Me and Thee: English translation.

Wake up call #34

 

It was another infuriating day for Thee, one of those where he felt like tossing all his responsibilities onto his younger brother's lap and walking away. The only thing keeping him sane was the thought that he'd get to see Peach in the afternoon.

 

Sitting at the head of the long table, Thee tapped his fingers rhythmically on the polished wood, a silent signal of his growing irritation. Everyone around the table was a high-ranking member of the Arseny 'clan'-wily old foxes who had survived countless power plays.

 

This was precisely why his younger brother, Rome, had gladly stepped back and let Thee take the family's reins while positioning himself as the mastermind behind the scenes. Rome now ruled as the hidden king of the Arseny Family's sprawling business empire. Far removed from these exhausting power struggles.

 

Mok sat by Thee's side, scribbling down key points with sharp focus. Rome, unsurprisingly, had skipped the meeting altogether, jetting off to manage some personal business upcountry—classic Rome.

 

After four and a half gruelling hours, the meeting finally ended. Thee exchanged a few curt words with some of the more influential elders about lingering business matters before turning on his heel and leaving in long, determined strides. He'd hoped to grab lunch with Peach, but the extended meeting, combined with the city's notorious midday traffic, made that wish nearly impossible.

 

Frustration simmered just beneath his cool exterior. From the driver's seat, Mok glanced at the rearview mirror, sensing the dark cloud of irritation radiating from his boss. Without a word, he smoothly turned the wheel and pulled up in front of Studio A. No instructions were needed. Thee barely lifted his gaze from the iPad in his hands when the car rolled to a stop in front of the studio. Instantly, his mood lightened.

 

Mok mentioned he'd order lunch ahead, earning a brief nod before Thee stepped out with a faint smile playing on his lips. But the moment he set foot inside the studio, his brow furrowed again. His sharp, intense eyes locked onto the male model standing confidently in the centre of the set, flashing a dazzling smile. What the hell is he doing here?

 

Irritation flared. Thee clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to march over and drag that smugly grinning man far, far away from his photographer. The memory of Peach's anger the last time he interfered with work still stung. He didn't want a repeat of that. Still, that guy was infuriating.

 

His teeth ground together, muscles taut with pent-up frustration. He darted a glance toward Peach, who was entirely engrossed in his work, too busy to notice anything else. Thee's annoyance simmered, filling his chest until it felt almost suffocating.

 

With a low growl, he spun on his heel and stomped toward the familiar leather sofa, throwing himself down with a heavy thud. Crossing one leg over the other, Thee folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, brooding silently. Before long, Mok returned, lunch in hand. He laid out the food meticulously, unfazed by the stormy air radiating from his boss.

 

"That guy. What the hell is he doing here?" Thee growled, voice low and dangerous, gesturing toward the model.

 

"He went through the standard process audition and interview." Mok followed his line of sight, expression calm as ever.

 

"Mr Touch recommended him, plus he agreed to take a pay cut after the shooting delay. His modelling skills fit the concept perfectly, so he got the job."

 

"But I don't want him here!"

 

"You were the one who said anyone would do, weren't you, Mr Thee?" Mok replied coolly, with just a hint of subtle teasing. 

 

"I recall you skipping the interview process and telling us to choose whoever fits the role. Said it didn't matter who." Thee's face darkened instantly. He felt an intense urge to throttle someone, anyone, but realised the only person deserving of such treatment was himself.

 

Left with no argument, he begrudgingly ate his lunch alone, his intended companion too busy working to join him. Combined with the lingering frustration from the morning, the air around him became practically electrified with irritation.

 

Later, Peach finally called for a break, satisfied with the shots he'd taken. While scrolling through the photos, he turned toward the refreshment table, only to spot Thee brooding in a corner of the studio, looking anything but welcoming. Without hesitation, Peach approached.

 

"You're back, Mr Thee?" he greeted warmly, flashing a bright smile before eagerly grabbing his camera. He moved closer, clearly excited to show off the shots he'd taken.

 

Thee held his breath as the smaller man came near, the faint scent of his soap teasing his senses. For a fleeting moment, he wanted nothing more than to close the distance, to soak in that warmth and enthusiasm radiating from those sparkling eyes.

 

Realising his thoughts were drifting dangerously, Thee lowered his gaze, forcing himself back into control. His lips twitched into a soft, uncharacteristically tender smile as his previous stormy mood dissipated almost instantly: "That guy-he's not bothering you, is he?" 

 

Thee asked, voice low and almost coaxing, with a protective undertone. "He seems... annoying. If he's being too much or getting on your nerves, just say the word. I'll handle it."

 

"Not at all. He's been great, actually." Peach chuckled, clearly amused. "Kin's really talented, makes everything so much easier. We might even meet the original deadline for the winter collection."

 

Thee was momentarily stunned into silence. He opened his mouth to say something, but seeing how Peach's eyes gleamed with pride and joy over his work, the words stuck in his throat. How could he argue when Peach was this happy?

 

In the end, all Thee could do was watch Peach return to work, his gaze lingering with a helpless, forlorn longing he couldn't shake.

 

"Boss, you've got meetings scheduled this afternoon," Mok announced, stepping in only after Peach was out of earshot. Thee acknowledged him with a curt nod, though his eyes stubbornly stayed on Peach's retreating figure, unwilling to look away. He hated the thought of meeting anyone, but after skipping two days of work to care for Peach, his calendar was a mess of back-to-back appointments he couldn't ignore.

 

"I've arranged the meetings in the chairman's office. A few documents also need your signature. I've got them ready." Mok said once again. 

With a resigned sigh, Thee rose from the couch, the irritation he'd managed to suppress beginning to bubble up again. His mind raced with unwelcome scenarios of the model getting too close to his photographer. Just the thought darkened his expression. He finally reached his room. 

 

After swiftly handling a pile of documents, he began allowing scheduled visitors to meet with him. The string of cunning, self-serving conversations weighed heavily on his already frayed patience, layering frustration upon frustration with no outlet in sight.

 

Thee didn't mind negotiating deals; he was more than adept at it, but he despised sycophants, especially those who manipulated emotions for personal gain.

Raised by a powerful Russian mafia boss, Thee and his younger brother were groomed from an early age to survive and ultimately inherit the family's criminal empire. He'd been thrust into a world where masks were the norm and trust was a currency far more fragile than gold.

 

He had once allowed himself to trust-until a so-called friend used their bond to claw for favours and leverage. Since then, he'd built unbreakable walls around his heart, granting true closeness only to family.

 

The mafia boss rubbed his temples slowly, trying to ease the mounting tension. With a curt nod to Mok, he allowed the final appointment of the day to enter. The moment he heard the door click open, he lifted his head only for his brows to knit together instantly.

 

"What do you want?"

 

The unexpected guest flinched, wide, cautious eyes darting up to meet his gaze. There was a nervous hesitancy in the way he shifted his weight, visibly on edge. His face, delicate and heartbreakingly vulnerable, seemed ready to crumple into tears. It stirred something instinctive-an urge to close the distance and offer comfort. But that had been months ago. Now, Thee felt nothing. His heart, once so easily swayed, was numb. Every trace of emotion had been locked away, leaving only an icy emptiness.

 

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr Thee."

 

Aran's voice trembled despite his attempt to sound polite. His forced smile barely masked the fear reflected in his clasped, shaking hands. Thee regarded him with detached indifference, leaning back in his leather armchair. He didn't bother offering the man a seat.

 

"If you have something to say, spit it out."

 

Aran hesitated, clearly second-guessing himself. Thee narrowed his eyes, irritation sparking like a lit fuse. His patience, already stretched thin from the day's endless aggravations, was dangerously close to snapping. There'd been too many reasons to be angry today.

 

"I'm begging for mercy." Aran's voice was barely above a whisper, thick with suppressed tears. His reddened eyes shimmered with unshed sorrow. "Please let Tawan go."

 

For a fleeting moment, Thee went still. His stormy, smoke-grey eyes darkened, turning colder than winter frost. The name he despised hearing rang sharply in his mind, igniting embers of unresolved fury.

 

"Did anyone ever ask that brat not to act like a bastard?' 

 

Thee's voice was low and sharp. For a fleeting moment, an image flashed in his mind—a young photographer lying motionless in a stark hospital bed—that bruised corner of his mouth. The sterile whiteness of the sheets nearly swallowed his fragile body. If Thee hadn't intervened, would anyone have bothered to stand up for him?

 

"But what you did to Tawan... it was too much." Aran shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with exhaustion. "To Tawan... and his family. Don't you think it went too far?"

 

"I don't see how it did," Thee replied flatly, his expression unreadable, making Aran's face pale even further.

 

"Tawan is critically injured. He's still in the ICU. His right hand... every bone is shattered. He might be disabled for life. If that's not too much... what is?"

 

Aran's trembling voice cracked as tears streamed freely down his cheeks. His small frame quivered pitifully, consumed by helplessness. Yet, Thee's cold gaze remained impassive, touched only by faint irritation.

 

"If his hands couldn't be used for anything good, he doesn't need them," Thee stated evenly, as though discussing the weather. 

 

"As for his family... if they can't raise him right, they have to face the consequences."

 

"Mr Thee..." Aran's voice quivered as he spoke the name, barely holding himself together. After drawing a shaky breath, he took a hesitant step closer. His wide, tear-filled eyes pleaded desperately. Slim fingers, trembling with fear, slowly reached out and lightly touched the back of Thee's hand.

 

"Please... I'm begging you. Let Tawan go... just this once." The instant those soft fingers brushed his skin, Thee snapped his hand away with a sharp flick, producing a loud, resounding slap.

 

Aran gasped, clutching his stinging hand, now red and trembling from the impact. He stumbled back, his delicate face etched with terror.

 

"Don't touch me!" Thee hissed, his revulsion cutting through the air like a blade.

 

Aran's breath hitched as tears blurred his vision, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs. The crushing weight of sadness and frustration broke down every ounce of self-control Aran had left.

 

"You're heartless!" he shouted, his small frame trembling with fury. "Why?! Don't you like me? All I'm asking is for you to let Tawan go-Just this once!"

 

That single sentence snapped Thee's already thin patience like a twig. He despised being manipulated in the name of relationships, especially when someone dared to exploit his feelings.

 

"Where the hell did you get that idea?" Thee growled, his voice dangerously low, any previous thought of wanting Aran in his bed now completely forgotten.

 

"Everyone says so... The makeup artists said it too..." Aran's voice trailed off, his confidence wilting under Thee's suffocating glare.

 

Suddenly, doubts crept into his mind. Something didn't add up. The atmosphere around Thee had turned oppressive, menacing; nothing about it screamed affection. The makeup artists had said Thee was head over heels for him. That he was only shadowing Aran out of jealousy, they even claimed the attack on Tawan was fueled by possessiveness. They'd insisted when Aran had hesitated, pointing out how Thee barely looked like he wanted to be anywhere near him.

 

Aran hadn't bought into it completely at first, but Tawan's mom had cornered him, her anger so fierce it felt like a slap to the face. She'd laid all the blame squarely on him, ordering him to make himself useful to Tawan, for once. Her disgust toward him and her refusal to accept her son's feelings for another man left him with no choice. And maybe they were right. After all, the CEO himself had agreed to see him on such short notice. For a moment, he'd felt his heart lift, his hopes soar.

 

But the man standing before him now? He didn't fit any of those expectations. He wasn't the man the makeup artists and crew had described. Theerakit stood tall, his presence commanding and suffocating, the tension in the air so thick Aran could barely breathe. His legs started to shake, his knees threatening to buckle. Fear crept into his heart, slowly, like ice spreading through his veins.

 

"Did they bother telling you that the only thing I'm interested in is dragging you into my bed?" Thee's deep voice was low but sharp, slicing through the tense air like a blade. 

 

"Because other than sex, I don't see anything remotely interesting about you"

 

The crude, dismissive words hit Aran like a slap, forcing his hands into tight fists, his nails digging painfully into his palms. Anger flared in his chest, but Thee didn't care. Aran had tried to manipulate him, playing on his supposed feelings. Why should he be kind in return?

 

"So, are you willing to crawl into my bed to save your precious actor?"

 

The question made Aran's head snap up, fear and panic etched across his face. Thee's mouth curled into a cold, sinister smirk— calculated, cruel, and devoid of mercy.

 

"Too bad I'm already bored with you." His voice dropped even lower, more threatening than before, each word reverberating with chilling finality. "The best thing you and that guy can do is disappear before my patience runs out."

 

"Oh! Hey, Peach! What are you doing standing here?"

 

Both men jolted, startled by the sudden interruption. Thee's eyes shot toward the partially open office door, realising with a jolt that it hadn't closed properly when Aran had come in-likely due to his trembling hands.

 

Without wasting another second, Thee strode toward the door in long, purposeful steps, practically tearing it open. There, standing pale as a ghost with wide, shocked eyes, was Peach, the young photographer. His face was drained of colour, and his hands trembled ever so slightly, his expression a mix of confusion and fear. He must've heard everything.

 

Panic surged through Thee's chest, making his hand twitch as though he wanted to reach out, but Peach took a step back before he could. The young man lowered his gaze and gave a stiff, awkward bow, as though unsure how else to react.

 

"Sorry... I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I just... overheard by accident." Peach pressed his lips together, holding up a small bag of snacks. 

 

"I only came to share some snacks from this morning with you and Mok."

 

"Please, listen to me" Thee's voice cracked with urgency, words tumbling out in disarray. He ached to pull Peach into his arms, to explain everything, but Peach raised a hand, stepping back to put some space.

 

"Sorry, but I'm not ready to talk right now. I just want to be alone for a while." 

 

His gaze flicked toward Aran, who was still standing, frozen in the office, lost and uncertain. Peach's eyes dimmed with quiet resignation. 

 

"Please continue what you are going to do... Don't worry about me."

 

Without waiting for a reply, Peach turned and strode away, shoulders squared but trembling just enough to betray the storm inside.

 

He never looked back—not even once.