Me and Thee: English translation.

Wake up call #17

Arseny Corporation was a massive conglomerate with both grey and black-market ventures under its umbrella. Given its vast size, the company boasted a colossal marketing budget, enough to build its own fully equipped studio facilities for photo shoots and video production. The largest and most advanced of these was Studio A, currently booked solid for three months by the All Seasons' One Word project. The studio was reserved to complete four collections in one go, leaving smaller projects and subsidiary shoots scattered across other studios. But this morning, as the team arrived at Studio A, they were met with an unexpected sight. 

The main doors were locked tight with heavy chains, a bold vinyl banner hanging across the front announcing that the studio was undergoing renovations. The timeline stated it would remain closed for an entire month starting today.

None of the crew had been informed in advance, and they stood, dumbfounded, at the entrance. Today marked the first day of shooting promotional stills for the winter collection, with Tawan, a rising star and household name, as the lead model. Mistakes or delays were simply out of the question.

"What now, Vit?" Trend asked nervously, his face a picture of worry. He'd only joined Arseny as a photographer a year ago and hadn't had the chance to make a name for himself yet. When Wivit personally recruited him to be the lead photographer for such a major project, Tren had eagerly accepted, thrilled at the opportunity. Even if the position came with his own body, Trend hadn't regretted saying yes for a second.

Wivit's brows knitted tightly as he tried to process the situation. He couldn't get through to their department head, the very person he'd managed to align with before this chaos. But now, when a crisis hit, they'd conveniently vanished into thin air.

"Vit, the head of facilities, said Studio A is off-limits. Emergency renovations. No way to open it up," one of the team members reported, having just gotten off the phone. Wivit's face darkened further at the news.

"Why now? I told them we've booked Studio A for three months. Can't they wait until after we're done?" His voice was calm, but the frustration simmered just below the surface. The polite, easygoing smile he usually wore was nowhere to be found.

The team member hesitated, looking awkward and unsure of how to break the news gently. "It's an order from the chairman." Damn it! Wivit raked a hand through his hair, his irritation flaring as time slipped away. The shoot with the actor was scheduled for tomorrow, and if he couldn't sort this out, they'd end up paying overtime fees. Worse, he'd lose face on his very first project as team leader. 

"Vit, facilities says there's an available studio," another team member chimed in hesitantly.

"Which one?!" he asked, hope flickering faintly in his expression. At this point, he'd take anything.

"Backup Studio Four."

The reply snuffed out that hope in an instant. Backup Studio Four was ancient, one of the original spaces built when the company first started. Sure, it wasn't entirely unusable; the structure was still intact, but the inside was woefully outdated, lacking any modern equipment. It was practically a glorified storage room.

That studio was usually reserved for rookies proving themselves or for last-resort remote shoots. Hardly anyone chose to work there anymore.

Grinding his teeth, Wivit clenched his fists in frustration, nails digging into his palms. But after a few moments, he forced a thin smile and turned to his team.

There were four spare studios in total, and the fourth one was the farthest in. It was relatively small—about a third the size of the one they usually used. Inside, it was spotless and spacious, free of the clutter he'd been dreading. But it was too empty. The entire studio had nothing but a plain white backdrop, a few basic lights, and one old, mid-range camera that had clearly seen better days.

"Vit, is this seriously all we've got to work with?" the young photographer, Trend, complained. He was used to working with high-end state-of-the-art cameras, editing software, automatic colour-adjusting lights, and a full array of support equipment. Being reduced to just one camera and a few dim lights? Unacceptable!

"We can borrow from the other studios for now," Vit said reassuringly, patting Trend's head affectionately. He pulled out his phone and called the team's deputy leader to coordinate with the other studios. However, after calling every studio, the answer was the same: no.

"Mr Mok ordered all the studios to speed up their work. No one's willing to lend us anything," the deputy reported apologetically.

Vit frowned, puzzled. Why the sudden urgency across all departments? That had never happened before.

"It's fine. I'll file a request for extra budget approval," he replied confidently. His current project was the company's biggest. There was no way his budget would be denied. Barely fifteen minutes after he'd instructed his assistant to prepare the urgent budget request, his phone rang with bad news that all expense requests had been frozen.

"Why?" he hissed, suppressing the urge to shout. The studio was still full of team members working hard to get the place camera-ready for the next day.

[The president ordered all marketing department requests put on hold.] came the hesitant response on the other end. Vit's chest tightened at the words, an ominous sense of dread creeping in.

"The president again?"

[Apparently, the head of marketing is being investigated for taking bribes. All documents are temporarily on hold except for urgent requests, which Mok will personally review before forwarding to the president.]

What the hell?! Wivit bit his lip hard, barely holding back a string of curses. Why did everything have to go wrong all at once? Panic twisted in his chest. Bribery investigations? If that's the case, his past actions might come to light too!

"No problem. Thanks."

After ending the call, his hand gripped the phone so tightly it trembled. Scene after scene of what he'd done in the past flashed vividly in his mind, his nerves coiling tighter with each one. He was practically vibrating with the urge to storm over to the marketing department and confront the marketing head right that second.

Noticing the growing unease on his boss's face, Trend stepped closer. The young photographer wrapped his slender arms around Vit's, giving it a gentle shake with a playful pout.

"Vit, I am getting the stuff I need tomorrow, right?"

Trend's tone was sweetly coaxing, the kind that had always worked for him. He was used to being indulged, to getting whatever he wanted with just a bit of charm. But Wivit surprised him by pulling his arm away—not harshly, but with enough irritation to sting.  He already had more than enough on his plate. There was no way he could deal with anyone else's needs right now. Still, he forced himself to keep up appearances. The "good boss" mask couldn't slip, not here, not now.

"We'll see tomorrow," he said vaguely, brushing Trend off with a tight smile before turning on his heel and walking away without a second glance. He could barely keep his own head above water-how the hell was he supposed to worry about anyone else? What a joke!

"Sounds like such a blast!"

Peach drawled lazily, reclining in a brightly colored beach chair that practically screamed "vacation." His bare feet were buried in the soft sand, and the cool ocean breeze kissed his face, leaving a faint salty stickiness behind. It was annoying, but refreshing at the same time.

[Fun? More like a nightmare to me, Peach! But... I can't lie— it was pretty satisfying.] His younger sister's voice crackled through the phone, followed by a mischievous giggle that practically oozed smugness.

Peach frowned. Who on earth taught his sweet little sister to be such a schemer? He almost asked—but then remembered the absolute mess he'd been two days ago and decided to let it slide. He leaned back with a contented smirk instead.

"Bet Tawan's over the moon though," he mused, thinking of the perpetually scowling celebrity who seemed to hate his guts since the dawn of time. Tawan could charm anyone with that killer smile-anyone except him. If Peach had to guess, the guy was throwing a private party just to celebrate not working with him.

[He was happy at first] Plub huffed, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. He could practically see her pouting on the other end.

[But after dealing with the new photographer? His good mood lasted, like, an hour before he started sulking.]

"Newbies are just like that," Peach offered with a shrug, though Plub snorted in frustration. [You'd better keep your phone handy! The work is awful, and now the president's breathing down everyone's neck, demanding results ASAP. The art team's this close to quitting. Everyone's missing you like crazy. Honestly, I'm starting to regret letting you go on vacation.]

Peach laughed, already mentally noting to bring back souvenirs for the team. They were drowning in chaos while he was off-grid, living his best life, after all. A peace offering couldn't hurt.

After surviving the headache-inducing call with Miss Mafia Boss and successfully shooing Mr Thee back home where he belonged, Peach's mood lifted. He finished packing his bag with a renewed sense of purpose, phone in hand, scrolling through travel guides. After some thought, Peach decided he wanted a laid-back trip somewhere not too far, just enough to relax for about a week. He happily pinned locations on his map app, arranging his route with almost childlike excitement.

The next morning, he packed up and drove out of his condo.

Before leaving, he texted his sister, promising to bring back souvenirs. She immediately called, sounding thrilled that he was finally taking some time off. After reminding him yet again about the souvenirs, she told him to drive safely and make the most of his vacation. He promised he would do as his sister suggested. Switching off his internet and tucking his phone into his bag,

Peach let himself enjoy the peaceful surroundings. Normally, he handled work through chat apps or email. Only close friends or family had his actual phone number.

...Well, maybe he'd make one exception for a certain grumpy mafia.

After chatting with his sister for a few more minutes, Peach ended the call and lazily set his phone on his stomach. Just as he closed his eyes, thinking he might sneak in a quick nap, the phone buzzed. He picked it up, lips quirking into a faint smile. Funny how the phone rang the second he thought about it.

When he'd left that morning, he hadn't bothered texting Mr Thee. Honestly, he didn't see the point. He'd already mentioned he was going on vacation and vanishing off the face of the earth. Besides, he didn't have any unfinished work, so there was no reason to "check in."

By the second day, Peach finally turned his internet back on, planning to post a few photos just to let people know he was still alive. That's when he saw over a hundred notifications waiting for him. Two were from his sister. Four were from his team, venting about work. The remaining ninety-something messages were from Theerakit Kian Arseny, one and only. 

Almost ninety messages in two days-what the hell was going through his head?

Peach wanted to ask, but figured that would only make things worse. He sighed and started reading through the flood of texts instead. As much as he wanted to grumble about the sheer number of messages, deep down, he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed.

Despite the over-the-top behaviour, there was something earnest about Thee's efforts, sincere, even. Sure, some of it was a bit much, bordering on ridiculous, but not enough to make him truly upset. With a small shake of his head, Peach replied with a picture of a serene, endless blue ocean and an adorable sticker. After hitting send, he turned off his internet again and called his sister. When a call came through while he was still on the line, he deliberately ignored it, continuing to chat with his sister until they hung up. The phone rang again almost instantly. Peach glanced at the screen, smirking faintly when he saw Mr Thee's name flashing across it. After a brief pause, he finally accepted the call.

"Hello, Mr Thee."

[Where are you?] The deep, growling voice on the other end sounded more like a menacing snarl than a question. Peach raised an eyebrow. If they were face-to-face, he might've been a little intimidated. Over the phone, though, he found it amusing.

"At the beach, of course," he replied, his tone lighthearted, even playful. "Didn't I tell you I was going on vacation?"

[..You didn't reply to my messages.] The threatening edge in the mafia's voice softened, replaced by something that almost sounded... sulky? Is he sulking?

"You told me to enjoy my vacation to the fullest, so that's exactly what I'm doing."

Peach's voice unconsciously softened, taking on a coaxing, almost teasing tone even though he still didn't know why Thee sounded upset or why he felt the need to appease him. Seeing Thee like this was... weirdly endearing.

[...Um,] Thee's resigned sigh carried through the phone. He stayed silent for nearly a full minute, the only sound being his steady breathing. Just as he was about to hang up, Thee's voice cut through the silence:

[Wait.] The curt command sounded almost like a scolding.

There was a faint thudding sound in the background, like someone pacing back and forth. [When are you coming back? It's been three days.]

"It's only been two. How did you count the numbers? Peach corrected with a chuckle.

[I can find something for you right now.] Thee replied immediately, making him laugh even harder.

"No thanks. Let me enjoy my trip first. If something urgent comes up, you can drag me back then." He stretched his arms, feeling the pleasant ache of relaxation settle into his muscles. Vacation really was starting to make him too lazy to think about work.

[But travelling alone for too long can be dangerous.] Thee still sounded grumpy, his frustration barely concealed. [I should've taken time off to come with you. At least you'd be safe.]

"No way! You've got a ton of work to do—you can't just take off like that." Peach immediately shot down the idea, his tone firm. Bringing the mafia along on a trip would be the opposite of relaxing. He could already picture the army of bodyguards trailing behind them. And he'd probably end up playing personal assistant, catering to Thee's every whim. One wrong move, and who knows? He might get tossed into the ocean because it's near. Sure, he liked the sea, but definitely not the idea of drowning in it.

[Why not? Mok could handle things while I'm gone. No matter where you want to go, I can go with you. Just say the word. Or if you think it'll be too crowded, we can go to a private island. I can even buy a new one if you'd prefer.]

Peach sighed. Does Mr Thee ever think like a normal person?

"You've got responsibilities, Thee. At least show Mok some consideration." Peach carefully sidestepped the entire nonsense conversation and stuck to the practical point. "That's all for now-I'm going back to enjoying my vacation."

Peach ended the call with a satisfied smile, setting the phone back on his stomach. He grabbed his woven hat, placed it over his face, and closed his eyes, letting the soothing sound of the waves wash over him. The soft smile lingering on his lips refused to fade.

It really was a good day.