KNOT.

Chapter 1 - Opening.

The author is currently writing and uploading The Knot novel, which is a bit unusual since the series is just starting. You can read it in both Thai and English, but the English translation isn’t very good, possibly to prevent people from reposting it. I’m reading along and will share updates as soon as the author posts them. Keep in mind that the author might not upload the entire novel, so what’s available could change, especially since it’s free to read. I’ll do my best to update my translation regularly.

  ════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

There was a certain kind of light the city wore in the evening-a light that was not bright enough to be called day, yet not dark enough to be called night. Everything seemed glazed in pale gold and grey. Buses scraped noisily along the road. People crossed paths on their way home. The smell of dust, smoke, and ordinary days lingered in the air, as if it had been doing this job for years.

 

And in the middle of all that ordinary sameness, Phatsa moved quietly through the crowd in a way that made people glance at him without meaning to. He was fair-skinned, with light-coloured hair that caught the evening glow, making him stand out just a little more than everyone else. He was not broad or bulky like the kind of guy who liked showing off his muscles, but compact, agile, and built like someone always ready to move. 

 

A plain t-shirt and ordinary pants somehow looked annoyingly good on him, not because they were expensive, but because he looked like he would still be handsome even in a fertiliser sack. He walked like someone who knew exactly where he was going. Shoulders straight. Eyes calm. Steps unhurried but never slow. He had that kind of effortless cool that some people spend their entire lives trying to take. And when he went quiet, the sharp stillness in his face made him seem like someone who could handle more than a person his age should have to.

 

Phatsa was not the type to get involved in other people's business. At least, that was what he liked to think. But that day, a sound cut in from the narrow alley beside an old building. At first, it sounded like an argument. But on closer listening, there was something wrong with the voices. It was not just anger. There was fear in it too, the kind that told you this was not about to end with, "Let's talk it out."

 

Phatsa halted and turned toward the sound. The alley was narrow, dark, and stale. The concrete walls stood so close together they seemed to squeeze the air thin. Black trash bags were piled in one corner. An old bulb above a back door flickered on and off. And there, in that bad light, he saw someone being cornered against the wall. Two men stood on either side of him, their expressions hungry in the kind of way that instantly told you they were not worth knowing. The person trapped between them was trying to push them apart, even though he clearly did not have the strength to do much.

 

"Let me go!"

 

The voice rang out short, sharp, and more than enough. Phatsa did not stop to think. He did not ask questions. He did not hold a meeting in his head first. He moved. He launched himself into the alley in the next second. The first yank sent one of them stumbling into the wall. The other spun around in fury, but Phatsa did not give him time to recover. He shoved the man hard in the shoulder and drove a punch straight into him, sending him reeling backwards. The chaos lasted only seconds.

 

Curses exploded through the alley. Shoes scraped hard against the concrete. Phatsa moved faster and more precisely than his face suggested he should be able to. He did not fight like a reckless idiot. He fought like someone who understood timing, someone who knew exactly when to dodge and exactly when to hit back. Before long, the two men were losing ground. They threw out a few last curses before scrambling away in humiliation. 

 

When silence finally returned, all that remained was the sound of ragged breathing and the damp smell of the alley. Only then did Phatsa turn to look at the person he had just helped. And with one glance, he understood why those men had not wanted to let him go. The man was beautiful. Not just attractive, beautiful in a way that carried its own strange pull. Beautiful enough to make the air around him feel different from everyone else's. 

 

His skin was pale and fine enough to seem luminous even in the shadows. His long, narrow eyes still trembled faintly with shock. His well-shaped lips were pressed together, slightly tight. Strands of light hair had fallen messily over his cheek from the struggle, making him look fragile, delicate, and dangerous all at once. He was the kind of beauty that made people turn and look, even if he said nothing at all. Phatsa frowned a little as he looked at the red marks on the other man's wrist.

 

"You okay?"

 

The other man was breathing hard, still trying to gather himself. Then he slowly looked up at Phatsa. And in that instant, Sangnuea seemed to stop for a heartbeat. The boy standing in front of him was unlike anyone he had ever met. Phatsa stood there in the dim light of late evening, his pale skin making the sharp lines of his face stand out even more. His light hair was a little messy from what had just happened. His breathing had not fully steadied yet, but his gaze was calm. So calm, it felt safe. Cool enough that it almost seemed ridiculous that only moments ago, he had just taken on two grown men like it was nothing much. It had been a very long time since someone had rushed in to save him without first asking whether he was worth saving.

 

"I'm okay," Sangnuea said softly. His voice was clear and gentle, but it still trembled a little from the shock. Phatsa studied him for another second, as if checking whether he was hurt anywhere else, before asking, "Who were they?"

 

Sangnuea hesitated. Those beautiful eyes flickered as though he were deciding how much to say. His pale fingers still lightly touched his own wrist, as if grounding himself. But in the end, the fear still clinging to him loosened part of the truth.

 

"I don't know them," he said quietly. Then he paused, his voice dropping even lower. "But they were going to bite my neck."

 

Phatsa frowned at once. "Bite your neck?"

 

Sangnuea nodded slowly. His face went a shade paler, as though just saying it out loud made him shiver again.

"Yeah.. If you had come any later, I probably would've been bitten already."

 

Phatsa stared at him, battled. He glanced once at Sangnuea's pale throat, then looked back at his face, clearly trying to find an explanation that sounded even remotely reasonable.

 

"Hold on. Are these guys perverts, vampires, or what? Who goes around biting people's necks out of nowhere! He paused, then added with complete seriousness, "Or were they dogs?"

 

The question was sincere. Unfortunately, it was also very much Phatsa. Sangnuea, who had still been tense from head to toe just moments ago, accidentally let out a small smile despite his red eyes.

 

"They're neither."

 

"That somehow makes it weirder," Phatsa muttered under his breath before narrowing his eyes again. "And is it really that serious if you get bitten?"

 

That question wiped the faint smile off Sangnuea’s face. He fell quiet, lowering his gaze a little, as he measured how much he should tell someone he had only just met. But the fear from what had happened was still too fresh, and part of the truth slipped out.

 

"For me..." he said softly, "it's a very big deal."

Phatsa raised a brow. 

 

"How big?" Sangnuea pressed his lips together for a moment before answering in a low voice.

 

"Big enough to change my life."

 

That made Phatsa go quiet for a second. He still did not understand all of it, not even close, but he understood enough to know it was not the kind of thing he should joke about anymore. Under all that beauty and quiet softness, there was real fear. The kind that ran deeper than the bruises anyone could see, so he did not push. He gave a small nod and stepped back half a pace, giving Sangnuea enough space to breathe more easily.

 

"Okay."

 

He swept a glance around the alley once more before looking back at him. "If you can walk, get out of here."

 

Sangnuea kept looking at him. The closer he looked, the clearer it became that the boy in front of him was not handsome in a soft, gentle way. He was sharp. A little teasing. Quietly self-assured. His stillness did not make him seem calm. Somehow, it only made him harder to look away from. Sangnuea touched his wrist again and gave him a faint smile. It was a small one, like a flower that had just survived a storm, but on a face that beautiful, it changed the whole mood of the alley.

 

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you so much. If you hadn't stepped in, I really would've been in trouble."

 

Phatsa shrugged as if he had not done anything particularly impressive. "It's fine."

He gave Sangnuea one more quick look from head to toe, checking whether he could still stand properly. Seeing that he could, Phatsa started to turn as if that was that. He had helped. The situation was over. End of story. But Sangnuea watched him for barely a second before realising, with sudden certainty, that he did not want this person to walk away without leaving anything behind.

 

"Wait.

“…”

 

His voice was soft, but clear enough to make Phatsa stop and turn back again. Their eyes met. The weak light overhead cast a thin glow across Phatsa's face, sharpening his features even more. Sangnuea pressed his lips together, gathering his courage. He was not usually the type to get nervous just speaking to someone. But this felt different.

 

"I don't know your name yet."

 

Phatsa lifted a brow, just slightly surprised by the bluntness of it, and the corner of his mouth tilted up into a teasing little smile that immediately made his face more alive. "That's pretty fast, asking for my name."

 

Sangnuea smiled despite himself. "Of course I need to know. You saved my life."

 

Phatsa looked at him for a second, then answered, because he was not a man of unnecessary syllables.

 

"Phatsa."

 

The name fell from his mouth casually, with no intention of making it sound special. But Sangnuea thought it suited him oddly, well-directed, easy to remember, and somehow carrying the same quiet weight as the boy himself.

 

"Phatsa," Sangnuea repeated softly, as if storing it away somewhere inside him. Then he looked up again. "My name is Sangnuea." 

 

Phatsa nodded. "Nice name." It was such a short compliment, tossed out as if it were nothing. But Sangnuea's heart kicked just a little harder. He could not tell whether it was because of the words or because of the person saying them. He only knew that the longer he stood here, the more he felt Phatsa was even more charming than he had seemed at first glance. The coolness. The teasing. The unforced confidence. Altogether, they became something dangerously hard to look away from. 

 

Sangnuea hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether to say it. Then, to his own surprise, he went ahead and asked. "Then.. Can I have your LINE?"

 

Phatsa blinked. "My LINE?"

 

"Yes," Sangnuea said quickly, though his voice remained as soft and polite as ever. "I want to thank you properly. If you hadn't been there today, I really would've been in serious trouble."

 

Phatsa stared at him for a moment. Sangnuea, meanwhile, found himself strangely nervous, a state he almost never experienced. Normally, he was not someone who waited on another person's answer like this. But Phatsa showed no sign of suspicion. He merely thought for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh in his throat.

 

"That sounds suspiciously like you're about to collect a debt."

 

Sangnuea laughed too. "I won't collect anything."

 

"You sure?"

 

"I'm sure. At most, I'll text you to say Thank you."

 

Phatsa looked at him once more. In the end, he held out his phone as if it really was no big deal. Sangnuea looked harmless enough. And beautiful enough to make people lower their guard without even noticing. Phatsa only knew one thing clearly: this guy was absurdly pretty. Pretty enough that his brain never once got stuck on the fact that he was male. If someone that good-looking ended up being his boyfriend someday, it did not sound like the kind of thing worth panicking about.

 

"Go on, put it in."