Me and Thee: English translation.

Wake up call #33

Plub sat across the steaming shabu pot, arms crossed and lips pursed. Opposite her were two men. The smaller one, sitting farther in, was her beloved older brother, but the larger man on the outside was someone she never imagined she'd see in a cheap shabu restaurant in her lifetime.

 

"Care to explain what's going on here, Peach?" Plub asked, her tone sharp as she stubbornly refused to pick up her chopsticks. Peach, as usual, didn't bother answering. Instead, he dipped a slice of pork into the bubbling broth, swirled it around a few times, and then set it neatly on her plate.

 

"Trying to shut me up with food, huh?" she snapped, eyes narrowing, though she still popped the pork into her mouth without hesitation. "Don't think one slice is gonna cut it!"

 

Peach chuckled under his breath, grabbing more meat and vegetables to cook for her, his efforts at appeasement evident.

Meanwhile, the towering figure next to him—none other than Thee caught on and casually ordered another round of food trays, as if the current mountain of dishes wasn't enough.

 

When they first walked into the restaurant, Mr Thee had nearly insisted on buying out the entire place. Peach had spent a good five minutes trying to explain the penalty fee for ordering too much and leaving food uneaten. Thee, unfazed, merely raised an eyebrow because he felt that it's hard just to tell him how much it costs.

 

Peach had barely resisted the urge to pull his hair out in frustration. It wasn't about the money—it was about the principle! The sacred code of buffet-goers: If you order it, you finish it.

 

Of course, he'd only pulled at his own hair in exasperation. There was no way he'd dare touch Thee's.

 

Plub, still eating, shot him a side-eye glare, clearly unimpressed. Peach, caught between guilt and the mounting pressure of her gaze, finally caved and began explaining. His voice was carefully neutral, as if trying to make the situation sound less awkward than it was.

 

"Mr Thee covered all my hospital bills when I was admitted," he said, pausing for a breath. "So, I figured I'd treat him to a meal as a thank-you."

 

Peach nearly bit his tongue. He rarely lied to his little sister. Sure, half of what he said was technically true, but guilt was already creeping in. What was he supposed to say? That the mafia boss sitting across from them had pouted and insisted on tagging along? Who in their right mind would believe that?!

 

"My, my! The CEO must have such a kind heart!" Plub flashed a dazzling smile that made her eyes crinkle shut. To her older brother, however, that overly sweet smile was more terrifying than her usual glare by a mile. "A cheap little shabu place like this doesn't seem like it'd suit your taste, though. Maybe we should save a proper thank-you dinner for another time, hmm?"

 

Thee arched a brow slightly, clearly catching on to her not-so-subtle attempt to shoo him away, but he didn't seem to care. Instead, the tall man leaned back in his seat with a casual air, sipping the cheap green tea from the restaurant as if he didn't have a care in the world.

 

"It's fine. These things are measured by the heart, not the price tag."

 

"But surely you're drowning in work, Mr CEO. How could Peach spring such a last-minute invitation on you?" Plub pressed on, refusing to back down. 

 

"In any case, I think it's better if you head back for now. Wouldn't want to waste your valuable time."

 

"Not a waste. If it's about your brother, I'll always make time." That calm reply made Peach choke on his tea, coughing so loudly that the entire table turned to look. Plub, on the other hand, froze in place, her mouth hanging open and her wide eyes glued to the president, who had leaned over to gently pat Peach's back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

Plub quickly grabbed a napkin and shoved it at Peach before leaning in close, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. 

 

"Peach... is this... what I think it is?!"

 

Peach pressed his fingers to his temple. All his efforts from not even ten minutes ago had just gone up in smoke. With a resigned sigh, he gave a small nod, barely audible, but enough to set Plub off. 

 

She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes lighting up with a silent, drawn-out scream of excitement. Her shoulders shook as she practically vibrated in place, her entire face glowing with giddy delight. Once she'd managed to rein herself in, Plub cleared her throat, her face still flushed but her expression turning serious. She leaned forward and, in the most earnest tone imaginable, asked, "CEO... are you trying to court my brother?"

 

Peach's jaw dropped, and he could practically feel the heat rushing to his face, spreading so quickly it was as if his ears had stopped working. He completely forgot to stop Plub, forgot that his little sister was brash, impulsive, and the polar opposite of his reserved nature. But he hadn't expected her to be this impulsive!

 

"Don't call me 'CEO', just Mr Thee is fine," the mafia boss replied, completely unbothered by the bluntness of the question. He looked utterly relaxed, more so than Peach had ever seen him.

 

"If things go well, you might even call me Brother Thee one day," Peach froze mid-thought, whatever excuse he'd been about to make instantly wiped clean from his mind. It felt like someone had lobbed a grenade straight at him, leaving nothing but a ringing in his ears and a desperate need to disappear.

 

Plub, on the other hand, lowered her head and clenched her fist, pounding it repeatedly on the seat in what seemed like pure excitement. After a moment, she took a deep, audible breath and raised her head again, her expression now perfectly composed, as if nothing had happened.

 

Peach, however, couldn't take it anymore. He turned his head away, one hand coming up to cover half his face in a futile attempt to hide his growing embarrassment. He was so close to just banging his head against the wall to put an end to this nightmare.

 

In a desperate attempt to keep himself occupied, Peach focused intently on dipping meat and vegetables into the shabu broth, as though his life depended on it. With determined hands, he piled food onto plates for the other two, hoping that shoving food at them might distract them from their ridiculous staring contest. It took him a while to compose himself, but once he felt his face had returned to its normal colour, Peach finally dared to clear his throat and steer the conversation elsewhere.

 

"So... how's work?" he asked, jumping to the question that had been nagging at him the most. After all, he'd been off the grid for three full days, and both his boss and his little sister had gone out of their way to keep him in the dark about any updates. Probably because they were afraid he'd get out of bed, grab his laptop, and start working-or worse, pick up his camera and head straight out the door.

 

"Winter collection's been put on hold. Luckily, I hadn't started laying out the magazine yet. Right now, we're in the middle of interviewing a new model for the campaign." Plub replied between bites of cheese-dipped pork, savouring every mouthful.

 

Peach pressed his lips together tightly, guilt swelling in his chest. Even though he knew, logically, that it wasn't entirely his fault, the ripple effects of the situation had clearly impacted others, and that was enough to leave him feeling uneasy.

 

"I'm sorry. I've caused trouble for everyone," he said with a faint, apologetic smile, his eyes dimming with regret. Thee frowned deeply, looking like he wanted to interject, but Plub shook her head firmly, her expression resolute.

 

"There's no need to apologise. This wasn't your fault, Peach," Plub said, shrugging her shoulders as she flashed him a bright grin.

 

"Even though I know you're still going to feel guilty anyway. But seriously, I'm saying it again—this isn't on you. I'm happy to redo all the work, and honestly, everyone on the team who knows what happened agreed that we should replace the model. That guy was a total pain. Even the makeup artist was complaining about him!"

 

Peach blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of what she was saying. As far as he could remember, Tawan wasn't particularly terrible. Sure, he was on the quieter side and not the most sociable person on set, but he'd never been bad enough to warrant that kind of backlash. He wasn't the kind to stir up drama or get talked about behind his back, at least not from what Peach had seen.

 

"It's not so much him as a person," Plub said, lowering her voice into the gossipy tone of a coworker ready to spill tea. "But when it comes to anything related to Aran, he turns into the most insufferable guy on the planet. If the makeup's too bold, he complains. If the outfits are too revealing, he complains. It's always something! And it's all stuff that was spelt out in his contract from the start. If he didn't like it, why did he even sign? Why take the job at all?"

 

Peach nodded in understanding. He'd had firsthand experience with Tawan's antics on set whenever Aran was involved. On those days, Tawan would hover over him relentlessly, demanding to see the photos he'd taken before the shoot was even over. It was exasperating, to say the least.

 

"So, we won't have to deal with him throwing a tantrum later? I mean, you still need to shoot them together for two more seasons," he pointed out with a small sigh, already dreading the potential drama. Plub, however, just grinned, entirely unfazed.

 

"He was the one who broke the contract. What's he gonna complain about?" she said with a carefree shrug. "And if he does try to cause trouble, I'll just run straight to Mr Thee!"

 

"Well done! If you come, tell me next time, I'll treat you to bubble tea."

 

Thee continued quietly gathering information, all while diligently cooking meat and veggies and placing them on the plate for the smaller figure beside him without missing a beat. He nodded with a serious expression, clearly pleased to have one less annoyance to deal with and happy to lighten the load for the person sitting next to him. 

 

Peach, on the other hand, had no idea what was running through the mafia boss's head, nor did he care to know. He simply decided to tune out the odd conversation, letting it pass him by as he turned to chat with his sister instead. With a piece of meat already in his chopsticks, he said, "It's partly my fault too. I'll bring you some snacks to make it up to you next time."

 

Plub laughed, not shy at all, as she immediately threw out the name of the snack shop she wanted him to get something from before circling back to work talk.

 

"By the way, I just heard that the new model has already passed the interview. Bunga just dropped a message in the group chat a little while ago. Looks like the contract's signed, and his schedule's totally open right now. You can set up a shoot whenever you want."

 

"Wait, why was Bunga the one doing the interview?" Peach raised an eyebrow, trying to recall her name. Bunga was the assistant team lead for Team Three and had been in the running to take over as team leader before Wivit got the spot.

 

Technically, it should have been Wivit, the actual team leader, handling the interview.

 

"That guy's out of the team," Plub replied, her voice still dripping with irritation, unable to even bring herself to say his name.

 

"He left the company altogether, actually. There's a rumour going around that he's being sued for fraud, but I'm not sure if it's true."

 

The siblings both instinctively turned to look at Thee, who responded with a single firm nod. His lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes held a dark, unsettling intensity.

 

Peach immediately turned away, deciding to pretend he hadn't seen or heard anything. Plub, on the other hand, looked very pleased, mentally awarding the mafia boss extra points as she grinned to herself.

 

"Anyway, rumour has it that the new model's super cute—like, ridiculously cute. Looks and personality, both top-notch," Plub added, her eyes lighting up as she giggled, pretending to act bashful. The exaggerated act was so fake it was almost charmingly annoying, enough to make anyone want to reach out and pinch her cheeks.

 

Peach turned to Thee, telling him he was getting full and that it was Thee's turn to eat. Before he could say more, Plub, who had gone quiet for a moment, suddenly spoke up.

 

"Oh, by the way," she began, tilting her head slightly. "That model said he's a big fan of your work, Peach. He really wants to work with you again." Plub furrowed. 

 

"I was gonna ask where you shot someone that handsome, but then I figured it's pointless, you've got too many clients to keep track of anyway."

 

Peach tried to recall any particularly striking models he'd photographed recently. A vague image popped into his head: some tall, broad-shouldered kid who couldn't have been more than twenty, with sharp, standout features. But... no, that couldn't be it.

 

Later, Peach walked into the company with a big bag of snacks, just like he'd promised. Well, except for one tiny detail: he hadn't spent a single dime of his own money on them.

 

That morning, as usual, the mafia had shown up outside his office. After they'd shared breakfast together, Thee casually informed him that he had work outside the office in the morning but would be back by the afternoon. Before leaving, he handed Peach a massive bag of snacks.

 

The bag was from a high-end bakery, the kind that charged an absurd amount for even the simplest treats. Peach froze, staring at the bag, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. Meanwhile, Mr Thee, as calm and collected as ever, seemed completely unaware of how ridiculous this situation looked.

 

"You said you'd bring snacks for them, didn't you?"

 

"I said I'd buy the snacks myself," Peach replied with an exasperated sigh. "And this is way too expensive."

 

"What does it matter? Snacks are snacks. Who bought them doesn't change anything," the mafia shot back, looking almost offended that Peach seemed to think he'd done something wrong.

 

Peach could only roll his eyes and reluctantly accept the bag, deciding not to argue further and saving money. He wasn't about to complain about that.

 

With the bag in hand, Peach headed straight to the team's shared meeting room. The moment he set the bag down on the table, the team swarmed in like kids at a candy store, their eyes practically sparkling with excitement over the fancy snacks.

 

"Peach, did you buy all this for us?" Plub asked excitedly, her face lighting up. She already knew her brother had promised to bring snacks to make up for things, but she hadn't expected this level of extravagance.

 

"It's my way of making amends."

 

"Wait, did you actually buy this?" she asked again, narrowing her eyes at him with a sly, knowing smirk. Caught red-handed, Peach let out a resigned sigh and nodded. Plub burst into giggles, clearly amused, before diving into the bag to grab her share without a shred of hesitation.

 

"Oh, by the way, Peach! This is the new model who'll be working with us," one of his teammates called out, waving him over. Peach recognised her as someone from the PR team—she was the one who usually coordinated with models for shoots.

 

Grabbing two snack bags, Peach headed toward her, his curiosity piqued. He caught sight of a tall figure talking to another team member. From the back, the guy seemed oddly familiar, though Peach couldn't quite place him.

 

He handed one bag to the PR team member and turned to wait for the new model to introduce himself. Moments later, the guy turned around, revealing a strikingly handsome face with puffed-out cheeks,  giving him a youthful, almost boyish charm. He looked no older than seventeen or eighteen.

 

Peach froze for a second, his smile faltering in surprise. The young man, on the other hand, only grinned wider, his big, bright eyes narrowing into cheerful crescents.

 

"Hello, Peach! Fancy meeting you here again."

 

"Kin!"