(Third POV)
Vince Kho refused to let anything end quietly.
That was a fact everyone in the Inner Nine had accepted long ago — usually with a sigh, occasionally with affection, and always with mild dread.
So when he burst into the common area after dinner, jacket half-zipped, eyes shining with the manic joy of a man who believed deeply in unnecessary tradition, nobody even questioned it.
"I will NOT," he announced, slapping his hands together like an overenthusiastic event planner who had just discovered joy, "allow the final night in the Kho Winter Estate to pass without culture, dignity, or chaos."
Jeff didn't even look up from his drink. "He's about to make us sing again."
"Incorrect," Vince scoffed. "We sing willingly tonight."
Andy lifted a brow. "That's worse."
