in the room. It is more restless than his cousins’ animals were, as it paces and paces and paces.
The leopard stops.
The leopard growls.
The leopard slowly turns its head towards Vegas’ father.
The animals are a part of a person’s soul, so the animals are capable of interacting with the environment around them. While it isn’t necessary for their survival, owners get into the habit of feeding, playing, and sleeping with them. There is certainly no record of an animal harming another living being, and that is why no one stops the leopard from lunging, jaw unhinged and fangs outstretched, onto Kan’s throat. Blood sprays as the creature’s three hundred pound bite force rips through the mafia boss’ flesh, and the crack of his bones echoes throughout the chamber. Eventually, the only sound is his body hitting the ground.
Vegas grips the arms of his chair, eyes stuck on the lifeless form of his father, as the leopard sits and methodically grooms itself.
Vegas risks a look at the rest of the Theerapanyakul family. Tankhun’s hands cover Macau’s eyes, while his hybrid covers Tankhun’s eyes with its trunk. Kinn is as pale as a sheet, while his eagle blissfully ignores the violence and playfully tugs the leopard’s ears.
Vegas will never forget his Uncle Korn’s face. It is the first and only time Vegas ever sees him lose his facade as his eyes shine with absolute fear.
Vegas looks back at the leopard. It is engaging in some predator-prey game with Kinn’s eagle. He wonders what the leopard represents for his future.
Across Thailand in a small northern village, a cobra coils around a toned neck as an olive skinned young man drags a body through dense woods. No matter how tightly the cobra squeezes, the young man keeps moving until he kicks the carcass down a slope and into the water below. He watches the corpse slowly sink into the water, shards of alcohol bottles sticking out like pufferfish spikes.
The cobra squeezes tighter.
“You are being annoying,” the young man mutters.
He untangles the serpent from his neck and holds out the creature until they are eye to eye. The cobra flicks out its tongue, a motion the young man returns. In retribution, the cobra starts wiggling out of its scales leaving behind a long white tube.
“Why are you shedding now?” The young man complains. “Fine! Fine! I’ll bring you back. We’ll have some peace for once.”
Despite the murder in the morning, Vegas’ eighteenth birthday passes without further incident.
The ring on Vegas’ finger is awkward as he dishes out hot pot for his younger brother, and the leopard is heavy as it lays across him and Macau’s lap for movie night.
The two brothers quickly discover the leopard won’t leave Vegas alone, a reality neither are prepared for. Tankhun is naturally clingy towards his soul animal, while Kinn’s eagle takes off for quick flights throughout the day. The leopard won’t even wander the house if Vegas isn’t with it. This brought relief to the bodyguards whose gossip ensures the entire underworld knows the truth about the late Khun Kan’s death, but there is no relief for Vegas who doesn’t want to see the dry blood which covers its muzzle.
His birthday ends with the leopard curled on his bed, waiting for him to crawl under the sheets. Vegas sighs as he turns on his bedside lamp, and pulls out the book he was reading.
A weight lands on his leg.
Vegas looks down to see the leopard staring at him. It glances between his face and the book, eyes wide and pleading.
“Are you asking for a bedtime story?”
The leopard nudges the hardcover book in his hands.
Vegas huffs, “Fine, but it is in English.”
The leopard doesn’t care, and purrs as Vegas starts reading the chapter.