Me and Thee: English translation.

Wake up call #26

Peach couldn't shake off the feeling that something strange was going on around him. Well, not exactly around him—but with a certain someone acting oddly enough to keep him on edge.

"Mr Peach, I've brought you breakfast," a familiar bodyguard in black announced, standing rigidly at his door. Peach frowned in confusion. For three days straight, the same man had delivered breakfast and an Americano right to his door. When he'd asked who sent them, the man only replied that it was the boss's orders. Apparently, the boss knew Peach often skipped breakfast despite having gastritis, so he commanded that meals be delivered without fail.

Peach had intended to ask who this mysterious boss was, but before he could, a message lit up his phone. The sender? Mr Thee.

On the first day, Peach had been so baffled he nearly felt paranoid. Sure, Mr Thee had treated him to fancy dinners before, even brought breakfast to his room once. But arranging daily meal deliveries through a bodyguard? That was new and unsettlingly persistent. 

Peach thanked the bodyguard and accepted the food, even inviting him in for a drink or snack out of courtesy. The man, however, declined with such stern resolve that it seemed like stepping into the room might trigger a life-or-death crisis. Realising he'd get nowhere, Peach let it go with a polite nod, retreating inside with the breakfast in hand.

Yet the food deliveries weren't the only odd thing. Mr Thee's behaviour had grown just as peculiar. Lately, Peach had been busy with reshoots and fittings for the summer collection campaign. Determined to clear some of the work ahead of schedule, he planned to free up time to assist with a project he'd promised Mr Touch days ago. He planned to use his downtime for about a week while other departments were focused on completing their winter collection projects.

Two days of reshoots and a fitting day were ahead, and while he was preparing, the chief executive, who should have been swamped with work and far too busy to care about one of dozens of company projects, was sitting cross-legged in a corner of the studio.

Peach folded his arms, utterly confused. They were now using Studio A, the large studio, and in a corner where work could be clearly observed without disrupting others. A large leather sofa had been placed there, complete with a small coffee table for setting things down.

At first, he wondered where the sofa came from, but when he saw the tall figure of the young man walk in and casually drape himself across it, holding a large iPad likely open to some documents, his curiosity shifted. He was no longer surprised by the sofa's sudden appearance, but he was puzzled about why this mafia was here.

The photographers had been whispering rumours that Mr Thee was actually here to watch someone, and that someone was undoubtedly the beautiful, petite male model who supposedly had a candlelit dinner with the notoriously cold-hearted, famous executive. The excited whispers spread like wildfire.

Peach furrowed his brow slightly. He wasn't interested in the rumours because he already knew Mr Thee was interested in Aran. However, that interest seemed confined to bedroom matters with no hint of developing into anything romantic. Or perhaps Mr Thee was actually feeling obsessed with Aran. His brow furrowed deeper as he pondered. 

The upcoming spring and summer collections will feature shoots pairing Aran with Tawan, with a concept that focuses more on love and romance. Maybe Mr Thee was thinking of making a move. He pressed his lips together, feeling a faint but inexplicable sense of irritation. Shaking off thoughts about Thee and Aran, he dismissed the matter entirely. If Thee had switched tactics from chasing to simply keeping a watchful eye on the young model, that was their business. As long as it didn't interfere with his work, he couldn't care less.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from sneaking another glance at the couch. There was Mr Thee, looking utterly focused and serious while working, an expression he didn't see often. It made him steal looks more frequently than he cared to admit. Judging by how Thee's eyes rarely strayed from his iPad and how tightly his brows were furrowed, it was clear he was buried under a mountain of tasks.

If he shifted his gaze a bit further, he could see the entrance to the studio crowded with people desperate for a chance to meet the powerful CEO. Normally, getting into Mr Thee's office was near impossible, let alone setting foot on his executive floor. So when word spread that the elusive business mogul had stationed himself at the studio, hopefuls swarmed in, thinking it was their golden opportunity. Too bad Thee's bodyguards held the line firmly; no outsiders had managed to set foot inside. Not a single one.

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. It struck him as odd that his project manager, Wivit, hadn't shown up either. With such a rare chance to approach the CEO, you'd expect Wivit to be front and centre, ready to pounce. Then again, considering the sheer number of people trying to catch Thee's attention, he supposed Wivit must be overwhelmed with work as well.

It wasn't surprising, given the vastness of the Arseny conglomerate, with its dozens of companies spread across multiple countries. Thee's temporary move to Thailand was all about launching Arseny's new fragrance and jewellery lines. If things went according to plan, he'd likely hand the reins back to the board and move on to oversee another venture.

The more he thought about it, the more puzzled he became over the mafia's thoughts. If he's that busy, why bother sitting around here? Wouldn't it be better to work somewhere else?

"Mr Peach, would you like some water?" The sudden voice snapped Peach out of his thoughts. He turned to see the CEO's secretary, Mok, standing nearby. When had he even gotten there?

"Thanks," Peach said with a faint smile, accepting the glass, though his brows were still furrowed. Mok noticed and smirked subtly, clearly in no rush to explain anything.

"You look a little flushed, Mr Peach. You feeling okay?"

Peach touched his own cheek, feeling a bit of warmth radiating from his skin. He hadn't had a proper rest since that day when he first felt under the weather. All he could do was take medicine on time and hope the symptoms would disappear. Five days had passed, and he still wasn't back to normal.

"Just a little sleep-deprived, that's all," he replied before glancing back at Thee again. "By the way, what's your boss doing down here?"

Mok cast a brief look at his employer. Those smoky-grey eyes were already locked on him, sharp and intense. Seeing that fierce gaze, Mok's grin widened as he turned back to Peach, answering with a light chuckle.

"Keeping an eye on someone." The secretary answered while turning back to Peach. "Mr Thee said most leading men in TV dramas always make time for their love interests, hanging around, showing up unexpectedly, creating 'accidental' encounters. But since his workload's too heavy for that, he figured he'd just haul his work down here and sit where he could be seen instead."

Peach sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples. His mild headache seemed to worsen.

"Is he obsessed with soap operas or something?" he asked wearily. "If Mr Thee's constant hovering affects Aran's performance, I'm afraid I'll have to ask him to head back to his office."

"Mr Thee doesn't really watch dramas, but the Madam—uh, I mean, his mother—is quite a fan of Thai dramas," Mok replied, letting a small, knowing smile creep onto his face. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he continued, "And for the record, Mr Thee isn't here to keep an eye on Aran."

Peach blinked, his face blank with confusion. If the mafia wasn't here shadowing the model he so obviously wanted to drag to bed, then who was he keeping tabs on? Before he could make sense of it, Mok's faint smile deepened, and he smoothly shifted the conversation to something else entirely.

"Do you like breakfast sets? Is there anything you'd like to adjust?"

"I'd like it if you stopped sending them," Peach replied firmly, looking uneasy as he added, "It's awkward. You've been sending me breakfast every day—it's too much. I feel bad accepting it."

"No need to feel bad. Mr Thee sees it as a welfare for you. You've got a history of stomach issues, and as a freelancer, you don't get health benefits. So Mr Thee decided to provide this instead."

Mok told Peach firmly that he could only stare, dumbfounded by Mok's deadpan explanation. Something about it felt completely off, but the seriousness in Mok's tone left him at a loss for words. He tried to think of a rebuttal, but was interrupted when his phone buzzed with a notification. 

Offering Mok a small nod as a silent excuse, he checked the message. It was from his client for tomorrow's shoot. Apparently, the studio they'd initially booked had been changed. Instead of a small space near the office, the shoot was now scheduled for Studio Bone of the Arseny Corporation's facilities.

Peach frowned in confusion. Studio B was the second-largest in the Arseny lineup. Sure, their studios were technically open for external bookings, but they were renowned for being top-tier, equipped with state-of-the-art gear, and insanely expensive to rent. Not to mention, the queue for studio time was often packed with the company's own projects. He could guess that Mr Touch would be a wealthy man who could rent out a studio and jump the queue to use it the very next day.

He must have some seriously powerful friends. Maybe even at the level of a company president?

He chuckled to himself, not taking the thought too seriously. Someone like Mr Thee wouldn't get involved in something as trivial as studio rental, unless they knew each other personally. But Peach couldn't help but find the contrast striking; the image of this mild-mannered young man seemed completely at odds with the half-Russian mafia.

Peach let go of his suspicions, quickly firing back a brief acknowledgement just as Aran stepped forward, announcing he was ready to work. Peach turned to do a final check of the lighting and set, lifting his trusted camera to his eye.

The photographer's focus dissolved behind the lens, especially working with Aran, a model he knew so well that their collaboration had become seamless and efficient. Peach was so absorbed in his work that he remained oblivious to the surrounding movements.

The young half-Russian mafia raised his head silently, his gaze fixated on the lean photographer moving about. His smoke-colored eyes held a glimmer of satisfaction. He hadn't seen the other man for several days due to conflicting schedules, and messaging wasn't the same as seeing him in person. As the man remained within his line of sight, a slow satisfaction spread through his chest.

Sure, convincing his new employer to switch to his studio might be a hassle, but it would be worth the effort. 

At the thought of the new employer, the young mafia couldn't help but curl his tongue against his cheek slightly, not entirely pleased. He wanted to warn Peach to keep a distance, but feared coming across as disruptive.

Touch, or Tatsuyuki Shohei, was the only son of the Shohei family, a major Yakuza clan from Japan. Currently, they were competitors of sorts with the Arseny group, competing for a foothold in the Southeast Asian market. While not outright enemies, they certainly weren't trusted allies either. Therefore, the sudden offer to use Arseny's studio immediately raised suspicions.

By chance, he and young Tatsuyuki were somewhat acquainted, having been classmates in the past. After a lengthy phone negotiation, he claimed it was necessary to shoot at an Arseny studio because Aran, who had just signed as a model for the Shohei group and was currently a brand ambassador for Arseny, required the use of only Arseny's studios. The other party looked puzzled by the reasoning but readily agreed to switch to Studio B, especially since no rental fee would be charged. Even if they incurred a small loss, it was insignificant for the Arseny family's deep pockets.

Thee casually fixed his gaze on Peach, while the surrounding team began whispering with profound sympathy. Previously, Wivit had made mistakes that displeased the CEOs. Recently, every project under his supervision had been plagued with issues. No matter how many times he had presented his work, he had only received severe criticism. His projects were suspended, and skilled team members were continuously transferred to other teams, stripping his project leader's prestige.

The team members who had elevated themselves as Peachayarat's guardian angels began dabbing their eyes. Their "son" was incredibly kind and adorable, often bringing them snacks. He was the most pleasant photographer they'd ever worked with. Now the CEO had turned his focused attention on Peach, even coming down to closely monitor his work! Their beloved Peach seemed to be in for a difficult time!