Me and Thee: English translation.

Wake up call #29

Peach stared at the closed door, letting out a quiet sigh. The atmosphere from a moment ago still lingered, heavy and unsettling in a way he couldn't quite explain. Mr Thee clearly didn't like Kin- that much was obvious. Why, though? Was it something personal? Or was Thee just naturally standoffish, the type of guy with zero people skills who found making friends nearly impossible?

 

None of it made sense. What puzzled Peach even more was why Mr Thee, who was supposedly buried in work and, if he remembered correctly, scheduled to pick up his younger brother from the airport today, had shown up at the hospital unannounced. Maybe Thee's all-knowing secretary, Mok, had tipped him off. Even though he couldn't figure out what had brought Thee there so fast, Arseny couldn't deny the strange warmth that blossomed inside him.

 

If he had to map out his relationships, Mr Thee wouldn't even make it onto the chart—not even as a trusted friend. And yet, somehow, Thee kept slipping past his defences, bit by bit. He didn't know where Mr Thee fit in his life, but having him close always seemed to ease his mind, melting away fears he hadn't realised he was holding onto. Maybe this was what it felt like to have someone powerful in your corner, someone who could shield you when things went south.

 

Satisfied with placing Mr Thee in the "reliable backup when needed" category, Peach relaxed, letting the tension ebb away until sleep began tugging at his heavy eyelids once again. Just as Peach was drifting off, the model sitting by his bedside

dragged his chair closer and broke the silence.

 

"Are you really not going to press charges?" Kin asked, frowning with genuine frustration. His intensity made Peach smirk a little despite himself. He hadn't been unconscious for long, waking up soon after Kin brought him to the hospital. 

 

At first, he thought he could leave right away, but the world tilted dangerously when he tried to stand. In the end, he was forced to stay the night and get an IV drip. That was when Aran showed up, sobbing so hard his contact lenses fell out, his nose and eyes red and puffy. As soon as he reached Peach's bedside, he bowed deeply and apologised loudly, voice shaking with desperation.

 

Peachy could be forgiving toward family, but he'd never been one to show mercy to outsiders, especially when things escalated into physical violence. He'd fully intended to file charges, if only to cover his medical expenses. No way was he going to suffer without consequences. But when Aran knelt there, head bowed and tears streaming down his face, begging for forgiveness, Peach couldn't hold onto his anger. After all, Aran was someone he'd known for years. Severing ties completely felt... wrong.

 

Aran promised he'd drag Tawan over to apologise properly and insisted on covering all the medical costs. Arseny had told him he didn't have to do that-the one who caused the trouble should take responsibility, not Aran. Aran had only smiled faintly and said it was the last thing he could do for Tawan. Peach wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that, but seeing the determination in Aran's eyes, he hadn't pressed further.

 

"But I can't accept any more job offers from Tawan," he'd told Aran plainly. No matter how close they were, Peach couldn't pretend nothing had happened. 

 

"I won't be comfortable working with him anymore. Don't worry—I'm not going to badmouth him or get anyone else to blacklist him. It's just me. I can't take his projects again."

 

Aran had nodded with quiet understanding, bowing once more before excusing himself with a resolute look, so Peach hadn't asked any more questions after that. He could only hope Tawan wouldn't lose his head and lash out at someone again.

 

Peach snapped back to reality and glanced at Kin. The tall model still wore a deep scowl, frustration radiating from him, with no sign of easing. Word from the crew who came to visit was that Kin had nearly punched Tawan right then and there. A fight had almost broken out if Aran hadn't shouted at him to help get Peach to the hospital instead. What a way to kick off a new modelling agency-not exactly the auspicious start they'd hoped for.

 

"I couldn't help it. Run's like a younger brother to me," Peach admitted with a hint of exasperation. Even though he cared about Aran, he'd already decided this would be the first and last time he let something like this slide. If anything like this happened again, even if it risked his reputation, he'd press charges without a second thought.

 

"Let's talk about you instead." He turned toward Kin, lips quirking into an amused smirk. "Weren't you scared back there? That's a Russian mafia boss you were messing with."

 

"Terrified," Kin admitted, laughing while holding up a trembling hand. "Look at this, my hand's still shaking like crazy!"

"Then why were you trying to pick a fight?"

 

Peach chuckled, showing zero sympathy for Kin's dramatic display. He still couldn't quite figure out why those two had taken such an instant dislike to each other. The other guy was a half-Russian mafia boss and company president—not exactly someone who should care enough to bicker with a rookie model.

 

It could be bad chemistry. Some people just clash at first sight for no logical reason. Those two fit that description perfectly.

 

"If I let fear get the better of me, I'd lose before the fight even started," Kin grumbled, pouting when Peach didn't offer any comforting words. But in true Kin fashion, he quickly brightened and flashed a broad grin. 

 

"Are you hungry? I can run down and grab you something to eat. Or maybe something sweet to lift your spirits?"

 

"I don't eat sweets." The door swung open with a soft creak, cutting their conversation short. A tall, broad-shouldered man strode into the room, carrying a bag of treats from a popular bakery and a steaming cup of hot milk that filled the air with a comforting aroma.

 

"I know you prefer coffee, but you need to rest. Hot milk will be better for you," Mr Thee said, placing the items on the side table before adjusting the hospital bed until its occupant was half-sitting, half-lying down. 

 

Carefully, he wrapped the cup in a clean cloth to keep the heat from burning his hand. Once satisfied with the temperature, he handed it over. Peach accepted the cup, puzzled but touched. The rich, warm scent of the milk soothed his nerves. He took a slow sip, tasting the creamy warmth mixed with just a hint of natural sweetness—no sugar added. One sip was enough to send comforting warmth spreading through his chest.

 

"Thank you... I didn't mean to trouble you," he said, looking up with a soft smile that he couldn't quite suppress. His heart swelled with an unfamiliar feeling he couldn't put into words. He was used to being the one taking care of others. Having someone care for him like this felt... strange. But it was a good kind of strange.

 

Thee froze for a fraction of a second, his gaze flickering away. His ears seemed to take on a faint pink tint before he quickly regained his usual composure so quickly that Peach wondered if he'd imagined it. Surely a mafia boss wouldn't get flustered over something as simple as a thank you.

 

"It's no trouble. For you, I don't mind," Thee replied, his voice softer than usual. Even his eyes held a rare warmth, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. He absently brushed a long finger across his chin, as if deep in thought. 

 

"Maybe I should invest in a dairy company while I'm at it," he mused aloud. Peach blinked, momentarily stunned, before deciding it was best to pretend he hadn't heard that.

 

"Didn't Mok come with you?" he asked, steering the conversation to safer ground. 

 

"Your secretary is usually glued to your side all the time, isn't he?"

 

"Mok's staying back to take care of my little brother. He just flew in from Russia today, and there's no way he'd let him out of his sight," Thee remarked, as if suddenly remembering something. 

 

"Guess I'll have to extend Mok's leave. Tonight's going to be rough, and he'll probably be out of commission tomorrow too."

 

Peach frowned, puzzled. He couldn't help but wonder—what kind of person was Mr Thee's brother? How could someone like Mok, who was so sharp and on top of everything, end up completely drained like that?

 

Thee cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly dodging the unspoken question. Then he turned his sharp gaze toward the model sitting stiffly next to the bed. His eyes narrowed slightly, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a fleeting smirk—a taunting smile of someone clearly in control. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

 

"Aren't you heading out yet?" 

 

The mafia boss sank into the chair on the other side of the bed, crossing one leg over the other. His hands clasped together, and he gave off the air of someone about to negotiate a high-stakes deal. 

 

"I really should thank you for looking after my man. Everything's settled now, though, so you can leave. I won't keep you."

 

"I'm worried about Peach. I'm not going anywhere just yet," Kin replied with a smile that felt oddly stiff, almost forced. It wasn't the same cheerful grin that Thee had seen him flash before. Not even close.

 

"Mr Thee, you're the CEO of a company, right? You've got to be swamped with work. Surely, you don't need to trouble yourself staying here just because your photographer's sick. I've got it covered."

 

"Work these days can be handled on an iPad, in case you didn't know," the mafia countered, his smirk deepening while his smoky-grey eyes gleamed with a slow-burning intensity. 

 

"And since my man is the one who's hurt, that takes priority over any job.".

 

Lying between the two men, glaring daggers at each other, Peach calmly sipped his hot milk, feeling like he was front row at a drama. It was strangely entertaining, even if he couldn't make heads or tails of their conversation.

 

Before either of them could say anything more, there was a knock on the door. Instantly, the two men's fierce stares snapped toward it in unison, as if ready to pounce. The person who opened the door froze in place, startled by the sheer tension in the room.

 

The newcomer was a plump, bald man with a shiny, polished head, save for thin patches of grey hair on either side. His round face, lightly etched with wrinkles, carried an air of arrogance. His shifty, narrow eyes darted about with a slyness that made him seem as trustworthy as an overfed fox.  

 

Despite stepping into the room with a nervous gait, he had clearly felt confident and full of bravado when knocking on the door moments earlier.

 

"Good evening. I'm a legal representative of Mr Tawan's family. You can call me Yuth," the middle-aged lawyer, leaning toward the older side of that spectrum, introduced himself while holding out his business card. Yet none of the three younger men in the room made any move to take it.

 

Kin deliberately ignored him, rummaging through the snack bag Mr Thee had bought for him, showing zero regard for the man who paid for it. Thee's gaze briefly flicked to the model when he noticed him pulling out a snack to share, but he quickly refocused on the unfortunate lawyer. The relaxed atmosphere vanished in an instant, replaced by cold, tense air.

 

Peach glanced at the rising pressure emanating from the mafia boss and decided to let his self-appointed protector handle this. With a faint smile, he turned his attention to the snacks, joining Kin in filling his stomach without a care in the world.

 

Mr Thee always seemed to revel in showing off his connections and power, basking in the satisfaction of being asked for help. So, Peach figured he might as well take full advantage of that and play the role of the meek, grateful subordinate to perfection.

 

"Are you here to negotiate compensation?"

 

Mr Thee's voice was calm and steady, but it carried a chill that made Yut shiver where he stood. The frosty tension radiating from the mafia boss was in stark contrast to the sight of Peach, who sat in bed, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as he chewed on bread, utterly unbothered. Damn it!

 

His employer hadn't mentioned he'd be walking into a situation this terrifying!

Yuth quickly tucked his business card back into his pocket and dabbed the sweat from his shiny head with a handkerchief. Forcing a polite, businesslike smile, he tried to ease the tension in the room.

 

"Of course, this is entirely our fault," the middle-aged lawyer said in an overly deferential tone. He wasn't used to acting this submissive. After all, his employer was a newly minted millionaire, one of the most successful businessmen in the country. How hard could it be to smooth things over after his boss's son lost his temper and punched some powerless photographer? This should've been a walk in the park. Except now, nothing was going as expected. Weren't they supposed to have no connections?

 

"And how exactly do you plan to compensate?" Thee's voice was sharp and intimidating, his domineering demeanour catching even Peach off guard. Still, Peach wasn't scared. He knew Thee was standing up for him, and while he didn't understand why, it was enough to put his mind at ease.

 

"Of course, we'll cover all the medical expenses in full-every last penny," Yut said quickly, pulling out a chequebook with practised confidence. 

 

"And for the emotional distress caused, we're happy to provide additional compensation as an apology."

 

When Yut named a hefty figure in the tens of thousands, Peach's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had no intention of pressing charges, but a payout this big? That was a pleasant surprise. He hadn't expected things to work out so well for him. But clearly, the mafia boss didn't think the same.

 

"You call that a responsible offer?" Thee scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "I didn't realise the Veeraarpakorn family was strapped for cash. Naming your son Tawan-'Sun'-only for him to turn out so small-minded." Peach turned to stare at Thee, stunned by his audacity. A tiny pang of regret tugged at him over the potential loss of that generous sum. Sensing Peach's gaze, Thee immediately shifted his attention back to him. The icy tension melted into something softer as their eyes met. Thee's lips curved into a smug, almost playful smile as if silently asking, I did well, didn't I?

 

Not letting the poor, nearly-senior lawyer faint in his hospital room was an accomplishment in itself.

 

"That's quite a lot of money," Peach murmured, leaning closer. "Besides, I already promised Aran I wouldn't press charges. I'm not going to sue them for damages anyway."

 

"How is that a lot of money? I could give you ten or even a hundred times more than that." Thee straightened his posture, his tone dismissive.

 

"And why would I take your money, Mr Thee?" he shot back, cutting short the mafia boss's odd line of thought. "Be reasonable. I already said I wouldn't sue. Besides, private hospital fees aren't cheap. I don't even know why Kin dragged me to a fancy hospital like this in the first place."

 

"You're not suing, but Arseny will. Causing a scene in Arseny's studio, tarnishing the company's reputation, and harming an employee both physically and emotionally-it's only natural that Arseny would take legal action." The mafia replied, his tone steady and firm, as if it was the most logical conclusion in the world; whereas the lawyer, visibly paled as the full implications hit him. Thee's words seemed to echo ominously in his mind.

 

Who didn't know Arseny? How had a simple assault against a lowly photographer escalated into a clash with that powerhouse of a family?

 

Peach couldn't suppress a smile. While he felt a bit guilty toward Aran, he couldn't deny how entertaining it was to see Thee handle the situation on his behalf. And honestly, there was a certain thrill to letting the mafia boss flex his influence like this. After all, it wasn't every day someone swooped in to solve his problems so decisively.

 

"The truth is, I've caused your company another problem," Peach said with a faux sorrowful tone, carefully testing the waters.

 

Knowing Thee was firmly on his side and so indulgent with him, he couldn't help but push his luck a little further. "I already mentioned I'm not comfortable working with Tawan anymore. If there's any project with him as the model, I'll have to refuse. But I've signed a long-term contract with your company. If I want to terminate it, will there be any penalties?"

 

Thee's brows furrowed immediately, his expression darkening. Peach froze, inwardly berating himself for overstepping. He'd gotten too comfortable, taking advantage of Thee's kindness, forgetting that when it came to business and profits, a mafia boss wasn't likely to bend. Bracing himself for a sharp reprimand, Peach was taken aback when the question came entirely out of left field.

 

"Why would you need to break the contract?" The mafia asked, his tone dripping with displeasure.

 

"The summer and spring collection shoots are both couples shoots with Aran and Tawan. I really can't work on those projects." Peach mumbled, his voice hesitant.

 

"So what?" Thee crossed his arms, his gaze steady and unyielding. "If it comes down to a choice, I'll choose you every time."

 

Peach blinked, stunned into silence, his eyes widening slightly. A sudden wave of heat rose to his cheeks, and he could feel the warmth spreading like wildfire. He bit his lip, lowering his gaze in a futile attempt to steady his racing heart. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to counter.

 

"It's about choosing between the model and the photographer, Mr Thee. You should pick the model. Otherwise, you'll have to reshoot everything. The project will be delayed, and you'll lose money."

 

Thee's gaze lingered on Peach's flushed cheeks, his expression softening. He reached out and took Peach's hand in his own, his thumb brushing gently over the back of it. His voice, calm and resolute, left no room for doubt.

 

"Choosing you is the most worthwhile investment I could make."

 

Peach froze, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. Without thinking, he grabbed the blanket and yanked it over his head, retreating into its sanctuary. Thee's eyes lingered on his now-empty hand, a flicker of wistfulness crossing his face. Then, as if switching gears effortlessly, he turned to shoot a smug, mocking smile at the sulking model sitting across the room.

 

"I think we're done here with the lawyer," 

 

Thee turned back to the middle-aged man, his tone cutting through the room like ice. Rising to his full height, Thee's towering frame left no doubt that the conversation was over. His gaze bore down on the man like a boot squashing an insect. 

 

"Arseny will no longer work with the Veeraarpakorn family, so go tell your boss."

 

The lawyer paled visibly, his head bobbing in a hurried nod as he practically sprinted out of the room. He looked like a man who had just barely escaped a brush with death. The mafia boss strode toward the door, cracking it open just enough to issue commands to the bodyguard standing outside. His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of steel.

 

"Blacklist the Veeraarpakorn conglomerate across all platforms. I won't work with them in any capacity. Cancel the winter collection, too. I want it reshot from scratch." Thee paused for a moment, his gaze dropping as a chilling glint flashed in his eyes. 

 

"Take some men to visit the actor, Tawan. He hit one of my people. If that hand of his can't do anything better, there's no need to keep it."

 

The bodyguard nodded silently and left to carry out the orders. Meanwhile, the mafia directed the remaining guards to maintain strict vigilance. With that settled, he smoothed his expression back to neutral, replacing the cold menace with a faint smile before stepping back into the room.