From Black and white to Purpose and Light

Chapter 7

“Venice!?” they shouted in unison.

“Is he really is Venice, Grandpa?” Dia asked, shocked.

“Yes, Dia. Venice,” his grandpa confirmed.

Venice glanced at his grandpa, then at the children. “They’re your cousins, and Saifah is your younger brother.”

When Venice looked at Saifah, a sudden, inexplicable sense of brotherly connection washed over him. In truth, that bond had already been there the moment he laid eyes on Saifah.

“Hey, cus!” Phoenix slung his arm around Venice’s shoulders as if they had been friends for years. “Let’s go play!” He gently nudged Venice toward the place where they could all run and play.

“Phoenix! Hey, wait for us!” Dia shouted, racing to catch up.

The others quickly followed, leaving Korn and Gun standing behind. For a moment, both men shared a quiet laugh, watching the children vanish into laughter and unrestrained joy.

“Catch this, Ven-ven!” Phoenix called, tossing the ball toward him.

Venice caught it successfully, his face crumpling in confusion. “Ven-ven? Are you… talking about me?”

“Who else, Ven-ven?” Phoenix teased, grinning.

“Stop calling me Ven-ven,” Venice said, though there was no real irritation in his tone. Phoenix refused to listen, sticking his tongue out playfully. In the end, Venice had no choice but to let his cousin continue calling him Ven-ven.

Out of the corner of his eye, Venice noticed his younger brother, Saifah, standing alone. Meanwhile, Dia and Kharin were together, listening to Dia’s nonstop chatter. Venice approached Saifah, and Phoenix followed him shortly after.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Venice asked, using the softest tone he could muster. Slowly, Saifah lifted his head to look at his brother. Venice’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of his puffed eyes and tear-streaked face. And not just that—by the way he looked right now, he reminded him of…

Abruptly, Saifah hugged him tightly. “Phi…” a small sob escaped.

Instinctively, Venice placed his hand on his brother’s back, gently tapping him. “I don’t know what happened, but everything’s going to be alright.” Saifah bit his lip and nodded sharply twice.

“Hey, what happened to Sai?” Phoenix asked, clearly clueless.

“Please keep your mouth shut for a minute,” Venice warned protectively, his patience nearly overwhelmed.

Phoenix raised his hands like he was surrendering. “Gezz, okay, fine.”

“Saifah, can I call you Sai?” Venice asked gently.

“Khap, Phi,” Saifah replied softly.

“Sai, let’s go inside. I’ll ask someone to prepare something for you, hm?” Venice helped him stand, even though Saifah could walk on his own.

Soon, Kharin noticed them leaving and, out of curiosity, followed behind to ask Phoenix about it—yet Phoenix was just as clueless as everyone else.

“What’s going on?” Kharin asked, glancing between Venice and Saifah. “Don’t tell me it’s about the company again?”

Saifah hesitated, then slowly nodded.

“Tch! If only I could handle two companies at once, I would—just for you!” Kharin pouted angrily.

“Company?” Venice asked, genuinely clueless.

“It’s a rule set by our great-grandfather,” Kharin explained. “The older child is supposed to handle the company. But after you were kidn*pped at birth, Saifah became the next in line.”

“So you’re saying you’re handling the company at this age?” Venice asked, astonished. “Aren’t you still studying?”

“We are,” Kharin replied calmly, “but I’m also learning how to manage the company.”

Venice was shocked. He could never have imagined this was the life they were living.

“We might be young, like other people might think,” Dia said proudly, “but we’re smart enough, like grown men, to already learn how to run a company.”

“Don’t talk as if you’re the heir to a company,” Phoenix interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, it’s true! I got Papa’s beauty” Phoenix said, grinning.

Everyone glared at him in disgust, silently refusing to agree.

“How dare you all!” Dia exclaimed, dramatically offended.

As everyone busied themselves with disagreeing and teasing Dia’s statement, Kharin’s words lingered in Phayu’s mind. He stole a glance at his brother, who was watching Dia, Phoenix, and Kharin laughing together. The sight made Phayu hesitate, doubts stirring within him.

If I hadn’t gone missing… would my brother have been free from the burden of being the heir to the company? The answer came to him, sharp and certain—yes.

But that freedom would have been stolen from him. The thought weighed heavily, and he let out a quiet, secret sigh.

Then, in his eyes, a spark of determination flickered—and in that moment, a decision was made.

---

“Grandpa, Granduncle,” his voice carried a rare determination as he spoke. “Can you do me a favor?”

Gun and Korn exchanged a look, both caught off guard. It had been a long time since Venice had asked them for anything.

“What is it?” Gun asked attentively.

Venice’s fist tightened, and he drew in a steady breath before speaking. This was his first true decision—one made not for himself, but for his brother. A choice that would grant his brother freedom… at the cost of his own.

“Are you sure, Venice? Don’t you—don’t you want to be free a little longer before being locked into this duty? You still have plenty of time to adjust—” Gun’s voice faltered, but before he could continue, Venice cut in firmly.

“I’m sure, Grandpa.”

Korn’s shoulders slumped, his sigh carrying quiet defeat. “If that’s what you want, we’ll make the arrangements.”

“But, Korn—” Gun tried to protest.

“It was Venice’s decision,” Korn interjected, his tone steady though laced with heaviness. “Though it may be early for him, perhaps this duty came seeking him, not the other way around. We didn’t force him—he chose this himself.”

Gun’s gaze fell, conflicted, before he turned back to Venice, searching his face as if hoping to find a trace of hesitation. His voice softened. “Are you truly certain about this?”

Venice met his eyes without wavering. “Khap.”

---

20 years later

“Khun, here’s what you asked for.” His new assistant carefully set the freshly brewed coffee on the desk before stepping back to stand aside.

Venice gave no response—only silence. The lack of acknowledgment unsettled the assistant, and, embarrassed, he slipped out of the room without another word.

Venice, too absorbed in the mountain of paperwork spread before him, didn’t notice the awkward exit. He remained focused, eyes fixed on the documents as he absentmindedly reached for the coffee and lifted it to his lips.

He took a slow sip.

The assistant’s lips curled into a thin smile. The moment Venice drank, the substance he had slipped into the cup began to take effect. That was the signal.

Lifting a discreet communicator, he whispered, “You’re clear to move in"

On the other end, his allies were already in motion.

As soon as they arrived, they found Venice already slumped unconscious over his desk, and a sigh of relief escaped them.

“Take all the important documents and leave the useless ones,” he ordered, his voice cold and sharp. The men nodded in obedience.

While his men continued rummaging for what he wanted, he cast a final glare at Venice’s motionless form, his chin lifted with disdain. “This will be the end of you, Venice Theerapanyakul,” he muttered, as though sealing Venice’s downfall with his words.

“Sir, we’ve found everything you wanted,” one of his men reported.

He took a quick glance, then snatched the papers to inspect them further. “Good.”

His eyes scanned the room left and right before signaling his men to leave. But before he could step away, the tables suddenly turned—literally and figuratively.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The voice froze him in his tracks. He whipped his head back, eyes widening in shock. Venice was no longer unconscious—he was very much awake, his gaze sharp and steady. Anxiety prickled at his skin, a nervousness he could not hide.