KNOT.

Chapter 8 - Stay.

Ongsa's café still felt warm and familiar in the late morning. Soft sunlight filtered through the tall glass windows and spilt across the pale wooden floor, while the scent of freshly roasted coffee and newly baked pastries drifted gently through the air. It was a smell Phatsa knew well, a smell that had always made him feel safe. And yet, even now that he was seated in his usual corner, he still felt as though something beneath his skin refused to settle. It was as if his body remembered someone else's scent too clearly, and the more clearly it remembered, the more annoyingly impossible it became to ignore.

 

Ongsa set a cup of hot coffee down in front of him, then took the seat across from him, wearing an expression that was half relief, half exhaustion. At the very least, Phatsa had really come out to see him. He had not stayed locked away in the great Thewathitirat house until he withered to death. Seeing that the younger man still had enough energy left to wear a thoroughly bored expression at the world made it just a little easier for Ongsa to breathe.

 

"Feeling any better?"

 

Phatsa let out a soft breath through his nose and looked down at the coffee in his hands.

 

"Better than sitting in his house"

 

"At least you can still answer in full sentences."

 

"What do you expect?" Phatsa muttered. "I've just been moved into a strange man's house as the person he bit. It's not like I went on a resort vacation."

 

Ongsa laughed under his breath, then leaned back in his chair, still watching Phatsa with the kind of look that said his thoughts had already gone far beyond the table between them.

 

"Phatsa. Do you even know who you've ended up living with?"

 

Phatsa lifted a brow. "A mafia loan shark?"

 

Ongsa let out a quiet snort. "Stop calling him that."

 

"What else am I supposed to call him? Future president of a land development company?" Phatsa gave a dry little laugh. "Sounds more expensive, sure. Still looks like someone fully prepared to seize people's houses."

 

"The Thewathitirat family is no joke," Ongsa said, his voice turning more serious. "That house is bigger than you think. The name, the influence, the network... and then there's the fact that you"

 

He paused, as if searching for a gentler way to say it, but in the end, he said it plainly anyway.

 

"You're a pure omega. And a True Alpha like Nakhun bit you."

 

Phatsa blinked once, then frowned. "You make me sound like some kind of limited-edition package."

 

"That's not far off."

 

"P'Ongs!"

 

"I'm serious." Ongsa took a sip of coffee, set the cup down, and looked at him directly. 

 

"Being a pure omega alone is already incredibly rare. Add in the fact that you formed a bond with a True Alpha like Nakhun, and suddenly a lot of things become.. more complicated."

 

Phatsa made a face like he was developing a headache all over again.

 

"Complicated how?"

 

Ongsa went quiet for a moment, then answered slowly, as if he disliked the truth of what he was saying himself.

 

"The chances of having a child born as an S-class alpha could be higher."

 

Phatsa went completely still. Then he looked up at once.

 

"Wait. Hold on. Wait."

 

Ongsa raised a brow.

 

"What?"

 

"Wasn't that a huge leap?" Phatsa set down his cup immediately. "Who's having a child with whom, first of all? And what's S-class? Why are we suddenly talking about children already?"

 

Ongsa let out a small laugh at the sheer alarm on his face, but kept going.

 

“I'm only talking about the possibility."

 

"A possibility that's way too far ahead!"

 

"Phatsa."

 

"No. Absolutely not. I only just graduated. I haven't even properly started working yet, and you've already dragged me all the way into having children?"

 

This time, Ongsa laughed for real, but he still refused to let the point go. Tilting his head slightly, he went on in a tone that tried very hard to sound academic, even though the content was something guaranteed to make the person in front of him want to slam his head into the table.

 

"It's not just S-class." Phatsa looked at him with instant suspicion. 

 

"There's more?"

 

Phatsa froze for a full beat. Then he frowned.

 

"What?"

 

"Enigma," Ongsa repeated calmly. "A species or classification considered extraordinary. People have talked about it in theory for a long time, but no one has ever confirmed that one has actually appeared."

 

Phatsa stared at him for a moment, as though trying to decide whether the man across from him was joking or had escaped from some documentary about rare predators. But seeing Ongsa's face remain completely serious, he reluctantly kept listening.

 

"So what is an Enigma?"

 

Ongsa placed his cup down and answered like a man revealing forbidden knowledge.

 

"Some people say that if an Enigma really existed, their pheromones would be so powerful that they could suppress certain groups of alphas and force them into a condition almost like omega status."

 

Phatsa went still. And stayed still for another moment. Then he said, very slowly, with an expression that made it impossible to tell whether he was more horrified by the content or the delivery,

 

"You're talking like Nakhun, and I are breeding dogs in a farm."

 

Ongsa paused. Phatsa continued in an even flatter tone.

 

"So what, champion sire paired with a one-in-a-million rare dam equals prize-winning offspring? That kind of thing?"

 

Ongsa burst out laughing and had to cover his face with a hand.

 

"That is not what I meant."

 

"But that is exactly what it sounds like."

 

"I'm talking about biological data."

 

"What biological data? It sounds more like you're pricing pedigree dogs."

 

Ongsa laughed until his shoulders shook, then eventually calmed down and looked at him again, his expression softening. Seeing that Phatsa was still making a face at him, he let out a breath.

 

"All right. Fine. I admit it sounds bad."

 

"Bad?" Phatsa repeated. "I'd say it sounds horrifying."

 

"But that's not the point." Ongsa leaned forward a little. "The point is that you have to be more careful than before. What you are, and what Nakhun is, neither of those things is ordinary."

 

Phatsa fell quiet. This time, he did not argue immediately. He looked down at the coffee in his hands for a while before finally saying, softly,

 

"I don't like it."

 

Ongsa looked at him. Phatsa pressed his lips together before continuing.

 

"I don't like that all of a sudden I've become some kind of thing people talk about like I'm rare stock."

 

He gave a dry, humourless laugh. "Pure omega. Enigma. It all starts sounding like I'm not even a person anymore."

 

That made Ongsa go quiet for a while. His eyes softened visibly before he finally answered,

slowly, "But you're still Phatsa."

 

That simple sentence made Phatsa look up.

Ongsa gave him a faint smile.

 

'No matter if you're a pure omega, a True Alpha's soulmate, or someone with whatever kind of impossible future people want to speculate about, you're still you."

 

Something tight in the middle of Phatsa's chest loosened a little. He did not answer right away. He only lifted his coffee and took a drink to swallow down whatever had risen in his throat instead. When he set the cup down, his voice was steadier again.

 

"P'Ongsa."

 

"Hm?"

 

"Don't tell anyone."

 

Ongsa watched him for a moment before asking quietly.

 

"About what?"

 

Phatsa let out a slow breath. "That I'm a pure omega"

 

His fingertips turned the cup slowly on the table as he thought. His expression was not pure fear exactly, but the discomfort of someone who knew that if certain information got out, it would become far more than gossip.

 

"I don't want people looking at me like I'm even stranger than I already am," he said in a lower voice. "My life is wrecked enough as it is."

 

Ongsa looked at him in silence for a while, then nodded.

 

"I won't say anything"

 

Phatsa lifted his eyes. Ongsa repeated it more firmly this time.

 

"If you don't want anyone to know, then I won't tell anyone"

 

That answer made Phatsa fall silent again for a moment before he finally nodded. He never actually said thank you, but the look in his eyes softened all the same.

 

The air at the table gradually quieted again. The smell of coffee still hung in the air, warm. The sunlight shifted slowly across the glass. Around them, the customers in the café went on with their day, unaware that in one quiet corner, two people were talking about genetics, pheromones, soulmates, and futures that sounded too impossible to be real. As for Phatsa, his head still hurts over everything, of course. But at the very least... sitting here, being able to complain, to curse, to listen to Ongsa explain ridiculous things with a face far too serious for the subject, it made the world feel just a little more manageable again—only a little. But a little was still something.

 

Phatsa had only just started to breathe more easily for less than half an hour when the fragile peace he had managed to find was abruptly taken away from him again. The calm of sitting in the café, drinking coffee, and complaining to Ongsa like an ordinary person again had barely settled into his chest before reality showed up to reclaim him.

 

A tall man in a dark suit stepped into the café with perfectly polite, impeccably controlled movements. If not for the fact that his face was too expressionless to belong to any normal human being and the fact that he stood as straight as if he had been trained with a ruler strapped to his spine, he might have passed for an ordinary customer just dropping in for coffee. But Phatsa recognised him immediately—one of Nakhun's bodyguards. And just the sight of him was enough to make a headache bloom behind his eyes.

 

The man stopped beside the table, inclined his head slightly, and said in a voice so polite it was almost impossible to object to, "When will you be returning, Khun Phatsa?"

 

Phatsa looked up slowly. His first reaction was not surprise, but rather the kind of bone-deep weariness that made him want to drop his forehead onto the table and stay there.

 

"Later."

 

The answer was clipped so clipped that it offered absolutely no room for further questions. But the man only nodded calmly, as though he had expected exactly this sort of response. He did not insist. He did not argue. He merely stepped aside and stood in one corner of the café, quietly taking out his phone and typing something with the same expressionless face. Phatsa looked at that scene and nearly wanted to clutch his temples.

 

"See?" he complained weakly to Ongsa. "I told you. I feel less like someone out for coffee and more like a prisoner on supervised break."

 

Ongsa laughed softly and glanced toward the bodyguard.

 

"At least he asked nicely."

 

"What did you expect him to do? Come over and put me in a chokehold in the middle of the shop?"

 

"Well, you are the future spouse of the first heir to the Thewathitirat family. He's probably afraid his boss's wife might disappear. That's why he sent someone to watch you."

 

"P'Ongsa! What kind of nonsense is that?"

 

"It's true. Or has he been taking bad care of you?"

 

Phatsa clicked his tongue in irritation, then lifted his coffee and drank again out of pure defiance. He had thought coming to sit with Ongsa would finally let him breathe. Instead, before long, one of Nakhun's men was standing guard like he was afraid Phatsa might tunnel his way out through the back wall. And not long after that, the situation somehow became even more exhausting.

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The small bell above the door chimed softly, and Nakhin walked into the café with an air of ridiculous ease, as though he had no idea he was about to become the newest source of chaos in anyone's life. He was dressed as well as ever, bright-faced and maddeningly cheerful, looking absurdly unsuited for someone who had clearly come to "retrieve" a person and take him home. And worst of all, he wore the kind of smile that made it look like he had wandered in for fun.

 

But the first person whose expression changed was not Phatsa. It was Ongsa. The moment he saw Nakhin step inside, Ongsa visibly faltered. The hand holding his coffee froze in midair for the briefest second before he hurriedly looked away and shifted in his seat, as though he wanted very badly to merge into the backrest and disappear. Phatsa caught that immediately and lifted a brow. He had barely begun to question it in his own mind when Nakhin reached the table.

 

"Hello."

 

That voice was entirely too cheerful for the situation. Phatsa pursed his lips at once.

 

"You got here fast."

 

Nakhin's smile widened a little, like he found the sarcasm more endearing than threatening.

 

"Well, of course I did."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because I came to take my sister-in-law home."

 

The phrase sister-in-law nearly made Phatsa choke on his coffee. He set the cup down immediately and stared at him in disbelief.

 

"Do not call me that."

 

Nakhin raised a brow, still wearing that infuriatingly innocent expression.

 

"Why not? You're my brother's future lover, aren't you?"

 

"Who says I'm future anything?"

 

"Oh?" Nakhin looked genuinely puzzled. "Then should I call you my brother-in-law instead?"

 

Phatsa froze for one full second. Beside him, Ongsa nearly coughed himself to death. In the corner, the bodyguard still somehow managed to look like he had heard absolutely none of this, though there was no way he was actually deaf. Phatsa turned slowly to look at Nakhin, like a man using every ounce of self-control in his body not to leap across the table and strangle him in public. 

 

"Are you messing with me?"

 

Nakhin smiled in pure innocence.

 

"I'm just telling the truth."

 

"Where is the truth in any of that?"

 

"Well, if you don't like the word sister-in-law, then that leaves only one alternative, doesn't it?"

 

Phatsa pointed a finger straight at him.

 

"Stop talking. Right now."

 

"All right." Nakhin agreed so easily that Phatsa almost stalled for a second. But then he went on, lightly, "Then I'll just call you by name for now."

 

Phatsa narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

 

"And what exactly are you going to call me?"

 

Nakhin tilted his head as though thinking seriously before answering without the slightest hurry.

 

"P' ...Phatsa."

 

That ought to have sounded better, shouldn't it? And yet it was still maddening. Because nothing in Nakhin's tone sounded like true surrender, it sounded more like he had changed battlefields for the time being. Phatsa let out a heavy breath and rested his forehead against the rim of his coffee cup.

 

"I hate your family."

 

Nakhin laughed immediately.

 

"Brother Nakhun would be heartbroken."

 

"Good."

 

"But Mother likes you."

 

That made Phatsa hesitate, just for a moment, before he turned his face away as if unwilling to let anyone see him softening so easily toward anyone in that household

 

"Your mother doesn't count," he muttered under his breath. Nakhin watched him, the curve of his mouth deepening a little more, as though he was becoming increasingly certain that the person in front of him was nowhere near as frightening as he liked to pretend.

 

Across the table, Ongsa was still too quiet. Since Nakhin walked in, he had barely spoken at all. Normally, if Phatsa needed defending, he would have inserted himself into the conversation by now. But at the moment, he was staring down into his coffee with unnatural focus, as if the answer to his life might somehow be floating inside it. Phatsa noticed that too. This time, he was sure something was off. But because there was no chance to ask, he kept the suspicion to himself. Nakhin, perhaps aware that too much teasing might actually make Phatsa bolt, finally dialled the mischief down and let his voice grow a little more serious.

 

"Let's go home."

 

Phatsa pouted at once.

 

"I don't want to go back yet."

 

But my brother wants you back"

 

"I did not ask what he wanted."

 

Nakhin nodded as though he understood perfectly.

 

"But I was sent to pick you up"

 

"You really do obey your brother like a golden retriever."

 

"Thank you."

 

"That was not a compliment!"

 

"But I can take it as one. Golden retrievers are adorable."

 

At that point, Phatsa ran out of strength to argue. He dropped back into his chair and closed his eyes for a moment like a man finally realising that verbally sparring with Nakhin was an absolute waste of energy. Meanwhile, Nakhin sat there, waiting, calm and unhurried, with the quiet confidence of someone who already knew Phatsa would eventually give in.

 

Because no matter how annoyed Phatsa looked now, he would go back in the end. Not because he had lost to Nakhin but because someone was waiting for him in that house. And that was a truth Phatsa himself still had no intention of admitting out loud. 

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Sila appeared at the entrance of the sitting room just as Phatsa walked back into the house. He did not look rushed in the slightest. He stood as straight as ever, calm and impeccably polite, like every matter in the world deserved to be reported in the same tone, whether it was a business meeting, company news, or the return of someone who had slipped out for coffee and been escorted back home.

 

"Khun Nakhun, Khun Phatsa has returned."

 

Phatsa, hearing that with both ears, immediately pouted.

 

"Thank you for the announcement. I'm deeply touched"

 

Sila did not so much as blink. He inclined his head in acknowledgement of the sarcasm, as though he had survived much worse in his lifetime, and stepped quietly back into position. A moment later, Nakhun came downstairs. He was still dressed in a neatly fitted shirt and dark trousers, the buttons at his cuffs loosened slightly as though he had just come back from work or had only just escaped from a stack of documents. His expression was no longer as cold as when they had first met, but he still carried that same quiet stillness that made people feel as if they were standing before reinforced concrete.

 

The instant he saw Phatsa standing there for real, the darkness in his eyes eased by the smallest fraction, so faint it was almost impossible to catch, as though one weight he had been carrying all day had, for the moment at least, been set down.

 

"You're back"

 

Phatsa found the tone deeply annoying. It made him sound less like someone who had gone out for a few hours and more like a lost child who had just been retrieved.

 

"Mm," he answered shortly before muttering, "See? I didn't disappear."

 

Nakhun did not respond. He only looked at him for a moment before saying evenly, "Come upstairs."

 

Phatsa frowned at once.

 

"Why?"

 

"I'm going to show you your room."

 

That answer made him pause. He had known already, of course, that he would probably be kept here a while longer. Still, hearing the words show you your room spoken plainly made everything feel one step more real. He did not argue, not immediately. So he followed Nakhun upstairs in a state halfway between reluctant and resigned. The second-floor hallway was as quiet and spacious as everything else in this house. The polished wooden floor looked so immaculate that it almost felt rude to step on it too hard. Pale walls, carefully chosen paintings, every detail expensive enough to feel very far removed from the kind of life Phatsa was used to. As he walked behind Nakhun, he found himself thinking that if he breathed too loudly, this house might turn and correct his manners.

 

At last, Nakhun stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. The room beyond was enormous, far too enormous to belong to anyone ordinary. A large bed stood at its centre, the sheets smooth and perfectly made. Dark curtains had been drawn back to allow the late afternoon light to spill across the polished floor. The room smelled clean, but beneath that was the unmistakable trace of smoke and whiskey that belonged to Nakhun, and Phatsa immediately felt his throat go dry in an intensely irritating way.

 

Nakhun turned to him. "You'll stay here from now on."

 

Phatsa went silent for a beat before pointing suspiciously at the massive bed.

 

"Wait. This room?"

 

"Yes.

 

"Yours?"

 

"Yes."

 

Phatsa blinked once, then immediately said, "I'm sleeping separately."

 

Nakhun answered so quickly that it was obvious the refusal had already been decided

 

"No."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because I said no."

 

Phatsa gaped for a second, then frowned again, irritation bubbling right back to the surface.

 

"You do realise you sound extremely dictatorial, right?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And you have no intention of improving that?"

 

"No."

 

That short answer made Phatsa want to snatch up the nearest pillow and throw it at his face. He glanced around the room as though searching for an escape route, then turned back with renewed determination.

 

"I'm sleeping in another room."

 

"You can't sleep alone right now."

 

"There it is again," Phatsa muttered with a humourless laugh. "At this point, I could recite that line in my sleep."

 

Nakhun did not move closer. He stood where he was, but his gaze was firm enough to make it unmistakably clear that he was not joking.

 

"If something happens in the middle of the night, I need to know immediately."

 

That made Phatsa falter for just a second. One part of him still wanted to argue this to death, but his body remembered last night far too well to pretend none of it mattered truly. So in the end, all he could do was press his lips together and answer a little more quietly.

 

"It's weird."

 

"What is?"

 

"Sleeping in the same room as someone who…" He stopped for a second, still not used to saying any of it aloud. "Someone I just... went through all that with. It's weird."

 

Nakhun looked at him for a moment before replying evenly, "There's been nothing normal about this ever since I brought you into this house."

 

That left Phatsa staring at him, speechless for a moment. It was too true. And annoyingly difficult to argue with. In the end, he could only let out a long breath and mutter under it, "My life is officially wrecked."

 

Nakhun heard him, but said nothing in response. He merely turned toward the door and called, "Ai."

 

A moment later, a young man entered the room with smooth, composed movements. He was neatly dressed, broad-shouldered, clearly strong in the way of someone who had been trained for years. His gaze was sharp but not overly harsh. He greeted Nakhun first, then turned and nodded respectfully to Phatsa.

 

"Hello, Khun Phatsa."

 

Nakhun glanced toward him slightly.

 

"Ai is one of my bodyguards."

 

Phatsa blinked.

 

"Another one?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Does your house keep the entire security division upstairs or something?"

 

Ai stayed professionally still, though something in his expression almost twitched. Nakhun, meanwhile, answered with the same deadpan calm as always.

 

"Ai will be looking after you from now on."

 

Phatsa narrowed his eyes at once.

 

"In what sense?"

 

"If you need anything, tell Ai."

 

Ai took over smoothly.

 

"If there's anything you need, or anything you'd like help with, just let me know. I'll handle it. If it needs further coordination, I'll inform Khun Sila."

 

Phatsa paused, then asked with the grave seriousness of a man trying to understand his own fate, "Wait. Did I move into a house, or enter witness protection?"

 

Ai pressed his lips together. Nakhun answered immediately.

 

"That depends on how you choose to think about it."

 

"I choose to think it's terrifying."

 

"You'll get used to it."

 

Phatsa turned to glare at him.

 

"You're awfully confident I won't run away."

 

"Where would you run to?"

 

"Back to my normal life."

 

"Your normal life is here now."

 

That made Phatsa pause again. It was not a sweet line. If anything, it leaned 

aggressively controlling. And yet, annoyingly, it still made his heart skip a little. He turned away at once and addressed Ai instead.

 

"If I want coffee?"

 

"I can get it for you."

 

"If I'm hungry in the middle of the night?"

 

"Tell me."

 

"If I want extra pillows?"

 

"I’ll bring them."

 

Phatsa nodded slowly, like someone testing the limits of an unusual service system, then turned back toward Nakhun.

 

"And if I want to sleep alone?"

 

Nakhun answered at once.

 

"No."

 

Phatsa closed his eyes slowly, like a man too tired to even decide where to start complaining. At the side of the room, Ai had to lower his gaze to hide his expression. For a moment, silence settled again. Then Phatsa muttered, more to himself than anyone else, "So in summary, I can ask for anything except the one thing I actually want."

 

This time, Ai's shoulder twitched ever so slightly. Nakhun, meanwhile, remained still, though his eyes softened.

 

"In everything else, I'll give in."

 

He spoke slowly and looked directly at Phatsa.

 

"But not this."

 

Phatsa met his gaze for a moment before finally exhaling again-half surrender, half irritation-and turning to look around the room in silence. At the very least, he now understood that in this house there was Sila to watch, Ai to take care of

practical things, and Nakhun to be unreasonable in a highly personal way. The thought made his head hurt even more. Still, for all that, the house was slowly becoming a place where there were, one by one, people he could at least learn how to breathe beside.

 

Phatsa stood in the middle of the room with his arms folded. His eyes were sweeping over everything as Phatsa stood in the middle of the room with his arms folded, his eyes sweeping over everything as though he still had not decided exactly how he ought to feel about this arrangement. Somewhere between being kept and being looked after too well, the situation had settled into a state irritatingly difficult to define. He looked at Ai standing neatly by the door, then at Nakhun, who still carried himself like a reinforced concrete wall given human form, and finally let out a small breath as something important occurred to him.

 

"I want to work."

 

That made Nakhun turn toward him immediately. He did not ask him to repeat it. Did not even look especially surprised. He answered in the same short, flat tone as though there were no real question here at all.

 

"You don't need to."

 

Phatsa paused, then frowned at once.

 

"What?"

 

"I said you don't need to," Nakhun answered evenly. "Stay still for now."

 

Phatsa stared at him in disbelief.

 

"Stay still?"

 

"Yes."

 

"You say that like it's easy."

 

"It is."

 

This time, Phatsa gave a dry laugh, already climbing right back into irritation. He crossed the room and dropped down at the edge of the bed before looking up at him with complete disbelief.

 

"I graduated already."

 

"I know."

 

"And I want to work"

 

"I know."

 

"And you're still telling me just to sit around?"

 

Nakhun looked at him for a moment before replying in that same calm voice, "You don't need to work right now."

 

That immediately made Phatsa narrow his eyes. He hated that tone-that tone that sounded as though Nakhun had already thought everything through on his behalf and reached a neat conclusion about what was or was not necessary without consulting him at all.

 

"But I do."

 

Nakhun raised a brow slightly.

 

"How?"

 

"Because if you make me sit around doing nothing like this, I'll wither and die."

 

That answer made Ai lower his gaze slightly by the door as though trying not to reveal too much. Nakhun remained still, though the focus in his eyes sharpened.

Once Phatsa got going, he only continued.

 

"I didn't graduate just to sit here eating, sleeping, and wandering around your house all day," he said slowly and clearly, as if worried Nakhun might somehow fail to understand. "I want to try doing something on my own. I want to be tired because of work. I want to be confused because of work. I want to complain about my boss. I want to come home and feel like I'm actually alive like everyone else, not sit here being some kind of." 

 

He paused before muttering, with obvious annoyance at himself, "..canary in a gilded cage."

 

Ai's mouth twitched slightly this time, though he recovered quickly. Nakhun, meanwhile, actually fell quiet. He did not argue back immediately. He stood there looking at Phatsa as if weighing something in his mind. Seeing no answer come, Phatsa pressed forward.

 

"I know I can't go anywhere freely right now," he said, his voice softer but still firm. "But if I have to stay here, then I want to do something. Otherwise, I really will go crazy."

 

Another silence followed. Cool air drifted through the wide room, stirring the curtains almost imperceptibly. Ai remained at his post, Nakhun stood so still it was impossible to know exactly what he was thinking. And then, at last, he spoke.

 

"Then help me with my work."

 

Phatsa blinked.

 

"What?"

 

"You want to work, don't you?" Nakhun replied evenly. "Then come help with the land development projects I'm handling."

 

This time, Phatsa truly went still. He looked at him for several long seconds, as though trying to determine whether this was mockery, sarcasm, or an actual offer. But no matter how he looked at him, Nakhun's expression remained entirely serious.

 

'Wait." Phatsa raised a hand to stop him. "Are you seriously offering me a job with you?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Even though you were literally just telling me I didn't need to work?"

 

"To be honest, I still don't want you to. I'd rather have you stay still"

 

"Then what about now?"

 

"You want to work. And if I don't give you anything to do, you'll start causing trouble instead."

 

Phatsa stared at him in outrage for a full second, then grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

 

"I am not like that!"

 

Nakhun caught it, of course, with no visible effort.

 

"Then prove it"

 

"You really are-"

 

Phatsa stopped in the middle of the sentence, because maddeningly enough, he could not actually argue with that. It was infuriating. But worth thinking about, too. He had just said he wanted to do something himself. Now that Nakhun had actually offered him a way to do it, what reason did he have to refuse? Because he was irritated? Because it was Nakhun? Or because, somewhere deep down, he was still not sure he trusted himself?

 

Phatsa pressed his lips together slightly before asking cautiously, "And what exactly would I be helping with?"

 

Nakhun set the pillow back down neatly before answering.

 

"Start with simpler work. Reviewing basic documents. Coordinating schedules. Checking project information. Things that don't require you to be out front too much in the beginning."

 

Phatsa listened, then lifted a brow.

 

"That sounds like a secretary."

 

"Not exactly."

 

"Then an assistant."

 

"Something close to that."

 

"So basically an assistant."

 

Nakhun looked at him for a moment before replying, "If that's what you want to call it, then fine."

 

Phatsa sat there thinking for another moment, and this time he truly was considering it. He was no longer merely pouting for effect. He could tell Nakhun was not joking, and more importantly, he seemed sincere about actually letting him try, not merely tossing meaningless busywork at him to keep him occupied. That only made the whole thing stranger. Because this man liked giving orders, he liked deciding things for other people. Liked acting as though he knew best in every situation. And yet, at certain moments, he also seemed capable of making space for Phatsa in ways that were unexpectedly real. Phatsa looked up at him again.

 

"And if I mess something up?"

 

"We fix it."

 

"And if I'm slow?"

 

"Then I'll hurry you along."

 

"And if I'm stubborn with you at work?"

 

Nakhun was silent for half a second, then replied in a tone so calm it became even 

more irritating.

 

"You already do that."

 

Phatsa grabbed another pillow at once, but Ai, standing in the corner, actually had to bite back a smile this time. Seeing that even Ai was amused made Phatsa pout harder than ever. But in the end, he did not throw the pillow. He merely held it tightly instead, as though using it to preserve what remained of his dignity.

 

"Fine," he said at last, half-surrender, half-annoyed. "I’ll try."

 

Something in Nakhun's eyes softened, so briefly it was almost impossible to catch.

 

"Good"

 

"But if it's boring, I quit."

 

"We'll see."

 

"And if you overwork me, I complain."

 

"You already complain."

 

"Khun Nakhun!"

 

"I'm telling the truth."

 

Ai immediately lowered his head the second he saw the expression on Phatsa's face, the expression of a man on the verge of using a pillow as a murder weapon. Nakhun, however, remained perfectly calm, as though he had no idea he was provoking him on purpose. And yet, for all his irritation, Phatsa could still feel it clearly somewhere deep inside that his heart was lighter now than it had been before. At least now he had something to hold onto. Something to do. A reason to get out of bed in the morning without feeling like he was drifting aimlessly through someone else's house. So he let out a small breath and muttered more to himself than to anyone else,

 

"So in the end, I really am going to work for a mafia loan shark."

 

Nakhun heard every word, but did not argue. He merely looked at him for a moment before saying,

 

"You start tomorrow."

 

Phatsa jerked his head up.

 

"That's too soon!"

 

"You said you didn't want to sit still"

 

"I didn't mean tomorrow morning!"

 

"Then later in the morning"

 

Phatsa froze for one full second, looking as though he was about to argue again, but in the end, all he could do was collapse face-first onto the pillow in his arms. The two men in the room watched him in silence. One did so with almost no visible expression. The other had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. And within all the exhaustion, all the bickering, all the outrage, Phatsa found himself quietly aware of one thing.

 

No matter how much he complained out loud, he had started to want to know. To know what Nakhun's world looked like. What the world of land development looked like. What the world of a man who seemed to carry authority everywhere he went might feel like. And that curiosity, however annoying it was, was already real.