BE CAREFUL, MR.

THEE
INDEX
- WAKE-UP CALL #1
- WAKE-UP CALL #2
- WAKE-UP CALL #3
- WAKE-UP CALL #4
- WAKE-UP CALL #5
- WAKE-UP CALL #6
- WAKE-UP CALL #7
- WAKE-UP CALL #8
- WAKE-UP CALL #9
- WAKE-UP CALL #10
- WAKE-UP CALL #11
- WAKE-UP CALL #12
- WAKE-UP CALL #13
- WAKE-UP CALL #14
- WAKE-UP CALL #15
- WAKE-UP CALL #16
- WAKE-UP CALL #17
- WAKE-UP CALL #18
- WAKE-UP CALL #19
- WAKE-UP CALL #20
- WAKE-UP CALL #21
- WAKE-UP CALL #22
- WAKE-UP CALL #23
- WAKE-UP CALL #24
- WAKE-UP CALL #25
- WAKE-UP CALL #26
- WAKE-UP CALL #27
- WAKE-UP CALL #28
- WAKE-UP CALL #29
- WAKE-UP CALL #30
- WAKE-UP CALL #31
- WAKE-UP CALL #32
- WAKE-UP CALL #33
- WAKE-UP CALL #34
- WAKE-UP CALL #35
- WAKE-UP CALL #36
- WAKE-UP CALL #37
- WAKE-UP CALL #38
- WAKE-UP CALL #39
- WAKE-UP CALL #40
- WAKE-UP CALL #41
- WAKE-UP CALL #42
- WAKE-UP CALL #43
- WAKE-UP CALL #44
• THE LAST WAKE-UP CALL

SPECIALS
- SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #0.5
- SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #1
- SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #2
- SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #3
- SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #4
- SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #5
WAKE-UP CALL #1

The flash blinked in rhythm with the shutter click, while the model in front of the backdrop
effortlessly changed poses. He was a petite man with delicate, almost feminine features—a
famous unisex model who exuded charm as he posed with an expensive perfume, perfectly
embodying the image of a fragrance for all genders.

"Give me a more confident look... That's it, perfect," instructed a rich, smooth voice, never
taking their eyes off the camera. After a few more clicks, the slender figure finally lowered
the camera and announced a short break to prepare for the next scene.

"Hey, Peach, how do I look? Am I killing it or what?" the model practically jumped, almost
running, half-skipping from excitement; his exaggerated enthusiasm made Peach laugh as
he casually turned the camera screen for him to see.

"Don't you trust my skills, Ran?" Peach joked as he unhooked the camera from his neck. He
moved to a nearby chair, slumped down, and let his younger colleague review the photos.
Meanwhile, he went back to reviewing the images on his own device.

Aran was grinning from ear to ear until his cheeks puffed up, his sparkling eyes glued to the
images on the screen. "Who wouldn't trust you, Peach? I already knew the photos would be
amazing—that's why I couldn't wait to see them!"

And Aran wasn't exaggerating. Peach, or Peachayarat Janekit, was one of the best
photographers in the country. His skills were extraordinary. Even models who lacked
outstanding features or fame could attract attention after being captured through his lens.
Many actors and celebrities owed their success to a handful of Peach's stunning
photographs.

Aside from his exceptional talent, Peach also had an impeccable reputation in the industry.
Known for his professionalism, impeccable manners, and serene attitude, he had never
been involved in a scandal or bad press, not even once.

However, despite being so outstanding in his career, his love life was a complete disaster,
almost tragically laughable. After being dumped by his third girlfriend for the same reason as
the two before her, Peach had resigned himself to the idea that love might not be in the
cards for him.

"Peach, Peach! Are you coming to the wrap party tonight?" Aran asked, finally satisfied with
the photos and turning to him. His wide, innocent eyes had a slight pleading look that made
Peach smile in amusement.

The dazzling model had been close to Peach since his early days in the industry. Some
might even say Peach was the one who helped him rise to fame. Still, their bond had always
remained superficial, a professional relationship at best. To Peach, Aran was nothing more
than a younger brother he was fond of.
The only problem? Aran's situation was irritatingly possessive and overly dramatic—enough
to make anyone want to roll their eyes.

"Did you tell Tawan yet? If you two start fighting at the party, I'm kicking both of you out,"
Peach warned, crossing his arms. The petite model immediately looked flustered, fidgeting
before shyly admitting he hadn't mentioned it yet. Without another word, he ran off to his
dressing room, probably to call and report to his partner and prepare for the next photo
session.

Peach let out a long sigh before getting up to inspect the next set. Pulling out his phone, he
checked his messages and glanced at his schedule. After a moment, he opened the blue
bird app to catch up on the news while he waited.

His scrolling stopped when a particular headline caught his attention. It was the latest buzz
about a young half-Thai, half-Russian entrepreneur making waves as a rising star in the
perfume and jewelry industry. Not only was he famous for his sharp business acumen, but
his striking looks and intermittent romances with multiple actresses had catapulted Theerakit
Kian Arseny to the pinnacle of fame.

Peach glanced at the perfume bottle neatly placed on the set, then turned his attention back
to his phone, shaking his head slightly with a faint smile.

His boss really was a shrewd guy.

This thought briefly crossed his mind before he returned to his work. Although technically his
"boss," the term only applied in the sense that the man was the CEO of the company Peach
was doing ads for. The likelihood of their paths actually crossing was practically zero.

What he really needed was to hope that his young model colleague wouldn't drag him into
some new drama that night. With long strides, Peach headed to his small car, deciding to
stop by his condo first before joining the others at a trendy restaurant-pub in the heart of the
city.

Once at the condo, he parked in the underground garage, locked his car, and gathered his
things before heading to the building entrance. After tapping his access card on the security
panel, he entered the elevator and pressed his floor.

The mirror reflected a young man with sharp features and a slender figure, standing a little
over 175 centimeters, maybe closer to 180. His build was slim but toned, with the look of
someone who took care of himself.

He wasn't dazzlingly handsome, nor extraordinarily beautiful, but he had the kind of face
you'd never tire of looking at.

The elevator chimed softly as it reached his floor. Peach headed to his unit, tapped his card
on the smart lock, and pushed the door open upon hearing the click.
His condo was a standard studio, not very large but just right for one person. The layout
divided the space into a living area and a bedroom, with a small kitchen on one side and a
bathroom on the other. At the end was a small balcony, just big enough for a washing
machine, a clothesline, and a few small plants that added a touch of green to the space.

Peach's room was simple and understated, much like him. Peach organized his things; he
prided himself on being quite tidy, though his version of organized often made no sense to
anyone but him.

After putting everything in its place, watering his plants, and grabbing something from the
fridge to keep his stomach from growling later, he headed to his closet to pick out an outfit
for the evening.

Sliding open the closet door, he was met with his usual collection of plain, solid-colored
t-shirts in dark shades and a row of well-fitted jeans. He decided to stick with the same pair
of jeans he was wearing and swapped his casual t-shirt for a short-sleeved button-up shirt.
He left the top two or maybe three buttons undone, just enough to show a glimpse of his fair
chest. After a quick spritz of cologne, he was ready to head out.

Truthfully, Peach wasn't that surprised when his last girlfriend dumped him two months ago.
His life was simple, probably too simple, much like his personality. He wasn't one for grand
gestures or over-the-top displays. What he offered was stability, someone who appreciated
the little things and took care of everyday life together.

Most people described him as the perfect confidant, someone who gave great advice, made
them feel at ease, and radiated warmth.

Reliable, dependable… but never someone to fall in love with.

The thought made him laugh to himself, recalling the exact words his ex had used to end
things. The phrase had left him fighting the urge to respond with a sarcastic remark: "Oh, so
you want someone unreliable? Should I depend on you like a parasite instead to be the
chosen one?!"

Of course, he didn't say any of that at the time. When it came down to it, all he managed was
a sad smile as he watched her walk away, hand in hand with her new boyfriend.

Ah, the tragic tale of Peachayarat's love life.

He thought, brushing off the lingering frustration and heading back down to his car. Two
months after the breakup, Peach had more or less returned to normal. Sure, he wasn't
exactly eager to run into his ex, but at least he could think about it without cringing.

Sliding back into the congested city traffic, he reminded himself why Friday nights were pure
chaos. It was as if the entire city had collectively decided to let loose after an exhausting
week.
The roads were packed, with barely an inch of space between cars. After nearly an hour of
stop-and-go agony, Peach finally arrived at the restaurant and headed inside to join his
friends at their table, ready to let the night unfold.

The place was a restaurant-pub with live music, not the kind of crowded, chaotic spot you'd
call a full-on club. It was lively enough to feel vibrant, making finding his friends' table quite
cozy.

Tonight's gathering was a wrap party for the fall collection photoshoot, featuring a complete
set of perfumes and matching accessories—almost ten looks in total. The shoot had taken
almost an entire week, combining video commercials and still photography. Of course, there
was still a mountain of editing and post-production work ahead, but celebrating what they'd
accomplished so far was a great morale boost.

Peach was led to a seat near the head of the table. He offered a polite, faint smile and sat
down quietly. Across from him was Aran, the star model of the campaign, who greeted him
enthusiastically like an excited puppy seeing its owner.

Unfortunately, Aran didn't seem to notice the glare Peach was receiving from Tawan, the
model's boyfriend, seated right beside him.

"If you stare at me any harder, Tawan, I'm going to end up pregnant," Peach joked with a
smile as he reached for the cocktail ingredients to make his own drink. There was no way he
was trusting his team with that; they were always scheming to spike his drinks for fun.

Tawan responded with an exaggerated look, his sharp eyes narrowing in a mock warning.
One arm rested on the back of Aran's chair in a way that made it clear who the model
belonged to. Peach laughed to himself, keeping his thoughts to himself this time.

It wasn't surprising, though—Aran was dazzling. His beauty had a softness to it, with large
doe eyes that sparkled with warmth and charm. Yet, the sharp definition of his jawline gave
him an undeniable masculinity. It was an irresistible mix, drawing the attention of everyone in
the room, both women and men.

Peach glanced at Tawan, a manly man in the most traditional sense. His sharp, angular
features, toned muscles, and an imposing height of 183 cm practically screamed alpha male.
There was a slight intensity to his demeanor—a fiery temper that Peach had to reprimand
more than once to keep in check.

He really is a main character, no doubt about it.

Peach, who had recently gotten hooked on a new series, shook his head slightly. If he had to
evaluate it, those two were destined to be in the spotlight—lead roles from start to finish.

Meanwhile, he was more like the supporting cast—the best friend who gives wise advice,
lights the hero's path, or sometimes stirs things up just for fun.

He didn't hate playing that kind of role, but every now and then, he felt a little lonely.
After filling up on food and satisfying his hunger, he lingered for a while with a drink. But he
soon decided to call it a day. He had driven himself here, and he still had work to do later.
Getting drunk wasn't an option.

Getting up, Peach headed to the restroom, planning to splash some water on his face and
freshen up before leaving. But the moment he opened the door, he was met with an
unexpected sight: the petite model, Aran, cornered by three men dressed in black.

What the hell is this mess now?

Peach cursed inwardly but quickly stepped in, his long legs closing the distance in seconds.
In the back of his mind, he cursed Aran's brooding boyfriend, so quick to glare at him but
apparently nowhere to be found in a situation like this. Seemingly, though, Peach kept his
composure, forcing a faint smile as he tried to defuse the tension in the room.

"Hey, Ran, why have you been out so long?" he called casually, though he had no idea when
Aran had left the table. Gently, he reached out for the younger man's arm and maneuvered
him behind himself as naturally as he could. "Are you drunk? Are you okay? You didn't
bother these gentlemen, did you?"

Peach kept talking, pretending not to notice Aran about to open his mouth. Before the
younger man could say a word, Peach tightened his grip on his arm—a silent warning. He
knew all too well how sharp Aran's tongue could be. If he let him speak, this situation would
surely spiral out of control.

Addressing the men surrounding them, Peach offered a polite smile, hoping to ease the
tension. It was then that he finally noticed the figure casually leaning against the sink at the
back of the room.

The man appeared to be of mixed race, with straight black hair slicked back, revealing a
broad forehead. Under the neon lights, his hair seemed to shimmer with hints of brown. His
eyes, sharp and authoritative, were the color of storm clouds, and his chiseled jawline added
to his intimidating presence. He wore a long-sleeved shirt with the top three buttons undone,
the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing firm muscles and a slight glimpse of tattoos.
Flanked by two burly men in black suits, he exuded an air of authority that made the small
restroom feel even more cramped.

The scene screamed danger—so much so that Peach felt an overwhelming urge to bolt right
then and there.

"Seems like my friend here caused you some trouble. I'm really sorry about that. Please
don't take it to heart," Peach said, tightening his grip on the other man's arm and bowing his
head politely.

Peach wasn't the type to escalate situations, especially when the other side radiated that
kind of threat. If a quick apology could calm things down or give him a chance to escape,
he'd gladly take it.
"Well, if you'll excuse us," he added with a forced smile, turning on his heel and pulling out of
the restroom in one swift motion, not waiting for permission. He dragged the smaller model
with him, not letting go until they were safely out of harm's way.

So much for freshening up before driving home. That little scare had sobered him up more
effectively than a cold splash of water.

Once they reached a quiet spot, Peach finally turned to face the younger man, questions
piling up.

"What the hell happened back there, Ran? Who were those guys?"

"I have no idea! I didn't do anything!" Aran huffed indignantly, his cheeks flushed—from
anger and the alcohol running through his veins. "That mafioso guy tried to touch me! So, I
talked back. Then he called his goons to scare me. What a jerk!"

Peach resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. Sure, he knew this guy was
good-looking enough—to attract the kinds of scumbags who thought with their egos and
hormones. But Aran's idea of conflict resolution clearly needed work.

Barely bigger than a bean, alone in a room full of dangerous-looking men, and still running
his mouth? It was a miracle he hadn't ended up dead or worse. Did this kid not have an
ounce of survival instinct?

He was about to open his mouth and say something to defuse the situation when, suddenly,
he was yanked. A strong hand gripped his shoulder hard enough to hurt before shoving him
aside without a shred of mercy. Fortunately, he managed to keep his balance, but not before
the railing he grabbed for support scraped his palm, leaving a burning cut. His arm throbbed
where it had hit the edge.

Peach turned around, his heart sinking with dread at the thought that the dangerous man
from earlier had followed them. But to his surprise, the person glaring daggers at him, ready
to tear him apart, was none other than the stern celebrity. Tawan was there, holding the
petite model against his chest. His harsh, biting tone didn't match the protective gesture.

"What the hell is going on here?" Tawan growled, his voice like a whip. His grip on Aran
tightened as if trying to keep him from escaping. "You've been gone for ages—turns out you
were hanging out with this damn photographer, huh?"

"Tawan, listen to me!" Aran squirmed in the iron grip, trying in vain to break free. "It's not
what you think! Peach helped me, that's all!"

Aran's protest only seemed to fan the flames. Tawan's frustration grew as he responded,
then, without another word, he took the smaller man with him, an arm wrapped around him
like a possession. Before disappearing, Tawan shot Peach a look so sharp it felt like a
dagger to the gut—a clear warning to stay away.
Peach stood frozen, trying to process the whirlwind of chaos that had just erupted. His
thoughts lagged behind the storm of emotions that had just happened! Part of him wanted to
scream the furious hell that had swept through the room. But all he did was let the yellowed,
worn pages slip through his hands. Part of him wanted to express what he felt, but he didn't.

On the way, he began to wonder if maybe he should take on fewer jobs involving Aran. He
didn't want to be the reason for more misunderstandings or tensions between them. And
besides, he wanted to make it clear to Tawan that he had no interest in getting involved in
their drama.

The problem was that Aran had become the brand ambassador for Arseny. With a full
contract tying him to the entire fall collection, avoiding the couple was going to be nearly
impossible.

Peach sighed again, a resigned "whatever" feeling settling in his chest. He hadn't done
anything wrong, but trouble kept finding him. At this point, all he could do was shrug and
focus on the work. The rest? It wasn't his problem anymore.

He walked to the car and stopped beside it. Just as he was about to head back, a sharp pain
in his arm reminded him of the cut. Changing his mind, he rummaged in the trunk for a water
bottle, thinking it would be a good idea to rinse the wound. He thought he might need to stop
somewhere for a tetanus shot too.

It was too dark to see what had cut him, and if it was rusty metal, that could be a real
problem.

Peach grabbed the water bottle and fumbled awkwardly to open the cap without using his
injured hand. His clumsy fumbling made him think of the man he'd encountered earlier in the
restroom—the one with the dangerous vibe.

He had to admit the guy was ridiculously good-looking, no doubt about it. But the air of
danger surrounding him was hard to ignore. Still, what struck Peach the most wasn't the
man's looks, but his smoky gray eyes.

They were stunning, almost hypnotic, the kind of eyes that made you stop in your tracks. He
even surprised himself by wishing he had a camera to capture them.

There was also something eerily familiar about them, as if he'd seen them somewhere
before. Their beauty, almost like moving smoke, was rare enough to ignite the photographer
in him.

"Do you need help with that?"

The deep voice startled Peach. He looked up and was slightly startled to find himself
face-to-face with those same smoky gray eyes he'd just been thinking about.

Great. It seemed that annoying freshman was dragging a whole new pile of trouble straight
to him.
WAKE-UP CALL #2

The man was just an arm's length away. Now that he was standing at full height, it was even
more evident how tall he was, probably nearing 190 centimeters. Broad shoulders and a
solid frame gave him the appearance of some kind of mixed-race athlete. Under the clearer
light, his smoky gray eyes were even more striking, almost hypnotic. His strong jawline,
slightly shadowed with a three-day beard, added to his intimidating aura. Sure, he was
handsome—there was no denying it—but the dangerous vibe he radiated completely
overshadowed any attraction. It wasn’t so much swoon-worthy as it was
run-for-your-life-worthy.

"You're not going to open that with your hand like that," the man said in a calm, matter-of-fact
tone, extending an expectant hand.

Peach blinked, confused. His guard was still up, but after a moment of hesitation, he handed
over the water bottle.

More than anything, he felt a strange sense of familiarity with the man in front of him, but no
matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t place him.

"Thanks," Peach murmured as the guy easily twisted the cap off and handed the open bottle
back. Peach stepped aside to make sure the water didn’t splash anyone, then tilted it to pour
over his wound, letting it wash away the blood.

"That’s what you get for sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong," the man commented,
his deep voice carrying a slight edge of reproach.

Peach paused for a second, the water slowing to a trickle. Then he smiled weakly and
resumed cleaning his wound, his tone light and easy as he responded.

"Yeah, you're right. It’s not my business. But what can I say? I couldn’t just leave that kid like
that. If there’s something I can do to help, I probably will." He shrugged and grabbed some
tissues to gently dry his arm. The wound wasn’t that bad, just a scratch, nothing deep—but
he’d still need a tetanus shot, no doubt.

"Do you ever think that helping others might get you into trouble?" The tall, broad-shouldered
man crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes with clear disapproval.

"I’m always in trouble, so yeah, I’m used to it." Peach chuckled softly under his breath,
pausing briefly before adding in a resigned tone, "But seriously, could you not try to lure the
kid? I’d rather not deal with him fighting with his... situation or whatever. Every time they
have drama, I end up caught in the middle."

The other man’s expression hardened instantly. His already intimidating face darkened
further, and his tone, laced with barely contained anger, came out sharp.

"There’s nothing I want that I can’t have."

The weight of his words hung in the air for a tense moment before Peach suddenly burst into
uncontrollable laughter. He tried to stifle it, but it only made him choke, coughing and
laughing at the same time. Finally, he managed to pull himself together, though the other
man’s glare darkened with every passing second.

"Sorry, sorry," Peach said, raising a hand in mock surrender, his voice still shaky with
amusement. "I didn’t mean to laugh; it just caught me off guard. Who says stuff like that in
real life? It’s so... over the top. Bossy and completely tyrannical."

The man’s frown deepened, and the growing irritation on his face quickly made Peach raise
both hands in an apologetic gesture, his wide smile fading into something more sheepish.
Damn my big mouth, he cursed inwardly.

"If you really like Ran, why don’t you just approach him properly?" Peach suggested, trying
to shift the mood and deflect any impending anger. "I mean, those two aren’t officially a
couple yet, right? Aran’s still single. If you just go for it like a normal person, it might work."
The frown didn’t budge. If anything, the guy seemed even more annoyed, his jaw tight as he
looked at Peach with disdain.

"Why should I waste my time on something like that?" the man replied, his arms crossed
tighter, his demeanor practically screaming mafia boss energy. His piercing gaze carried a
hint of disdain, as if the idea of playing by the rules was beneath him.

Looking at him now, this guy wouldn’t be out of place in one of those alpha male romance
novels—the kind with mafia tropes. Yeah, this guy was hitting all the right notes.

Peach nodded to himself a couple of times. Yeah, he’d read this kind of novel before. The
hero in these stories was always the same—aggressive, loud, domineering to the point of
being controlling, and maybe a little unhinged.

Honestly? This guy was ticking all the boxes.

"Get a grip on your emotions, man. Who in their right mind enjoys being bossed around or
pressured? Unless, of course, they’re into masochism." Peach shook his head, casually
leaning against the side of his small car. The way this conversation was going, it was going
to take a lot more time than he’d planned.

He still had work to finish tonight, but clearly, that wasn’t happening anymore.

"Even if it’s just a one-night thing, sex should be about mutual satisfaction. It’s about
enjoying the moment together, not one person taking what they want while the other just
gets dragged along or, worse, used as some kind of bargaining chip. Where’s the fun in
that?" Peach’s tone was serious now, his expression as earnest as he could make it.

To him, sex was something that should happen between two consenting, willing parties. The
idea of forcing someone, pressuring them, or even throwing money around to get your
way—all of that gave him the creeps.
"It’s just sex," the wannabe mafioso muttered, though he sounded a little less fiery this time.
Still miffed, sure, but calmer.

"Have you ever actually tried it?" Peach shot back, raising an eyebrow. "Sex where both of
you are into it, both having fun, not just rushing to get it over with. I’d bet it feels a lot better."

He sounded like an expert, but the truth was, his experience was almost laughably minimal.

He’d had three relationships, none of which had ended well. Sure, he’d had a couple of
one-night stands back in the day, but that felt like an eternity ago. These days, he was too
busy to even think about hooking up.

Mr. Mafia’s face went blank as he sank into deep thought, his dark brows furrowed as if he
were trying to solve an impossibly complex puzzle. Peach could only stand there, waiting.
Unable to help it, he let out a soft yawn.

He’d been running on fumes for days, staying up and working nonstop. Today had started
with a morning photoshoot and had dragged on until... well, now.

Peach wanted to tell Mr. Mafia to go home and think about things there. He’d like to go home
too, honestly—he was about to pass out from sheer exhaustion.

"Give me your phone."

Peach, who was on the verge of falling asleep where he stood, snapped back to attention.
He blinked at the outstretched hand, baffled at how their conversation had somehow veered
toward his phone. When the guy repeated the order, his deep, authoritative tone brooked no
argument. Peach sighed and pulled out his phone, unlocking it without protest.

What could he say? The guy was at least twice his size, had two bodyguards by his side,
and, oh yeah, both of them were armed. Whatever this mafia guy was up to, he definitely
wasn’t trying to steal a beat-up old phone like his.

Peach stood there, watching as the man fiddled with his phone. Those smoky gray eyes had
an odd familiarity, a feeling that tugged at the edges of Peach’s mind and refused to fade. It
only grew stronger as the seconds passed. When his phone was handed back, Peach took it
distractedly, his exhaustion mingling with that nagging sense of recognition. Before he could
stop himself, the words slipped out.

"You look a lot like someone. Have we met before?"

Mr. Mafia froze, a flash of something, disappointment, maybe, flickering in those gray eyes
before it vanished behind an ironic smile. "That’s the dumbest pickup line I’ve ever heard.
What, have you been watching too many soap operas?"
Peach blinked a couple of times and then burst into laughter, the kind of laughter that left him
doubled over and wiping his eyes. His genuine amusement instantly wiped the smile off the
other man’s face, replacing it with a frown of confusion.

"Sorry, sorry," Peach said quickly, trying to calm down before things got tense.

The last thing he needed was for Mr. Mafia to take offense and start waving his gun around.

"I didn’t mean to laugh at you, it’s just, man, that was so over the top. I swear I wasn’t trying
to flirt with you or anything. I promise."

He finally managed to get his laughter under control, though the smile stubbornly stayed on
his face.

"I asked because you really do seem familiar. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before,
maybe in a magazine? Your eyes, that smoky gray color... they’re really striking. I guess they
just stuck in my head."

Mr. Mafia relaxed his frown, the sharp edge in his eyes softening as if he were lost in
thought. Peach stood there, waiting. He wanted to beg for permission to go home and sleep,
but he was too afraid he might end up sleeping permanently.

That wasn’t an option. He still had a mountain of work waiting for him.

"I’ll think about it," the mafia guy said at last, then turned and walked away, his men
following. Peach didn’t let out the breath he’d been holding until they were completely out of
sight. The relief hit him so hard it felt like a mountain had been lifted off his chest.

The whole time they’d been talking, he’d been terrified of ending up dead. But between his
usual personality, a hint of alcohol still buzzing in his system, and extreme exhaustion, he’d
somehow managed to act braver than he actually was.

At least he hadn’t done anything too reckless. That’s what he told himself as he got into his
car and headed back to his condo. Right now, all he could think about was his soft bed and
the sweet, icy blast of the air conditioner.

Theerakit Kian Arseny was a businessman in his early thirties who was currently making
waves in the public eye. Not just for Arseny, his highly popular perfume and jewelry brand,
but also thanks to his striking looks and his ever-changing roster of celebrity girlfriends.

But few people knew the truth about the Arseny family. The perfume and jewelry business
wasn’t their first venture. The Arseny name had been a big deal on the black market for
years as one of Russia’s largest arms suppliers. Not only did they deal in weapons—they
also heavily invested in research and development, pushing new technologies.

It started as a gun-running operation that expanded into the tech domain, and now, with the
eldest son of the Arseny family at the helm, they had a legitimate brand in luxury goods. On
the surface, it was just a front, but the massive profits exceeded expectations, turning the
business into one of the crown jewels of the Arseny empire.

With everything in his favor—power, wealth, influence—it was no wonder the man often
called "the mafia boss" rarely encountered something he wanted but couldn’t have.

He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the desk, leaving the document on the screen
unsigned. For the first time, he couldn’t focus on work. His mind was tangled with thoughts
he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.

That fiery little model had caught his attention—those big, expressive eyes, flushed cheeks,
and that sassy mouth. There was a challenge in his demeanor that was almost provocative,
wrapped in a small body that seemed so easy to dominate. He had to admit, he was
intrigued. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have that little spitfire pinned
beneath him, squirming and yielding to his control.

When he wanted something, he had to have it. And the more someone resisted, the more
satisfying it was to conquer.

But it’s really strange. The image of that model lingered in his mind, refusing to fade. Yet,
curiously, another thought had started to creep in—a warm, reassuring voice, calm and
steady like a gentle stream. Just a few words, accompanied by bright, genuine laughter, had
managed to extinguish his boiling temper in an instant.

The one who had laughed at him, told him straight to calm down, and stood his ground
without pissing him off. If anything, the guy’s unyielding yet disarming attitude had made him
back down. No one else had ever talked to him like that and walked away unscathed. Yet
here was this photographer, still very much alive and in one piece.

At first glance, he wasn’t even that remarkable. He wasn’t dazzlingly beautiful, nor someone
you couldn’t take your eyes off of. And yet, being near him had been... oddly soothing.

"Sir, here are the background reports you requested." His assistant approached, placing two
files on the desk. Each had a name clearly written on the cover.

Thee hesitated. Honestly, he’d been questioning himself since last night, when he’d ordered
the background checks. He’d meant to look into the model’s history. But somehow, he’d also
told them to look into the photographer.

Even now, part of him wondered what the hell he wanted with that photographer’s file. Yet
when his hand moved, it bypassed the report on the model he’d been so sure he wanted and
picked up the photographer’s instead. The other file remained untouched on the desk.

Thee pursed his lips slightly as he flipped through the pages. The photographer’s record was
impeccably clean to the point of being almost frustrating. No scandals, no hidden secrets.
Just a simple life.

As the eldest son of the family, his parents’ names weren’t even listed in the file.
The young mafia boss’s eyes briefly stopped on the section listing favorite foods. Then, as if
making a decision, he took his phone, searched for the number he’d saved the night before,
and called without hesitation.

The line barely rang before the other end picked up. The sleepy voice that answered made
him glance at the clock. Almost 10 a.m., wasn’t it?

"I’ll be downstairs in an hour. I’ll pick you up," he said, brief and to the point, out of sheer
habit.

The person on the other end, however, clearly wasn’t used to such abrupt orders.

[Pick me up? Go where? Wait, who is this?]

"For breakfast," he clarified, though he only said as much as he felt like explaining. It irked
him a little that the other person didn’t remember who he was, but he let it slide. Considering
the half-asleep tone of the guy’s voice, it was probably too early for his brain to process
anything properly.

Curiously, instead of feeling irritated, he found the confusion and sleepiness in the voice kind
of amusing.

The person on the other end still sounded puzzled, but Thee didn’t give him the chance to
ask more questions. He hung up and turned his attention back to the documents on his
desk. The paperwork, which had felt irritating before, now felt a little less bothersome. In fact,
he could focus on it.

Maybe the photographer’s suggestion to take things slow and "start with flirting" wasn’t such
a bad idea after all. He’d start with a little reconnaissance—gathering some intel on the
pretty-faced model. They seemed close enough that he’d probably find out something useful.

Thee was in a noticeably better mood, though he didn’t know it himself. Meanwhile, his
secretary and the bodyguards stationed nearby exchanged silent, nervous glances.
Questions filled their minds, but no one dared to voice a single one.

No one was stupid enough to risk provoking their boss and triggering one of his infamous
outbursts. If that happened, there’d be no one left standing to calm the storm.
WAKE-UP CALL #3

Peach was a creature of the night.

Sure, he could drag himself out of bed to take photos in the morning or attend a shoot if he
had to, but when it came to tasks that required focus, precision, and a touch of creativity, like
editing photos, organizing compositions, or editing videos—he preferred to work at night. So
last night, after returning from the event, even though he was dead tired, he still ended up
sitting down to edit the first draft of the photos he needed to submit. By the time he finally
went to bed, it was well past 5 a.m. He thought his next job wasn’t until the afternoon, so
staying up until dawn wasn’t going to be a problem.

He hadn’t counted on getting a call at ten in the morning.

Peach was so groggy that part of him wanted to just ignore the call entirely. But as soon as
he managed to pull himself together enough to check the name flashing on his phone, he
was wide awake.

Because those smoky gray eyes had been haunting him all night.

The thought of them had dragged him out of bed last night, forcing him to dig through every
piece of work he’d ever come across. It had taken him barely ten minutes to find what he
was looking for.

Theerakit Kian Arseny, a half-Thai, half-Russian businessman, and his temporary boss for
the Arseny brand’s fall fragrance collection, which Peach was handling at the moment.

So, when he saw the name Theerakit pop up on his screen at ten in the morning, it all
clicked. He was sure he didn’t know anyone else by that name. Combined with the memory
of having his phone briefly confiscated the night before, it wasn’t hard to deduce who was
calling.

The real question was… why? Why was he calling? Why not call Aran instead?

Of course, those questions remained firmly in his head. All he could do was drag himself out
of bed, wash his face, take a quick shower, and get dressed.

However, he hesitated for a good while when it came to choosing his outfit.

His life was usually quiet and uneventful, so much so that it might even seem a little boring.
He didn’t enjoy nightlife and preferred to stay home. On rare occasions, he’d go on a solo
backpacking trip, camera in hand, choosing the silence of a solitary journey over traveling
with a big group.

This simplicity extended to his wardrobe. Most of his clothes were plain and functional: basic
t-shirts, shorts, and a few solid-colored shirts for work. He had one tailored suit, just in case
he had to attend a formal event. But now, faced with the need to choose an outfit for
something more significant, he was starting to see the downside of keeping his wardrobe so
minimalist.

This wasn’t like dressing for a date—far from it. But the person he was about to meet wasn’t
just anyone. He was a half-Russian mafia boss. Would his usual casual attire come off as
disrespectful? But showing up in a full suit in broad daylight would look ridiculous.

In the end, it took him almost an hour to settle on a pair of slim black pants and an oversized
gray button-up shirt. By then, the idea of brewing a strong cup of black coffee before heading
out had completely evaporated. Adjusting the strap of his small crossbody bag, he hurried
downstairs, reluctant to risk keeping the other man waiting.

The moment Peach stepped out of his condo, a sleek black luxury car pulled up to the curb
beside him. The rear window rolled down just enough for him to catch a glimpse of those
smoky gray eyes. He immediately lowered his head in a polite nod and quickened his pace
toward the car.

As he reached for the door handle, he hesitated for a brief moment. He wasn’t a guest.
Definitely not a date, not even close. Perhaps the closest thing this could be was being a
subordinate. And, besides, sitting farther away from the boss increased his chances of
escape, should things go south.

After a split second of deliberation, he opened the front passenger door and slid inside.

But before he could even close it, the man in the back seat, who exuded an air of quiet
authority, spoke in a low, commanding voice.

"Sit in the back."

Peach’s hand froze on the door handle. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of being
stubborn and refusing, but the mental image of being murdered before he got the chance to
find coffee stopped him cold. After weighing his options, he climbed back out, circled the car,
and slid into the back seat—feeling utterly without choice.

Peach sat stiff as a board. His discomfort showed in his furrowed brow. His mind was racing,
trying to figure out why he’d been summoned. Had he done something to upset this guy? He
replayed the events of the previous night in his head, but he couldn’t think of anything
inappropriate.

Unless… maybe Mr. Big Mafia Boss held a grudge over something he’d said—something
he’d laughed at. But if this was about anger and retaliation, wouldn’t it make more sense to
deal with him under the cover of night rather than calling him out in broad daylight?

"Why so tense? You’re not half as bold as you were last night," Thee remarked, his sharp
gaze fixed on him. Peach snapped out of his spiraling thoughts, offering a hollow smile and
trying to smooth things over. Not that he thought it would help much.
"I might have had a little too much to drink last night. Sorry if I did or said anything
inappropriate."

"I didn’t say it was inappropriate," Thee replied calmly, his eyes still drilling into him, his voice
tinged with mockery. "Why don’t you talk like you did last night?"

"Well, last night I didn’t know who you were," Peach blurted out, running a hand through his
hair in frustration. Socializing wasn’t exactly his forte, and this whole dance of watching his
words and tiptoeing around was starting to get on his nerves.

Thee paused, the sharpness in his gaze softening slightly, almost as if he were amused. The
more Peach squirmed, the more entertained he seemed to become.

"Are you scared now that you do?"

"I was scared last night too," Peach said flatly, turning to give him a deadpan look. "Who
wouldn’t be scared of someone flanked by bodyguards with guns holstered at their waists?"

Thee’s lips twitched, his tone firm but undeniably smug. "So it’s no different."

Peach rolled his eyes so hard he nearly gave himself whiplash. He couldn’t believe he was
having this conversation. Dealing with someone whose sense of normal was light-years
away from the average person’s was mentally exhausting.

Important people in general were one thing, but a large-scale arms-trafficking mafia boss?
Seriously, who wouldn’t be more terrified?

Peach muttered something under his breath, complaining in a tone so low it was
unintelligible, but he didn’t dare say it out loud. In the end, he let out a long sigh, deciding it
was probably smarter to focus on the strange situation at hand. Subtlety wasn’t exactly his
strong suit, so he went straight to the point.

"So, uh… why exactly did you call me here, Mr. Arseny?" he asked, frowning suspiciously.
"It’s not because you’re mad about last night, is it?"

Thee watched him with barely contained amusement, like a cat toying with a fidgety mouse.
Despite his sour, brooding expression remaining impassive, his eyes sparkled with mischief.

There was an air of uncharacteristic glee radiating from him, enough for the bodyguard
doubling as the driver in the front seat to sneak glances through the rearview mirror.

It was frankly startling. Not even Thee’s favorite exploits managed to elicit this kind of
reaction from him.

"How’s your arm?"

Peach blinked, surprised. He looked down at his arm before remembering. Right—the night
before, he’d scraped it badly enough that they’d detoured to a hospital for a tetanus shot. He
never thought Thee would remember, though.

"It’s fine, just a little scratch," he replied quickly. "I already got the shot, so I’m good," he
hesitated for a moment, pressing his lips together as his confusion grew. "Wait… did you call
me just to ask about that?"

"I called you to ask about that model kid," the young mobster said offhandedly, leaning back
as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "You told me to start with flirting, right?
Teach me how."

"Me?" Peach pointed at his chest with a finger, his eyes wide as if he’d just been told the
world was flat. Any remaining fear vanished instantly, swept away by the sheer absurdity of
what he’d just heard. "Uh. just so you know, Mr. Arseny. I got dumped two months ago
because I was, quote, 'too boring to be a boyfriend.' Apparently, I’m better as a therapist
than as someone’s significant other. And you think I’m qualified to teach you how to flirt? Are
you sure about that? Really?"

Thee’s lips curved into a slight smile. Not only did he seem completely unfazed by Peach’s
wide-eyed look, but he actually appeared more amused than ever. When he spoke, his tone
was brimming with confidence. "Well, aren’t you supposed to be a good counselor? You’re
also close to that model kid. Seems like a solid choice to me."

This time, it was Peach who opened his mouth to argue, but he quickly closed it, at a loss for
words. As much as he wanted to deny it, Thee wasn’t exactly wrong. And to make matters
worse, his words hit a little too close to home. Still, no matter how logical it sounded, Peach
couldn’t imagine how he was supposed to help the mafia boss with… this.

With a deep sigh, he resigned himself to the fact that things were quickly spiraling out of
control. But, on the other hand, part of him was genuinely concerned for his younger friend.
Aran didn’t exactly have the best judgment when it came to people. Most of the people
surrounding Thee seemed to be as far removed from common sense as the man himself. As
someone who still clung to a shred of rationality, Peach felt compelled to step in.

"Can I ask what you really think of Aran?" Peach ventured finally.

Thee didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, he looked away, as if he were considering
something deeply. But when he looked back, his expression was cool and composed, almost
indifferent.

"Close to my type. I wouldn’t mind having sex with him."

"And… what about anything else?" Peach pressed.

"Interesting. Pretty face."

"…"
Peach smacked his forehead with his hand, feeling the beginnings of a headache throbbing
behind his temples. Sure, he knew Thee was blunt to the point of being socially oblivious,
but this level of brutal honesty was almost too much.

"But wasn’t Aran pretty clear about not being interested in a one-night stand with you?"
Peach said quickly, his tone firm as he tried, desperately, to inject some basic common
sense into Thee. "I think we should really respect his boundaries." He leaned forward, his
voice steady despite the nerves starting to creep in. "Look, I know someone like you
probably has a lot of ways to make Aran comply. But forcing someone emotionally or
otherwise isn’t going to lead to anything good in the long run. Honestly, I don’t think it’s worth
it."

Thee fell silent, his gaze dropping as if he were pondering something. Peach, worried for his
companion’s safety, quickly interjected again.

"You said Aran was more interesting than the usual models you meet, right?" Peach
prompted, feeling like he was trying to tame a lion with nothing but a toothpick.

"Why not start with something normal? You know, without expecting sex to be the main
focus?" he suggested, treading carefully.

"But that is my approach," Thee said matter-of-factly.

Peach barely resisted the urge to bang his forehead against the car window…

His brain felt fried, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. He found himself daydreaming
about an iced Americano to calm his nerves. What the hell was this mess? The urge to
scream in frustration bubbled up, but he suppressed it. There was no way he’d risk pissing
off the mafia boss sitting right beside him.

"Make it just one part of the whole picture, okay?" Peach tried again, forcing a calm tone. "If
you think Aran is interesting, why not try getting to know him? Talk to him. Who knows? It
might turn into something real. Maybe even love. And when that happens, sex will just…
happen naturally, you know? It doesn’t have to be the goal."

He rattled off the explanation in one breath, barely pausing. To his surprise, Thee didn’t
interrupt or argue. He simply listened; his expression serious.

"That’s an interesting idea. You’re close to Aran, right? Help me with this."

Peach almost rolled his eyes but managed to hold back. Of course, Thee would try to court
someone like it was a business deal. Forget romance.

"We’re not that close," Peach replied with a sigh. "We’ve worked together a lot, sure, but it’s
not like we’re best friends or anything. I doubt I can be of much help."

"I don’t expect that much from you," Thee said, dismissing him as if it didn’t matter.
Before Peach could figure out what to make of that, Thee signaled the driver and motioned
for him to start the car. No further explanation. No clarifications.

Peach watched as the car glided smoothly, his wide, panicked eyes darting around. He
thought Thee would just call him for a quick chat and then kick him out of the car.

Isn’t that how it always happens in the movies?

"Mr. Arseny!"

"Call me Thee. Drop the 'Arseny', it’s annoying," Thee cut him off, his tone laced with
irritation. Yet the way he glanced at Peach out of the corner of his eye seemed to say he was
waiting for the next question.

"Uh, okay, Thee. So… where are we going exactly?"

The corner of Thee’s mouth curved into a subtle smile, his eyes glinting with mild
amusement.

"To lunch. Do you have anything special in mind?"

Peach was still trying to wrap his head around the situation, but the mention of food
managed to pull him out of his confusion a little. His mind immediately went to the one thing
he’d been craving since he answered the phone that morning.

"Can we get coffee first? An iced Americano, extra shot, please," he blurted out almost
desperately.

He needed something to ground him, and caffeine was definitely at the top of the list.
WAKE-UP CALL #4

The sleek luxury car pulled into the parking lot of a high-end shopping mall in the city center.
Too exhausted to argue or protest, Peach followed the mafia boss like a docile shadow. It
wasn’t until he got an iced Americano from a fancy coffee shop and took a few sips of
much-needed caffeine that his weary mind finally began to reboot.

Walking behind Thee, the young photographer blended almost effortlessly into the
entourage, sipping his coffee occasionally as he let his gaze wander aimlessly around the
mall. At this point, he was too resigned to worry about being caught in the middle of a
security detail. The coffee in his hand and the bustling atmosphere of the mall seemed like a
better focus than the discomfort of his situation.

By the time his cup was half-empty, Thee had led him to a high-end Japanese restaurant.
Peach stopped to stare at the sign, a little dazed, until Thee’s voice snapped him out of his
thoughts. With little choice, he followed the mafia boss inside, still in a daze.

It was exciting, though. Peach loved Japanese food, and eating at such an expensive
restaurant—one he hadn’t even dreamed of visiting—was definitely a thrill. But that thrill
came with an uncomfortable, oddly out-of-place feeling.

Maybe it had something to do with the armed escorts and the fact that his dining companion
was a mafia boss.

He stood there silently lamenting his fate for a good three seconds before one of the escorts
gave him a gentle nudge forward. Following their lead, he walked deeper into the restaurant,
into the private dining area. When the escort slid the door open, Peach was surprised to see
they didn’t follow him in. Instead, they left him alone with the mafia boss.

Seriously, guys? You’re just going to leave me here with your boss? Just like that?

Peach screamed internally but obediently stepped into the private room. What was he
supposed to do? He wasn’t a beautiful model whom Thee would treat with indulgent
patience if he decided to throw a tantrum. No, there was no point in testing his luck.

The sheer cost of this restaurant was staggering—there was no way Peach could afford to
eat here on his own. But if someone else was footing the bill, he wasn’t going to turn down
the opportunity.

"Order something," Thee said, arms crossed, as the waiter placed the menu on the table.
Peach opened it and glanced at the options, but his eyes got stuck on the prices. His brow
furrowed slightly, a pang of discomfort emerging.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have money, but spending thousands on a single meal? That just…
wasn’t happening.
"Is this on you?" he asked, just to be sure, casting a cautious glance at Thee—complete with
unintentional puppy eyes.

The mafia boss hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable, before responding.

"I’m putting you to work. Of course, I’m paying." His curt tone might have intimidated most
people, but the confirmation had the opposite effect on Peach. A bright smile spread across
his face, and he dove back into the menu with renewed enthusiasm.

Peach had read glowing reviews of this place before—it was on one of those "places you
must eat before you die" lists. Back then, he could only gaze longingly at the photos on his
phone, promising himself that if he ever landed a big job, he’d treat himself to a meal here.
Now that the opportunity had fallen into his lap (at no cost, no less), he couldn’t help but take
his time choosing.

After some internal debate, he finally settled on a large bowl of unagi don. He listened as
Thee ordered something that sounded fancy, a steak of some sort. Once the waiter served
their food and left quietly, closing the door behind him, the realization hit Peach like a ton of
bricks.

He was alone. In a private room. With Thee.

Holy crap. The allure of good food had completely distracted him from the glaringly obvious
danger of being trapped with a mafia boss. How had he let this happen?

Internally, Peach was screaming. His brow furrowed tightly, and tension returned to his body.
He sat there, frozen, trying to think of how he should handle this situation. But the more he
tried to think, the blanker his mind became, which only frustrated him more.

Between the lack of sleep and the mounting pressure of the last few hours, Peach’s bear
had reached its limit. There was no way he could come up with a clever plan to make sense
of all this right now.

"Alright, what’s this about you needing me for something?" he asked, cutting straight to the
point after hesitating for a moment. The sooner they talked, the sooner he could eat, and the
sooner he could crash into bed.

Thee paused for a moment, seeming to ponder something. Finally, he spoke.

"You said if I was interested, I should try flirting first. How does that work?"

The young photographer blinked, completely confused, until the conversation from the
previous night hit him like a ton of bricks. Oh, right. He’d told Thee not to use force; if he
wanted someone, he should just try flirting. But he hadn’t thought the guy would actually take
it seriously.

A rough, tough mafia boss who wants to court someone? It seemed like Aman’s cuteness
had really gotten to him.
But then again, Aran was stupidly cute. That kind of face could make a bad mafia guy go
love-crazy: classic romance novel stuff, right? The tormented hero who starts out all force
but softens for the one they love. As his superior and his friend, it was probably his job to
keep the situation under control and make sure things didn’t turn violent or, God forbid, into
actual assault. Just some harmless teasing and maybe a little "hate-to-love," and everything
should be fine.

"I’m not exactly an expert at winning people over," he said with a small shrug. Now that he
knew why Thee had come to him, all his earlier tension and discomfort began to fade.
Besides, it wasn’t directly his business, which made him feel even more at ease. The
conversation started to flow more naturally.

"But you’ve dated someone before, right?" Thee pressed.

He shook his head quickly, an awkward smile tugging at his lips as he scratched the back of
his neck. "Not really. We were friends first. She asked me out after breaking up with her ex,
and we lasted, like, a month before it fizzled out."

The mafia boss frowned, his forehead wrinkling as if he wanted to say something, but the
food arrived just then. He waited until everything was served before continuing, probably to
not seem pushy without actually having experience.

"I think courting is a personal art," he said, "it’s about showing genuine intent, getting to
know each other better, and figuring out if you’re compatible. It’s a step toward seeing if a
relationship can grow."

"Why bother? It’s just sex. Does it need to be so complicated?"

"It might just be sex for you, but if the other person doesn’t want it, you can’t just force them,
right?" he said firmly, trying to reason with Thee. The thought of this mafia boss losing his
patience and actually forcing himself on Aran sent a chill down his spine.

Thee’s eyebrows furrowed further, as if he were about to retort, and the sight of that gave
him a headache. Seriously, what kind of upbringing made someone’s logic so twisted?

"Put yourself in their shoes for a second," he insisted. "If someone forced you to do
something you didn’t want to do, wouldn’t you be angry?"

Thee snorted loudly, full of disdain. "Who would dare?"

Peach rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall. Why was
having this conversation so exhausting?

"It’s a hypothetical, okay?" He sighed, feeling the conversation draining all his energy. He
decided to change tactics. "If it were me, I’d be devastated. I’d be furious. I’d hate them for
the rest of my life. There’d be no chance of forgiveness, ever."
He hammed it up, piling it on to make his point, watching as Thee’s frown deepened further
and further. He waited until he felt he’d scared Thee enough before softening his tone.

"Look, just think about it, Thee. Don’t act on impulse. Imagine if someone did that to
you—wouldn’t it hurt?" Even if it’s just a one-night stand, if the other person isn’t willing, it’s
not okay. Using money, power, or manipulation to make someone give in doesn’t lead to
anything good."

With that, Peach turned his attention to the huge bowl of eel rice in front of him. He grabbed
a big bite with his chopsticks, and as soon as the food touched his tongue, his mood
improved.

He focused on eating, savoring every bite, not worrying about the look Thee was giving him
from across the table.

Both of them focused on their food for a while, letting the silence stretch between them, until
the conversation, unexpectedly, resurfaced. To Peach’s surprise, it was Mr. Mafia who broke
it.

"I’m interested in that model. Can you help me get in touch with him?"

Peach froze mid-bite, chopsticks still in his mouth, and looked up, confused. "I mean, I could,
but wouldn’t it be better if you approached him yourself? It’d probably feel more genuine."

"And how exactly should I approach him?" Thee asked, sounding more and more like a
curious child.

"Well, maybe start by giving him a small gift."

"What kind of gift? Should I buy him a car?"

Peach nearly choked on his food, feeling grateful he’d swallowed his bite of rice. "A car???
Are you crazy, Thee?"

"No? How about a diamond ring? Or maybe a condo?"

"OMGGGGGGG," Peach whispered, dramatically dropping his forehead onto the table. The
more Thee spoke, the more he realized this conversation was spiraling out of his
comprehension. "Reel it in, Thee! You can’t just throw money around like that—it’s too
much!"

"I don’t think it’s that expensive," Thee replied, his tone completely serious.

Peach stared at him, dumbfounded, before raising a hand to stop him. This needed to be
reined in before Thee’s next idea crossed the line from ridiculous to downright terrifying.

"Let’s rewind and start with something simple," Peach suggested, trying to steer things in a
safer direction. "Why don’t you learn more about Aran first? Like what he likes. That way,
you can give him something thoughtful, and it’ll make things easier for you. Plus, you’ll have
an edge over Tawan."

The mafia boss raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name, looking intrigued. Peach, who had
been watching his reaction, quickly explained.

"Tawan’s a rising star—super popular right now," Peach explained. "He’s really close to Aran,
almost like they’re a couple, but Aran told me they’re just talking. Still, Tawan takes really
good care of him, he’s handsome, kind, generous, but incredibly jealous."

The more Peach talked, the more Thee’s eyebrows furrowed, his face darkening with
obvious irritation. It was like a storm cloud had gathered around him, radiating ominous
energy. Peach paused, realizing a little too late that he’d been praising Thee’s love rival.
Probably not the smartest move.

But, uh, their status is still just 'talking,'" he added quickly, offering a sheepish smile.
"Nothing’s really official, you know?"

Thee didn’t move, his frown as deep as ever. Peach let the awkward silence linger for a
moment, his mind scrambling to find a way to salvage the conversation. Finally, he spoke
again.

"Why don’t we start with a nice bouquet of flowers?" he suggested, desperate to change the
subject. "Your first conversation wasn’t exactly smooth, so sending flowers as an apology
could be a good idea."

He hesitated briefly, realizing he could offer more useful advice, and continued.

"Actually, since Aran’s the new brand ambassador for Arseny and just finished shooting the
fall collection, you could send him a small gift to congratulate him. Something simple, like
chocolates, which are classic and most people like them. Though, for Aran, they should be
extra sweet. He has a huge sweet tooth."

"What about you? What do you like?"

"…"

The abrupt question caught Peach off guard, making him blink slightly in confusion. It
seemed completely out of place in their discussion, leaving an awkward pause between
them.

"Just asking for reference. I’ve never really given anyone a gift before."

Peach blinked a couple of times before responding with a mumble, his earlier confusion
disappearing in an instant. "You can’t use that as a reference, though. When you pick a gift,
the first thing you should think about is the recipient’s preferences. That’s the basic way to
show sincerity."
Thee frowned slightly, looking both annoyed and a little exasperated, but not angry enough
to be intimidating. Peach watched him tilt his head with mild frustration, and
then—surprisingly—a slight smile tugged at Thee’s lips. Peach’s own thoughts betrayed him.
Wow. Does he almost look… endearing?

…Wait. Endearing? The mafia boss who probably kept a gun within arm’s reach and carried
an air of constant menace? What the hell is wrong with me?

He let out a long sigh, dismissing the ridiculous thought, and looked down at the eel in his
bowl. Fine. For the sake of this ridiculously good lunch, he’d help. But it had nothing to do
with finding Thee endearing. Not. One. Bit.

"Don’t worry about it, Thee. I already promised to help, didn’t I? I’ll look into it and see if I can
figure out what Aran likes. Once I know, you can buy him something based on that." With
that, Peach turned his focus back to his bowl of eel, savoring every bite. Honestly, when he
thought about Tawan—the temperamental rising star that he was—he found himself silently
awarding another point to the young heir of the Arseny family.

In the end, Peach decided to treat this whole situation like watching a play unfold—just with
a front-row seat. Not bad. It might be fun.
WAKE-UP CALL #5

This brunch would go down in history as one of the most unforgettable meals of Peach's life.

Not just because it was at the dream restaurant he’d been longing to visit, or because the
food lived up to every expectation—but because of the man sitting across from him. A bona
fide Russian mafia boss, complete with a gun and bodyguards at his side. That alone would
have been enough to make this a memorable meal.

If the food hadn’t been so ridiculously expensive and deliciously good, Peach would have
bolted the moment he sat down. Instead, he stayed, his nerves so on edge that he felt like
his stomach might shut down entirely.

He popped a couple of antacids and digestive pills into his mouth, chasing them down with
water without thinking about when he was supposed to take them. Honestly, the fact that he
wasn’t downing a migraine pill on top of that was nothing short of a miracle.

"Well, I think I should head out now. Thanks for the meal."

Peach said with an awkward smile, his voice stiff. Now that he’d finished eating, the
conversation had dried up, leaving him unsure of what to do with himself.

He wanted to turn and walk away, but the other man was still there, silently watching him.
The weight of Thee’s gaze froze Peach in place, his feet refusing to move.

Thee stood with his arms crossed, his expression inscrutable as if he were weighing
something in his mind. After a long moment, he finally spoke.

"You gave good advice. How much do you want for it? Ten thousand? Would that do?"

"Huh?"

Peach blinked, completely lost. How had the conversation circled back to money?

The mafia boss, however, seemed to take Peach’s confusion in stride. Instead of clarifying,
Thee tapped his chin, his expression thoughtful.

"Not enough? I intentionally thought of paying ten thousand per piece of advice, and your
advice was quite solid. Fine, I’ll raise it to fifty. Happy now?"

The young photographer groaned, rubbing his temples as if trying to keep his head from
exploding. He felt like he might actually cry. Why was talking to a Russian mafia boss so
damn hard?

Sure, the guy’s words were frustrating as hell—like he was trying to solve every problem by
throwing money at it—but Peach couldn’t blow up at him. Losing his temper might get him
"handled" before he even finished his next fashion shoot.
Did he want money? Of course. But accepting it would be like signing up to be this man’s
personal lackey, and he was pretty sure getting tangled up with Thee wouldn’t end well. Most
likely, he’d end up dead long before he spent a penny of it.

Peach took a deep breath, steadying himself, then asked, "Why are you trying to give me
money?"

"You did a good job. I’m satisfied. I reward people when I’m satisfied."

Peach let out a long, weary sigh. Did he really have to break this down to basics?

"Please do me a favor and never say that to Aran. He’ll get annoyed," Peach said, exhaling
dramatically as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. He wasn’t even sure how to
phrase his next thought.

Thee frowned, looking more confused than offended. It wasn’t exactly encouraging, but at
least he wasn’t pulling out a gun. That gave Peach the courage to tempt his luck a little and
offer some advice.

"That kind of phrasing sounds really harsh," he explained, trying to sound both serious and a
little pitiful. "It’s like you’re just throwing money around to buy people off. But I came here
willingly. I really wanted to help you, Thee." Peach wasn’t just explaining; he was upping his
own value. Maybe, just maybe, he could get a little sympathy from this mafia boss.

I know my name wasn’t Aran.

But seriously, could you stop frowning like that? It was exhausting.

"How is it cruel to reward someone for being good to me?" Thee frowned again, his irritation
seeming to deepen.

"The meal just now was more than enough as thanks," Peach said with a small, nervous
pause before continuing. "It was delicious, honestly, I’ve wanted to eat there for a long time,
but I never got the chance." He hesitated, then added, "And if someone does something kind
for you and makes you happy, all you really have to do is say thank you."

The mafia boss fell silent, his expression unreadable. The bodyguards nearby exchanged
odd looks, caught between stifling laughter and mild panic. But Thee paid them no mind, his
gaze firmly fixed on Peach.

Despite knowing he wouldn’t hear what he expected, Peach couldn’t help but hold his breath
in anticipation.

Thee seemed to ponder something, his lips moving slightly as if testing unfamiliar words.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he said in a calm, monotone voice.

"Thank you."
That was all it took to light up Peach’s face. A radiant smile spread across his lips, reaching
his eyes and making them curve into crescent moons. He hadn’t expected it, not really, but
now that he’d heard it, he couldn’t deny how happy it made him.

Finally, his words seemed to have gotten through to the man.

"You’re welcome," Peach replied warmly.

………………..

Theerakit was a Russian mafia boss through and through.

His father had been a Russian mafia leader—a gunrunner who started as a mere middleman
and fought his way to the top, eventually owning his own arms manufacturing company.

Today, his father dominated the global arms trade on the black market, supplying everyone
from small-time gangsters to national governments. The Arseny name was infamous in the
shadows of the underworld.

In recent years, various organizations had begun investigating their empire. Though no one
dared to make a direct move, the constant intrusion had become a nuisance. In response,
Thee had created a legitimate front: a luxury brand specializing in jewelry and perfumes,
which turned out to be the perfect money-laundering machine for the family’s arms business.

Of course, many of the jewelry pieces held hidden surprises—some were modified to
become weapons, others crafted from the same high-quality metal used in arms
manufacturing. With Thee’s sharp business acumen and decisive leadership, the Arseny
jewelry and perfume brand skyrocketed to prominence during its first year of launch,
securing a prominent spot in the luxury market.

It was a classic case of "the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree." With a father like his, how
could Thee have turned out any different?

He’d grown up learning that if you wanted something, you had to fight, claw, and manipulate
to get it. Reward those who cooperate. Punish those who don’t, and always make sure
people feared you. That’s how it had always been.

But today—right here, right now—someone looked him in the eye and asked for nothing
more than a meal and a simple "thank you."

Apologies and gratitude. Words as empty as they could be. Thee never thought those words
could get him anything worthwhile.

So, when Peach asked for them, Thee hesitated. He, a man who had never uttered those
words in his life, found himself carefully considering the request. But then he saw those
bright, honest eyes looking at him, half expectant, half resigned. And he thought, fine. He’d
already promised a reward. If a two-syllable word was all it took, it wasn’t much effort.
What he didn’t expect was that those two simple syllables would light up Peach’s face like
the sun breaking through storm clouds. His radiant smile so dazzling it was almost blinding.

For a moment, he wondered—if the guy really liked hearing that. Was it somehow more
valuable to him than receiving ten thousand?

Shaking off that ridiculous thought, he dismissed it as nothing more than…a Peach quirk.
There was nothing particularly fascinating about him.

Brushing that strange moment from his mind, he returned to his work, tapping the screen of
his tablet. He preferred having all his documents sent digitally, ready to be uploaded and
read on any of his devices. Given how much he traveled, keeping paper documents was a
hassle he had no patience for. Thanks to this setup, he could work anywhere, even in the
middle of a traffic jam on a congested city street.

Thee had been reading documents for a while when he finally leaned back and looked up to
rest his tired eyes. His sharp, piercing gaze landed on a small flower shop along the
sidewalk outside. For some reason, a conversation from three days ago replayed in his
mind.

He figured flowers were a good starting point.

"Mok, order a small bouquet and send it to Aran," he said calmly to his bodyguard-secretary
sitting in the front. His tone was indifferent, and his eyes remained fixed on the flower shop
without much enthusiasm for the task.

"What kind of flowers should I get, boss?"

"Any."

That response made his secretary hesitate slightly, unsure what to make of the situation.
He’d heard rumors that Thee, for the first time, seemed genuinely interested in the famous
model Aran. The fact that Thee had bothered to order flowers, a gesture he’d never made for
anyone else, was significant. Yet, when asked for specifics, Thee seemed almost
disinterested.

Unaware of Mok’s thoughts, Thee’s mind had wandered elsewhere. Normally, his thoughts
would be filled with Aran’s strikingly beautiful features: the captivating eyes, the confident
smile, the aura that demanded attention. But lately, another face had begun intruding. The
soft, warm voice from that day kept echoing in his mind, accompanied by the memory of a
radiant smile that seemed to light up an otherwise ordinary face.

Peach’s features weren’t conventionally striking, nor did they demand a second glance.

Yet, for a brief moment, that smile had left him completely still, something no one had ever
managed before. The simple smile he’d received after muttering a "thank you" hadn’t left his
thoughts since.
"Send some chocolates to Peachayarat as well."

"Yes, boss."

"Pick something that’s not too sweet."

"...Yes, boss." Mok nearly choked on his breath before he could respond.

How could he not be surprised? The boss had never given such detailed instructions for a
gift—not even for his own father.

Thee pressed his lips together, hesitating for a moment before adding another instruction.

"Write a card to go with it," he said, his tone casual but measured. After a brief pause, he
continued, "Write: 'I leave it in your hands.'"

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a rare and subtle expression of satisfaction.

From now on, I’ll leave myself in your capable hands.

WAKE-UP CALL #6

The fragrances from Arseny's fall collection were divided into four distinct advertising
segments, with Aran as the brand ambassador for the season. Although the promotional
photoshoot had just wrapped, there were still commercials to film and additional photos to
take for the ongoing season's promotions.

Yesterday, there was a pre-filming meeting to finalize plans, and Peach, the lead
photographer for the collection, had to attend to prepare for capturing behind-the-scenes
images and promotional shots during the shoot.

During that meeting, Peach saw Aran holding a huge bouquet of flowers. It was an elegant
arrangement of various flowers in soft white tones, with nothing more than a sleek black
business card discreetly tucked among the blooms. The model looked visibly confused,
probably wondering what to make of the gesture.

Yes, the opponent was the Russian mafia boss, and the two had exchanged some heated
words just a few days ago. Now, out of nowhere, came a massive bouquet—no card, no
apology, just an enigmatic business card indicating who had sent it. Anyone receiving a gift
like that would understand feeling trapped and uncomfortable.

Peach rubbed his temples, resisting the urge to groan. He hadn’t expected Thee to take his
advice so literally! Couldn’t he at least include a simple card that said "I’m sorry"?

Taking a risk, Peach stepped in to smooth things over, suggesting that perhaps the bouquet
was Thee’s way of apologizing for their argument the other day. Aran’s big, doe-like eyes
filled with skepticism as he grabbed Peach’s arm and shook it, as if demanding to know how
he could be so sure.

Before Peach could fully explain, Tawan unexpectedly showed up. Seeing Aran holding the
massive bouquet with one arm and firmly gripping Peach’s arm with the other was enough to
make Tawan’s temper flare. The young photographer quickly broke free and took three large
steps back while stammering that the flowers weren’t his.

The young actor turned and shot him a glare before grabbing Peach by the arm and
dragging him out of the office at breakneck speed. Along the way, he snatched the bouquet
and tossed it in the trash without a second thought.

Should he have asked about it first? Of course. Aran was attractive, but that didn’t mean
everyone was madly in love with him as Thee seemed to believe. How many times would he
have to explain himself before they actually listened?

Honestly, maybe Mr. Thee wasn’t the only one who needed a reality check.

Peach sighed and rubbed his temples, already considering carrying a stress ball with him if
every day was going to be this stressful.
It was the first day of filming a commercial, and Peach was on set to take additional photos.

For once, he was free from playing the big boss and had left the reins in the hands of the
ad’s director. With just his trusty camera slung around his neck, he strolled around the set,
casually capturing interesting shots.

He exchanged greetings with a few colleagues and had just started shooting when one of
the crew members came running up, panting heavily. Without a word, the crew member
handed him a sleek black box.

Peach raised an eyebrow, confused, but took the box anyway. It was a high-end box of
chocolates, completely black, labeled as premium dark chocolate from America, with 90%
cocoa content. The packaging exuded luxury, and attached to it was a small note.

The handwriting was quick and somewhat messy but still elegant, and it only contained two
words:

"I leave it to you."

Peach froze, completely baffled. Who was this chocolate for? And what did they want him to
do with it? Before he could ponder further, he flipped the note to look at the other side.
There, a sleek black business card with shiny silver edges greeted him. In large,
unmistakable letters, it bore the name Arseny Enterprises.

He flipped the note back, looking at the cryptic message again. What exactly did he—the
mafia boss himself—want to leave to him?

Or maybe it meant: "Could you give this to Aran for me?"

Peach nodded to himself, convinced it must be that. Yesterday it was flowers to apologize;
today, chocolates to celebrate the first day of filming the commercial. Though the plan had
gone a little off track. He’d reminded them over and over to pick something sweet—Aran
loves desserts!

Still, it was premium chocolate. Maybe it was the most delicious, top-tier recipe from the
store or something.

With that in mind, Peach felt torn. Sure, he could feel a little proud that, for once, they were
taking his suggestion seriously. But now that the plan had gone off track, there wasn’t much
he could do except improvise to make this seem like a success. The more impressive he
could make it look, the more points Arseny would rack up on Aran’s list—and the safer
Peach himself would be.

Peach headed straight to the staff lounge, walking until he saw Aran’s name on the door. He
knocked once and waited for the soft sound of permission before pushing the door open.
Inside, Aran, the dazzlingly handsome model, was seated in front of the vanity. His makeup
was already flawless, with only his hair left to be done.

"Peach! You’re here too," Aran greeted him with a bright, cheerful smile. He turned to thank
the stylist before practically bouncing over to Peach.

"I had to come to take some behind-the-scenes shots. Plus, it’s your first commercial—I had
to show up and cheer you on," Peach replied with a smile, which only made Aran grin wider.

The photographer handed him a small bouquet—just three or four flowers, arranged simply
but sweetly, as a gesture of support for Aran’s big day. But when Peach glanced at the table
behind Aran, a wave of embarrassment washed over him.

The table was piled high with gifts—and they were luxurious, too. His modest little bouquet
looked downright plain in comparison. And there it was—a massive bouquet of red roses,
easily close to a hundred stems, by his estimate. No prize for guessing who that was from.

It was definitely Tawan’s.

Was this his way of getting back at Theerakit for the apology bouquet the other day?

He couldn’t help but feel both amused and annoyed. Tawan—a young actor and the only son
of a billionaire—was spoiled and stubborn, always eager to win. It wasn’t surprising that he’d
go all out on something like this.

Despite seeming like a handful, Tawan wasn’t all bad. Deep down, he was polite, respectful,
and well-mannered. His charming way of speaking often won people over. Even his
demanding attitude was seen by many as endearing.

It seemed like he was the only one who, every time he ran into Tawan, was met with a look
that screamed he wanted him dead. Not once had there been a hint of kindness.

Peach sighed, exasperated. He had no idea what else he could do to convince the actor he
wasn’t interested in the model. This jealous, irrational rage Tawan showed every time Aran
interacted with another man… what was so fascinating about it? And yet, the makeup artists
squealed about it like it was the juiciest drama they’d ever seen.

Shaking his wandering thoughts away, Peach extended the bouquet. He wasn’t worried
about whether his little gift seemed unimpressive compared to the others. He was just there
to show some professional courtesy as a senior colleague, nothing more.

"This is from me. Wishing you a smooth shoot," he said with a smile, handing over the
bouquet before following up with the luxurious box of chocolates. "And this is from someone
who wanted to congratulate you on your first commercial."

Aran took the bouquet, cradling it carefully, and then reached for the sleek box. His perfectly
groomed eyebrows furrowed as he turned it over, looking for some card that would reveal
who the sender was.
"Who’s this from?" the model asked, raising his brows in confusion.

"From the sender of yesterday’s white bouquet."

Aran froze. The model’s delicate features shifted, a mix of confusion and wariness crossing
his face. Peach simply smiled at him, his expression soft, trying to reassure him.

"He probably just wants to congratulate you on your first commercial. Just accept it," Peach
urged, trying to wrap things up quickly. He was terrified Aran might reject it and hand the box
of chocolates back to him. He didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if he failed
this mission. Would that infernal mafia boss show his true colors?

No way. There was absolutely no chance he’d let his neck—or his head—end up on the
wrong side of a bullet.

Aran hesitated for a moment before finally relenting and opening the box. A faint bittersweet
aroma wafted out the moment the lid was lifted, and his eyes lit up with curiosity. Pulling out
a piece, he popped it into his mouth only to frown instantly, his lips pursing in obvious
distaste.

"It’s so bitter, Peach!" Aran complained, clumsily reaching for a water bottle to wash it down.
Peach simply shook his head with a knowing look. Of course it was bitter—it was 90%
cocoa. What did Aran expect?

Now that the box had officially been opened, Peach didn’t hold back. He took a piece for
himself and let it melt on his tongue. The intense flavor of the chocolate spread through his
mouth, balanced by a slight sweetness at the end.

The faint aroma of cocoa lingering in the air was oddly soothing.

Nodding to himself, he couldn’t help but admit:

This is top-tier chocolate.

"Don’t you find it bitter, Peach?" Aran grumbled, eyeing him warily as he held onto the water
bottle like it was his lifeline.

"Nah, just a little. It’s really good, very high quality."

Aran rested his chin on his hand, watching as Peach, distracted, took another piece. He
looked so absorbed in the rich flavor that Aran couldn’t help but tease him.

You know, I think that guy probably meant to give this chocolate to you, not me.

Peach froze mid-chew, choking on the piece in his mouth. He coughed violently, the sound
echoing in the small room as Aran hurriedly grabbed a water bottle for him. Peach downed
half of it in one gulp before finally catching his breath, though his arms were still covered in
goosebumps. There was no way—not in a million years—that the Russian mafia guy had
bought the chocolates for him. Just the thought made his skin crawl.

"That’s not it—it’s for you," Peach explained hurriedly, stopping himself before taking another
piece of chocolate. Suddenly, the rich flavor didn’t seem so appetizing anymore.

"How is it mine?" Aran shot back, crossing his arms. "I only eat sweet stuff. Desserts,
cakes—anything sugary. The only person I know who likes bitter dark chocolate is you,
Peach."

Peach frowned instantly. The question had crossed his mind as soon as he received the
chocolates. Someone like Arseny, a real mafia boss, probably wouldn’t have the time—or
the interest—to handpick gifts. That was something his secretary would definitely have
handled.

But there was no way he could say that out loud! Otherwise, the mafia points with Aran
would be down the drain.

"He probably didn’t know," Peach said quickly, trying to smooth things over. "It’s probably just
the best chocolate from the store, so he ordered it. I mean, you’ve only met him once, right?
How would he know what you like or don’t like? Give him a chance to figure it out. Next time,
I’m sure he’ll bring you something sweeter."

And please, Peach thought to himself, let that mafia guy actually listen and get it right next
time!

He chatted a bit more with Aran before getting up to take some behind-the-scenes shots. It
wasn’t long before Aran took his place in front of the camera, ready to film the commercial.

Peach wandered around, looking for the perfect angle to capture the action. For a brief
moment, his mind drifted back to the mafia guy. That box of chocolates was probably meant
for Aran, the mafia boss’s favorite model, but there Peach was, already halfway through
eating it. Would he be mad if he found out?

The thought made Peach frown, uncomfortable. After mulling it over, he decided to do
something about it. Pulling out his phone, he took a photo of Aran, making sure to capture
his soft, charming smile. Once he was satisfied with the edit, he sent the image to the man
who had sent the chocolates.

After saving the number in his phone, the messaging app had automatically added the mafia
boss to his contacts, but Peach had never dared to message him before. Today, however, he
thought it was probably a good idea—at least for his own safety—as a loyal subordinate who
should keep the boss informed.

PE@CH: Mission accomplished with the chocolates.

Here’s something extra for you.
[Send Photo]
Peach saw the "read" notification pop up on his message and, calmly, tucked his phone back
into his pocket. He thought that would be the end of it. But just as he was locking the screen,
the phone buzzed insistently in his hand. It was a reply.

T: Where are you?

Peach blinked, confused. Why would he want to know that? Still, he quickly typed out a
polite response.

PE@CH: Studio A.

T: On my way.

Wait! What? He froze. On his way? Here? Why? Was he mad? Did he somehow find out
Peach had eaten half the chocolates?

Peach felt like he was about to scream internally as he held his phone in one hand and an
imaginary stress ball in the other. If only he could come up with some urgent excuse to
disappear from this place.

Please, just go away!

WAKE-UP CALL #7

Peach continued taking photos, fulfilling his duties perfectly, though his mind kept drifting
back to the earlier message. His heart was pounding so hard it was alarming.

No, this wasn’t romantic excitement. His racing heart was fueled by pure panic, nothing
more.

He let out a silent sigh, still unable to understand why that Russian mafia boss would bother
coming to such a small studio. Sure, this commercial shoot was under the umbrella of his
company, but did the CEO really have to oversee it in person?

Peach took another photo and then looked down to review his work. The last shot was of
Aran, the young model turning to smile at the camera. His smile stretched wide, his eyes
crinkling in that charming way that made anyone looking at the photo smile too.

He really was a naturally charming model.

Peach found himself getting lost for a moment before freezing. A memory suddenly
surfaced. What had he said to Thee earlier? Oh, right, he’d sent him a photo. A photo of
Aran ready on set, looking fresh and cheerful, and he’d captioned it as a "Souvenir" for the
mafia boss who had been so obsessed with the young model.

That’s it! He’s here for Aran.

With this revelation, Peach felt his tense shoulders relax a little. The urgency in Thee’s
messages, his quick arrival—it all made sense now. He wanted to see Aran. In the past few
weeks, the two hadn’t had a chance to see each other at all. Things had been so stagnant
between them that the mafia guy didn’t even have Aran’s phone number!

But then again, maybe Thee already had Aran’s number. With his influence, getting a
model’s contact information shouldn’t be a challenge. Still, he probably wouldn’t dare to call
and arrange a meeting on his own.

That was probably for the best. If Aran found out that Thee had gotten his number through
dubious means, it might leave a bad impression.

Feeling a little more at ease with that thought, Peach went back to taking photos. Time flew
by, and the next thing he noticed was a commotion in one corner of the studio. However, he
was so focused on his work that he didn’t pay much attention to it.

It wasn’t until the director called for a break, allowing Aran to change for the next session,
that Peach began to notice something was off.

While reviewing the photos on his camera, he realized someone was staring at him. Looking
up, he met a sharp, intense gaze that made him jump slightly.
There, sitting behind the director with his arms crossed, was the imposing figure of the
Russian-Thai mafia boss. But Thee’s piercing eyes weren’t fixed on the director’s screen as
they should have been—they were locked onto Peach with a predatory gleam, as if he’d
found his prey. The intensity of that gaze sent a shiver down Peach’s spine, making the hairs
on the back of his neck stand on end.

Why is he looking at me? Did I do something wrong?

Peach frowned, breaking eye contact and pretending to focus on his camera, though his
mind was racing a mile a minute.

After a while, glancing at the camera’s time display, something clicked.

It’s already late. Maybe he’s just waiting for Aran. Or maybe he’s upset because I didn’t
arrange the schedule well for him.

Peach glanced at the director, who looked visibly uncomfortable with Thee sitting right
behind him. The poor man finally excused himself to check on the set, probably to escape
the overwhelming pressure of the mafia boss’s presence. Seizing the moment, Peach
approached, giving a slight bow to the middle-aged director before leaning in and whispering
something softly.

"I think we should wrap up for today," Peach suggested quietly, casting a furtive glance at the
mafia boss, whose gaze seemed even sharper than before. The director wiped his forehead,
visibly uneasy. After a quick glance at their imposing guest, he nodded rapidly in agreement.

Peach stepped back as the director announced the end of the day, shouting for everyone to
pack up. Smiling quickly at his colleagues, Peach headed straight for the model’s dressing
room with determined steps. He knocked on the door, and when a voice from inside said to
come in, he opened it.

Inside, Aran was wiping off his makeup, looking relaxed. Someone had probably already
informed him that the session had ended for the day. When Aran saw who it was, he
immediately perked up and asked.

"Why did they cancel, Peach?"

"We finished faster than planned, so the director said we could take a break," Peach replied,
half-serious, half-joking. He walked over, hesitating for a moment as he tried to find the
words for what he had to say. Finally, he managed to say:

"Aran, Mr. Arseny dropped by today."

The young man froze, turning fully toward him, his big eyes widening with a mix of surprise
and wariness. He looked like a scared little animal, fragile and vulnerable. Peach couldn’t
help but smile slightly as he reached out to gently pat the young man’s head a couple of
times, trying to comfort him.
Just for a moment—he quickly withdrew his hand, knowing full well that if Tawan walked in
and saw this, he’d probably end up with a black eye.

"Why is he here? Is he mad at me?" Aran frowned deeply, his lips pressed into a tight line as
doubt crossed his face. Peach couldn’t help but let out a laugh, tempted to ask how on earth
Aran had come to that conclusion.

That mafia boss would probably eat you if he could!

Peach kept the thought to himself. There was no way he was going to blurt that out and send
the guy in front of him into a full-blown panic. If that happened, Peach thought he’d probably
be the one ending up shot.

"Maybe he just wants to make things right with you," Peach said casually, his tone soft and
relaxed. "You’ll be working together for a while, right?" Of course, Peach knew that a
company president wouldn’t bother making amends with a model just because he was the
brand ambassador for the season. But hey, it was the most reasonable excuse he could
come up with to calm Aran down.

The model fell silent, his face marked by deep concentration. Peach decided to give him a
little nudge.

"Come on, why don’t you go out and say hi? It’s the polite thing to do," Peach suggested.
Then, sensing Aran’s hesitation, he added, "Oh, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone
mentions that Tawan threw away Arseny’s bouquet. Better clear things up before it causes
any drama, don’t you think?"

Aran frowned even more at that, but he finally nodded slowly, albeit reluctantly. Seeing him
give in, Peach flashed a wide smile. He was about to suggest that Aran freshen up a bit
when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Peach pulled it out, letting Aran continue packing his things. The notification on the screen
was hard to miss:

T: It’s dark outside. Aren’t you having dinner?

Peach blinked, staring at the message as if it had come out of nowhere. What was that
supposed to mean? Was Thee hinting that he should invite Aran to dinner or something?

The photographer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling an imaginary bead of
sweat roll down his forehead. Just today, how many times had he mediated, lied, and bent
over backward for these two?

Why couldn’t they just fall in love or start dating without dragging the rest of the world into it?

Peach groaned internally, his frustration overflowing. He wanted to grab Cupid by the neck
and shake some sense into him. Why aren’t you doing your job? Why are you dumping all
this on me? But as soon as he pictured Cupid’s face, it ended up looking suspiciously like
Arseny’s. Resigned, Peach sighed again and accepted his role in this ridiculous drama, no
matter how much of a headache it was.

In no time, Aran adjusted the strap of his bag and walked over to Peach, nodding like a
soldier preparing for battle. Peach quickly shifted gears, softening his expression into a kind
smile to reassure him. He approached the manager and said he could leave now, as Peach
would be the one accompanying the model.

After all, he had Thee waiting. He could always pass the baton later.

They walked side by side, Peach keeping the conversation light, tossing playful jokes to
draw a laugh or two from Aran. The model gradually relaxed, the tension in his shoulders
easing. It wasn’t long before they reached the studio exit, where Mr. Thee was already
waiting, arms crossed, radiating his usual authoritative presence.

Peach bowed his head and stepped forward with a forced smile.

"Good evening, Mr. Thee. What an honor to have you personally overseeing our work."

Thee’s frown deepened instantly, his face darkening with clear disapproval. Without even
trying to hide his annoyance, he glared at Peach with evident fury. But Peach didn’t care.
Mission accomplished: he’d managed to drag Aran here. And with Tawan out of the picture
that day, there wouldn’t be a better opportunity than this.

Peach smiled broadly and gestured to the model. "Let me formally introduce you to Aran, our
lead model for the fall collection." Then, turning to Aran, he gave him a little push. "Come on,
Ran, say hi. This is Theerakit Arseny, president of the Arseny Corporation."

Aran glanced briefly at Thee, then gave a polite bow with his hands together in a perfect wai.
Peach let out a subtle sigh of relief, grateful that Aran still had the presence of mind to do
things properly at the right moment.

The mafia boss’s piercing gray eyes softened—though only slightly—but Peach noticed. He
gave himself a mental pat on the back for his success and wasted no time getting straight to
the point.

"Wow, it’s already late, isn’t it? I totally forgot I have an urgent meeting tonight," Peach said,
theatrically smacking his forehead. "I can’t believe I forgot our dinner plans, Mr. Thee. I’m so
sorry!"

The mafia boss turned to him sharply, his steely gray eyes now filled with an almost
predatory intensity. His displeasure was palpable, so much so that one of his nearby
subordinates instinctively took a step back. But Peach, blissfully oblivious, didn’t flinch.
Instead, he turned to Aran, taking his hands in his own and putting on the most pitiful voice
he could muster to plead.
"Mr. Thee is really invested in this fall collection project. And since you don’t have anything
scheduled today, I beg you, Ran, could you please talk to him for me? On the way back, I’m
sure Thee’s team can drop you off."

"I don’t need a ride, Peach, I can get home on my own," Aran replied, shaking his head so
quickly his hair flew everywhere. But Peach wasn’t about to give up now, not when he’d
already committed to this task. He squeezed Aran’s hands tighter, looking at him with the
most pleading expression he could muster.

"I promised our manager, Ran. How can I break my word?" Besides, you’re getting more
popular by the day. What if you flag down the wrong driver or run into some obsessed fan?
What would you do then?" Peach blurted out in one go, not giving Aran a chance to respond.

Without wasting a second, Peach turned back to Thee, grabbed his larger hand, and guided
it toward Aran’s smaller one, physically connecting their hands.

In his hurried nervousness, Peach completely forgot that he wasn’t supposed to touch Thee
so casually. But there he was, placing Aran’s delicate hand into Thee’s broad palm as if
sealing some kind of deal.

"Alright, I’ll leave it in your hands, then!"

Peach declared with a quick bow. Before either of them could react, he let go of their hands,
spun on his heels, and ran toward a waiting taxi nearby.

Professionalism at its finest!, he thought, already imagining himself eating a wagyu steak
after pulling off such a stunt.

………………..

Theerakit froze for a moment because no one had ever forced something—or someone—on
him like that and then run off. His sharp eyes followed Peach until the photographer
disappeared into the taxi. Thee’s eyebrows furrowed, a mix of irritation and bewilderment.

But before he could stop to reflect on the audacity of it all, the sound of his phone ringing
brought him back to the moment.

Letting go of Aran’s hand, he reached for his phone. His gaze stopped at the notification
blinking on the screen, and his expression transformed into something more complex, as if
the emotions inside him were churning in a way even he couldn’t fully decipher.

PE@CH: I’ve handed you the perfect opportunity.

Now it’s all up to you. Good luck!

Thee pressed his lips together and tucked his phone back into his pocket. When he looked
up, Aran was already there, looking at him nervously, his expression a mix of concern and
slight fear. Something about it tugged at his heart, softening the storm that had been brewing
inside him.
He couldn’t deny it—Aran was stunning. A man with delicate, almost ethereal features, a
slim figure that still carried a hint of muscle, and skin so fair and smooth it practically glowed.
Thee could still feel the soft warmth of that skin from when he’d taken Aran’s hand earlier.

And yet, curiously, the sensation that lingered most was the rough warmth of someone else’s
hand.

"Uh… have you eaten yet, Mr. Thee?" Aran’s hesitant voice broke the silence. His tone
wavered, but there was determination in his words. "I’m willing to answer any questions
about the fall collection shoot on Peach’s behalf. I mean, he knows most of the details, but…
I’ve been dropping by often to check on the progress. Maybe I can fill in, at least a little."

Theerakit looked down, his chest still tight with the irritation that persisted. What frustrated
him most was that he couldn’t quite pinpoint why he was upset. Taking a deep breath, he
reined in the whirlwind swirling inside him and replied in a dry, authoritative tone.

"Get in the car."

Peach had gone to so much trouble to set all this up for him. The least he could do was take
advantage of the opportunity he’d been given. Even if his mind was more tangled and
confused than ever.
WAKE-UP CALL #8

A famous Japanese restaurant in the heart of the city, known not only for its authentic
Japanese ingredients but also for bringing in chefs directly from renowned restaurants in
Japan. They spared no effort in offering the finest dishes, which explained why each plate
was so expensive that saving for an entire year would only afford a single serving.

On the upper floor, in one of the private rooms with an open view of the river, two men sat in
the midst of an exquisite spread of dishes laid out on the table. This room, notoriously
difficult to reserve, was the most coveted spot in the restaurant.

One didn’t need to be a genius to understand the kind of connections required to secure that
room in such a short time.

However, the man who had pulled the strings to obtain this luxurious space didn’t seem
interested in enjoying the ambiance or savoring the carefully crafted dishes before him.
Instead, his irritation was almost palpable, making the air in the room even heavier than it
already was.

The knot of frustration in Thee’s chest, which had been growing since he left the studio,
hadn’t loosened in the slightest. He had come here for one purpose: to meet that
photographer. He had even made his secretary rush the reservation to ensure they could
meet today. But when he arrived, the person he had gone through all this trouble for barely
acknowledged his existence. The guy didn’t even spare him a glance…

Instead, he was cozying up to the director, whispering and acting all friendly.

Thee told himself to calm down. At least Peach was still making an effort to fulfill his
responsibilities.

Letting out a slow, controlled breath, Thee tried to refocus. There was no point in being
angry when he couldn’t even pinpoint what had bothered him in the first place.

He needed to concentrate on the here and now.

“The food looks amazing,” Aran blurted out, breaking the uncomfortable silence with a
nervous tone, every muscle in his body on high alert. Not just because of Thee—the man
with whom he had a history of bad relations—but also because Thee was the president of
the company he worked for, and to top it off, the head of the mafia.

If it weren’t for wanting to help Peach, Aran wouldn’t have agreed to be here, not in a million
years.

Theerakit didn’t say a word. His tall frame was relaxed as he leaned back with his arms
crossed, his gaze unreadable and impenetrable. The complete lack of visible emotion only
made Aran feel even more out of place.
“It’s a shame Peach couldn’t make it…” Aran ventured, attempting to start some small talk
while fidgeting with his chopsticks. His tone brightened slightly as he added, “Peach loves
Japanese food, but I actually prefer Thai food.”

“It seems so,” Thee replied, his tone flat, though a nearly imperceptible twitch appeared at
the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, Peach doesn’t like anything too spicy. He has stomach issues, so Japanese food is
perfect for him—it’s generally quite mild,” Aran said, relaxing a little as he shifted the topic to
someone else. He picked up a piece of tamagoyaki and popped it into his mouth, savoring
the sweet flavor. Spicy food was more his style, though when it came to desserts, he was a
complete sweet tooth.

“Oh, by the way, I haven’t thanked you yet. Thanks for the flower banquet… and also for the
chocolates today.”

Thee’s eyes lifted immediately, his thick brows knitting together in an instant. He looked
genuinely surprised, as if he had overlooked something important.

“Thank me? For what?”

“For the flower banquet. They were beautiful—I loved them,” Aran clarified, his smile fading
slightly as uncertainty began to creep in. For a moment, he wondered if someone had
gossiped about the bouquet being thrown out earlier. Either way, he figured he should clarify
and show his appreciation for the gesture. “And the chocolates you sent through
Peach—thank you for those as well. They smelled amazing. Though, they were a bit too
bitter for my taste. Peach really enjoyed them, though.”

“…”

Arseny, the brand owner, remained silent, an unfamiliar and strange mix of emotions swirling
inside him.

A mafia boss who always got what he wanted and was notoriously possessive.
Everything—or anyone—he considered his was fiercely guarded, sometimes to an
exasperating degree. Whether it was his possessions or his people, he never failed to assert
his claim.

But now, he wasn’t sure what irritated him more—was it that the model in front of him
wouldn’t stop talking about that photographer? Or was it that the chocolates he had
specifically intended for someone else had ended up being enjoyed by a completely different
person?

He frowned, lowering his gaze as he tried to rein in his emotions. Once he had them under
control, he lifted his eyes to meet those of the person in front of him.

The person who still managed to capture his attention. That striking face—beautiful and
attractive at the same time—was exactly his type. Those flushed cheeks seemed to beg for
a touch, and those big, bright eyes kept darting nervously toward him. He found the nervous
energy endearing, almost protective in a way.
This was the person he was interested in—the same person he had set his sights on that
day.

With that realization, Theerakit visibly relaxed and refocused on the conversation, pushing
away the persistent image of the photographer’s simple and honest smile from his mind.

“How’s work been going?” he asked casually.

“It’s been great! Everyone on the team is so kind,” Aran responded with a soft smile, feeling
slightly more at ease now that Theerakit was continuing the conversation. “Peach takes
incredible photos too. He guided me the whole time. If it weren’t for him, the pictures
wouldn’t have turned out half as good.”

“A shame I haven’t seen them yet,” Theerakit remarked, mentally noting that he should have
his assistant track down the photos for him.

“The originals should still be with Peach. He said he needed to do some edits first so the art
team wouldn’t have as much work. I can let him know to send them to you if you want,” Aran
offered, noticing how Thee paused for a moment.

Thee hesitated, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his sharp eyes. Any thought of having his
assistant handle it disappeared from his mind almost instantly.

“No need. I’ll ask Peach myself later,” he said, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips
before vanishing just as quickly. His penetrating gaze shifted to his companion, who
immediately tensed again, his eyes darting around as if lost in thought, clearly overanalyzing
the situation.

People always acted like this around him—nervous, a mix of apprehension and fear. If not
that, then greed, with expectant eyes waiting to gain something from him. It was rare, if not
unheard of, for someone to be genuinely at ease in his presence.

Except for that photographer, who always seemed immune—especially when food was
involved. Then, Peach’s mood would turn completely cheerful.

Theerakit froze, realizing that Peachayarat had somehow slipped into his thoughts again,
despite promising himself he wouldn’t think about him anymore.

“Are you and that photographer close?”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, his mind still tangled and conflicted.

Across from him, Arseny’s face lit up slightly at the mention of his dear friend, though his
smile remained a little stiff and nervous.

“We’re actually very close. I think of Peach as an older brother,” Aran said, lowering his gaze
to the fish on his plate. He carefully picked at it before continuing, “He’s so kind and sweet;
honestly, I don’t understand how some of those women can treat him so cruelly.”
Theerakit’s frown deepened with every word, though he still couldn’t quite grasp what exactly
was irritating him so much. He lowered his gaze and absentmindedly picked up the glass of
wine beside him, slowly swirling it between his fingers.

“How did you two meet?”

“I was feeling pretty bad at the time—I had just found out I wasn’t accepted into the
university I wanted. Peach was there and asked me to model for some photos. That’s how it
started. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be a model today. I owe everything to him.”

Aran let out a soft laugh, the sound tinged with genuine fondness. For the first time, he felt
grateful for that failed exam—a moment that had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

“I didn’t feel like going home that day, so Peach even let me stay over at his place. He’s so
kind, even to a stranger.”

Theerakit’s hand tightened around his wine glass, his knuckles turning pale as his frown
deepened with irritation. It was just a moment, however, and as soon as he noticed his
reaction, he forced himself to relax, loosening his grip.

He couldn’t lose his composure over the story of Aran sleeping at that photographer’s place.

He told himself this firmly, though the simmering frustration in his chest didn’t fade easily. His
sharp eyes darkened with irritation, and he had to close them briefly to regain control of his
emotions. When he opened them again, his gaze was calmer, though the slight edge of
annoyance hadn’t completely disappeared.

He finished his glass of wine before steering the conversation in another direction.

“And that young actor? Are you two dating?”

The question made Arseny’s delicate face flush as he bit his lip and avoided Theerakit’s
gaze. His cheeks tinged with a light pink hue, and though he shook his head, his
embarrassment was evident.

“…We’re not dating,” he murmured.

Theerakit’s eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the scene before him. The image was
unexpectedly captivating—the blush spreading across Aran’s cheeks, those large eyes
shimmering as if on the verge of tears, and his soft lips pressed together nervously. It was a
picture of innocence and sweetness.

Blushing at the mention of another man… Strangely, Theerakit didn’t feel annoyed this time.

“So, are you telling me that you’re courting each other?” he asked, testing the waters.

Aran hesitated for a moment before finally nodding slightly.

“In that case…” Theerakit said playfully, “if I were to make the first move, that would mean I
still have a chance, right?”
The unexpected response made Arseny snap his head up, his wide eyes filled with surprise.
The faint blush on his cheeks deepened into a full-on flush that reached the tips of his round
ears.

“W-what? Me?” Aran stammered, glancing around nervously as if searching for an escape.
“That… that’s not right! I don’t like talking to more than one person at a time. I prefer to focus
on getting to know someone properly, step by step!”

“I don’t need to talk to you—I only plan to court you,” Theerakit said, leaning back in his chair
and crossing his arms.

Although his flustered reaction was amusing, like a small frightened animal looking for
shelter, Theerakit’s heart remained completely unmoved.

It wasn’t surprising. Ever since he had officially taken over as his father’s successor, nothing
had managed to shake him. He had learned the hard way that letting anything affect his
emotions could make him vulnerable—a weakness he could never afford.

“Wait, you’re going to court me without talking to me?” Arseny repeated, blinking in
confusion. “Doesn’t that sound a bit… weird?”

Theerakit cast a sideways glance at the bewildered model, then lowered his gaze.

Arseny didn’t seem thrilled about the idea, but he was too intimidated to reject him outright.
Instead, he stammered and hesitated, which only made him seem even more exasperating.

There was only one person who had ever dared to speak to him frankly—that photographer.

His hand, idly toying with the wine glass, paused for a moment. For reasons he couldn’t
explain, his thoughts returned to that man once again. Despite having the model in front of
him, someone supposedly determined to win him over, his attention drifted elsewhere.

Even stranger, the burning desire to claim the person in front of him—the heat that usually
drove him—was slowly beginning to fade. He hadn’t even kissed Aran yet, but a sense of
exhaustion was already creeping in.

It wasn’t anything new. He had gone through countless fleeting affairs and passionate nights
with a succession of faces. The moment boredom or irritation set in, his interest would
vanish in the blink of an eye.

But losing interest this fast—before even a single kiss—was definitely something new.

Theerakit took another slow sip of wine, letting its warmth calm him. Deep down, he felt
strangely relieved to have reached a conclusion.

After all, he was a mafia boss—a man who lived by his own rules. He didn’t need to chase
after reasons for anything.

He was already tired of this model. And there was someone else—someone far more
intriguing—who occupied his mind.
“How long have you been working with Peach?”

Aran blinked in surprise. His previous shyness disappeared quickly, replaced by confusion.
Just moments ago, they had been talking about something completely different. He hadn’t
expected the conversation to take such a sudden turn.

“I’ve known Peach for about five years,” he said after a pause. “But we’ve only worked
together maybe four or five times.” He stopped, thinking for a moment, and the corners of his
mouth lifted into a small, sweet smile. “But if we’re talking about long-term projects, this is
the first one. The campaign with Arseny is my first.”

The set, which included perfumes and accessories, was designed to launch in four
collections, each tied to a different season. Arseny and Tawan were the main brand
ambassadors, alternating campaigns throughout the four seasons. Peachayarat, a renowned
photographer, had been entrusted with all the promotional shoots.

“That’s fine,” Theerakit replied, his sharp gaze rising to meet Arseny’s. “Eat as much as you
want—it’s on me. But I have to go.”

Aran quickly bowed his head in a polite farewell. Thee gave him a brief nod, stood from his
seat, and turned to give some quiet instructions to his men.

Then, just as he was about to leave, he turned back to Aran, his tone firm.

“I’ve told my people to take you home. They’ll drive you back to your condo.”

“…”

“Don’t ever sleep in Peach’s room again.”

WAKE-UP CALL #9

Peach had just sent the last batch of photos to the art team at six in the morning. With the
little energy he had left, he managed to plug in his phone charger before collapsing onto the
bed. Wrapping himself comfortably in a blanket, he shut down all his senses and fell into a
deep sleep almost instantly.

Pulling all-nighters before crashing had become second nature to him. Besides, the previous
night had been relatively smooth. Once he successfully delivered the model to the mafia
boss, he felt immense relief. His mind cleared, ideas flowed like a dream, and before dawn,
he had finished all his work.

Peach had already calculated—tomorrow would be his day off, and the day after, he only
had one afternoon meeting scheduled. That left him with a full day and a half to himself.
Sleeping all day and waking up at night sounded like a solid plan.

But barely two hours into his pleasant sleep, the phone on his nightstand started ringing
loudly, dragging him back into the conscious world through a haze of exhaustion.

Groaning, the young photographer fumbled for his phone. When he finally answered, his
voice was hoarse and half-asleep.

[Peach, when did you send the files? I can’t find them.]

The voice of Plub, one of his teammates—and also his younger sister—came through,
slightly muffled by the background noise of people shouting.

Without bothering to open his eyes, Peach instantly knew who it was. His sister, who also
worked with him in the art department, was brilliant at her job, no doubt. But she had a talent
for losing things. In fact, she misplacing files was so common that he had started keeping
backup copies himself.

Mumbling, he gave a lazy response without even considering getting up to check his
computer.

“Check your email. I sent them this morning.”

His words were more fragmented grunts than coherent sentences, but that didn’t faze her.
She was used to his half-asleep ramblings and continued the conversation without missing a
beat.

[What about the behind-the-scenes photos for the magazine interview? When will those be
ready? I need to schedule the next steps.]

Peach let out a long sigh. The more she talked, the more he wanted to bury himself under
his blanket and pretend the world didn’t exist.
“Just open the files, Plub.”

[Huh? Wait—it’s all done? You didn’t even sleep last night?!]

“I’m sleeping now,” he muttered, too tired to summon the energy to scold her properly.

[We’re having a barbecue tonight. Are you coming, Peach?]

“No.”

With that, he hung up, fully aware that she had no real reason to call him other than to
interrupt his much-needed rest. He pulled the blanket over his head, hugged his pillow, and
tried to slip back into his dreams.

But just as he was about to fade into unconsciousness again, his phone rang once more.

[Peach, come on! Let’s go out tonight. I want to drink.]

“I’m not going. And no more than two drinks, got it?” Peach replied, ending the call without
patience for her antics. He tossed his phone out of reach, but the damned thing rang again
almost immediately.

This time, irritation took over. Without opening his eyes, he swiped to answer and snapped.

“Plub. I said I’m not going. I’m trying to sleep. We’ll talk tonight.”

He hung up before she could say another word, threw his phone even farther away, and
buried himself back in his cocoon of blankets. Sleep claimed him again, as if nothing else in
the world mattered.

When Peach finally woke up, he felt like he had been unconscious for a century. He sat up
sluggishly, his limbs moving slowly as if rust had settled into his joints.

His room was completely dark. Heavy blackout curtains blocked out all traces of sunlight,
leaving him utterly disoriented about the time of day. On autopilot, his hand groped around
for his phone, vaguely remembering that he had tossed it near the headboard.

The moment his eyes landed on the screen, any lingering drowsiness instantly vanished.

It was already 6 p.m., but Peach’s phone screen was flooded with notifications—missed calls
and unread messages had piled up relentlessly since 8 a.m., with the most recent one
arriving just fifteen minutes ago. The count included nearly ten missed calls and a
never-ending stream of texts waiting for his attention.

T: Who is Plub?

What time is your “night”?

You have ten minutes left.

Peach stared wide-eyed at the last message, sent thirty minutes ago. His mouth fell open as
confusion swirled in his mind, desperately trying to piece together the blurred details.

He quickly opened his call log.

The last call he had answered before falling asleep wasn’t Plub calling back to nag him—it
was the Russian mafia boss.

After hanging up that call, Peach must have put his phone on silent, which explained why the
ten missed calls that followed hadn’t disturbed his peaceful sleep.

But why the hell was he calling so early?!

Peach had no idea if Thee’s ominous ten-minute countdown was still ticking or if he had
already lost patience. Either way, panic took over, and Peach bolted out of bed toward the
bathroom.

In his frantic rush, he tripped over the pile of blankets on the floor, smacking his head against
the wardrobe with an audible thud. Luckily, he didn’t hit a sharp corner, so there was no
blood. Without stopping to mourn his wounded pride, he jumped into the shower, changed
into clean clothes, and rushed out of his apartment.

Practically sprinting, Peach reached the elevator, stabbed the button for the ground floor,
and shot out as soon as the doors opened.

He came to an abrupt halt in the condo lobby, bending over with his hands on his knees to
catch his breath. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a pair of bodyguards in black suits,
tense and ready to move—before they quickly returned to their motionless, composed
stance.

Peach’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest. He had almost made them draw their weapons!

“Forty-five minutes.”

The cold tone of the man sitting in front of him sent a chill down Peach’s spine. Once he
steadied his breathing, he cautiously looked up, feeling an uneasy shiver deep in his chest.

The sight of those piercing smoky-gray eyes, fixed on him with a mix of disdain and icy
indifference, only made his heart sink further.

Until now, Mr. Thee had always been intimidating, sure—but the atmosphere had never felt
this suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” Peach murmured, lowering his gaze as he bowed his head respectfully. Though,
deep down, part of him was still grumbling. Was this really my fault? Still, with this
temperamental mafia boss having waited forty-five minutes for him, Peach figured
apologizing was the least he could do.
The silence that followed was deafening, making Peach increasingly nervous. He stole a
quick glance upward, only to meet Thee’s unyielding stare. The longer Thee remained silent,
the harder it became to breathe.

After what felt like an eternity, Thee’s hand moved, and Peach instinctively shut his eyes
tight, his heart pounding wildly as he braced himself. Is he going to hit me?

Instead, warm fingertips brushed against his forehead, cradling his head gently. Thee’s
thumb pressed lightly against the center of his forehead—a touch so unexpectedly tender
that it left him momentarily stunned.

“Who did this?” Thee’s voice, casual yet edged with steel, made Peach shiver again.

His bodyguards, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, visibly tensed, the hairs
on their arms standing on end. But Peach couldn’t see any of that. All he knew was that
Thee’s voice had softened slightly, and the oppressive tension had eased just enough for
him to breathe again.

“I ran into my wardrobe like an idiot. But it’s your fault for rushing me like that!”

Since Thee wasn’t glaring daggers at him anymore, Peach felt a bit bolder. He decided to
defend himself.

“I couldn’t sleep until six-thirty this morning, and before that, my phone kept ringing nonstop.
I thought your call was from a team member, so I just silenced it.”

“Who is Plub?”

The completely unrelated question left Peach baffled.

But with Thee’s firm fingers holding him in place and his face set, Peach couldn’t even lift his
head enough to see the man’s expression. His line of sight was frustratingly low, making the
entire situation feel even more oppressive.

“Plub is my little sister. She’s part of the Arseny brand’s art team.”

He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of concern—would Thee think he had pulled strings to get
to where he was?

“She’s been working at Arseny for a long time. She’s really talented, I promise. As for me, I
just did some freelance work for the brand. When this project came up, Plub invited me to
join the meeting with her. I swear I didn’t use any connections to get involved.”

The air was filled with silence, except for the soft, rhythmic pressure of Thee’s thumb lightly
brushing against his forehead. Peach felt like he was standing at the gallows, silently praying
for mercy. Please, be reasonable, he pleaded internally.

Finally, as if his silent call had been answered, Theerakit loosened his grip and slowly
dropped his hand.
Peach, who had been slightly hunched over throughout the ordeal, straightened up and took
a deep breath. His heart, which had been hammering in his chest, began to slow. It seemed
he had been absolved!

“Then, is there a reason you came to see me today?” he asked tentatively, still testing the
waters. The thought reminded him of a certain young model, and Peach couldn’t help but
wonder if Thee’s bad mood was the result of a failed date.

He sighed inwardly. With Theerakit’s unpredictable behavior and Aran’s meddlesome

tendencies, trusting anyone felt like a gamble these days.

“I’m just bored.”

“…?”

Peach blinked and instinctively frowned before he could stop himself. For a moment, he was
completely lost.

Last time, Mr. Thee had said he wanted him so much that he practically dragged him to bed.
That hadn’t even been a week ago! Peach had done his best to arrange a nice dinner date,
only for him to show up now and casually declare he was bored.

He rubbed his temples, feeling exasperated. Was this what people meant when they called
someone a rich kid with too many toys? They got bored and set things aside just like that. It
didn’t even seem like Aran had reached the toy stage yet.

Of course, Peach didn’t want his junior model friend to end up as a disposable plaything. If
there was ever a chance for a relationship to blossom, he wanted it to become something
real and genuine—especially with that clingy Tawan kid constantly hanging around without
making his intentions clear.

Someone had to take a stand and sort things out soon.

“What do you mean by ‘bored’? Did something happen? Did Aran do something to upset
you?”

He was genuinely worried about the younger model. If Aran had somehow managed to
anger the mafia standing before him, he needed to make sure he walked away from this in
one piece.

“I’m just bored.” Theerakit shrugged, a slight look of irritation crossing his sharp features
before he waved a dismissive hand.

“It’s dinner time.”

With that, the mafia got up from the couch and strode out of the condo without waiting for
Peach. The photographer blinked, utterly baffled. What does that mean?

Is he saying he’s going to dinner without me? Or does he mean we’re eating together?
Peachayarat, the photographer, knew full well that he was not Aran and did not have a
modeling career. He hesitated for just a moment before deciding to head back to his room.

He turned on his heels and took only one step before the black-clad bodyguards flanking the
room grabbed his arms, lifted him off the ground, and spun him around to face the mafia,
who now stood with arms crossed, staring at him with an intensity that could burn a hole
through steel.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The mafia’s icy tone sent a shiver down Peach’s spine. The guards’ strong grips kept him
suspended in the air, and he didn’t dare utter a single complaint.

“Back to my room, obviously. I didn’t bring anything with me.”

There was no point in struggling. Had he seen these guys’ muscles? One punch from any of
them, and he’d wake up in a hospital bed.

“There’s no need. Everything depends on me.”

“When exactly did we agree to have dinner together?”

Peach blinked a few times, completely confused, his bewilderment only increasing as his
hunger grew.

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized he had made a mistake.

Thee’s gaze turned even colder, practically freezing him in place. Desperately trying to fix
the situation, Peach forced a nervous smile and awkwardly averted his eyes.

He wanted to ask: Did you really say anything about dinner? But the weight of Thee’s frosty
stare was enough to keep him silent.

Calm down, Peach. You’re not Aran. Don’t push your luck unless you want trouble.

“Mr. Thee, I already have plans with my sister tonight,” Peach said firmly. “I can’t go with
you.”

“I heard you tell her you weren’t going.”

“Even so, I’m still worried about her. She’s planning to go drinking, and as her brother, I want
to pick her up later,” Peach insisted, this time with more conviction. His sister always came
first—there was no room for compromise when it came to her safety.

“We’ll eat first, and then you can pick her up.”

Without waiting for a response, Theerakit turned and got into the car.

Peach, who had nothing but his phone on him, suddenly found himself being pushed forward
by the bodyguards. A few steps later, they shoved him unceremoniously into the car, right
next to the mafia.
I thought I handed this whole mess over to Aran. How the hell did it end up in my lap?
WAKE-UP CALL #10

“What are you in the mood for?”

The moment Peach closed the car door, Thee, already seated beside him, casually asked
the question. However, his eyes remained fixed on the tablet in his lap, scanning some
documents. Peach blinked in surprise.

It wasn’t like Theerakit to ask for anyone’s opinion.

Usually, he just did whatever he wanted without a second thought.

“Anything is fine with me,” Peach replied, tossing the ball back into Thee’s court. He wasn’t
picky about food, and honestly, under the pressure of this guy’s presence, his brain wasn’t
functioning well enough to think of something specific.

“Then we’ll head to the downtown hotel restaurant.”

Peach’s stomach twisted the moment he heard that. His eyes darted to his current outfit—an
old white T-shirt, jeans, and sandals. A place like that would never let him in dressed like
this.

But could you blame him? It wasn’t like he’d had much time to prepare. He had thrown on
whatever was closest without a second thought. At least he wasn’t still in his pajamas.

“Mr. Thee, I don’t think they’ll let me in dressed like this,” he cautiously pointed out.

Thee finally lifted his gaze from the tablet, raising an eyebrow as if silently asking, Why
wouldn’t they let you in?

“You’re with me. Who would stop you?”

Peach fought the urge to roll his eyes. Great, here we go again with the big-shot routine!

“I’m not saying they won’t let me in. I’m saying it doesn’t look right. It’s disrespectful to the
place,” he tried to explain.

As a photographer, Peach had attended plenty of fancy dinners and high-profile events.
Upscale restaurants like that usually had dress codes for a reason—out of respect for the
establishment and the other guests. Showing up in a wrinkled T-shirt and jeans wasn’t
exactly appropriate.

“There’s no need to overthink it. I’ve booked a private room.”

Thee closed his iPad, crossed his arms, and turned to face him with a serious expression,
clearly ready to argue his point. Peach couldn’t help but laugh internally.

Sometimes, this mafia boss acts like a stubborn child.

Peach froze for a second when that thought hit him. What was he doing, risking his life by
finding this guy adorable? This wasn’t just anyone—this was an arms dealer with armed
bodyguards and enough firepower to level a building. Had he completely lost his mind?

He shook his head slightly, trying to banish the ridiculous thought, and forced himself to
focus.

“It’s not about the private room, Thee. Walking into a place like that dressed like this? It’s
disrespectful. Show some respect for the establishment.”

“I could buy the entire restaurant!”

Oh, please understand my point!

Peach resisted the urge to pull at his own hair. Clearly, trying to explain this was a lost
cause. How could Thee understand when he believed money could fix absolutely
everything?

“I’m not going,” Peach said firmly, abandoning the idea of reasoning altogether. With the way
Thee operated, there was no way he’d ever get it.

The mafia boss’s brows immediately furrowed, his displeasure radiating so strongly that
Peach could almost see it. He was calculating something—probably trying to come up with
an alternative.

Peach realized he needed a distraction, something to change the topic fast. Out of nowhere,
a memory of his little sister’s words popped into his head.

“How about Moo Kata instead?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Peach regretted them. What the hell am I saying?
Moo Kata? For this mafia boss, sitting there in a custom-tailored suit that probably cost more
than his entire life savings? He must have lost his mind.

In his mind, he started praying to God, silently begging for a quick and painless end.

The more Thee frowned, the more Peach wanted to disappear into the car seat. The
discomfort crept over him, wishing he could sink into the upholstery and vanish.

Thee lightly rubbed his chin with his knuckles, lost in thought. Then, to Peach’s absolute
shock, Thee nodded and said something that shattered his world in that very moment.

“Moo Kata is fine, then.”

Wait, what? Seriously?

In the end, Peach didn’t have the guts to drag a mafia boss to the roadside grill he and his
sister frequented. After a long negotiation that lasted nearly ten minutes, they reached a
compromise and ended up at a high-end grill restaurant. It wasn’t exactly what Peach had
imagined, but at least it wasn’t a five-star establishment.
The restaurant, located in the heart of a shopping mall, had a warm and inviting atmosphere
with wooden decor. Thanks to its exorbitant prices, it wasn’t crowded. A quick glance around
confirmed Peach’s suspicion—most of the patrons seemed to have wallets thick enough to
solve their problems the same way Thee did: by throwing money at them.

Thee’s bodyguards had spread out, blending in seamlessly with the other guests. It wasn’t
unusual for the evening crowd to include diners in summer outfits enjoying a meal in such an
upscale setting. Meanwhile, Thee led the way as they moved deeper into the restaurant,
slipping behind a curtain and heading up a staircase to one of the private rooms on the
upper floor.

Only two people followed them inside, both familiar faces who frequently rode in the same
car as Mr. Thee.

Thee’s secretary opened the door to a private room. Peach nodded politely and offered the
man a small, friendly smile. At least it helped calm his nerves—until the door closed behind
him, leaving him alone once again with Mr. Thee.

That smile… was that supposed to be encouragement before sending me off to war?

Peach let out a silent sigh as he slid into the seat across from the young mafia boss without
protest. Thee tossed the menu at him before immediately diving back into his iPad,
completely uninterested in what Peach might order.

If I max out the bill by ordering every expensive dish on the menu, he wouldn’t have the right
to complain afterward.

Peach thought to himself with a hint of mischief. Then he sighed again, this time with slight
amusement. The Arseny empire was drowning in wealth. Even if he ordered the most
expensive items, it wouldn’t make a dent—probably less than a quarter of their quarterly
profits.

“Is there anything special you’d like to eat?” Peach asked, holding the menu as he nervously
pressed his lips together and cast a cautious glance at Thee.

He was starving. He wanted to order everything! But with his host acting so indifferent, he
didn’t dare make a move.

“Just order. I’ll eat whatever.”

As soon as he got Thee’s approval, Peach’s face lit up with a smile. He opened the menu
without a hint of hesitation. He was famished, and since Thee was the one who dragged him
here—and had explicitly offered to treat him—he was going to eat to his heart’s content.

Peach ended up pointing to almost ten premium cuts of meat, not counting all the side
dishes he added just in case. The entire time, the young mafia boss remained glued to his
iPad, not sparing him a single glance.
Peach didn’t mind, though. Many of his friends worked while eating together—being an adult
came with responsibilities. Besides, he wasn’t so special that Thee had to pause his work
just to entertain him.

This is terrifying!

Swallowing hard, Peach felt a shiver of fear run through him. His wrist throbbed under
Thee’s iron grip, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. But he didn’t dare pull away. His
hand trembled slightly, forcing him to tense his muscles to stop it from shaking too much. All
he could do was bite his lower lip, trying to stay calm.

Peach had gotten too comfortable. He had forgotten Thee’s true nature, lulled by the rare
moments of indulgence. He was a mafia boss through and through.

“I’m sorry. I grilled some meat for you and thought I’d switch your plate since you seemed
busy with work and hadn’t eaten yet.” He forced a shaky smile, even as his wrist started to
go numb. Judging by the tingling sensation, his blood circulation was probably being cut off.

Theerakit froze for a moment, his gaze shifting to the table. Sure enough, Peach’s hand had
been reaching for an empty plate. Beside it was another plate, neatly stacked with perfectly
grilled meat slices—not to mention the sizzling steak cubes still on the grill, releasing an
irresistible aroma.

After a moment, the mafia boss’s eyes returned to Peach. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he
loosened his grip on Peach’s wrist. Peach, who had been holding onto his fragile smile for
dear life, immediately slid the clean plate in front of Thee, took the empty one, and quickly
retreated to his seat.

Peach let out a silent sigh, glancing at his hands, which were still trembling slightly. His pale
wrist bore red, irritated marks—the clear imprint of Thee’s grip.

He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, trying to shake off the lingering tension
and steady his nerves. Taking a shaky breath, he turned his attention back to the grill.

The tight knot of fear in his chest hadn’t fully unraveled, so he focused on his food, eating in
silence without saying a word.

He didn’t look directly at Thee, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the mafia boss
putting away his iPad. Thee’s hand moved to pick up a pair of chopsticks instead. His fingers
were long, strong, and precise—no wonder his grip had left such vivid marks.

“I wasn’t angry with you.”

Thee’s voice was softer now, but Peach only returned a small smile and a quiet murmur of
acknowledgment, keeping his head down. He gripped his chopsticks a little tighter to keep
his hands from shaking. Out of nowhere, his appetite seemed to fade, despite how hungry
he had been just minutes before.
I shouldn’t have come.

Forcing himself to take a bite, Peach put a piece of meat into his mouth. The rich, buttery
flavor of the tender beef melted on his tongue—a delicacy he rarely got to enjoy. He should
savor this, he thought.

Who knows? This might be the last fancy meal I ever have.

“How did you know what I wanted to eat?”

The question came out of nowhere, soft enough to sound like Thee was talking to himself.
But in the nearly silent room, where the only other noise was the gentle crackling of
charcoal, Peach heard it loud and clear.

His body tensed. He couldn’t tell if the question was a compliment or a critique.

“I just noticed things. Last time, you ordered a medium-rare steak. And since it’s already late,
I figured too much greasy food might upset your stomach.” He hesitated, suddenly unsure of
himself. “If I was wrong, I’m sorry.”

Thee didn’t respond. He simply picked up a piece of meat and ate it without saying a word.
Peach didn’t press for an answer. Instead, he focused on the grill in front of him, though he
couldn’t help but keep placing perfectly grilled pieces of meat onto Thee’s plate from time to
time.

But one thing was certain—he avoided making eye contact with Thee entirely.

He realized he had let his guard down too much.

Even if Thee sometimes seemed calm, maybe even kind, it didn’t change the fact that he
was still a mafia boss.

…And Peach wasn’t Aran—the person Thee had fallen for.

If he forgot that, next time, it might cost him his life.

WAKE-UP CALL #11

He had never been ignored by anyone before.

Sitting cross-legged in the car, his iPad open to a document in his hands, he couldn’t focus
on a single word. Everything around him was silent—too silent, in fact. No distractions.
Nothing at all to break the silence.

It was too much silence.

He stole a glance at the young photographer sitting beside him. Ever since they had left the
restaurant, Peach had been unusually quiet, avoiding eye contact and keeping his distance.
Even now, as they sat together in the car, there was only this oppressive silence between
them.

Normally, Peach wasn’t very talkative either. When they shared rides like this, silence was
expected. But back then, Peach’s presence had felt… warm. Like sitting under a big tree on
a sunny day—calm, safe, peaceful, and relaxing.

But this time, it wasn’t like that. This silence wasn’t warm or comfortable. It was suffocating,
and Thee didn’t like it.

He stole another glance at Peach’s face. Objectively, he was handsome—not the type to turn
heads in a crowd, but his features were undeniably pleasant. Fair skin, slightly narrow
almond-shaped eyes, always shining with a gentle light.

Thee had always liked those eyes.

He liked the way they reflected him, as if he could see himself clearly within them.

But now? There wasn’t even a shadow of him left in those eyes.

The mafia boss let his gaze drop, tracing down Peach’s slender shoulders before stopping at
his wrist. The red marks stood out vividly, the shape of Thee’s fingers still imprinted there.
Peach’s pale skin made the bruises even more noticeable, almost startling.

Thee pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling like he should say something.

His gaze flickered back to the iPad in his hand, but no matter how hard he tried, he still
couldn’t focus on the document in front of him. His thoughts kept circling back to Peach.

It wasn’t long before the car came to a stop. It seemed they had arrived at the place Peach
had mentioned earlier.

Thee had offered to drop him off, but Peach had declined, saying he needed to pick up his
sister’s car and didn’t want to be a bother.

A bother? Thee had offered! People practically begged for the chance to ride with him, and
this guy had just turned him down?
“I appreciate the ride. Thank you, Mr. Mok,” Peach said, nodding slightly toward Thee before
flashing a faint smile at Mok, Thee’s bodyguard-slash-secretary, who was also acting as their
driver that night.

Thee’s brows furrowed instantly when he saw Mok smiling back at Peach through the
rearview mirror. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out,
Peach had already opened the door and stepped out.

Thee watched as Peach shut the door and entered the shop. He didn’t look away until Peach
disappeared inside. Only then did he nod at Mok to drive.

For the fourth time, his eyes scanned the same line of text on the iPad without registering a
single word. Frustrated, he snapped the device shut, crossed his arms, and fixed Mok with a
sharp stare that could cut glass.

“How long have you two been friends?”

His voice was calm—almost eerily so—but the icy tone could make a lesser man crumble to
the floor in panic.

Mok, however, was used to his boss’s moods. Still, he couldn’t help but tense his shoulders
slightly, choosing his words with extra care.

“We’re not friends, sir. We’ve met twice,” Mok answered steadily before adding, “Mr. Peach
has a good memory for faces. He mentioned I gave him a ride once before and wanted to
thank me for it.”

Thee’s gaze dropped, and he didn’t push the matter further. He already knew Peach had a
way of effortlessly being friendly with people. The guy was easy to talk to, quick to smile, and
always seemed to have this natural instinct to take care of others.

Thee pressed his lips together, unable to stop himself from thinking about dinner earlier. It
was the first time someone had genuinely cared about whether he had eaten or not. Even
though Peach had been upset, he had still grilled the meat and placed it on Thee’s plate, as
if he somehow knew Thee wasn’t used to doing such things for himself.

Many people were eager to please him, but Peach’s actions felt so natural. For once, it didn’t
make him feel annoyed or uncomfortable. That was new.

His thoughts drifted back to the red marks on Peach’s wrist—clear and angry against his
pale skin. Thee scowled, irritation bubbling up again.

“Send him some bruise ointment tonight,” he said casually, almost detached. “And make
sure someone delivers it in person.”

Mok acknowledged the order with a silent nod, no longer surprised by Thee’s occasional
flashes of unusual kindness. The secretary decided to store this moment in his memory.
Peach might not have any official status in Thee’s life yet, and the air between them had
been heavy with unspoken tension today, but Mok was sure of one thing—this photographer
was going to become someone important to him.

It might be wise to start preparing to welcome a future “boss” into their lives.

Peach followed the pin his sister had sent, arriving at the bar-restaurant she had mentioned.
The place had a rooftop barbecue area on the second floor, with live music from the lower
level echoing up to the open-air space above. He headed straight upstairs, scanning the
area until he spotted her immediately.

His sister was small, barely reaching his shoulder, with a slim frame dressed in an oversized
shirt and fitted pants.

Her hair had bright red highlights that glowed under the lights, and her face, lightly dusted
with freckles, was framed by large, round silver glasses.

Her appearance was a chaotic mix of styles, but somehow, she made it work. Besides, it
suited her, considering she had graduated from a fine arts program and now worked in an art
department.

“Are you drunk, Plub?” he asked, placing a hand on his hip and squinting suspiciously.

Plub grinned, his smile so wide that it nearly closed his eyes, and raised his glass to show
him.

“Two draft beers. Do you think that’s enough to get me drunk?” he joked, stretching out his
words in a playful tone. He chuckled, casually greeting his sister’s coworkers.

Everyone shifted to make space for him to sit, as if it were the most natural thing in the
world.

It wasn’t the first time he had come to pick up Plub. With just the two of them in the family, it
was natural for him to be protective. Even so, they had learned to give each other enough
space to avoid feeling smothered. But one rule had always remained unspoken—whenever
Plub went out drinking, whether she was tipsy or completely sober, even if it was just one
drink—she would ask him to pick her up, and he never said no. Not even once.

He had also worked with Plub’s seamstress many times before, helping with small tasks so
often that he was practically an honorary member of her support team.

“So, what’s the occasion tonight?” he asked, declining a drink offered by one of her
coworkers.

He had to take Plub home, and there was no way he would risk having alcohol in his system.

“Nuch is leaving,” Plub replied, her plate full of food as she plopped down beside him,
squeezing into the limited space. She pushed the plate toward him.
“We’ll probably stay a bit longer. You should eat something, Peach. Don’t tell me you just
woke up. I’ve told you to stop staying up so late, haven’t I?”

Peach, still full from the expensive roast he had earlier, shook his head and refused the food.
His sister eyed him suspiciously.

“You already ate? What did you eat? If you tell me it was instant noodles again, I swear I’m
going to slap you.”

He blinked at her, struggling internally to find an answer.

If he admitted to eating roast, she would never let him hear the end of it. Plub knew he rarely
left the house, let alone went out alone for something as indulgent as a roast meal.

But the alternative wasn’t much better. If he said he had gone with someone, she would want
to know who, and mentioning the mafia would only open up a whole new problem.

He hesitated for a moment before forcing a dry smile and dodging the question entirely.
Instead, he quickly changed the subject.

“So, why is Nuch leaving?”

He was referring to the project leader, someone he had worked with three of the four
previous times.

Nuch was brilliant—she made the right decisions, had strong leadership, and always looked
after her team. Everyone who had the chance to work on a project with her was thrilled.

“She’s pregnant and wants to focus on preparing for the baby,” Plub replied, accepting the
topic change without much fuss.

“At first, Nuch wasn’t even going to take on the ‘All Seasons: One Word’ project, you know?
But after you helped come up with ideas for the concept, she decided to do it. And now that
the autumn collection turned out so well, she feels confident leaving things behind and just
resigned.”

The All Seasons: One Word project—a major campaign pairing perfume with matching
jewelry—was massive. It included four seasonal mini-ad campaigns, the main advertising
strategy, the concept, and even storyboard drafts.

All his work.

Honestly, he had just been playing around at the time. He had finished all his other jobs and
had nothing else on his plate when Nuch introduced the project. Casually chatting with Plub,
ideas started flowing, and he developed the concept for fun.

He never expected her to actually take it into the meeting—let alone for the team to approve
it!
“So, who’s taking over the team now?” he asked, opening the can of Coke that Plub had
passed him and taking a sip.

His mind ran through a list of people he knew who might step up as leader. A leadership
change sometimes meant a shift in team dynamics—or worse, a complete overhaul of the
project’s direction.

“No idea yet. I’m curious too,” Plub said casually, craning her neck to look around before
enthusiastically waving at someone.

“Nuch! Peach is here!”

Peach flicked his sister’s forehead, reprimanding her for being so informal with her superior,
before quickly getting up to greet Nucharin.

Nuch was tall and elegant, dressed in fitted trousers that emphasized her long legs, paired
with a cropped top under a tailored blazer. Her pixie cut was perfectly styled, giving her a
chic and bold look that drew attention.

Who would have thought she was already a soon-to-be mom, three months into her
pregnancy?

“Congratulations, Nuch,” Peach greeted her with a warm smile, glancing briefly at her
stomach.

With her pregnancy still in its early stages, there weren’t many visible changes, but he
couldn’t help feeling excited.

“Thanks, Peach. But don’t forget, this isn’t just a farewell party for me—it’s also a thank-you
party.”

She beamed, clearly in high spirits, before giving him a couple of firm pats on the shoulder.

“The campaign turned out amazing as always! The feedback has been fantastic!”

“It’s already out for promotion?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder reflexively.

Nuch always had a heavy hand. He couldn’t help but wonder how her child would feel if they
ever misbehaved and got a scolding pat from her.

Then again, maybe she would go easy on them. At least Plub had never been on the
receiving end of those shoulder pats.

“The first promotional images for the autumn collection just dropped. The response has been
phenomenal. We’re finishing the ad photoshoot tomorrow, and after a few final touches,
everything should be ready for a full launch.”

“That’s great to hear,” Peach replied calmly.

As the person behind the concept, hearing such positive feedback always gave him a sense
of pride.
“By the way, do you know who’s taking over the team?”

The moment he asked, the atmosphere around Nuch shifted.

It was as if a cloud had suddenly descended over her usually warm demeanor. She took his
arm and pulled him slightly away from the table, lowering her voice to a near whisper.

“The new team leader hasn’t been officially announced yet. They’re finalizing it in the
higher-ups’ meeting. Tomorrow’s team meeting is when they’ll make the announcement. You
should be there too.”

She hesitated, looking so uneasy that Peach felt compelled to offer a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, Nuch. You don’t have to tell me now. I’ll just show up tomorrow and find out
with Plub in the meeting room.”

Although Peach took it lightly, his soon-to-be-former boss had a serious expression.

“I’ve heard some things,” Nuch admitted quietly.

“I really tried to push back, but I’m afraid the odds aren’t in my favor.”

Peach frowned, now genuinely curious.

Nuch was the type of person who got along with everyone. So, whoever she was actively
opposing—enough to be visibly worried—had to be a serious problem.

She pressed her lips together, clearly uncomfortable, before giving him a couple of
reassuring pats on the shoulder and speaking in a low, calming voice.

“Just be prepared, okay? But don’t overthink it. You’re the most talented person I know.
Seriously.”

With that, she let out another long sigh and told him to go back and enjoy the party. Her
expression quickly transformed into a bright smile as she effortlessly rejoined the others,
chatting and laughing as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Peach stood there, a mountain of questions weighing on him, wondering if he

would even be able to sleep tonight.

The more she tried to reassure him, the more uneasy he felt.

If she really wanted to ease his mind, she should have just told him the truth.

At least then, he would know what to expect.

Peach let out a heavy sigh, a particular name surfacing in his mind. He ran a frustrated hand
through his hair.

What kind of rotten luck was today, anyway?

WAKE-UP CALL #12

Peach was too restless to sleep that night—not from excitement, but from a pure anxiety that
made his head throb.

After the party, he stayed by Plub’s side, making sure his little sister didn’t get too drunk,
never once mentioning his conversation with Nuch. Around 11 p.m., he gently nudged her
and suggested they head home. Plub, always carefree, waved goodbye and left without
making a fuss.

Although they lived in separate condominiums, Plub had chosen one closer to her office to
avoid the city’s infamous traffic, while Peach preferred a place near the BTS station for
flexibility in his freelance work. Despite living apart, they had each other’s keys and access
cards—just in case of an emergency.

After parking his car beneath her building, he walked Plub up to her unit, made sure she got
in safely, and handed back her keys. With a final farewell, he headed back down, ready to
call a taxi home. But the moment his foot touched the last step outside the condominium
entrance, a sleek black car pulled up smoothly right in front of him.

Peach blinked, frozen for a second, before instinctively taking three or four large steps back,
his heart pounding with suspicion. Was this some mafia hit squad sent to take him out after
what had happened?

Just then, the driver’s side window rolled down, revealing a familiar face with a wide, friendly
smile.

“Mr. Mok?” Peach greeted the secretary he had met earlier that night, still bewildered. Then
it hit him—Mok worked for that mafia boss, Arseny.

Peach took another two giant steps back without thinking, making Mok chuckle in
amusement despite himself.

He couldn’t decide whether to praise Peach for his impressive reflexes or be exasperated
that his boss had scared the poor photographer so much that he was considering bolting on
the spot.

“Good evening, Mr. Peach. Heading back to your condo?” The young secretary gave a
small, disarming smile, hoping to ease the tension radiating from the photographer. Peach’s
shoulders relaxed slightly, though suspicion still clouded his eyes.

“Yeah… Are you just passing by?” he asked cautiously, silently praying Mok would say it was
just a coincidence, a friendly greeting.

Too bad the secretary’s smile widened, and his next words landed like a punch to the gut.

“No, sir. My boss sent me to pick you up.”

Peach instantly paled, feeling dizzy. He could already picture himself being dragged into that
sleek black car if he didn’t move now. The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through him.
He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay conscious. Fainting was not an option.

“Why is he looking for me? Is he still mad about what happened earlier?” Peach fired off the
questions, his voice growing more frantic by the second. “Mr. Mok, please, let me go! I swear
I won’t go near him ever again!”

Mok observed Peach’s rising anxiety and couldn’t help but sigh internally. He quickly raised
both hands in a non-threatening gesture. Thank God he had come in person instead of
sending someone else—screw the overtime pay. If things escalated further, he would be the
one in deep trouble.

“Please, calm down, Mr. Peach. I’m not here to hurt you,” Mok said hastily, his voice
soothing but firm. Seeing that Peach was practically ready to run, he did his best to shrink
his broad figure, trying to appear as harmless as possible. “Please don’t run. If you do, I’m
dead. I beg you—don’t make this harder for me.”

Peach looked at the towering bodyguard, who now seemed half-desperate, half-pleading. He
couldn’t help but let out a small, tired sigh. Back to work. Mok was always so rigid and formal
around Mr. Thee. Peach never imagined the guy could be… well, like this.

Still, the exaggerated plea worked—it calmed him, if only a little. Peach’s smile softened
slightly. He cautiously stepped closer to the car but didn’t let his guard down completely.

“So… why exactly did your boss send you to pick me up?”

“He was worried about you going home alone so late,” Mok replied smoothly, his expression
serious as he worked to earn points for his boss. Every word that left his mouth had been
thoroughly filtered from the original message he had received. “He asked me to drive you
home and also sent this bruise cream as an apology.”

Peach raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a slightly wider smile.

Of course, he didn’t believe a single word.

Worried? That’s hilarious. Apologizing? Not in this lifetime.

No way.

Still, he didn’t call out Mok’s obvious lies. Instead, he just gave a weak smile, already
calculating how much money he’d save on taxi fare. Since The Boss wasn’t in the car, it
seemed safe enough… for now. With that, he opened the passenger door and slid into the
seat without further fuss.

The silence inside the car was deafening, broken only by the steady hum of the air
conditioning. Peach sat stiffly, pressed against the door as if ready to open it at the first sign
of trouble. Meanwhile, the young secretary debated whether to lock the doors—but worried it
might backfire. The last thing he needed was for the photographer to panic and think he was
being kidnapped. So he settled for driving as carefully as possible, keeping a moderate
speed the whole way.

When the car finally pulled up to the curb in front of Peach’s condominium, he practically
jumped out, eager to escape. But just as he was about to shut the door, something tugged at
his conscience. He hesitated, then turned around to dip his head politely in thanks.

Before Peach could leave, Mok reached into the console and pulled out an expensive tube
of bruise cream, handing it over with a sheepish smile.

Peach hesitated, tempted to refuse, but Mok’s expression was so sincerely apologetic that
he sighed internally and took it.

“I know I exaggerated a little about my boss,” Mok admitted with a guilty smile, clearly aware
that his earlier story had been very stretched. He had wanted to help his boss earn some
points. But he had a feeling that the person in front of him was too sharp to fall for any of it.

Honesty like that was rare.

“But it’s true that Mr. Thee told me to make sure you got home safely,” Mok added seriously.
“And the part about getting the bruise cream… that was his order too.”

Peach lowered his gaze, his thoughts spinning in chaotic circles.

He had always thought that intimidating mafia boss couldn’t possibly care about someone
like him—someone small and insignificant. Thee seemed like the kind of man it would be
wise to stay far away from at all costs.

But that worried look Thee thought he had hidden on the ride over… Peach had noticed it.
He wasn’t blind to it.

“Mr. Thee might seem scary, but he’s not a bad person.”

Peach slowly lifted his head, his lips curling into a faint smile. It wasn’t as bright as before,
but the heaviness in his eyes had lightened just a little.

Now he had an answer—one just for himself.

“I don’t hate him,” Peach said with a shrug, finally relaxing his shoulders. “But if you ask me
if I’m scared of him… yeah, I am. We only got tangled up because of Aran’s situation. From
what I can tell, things seem settled now. There’s no reason for us to cross paths again.”

He gave Mok a polite nod—a silent farewell—before turning and heading back to his
apartment.

Even though he had slept most of the day, the moment he closed his front door, an
overwhelming wave of exhaustion crashed over him. Maybe it was the sheer number of
stressful surprises he had faced today—or how tense he had been the entire time.

His body was finally demanding rest.

He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, letting out a long and weary sigh. Mok’s words still
echoed faintly in his mind. And every now and then, he couldn’t help but picture that tall man
with his stern face and piercing eyes—so intense, so intimidating.

No matter how many times they met, Thee would always be terrifying. Too much—too
intense, too everything. But… at the same time, Peach couldn’t deny that Thee had softened
toward him more than he had ever expected. Softened just enough for Peach to momentarily
lower his guard… just enough to wonder if they could ever be friends.

Don’t be ridiculous. A dangerous beast could never be friends with a timid, defenseless
rabbit.

Deciding to shake off the tangle of thoughts, Peach got up and headed for the shower. After
changing into an old, loose-fitting T-shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts, he finally collapsed
onto his bed.

His eyes drifted toward the small tube of bruise cream on the nightstand… and lingered
there longer than he had planned.

The bruise cream was from a premium brand—not excessively expensive, but definitely
pricier than what you’d find in a regular pharmacy. Peach rolled the tube between his fingers,
then finally squeezed a small amount onto his wrist. He gently massaged the cool, soothing
cream into his skin until it disappeared.

Satisfied, he shot the tube a mocking smirk.

Fine, I’ll use it… but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him.

The thought made him chuckle. He knew perfectly well that Thee wouldn’t care whether he
was still mad or not. And in reality, his decision to keep some distance wasn’t about holding
a grudge. With that settled in his mind, Peach curled up in his blanket, hoping for a decent
night’s sleep.

But his former boss’s words—stern and full of warnings—echoed relentlessly in his head.

He spent the night tossing and turning, slipping in and out of restless sleep. By morning, he
finally dragged himself out of bed, groggy and disheveled, his hair a hopeless mess. His
head ached, forcing him to rub his temples with a grimace.

Grabbing his phone, he placed a quick coffee order at the café downstairs, then stumbled
toward the bathroom to freshen up. After a final check of his things, he locked his apartment
and headed down to pick up his drink before going straight to the Arseny Group office.

Once he parked and entered, he took the elevator to a familiar floor. He had worked on
several projects with his former team leader, Nuch, and they always used the same meeting
room. Nuch managed four sub-teams and often juggled two major projects at once, meaning
Peach had spent countless hours there. By now, most of the staff recognized him on sight.
Peach pushed open the meeting room door and saw only a few people inside. Relieved, he
quickly found a seat next to his younger sister, Plub. When she saw him enter with only a
coffee cup, she sighed dramatically and rummaged through her bag.

Nearly an hour passed before the door finally opened, revealing Nuch—who looked
decidedly displeased.

Peach wasn’t surprised. Nuch was never late. Something must have thrown off her
schedule, and knowing her, she was probably still upset about it.

The meeting began with a quick project update. It seemed the autumn collection was nearly
complete—only the final editing phase for promotional materials remained.

Nuch nodded in satisfaction, pleased that everything was progressing on schedule. Then,
she straightened, her expression shifting to something more serious, even slightly uneasy.
Finally, she addressed the last item on the agenda.

“Today will be my last day working here.” Her voice was firm, though a bittersweet smile
played on her lips. “I just want to say how proud I am of each and every one of you. I’ve
managed four sub-teams, and this team has always delivered the best results. Every. Single.
Time. I couldn’t be prouder of us.”

Some team members discreetly dabbed at their eyes with tissues. Even Plub squeezed
Peach’s hand tightly, though he simply smiled—a warm, genuine smile he rarely showed.

“But all good things must come to an end. After the board’s selection process, they’ve
appointed a new team leader. This morning, I introduced them to the other three sub-teams.
Now, it’s time for you all to meet them.”

As if perfectly timed, the meeting room door swung open. It almost felt like the person
outside had been waiting for the right cue.

A tall, slender man with strikingly pale skin stepped in. His honey-blond hair, tied back at
shoulder length, gleamed under the fluorescent lights. His sharp, fox-like eyes curved subtly
at the corners, giving him an air of mystery. His finely sculpted face was framed by a soft,
ever-present smile that never wavered.

Peach’s smile slowly faded, his heart pounding with unease.

I knew it. I had a feeling… but I didn’t think it would actually be him.

“This is Wivit. He’s currently the deputy leader of Sub-team Two, so most of you probably
already know him.” Nuch paused, taking a deep breath before delivering the final blow.
“Starting today, he will be your team leader. Listen to him and follow his lead.”

Some of the younger team members murmured polite acknowledgments, but the senior staff
remained silent, their expressions openly hostile.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Wivit, but feel free to call me Vit. I’m really excited for this
opportunity to be your new team leader. I look forward to working with all of you,” he said
with a warm, practiced smile.

“If you want to say anything to the team, please do so. I have another meeting to attend.”

Nuch gave a small nod before gathering her belongings. Just as she was about to leave the
room, she glanced back at Peach, her concern evident in her eyes. He quickly forced a
reassuring smile in return, though his stomach churned with unease.

“Alright, everyone. I know your time is valuable, so I’ll keep this brief.”

Peach snapped out of his thoughts and redirected his gaze toward the head of the table,
where Wivit stood, radiating an air of casual authority. Their eyes met—intense and
deliberate—but Wivit quickly looked away, pretending it was just a fleeting glance.

“I want to have a quick meeting before we get back to work,” Wivit continued smoothly.
“Switching team leaders can be an adjustment, so let’s set some clear expectations to avoid
any… confusion.”

He checked his watch, feigning slight surprise—a move that felt overly rehearsed and
hollow.

“We’ll have a joint meeting with all four teams in the main conference room in an hour.” Wivit
paused. His lips curled into a slightly wider smile. “Only full-time team members need to
attend. Part-timers and freelancers—you’re off the books. This doesn’t concern you anyway.”

Peach crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing as a summer-like frustration
began simmering beneath his calm exterior.

Starting a war right from the beginning, huh?

WAKE-UP CALL #13

Peach was a freelance photographer.

Despite having an extensive network of contacts and a reputation as an exceptional

photographer, he had his own strict rules when accepting jobs.

First and foremost, he absolutely refused to shoot nudes—no exceptions. As for sexy or
daring photos, he would only accept them if the model was of legal age and personally
requested the shoot. Even then, Peach had clear limits on how far he was willing to go, no
matter how exciting the session might be.

It wasn’t about trying to act like a gentleman or anything like that. Peach simply saw himself
as an older brother protecting a younger sister, and the thought of someone looking at her
with crude, objectifying eyes made his skin crawl.

He always made sure to explain these rules to potential clients upfront. His goal was to keep
things professional and comfortable for both parties.

But things didn’t go so smoothly with Wivit.

A couple of years ago, Wivit had hired him for a photoshoot—unofficially, of course. The job
was to take some sexy swimsuit photos for a promising young actress as part of a summer
campaign. Peach had heard rumors that Wivit and the actress were more than just
professional acquaintances. It was said that they had been seen entering the same condo
late at night. On top of that, Wivit had allegedly used his connections at Arseny to secure the
actress a spot as one of their brand ambassadors. From there, the gossip only grew.

However, that wasn’t the issue for Peach. Wivit and the actress could have kissed in front of
the entire crew, and he wouldn’t have batted an eye. He was there to work, not to meddle.

The problem? That “promising young actress” was only sixteen years old.

Wivit, conveniently, hadn’t mentioned this little detail until the day they sat down to draft the
contract. It wasn’t until Peach saw her ID that he realized the truth. The moment it clicked,
Peach flat-out rejected the job. It didn’t matter how much Wivit tried to persuade or
manipulate him. Peach stood firm, unwavering in his decision.

Later, he found out that Wivit had been bragging to the actress about pulling strings to get a
renowned photographer like Peachayarat for her photoshoot.

Peach wanted to roll his eyes. It really wasn’t that hard to book him. If his schedule was
open, he rarely turned down jobs, and he didn’t care if the model was famous or not—as
long as the pay was fair. He was always ready to work. The only times he ever said no were
when the job conflicted with his personal rules or if his calendar was full.

But for Wivit? Peach’s refusal must have been a serious blow to his ego.

Not long after, some nasty rumors about Peach started circulating. However, none of them
stuck—there was no real evidence to back them up. Plus, his work was still in high demand.
Sure, there were some awkward incidents—like models who tried to “pay” him with their
bodies—but Peach handled those as professionally as possible. The rumors eventually
faded on their own.

Peach didn’t care about gossip, but Plub, his younger sister, was another story. She wasn’t
about to let it slide.

Around that time, Peach had just started getting to know Arseny because Plub had landed a
job there. The company’s art team, who had grown close to him after learning he was Plub’s
older brother, often asked for his help—whether it was taking photos or adjusting some edits.
Plub acted as his manager, screening requests and organizing his work like a pro.

He ended up collaborating with the team so often that they became friends. Before long,
even the team leads were dragging him into meetings. He vividly remembered one of those
early sessions. It was the first time he met the fiery Nuch, the assistant lead of one of the
sub-teams. With her bright red hair and the way she presented her team’s project with such
pride, he couldn’t help but be impressed.

At the end of her presentation, the team lead asked for feedback.

Everyone chimed in with minor suggestions here and there—until it was Peach’s turn. By
that point, he already felt comfortable with the group, and giving constructive criticism was
just part of his routine. He pointed out several areas where the promotional photos could be
improved to better convey the intended message.

What Peach didn’t know at first was that the work the sub-team lead had asked him to
critique wasn’t actually theirs. It belonged to Sub-Team Two—the one under Wivit’s
supervision.

He only found out after the meeting ended. It was hard to miss the tension on Wivit’s face.
Feeling bad, Peach approached him to apologize and explained that he hadn’t meant to
offend anyone.

Wivit responded with a polite smile, but his eyes told a different story—dark and stormy,
barely masking his simmering anger. He didn’t say much, but the message was loud and
clear: he was not happy.

Shortly after, Nuch took notice of Peach’s work. Impressed, she started assigning him more
important tasks, moving him from quick favors to a full-fledged role in projects.

Plub, ever the efficient little sister, handled the paperwork to officially add him to a sub-team
for an upcoming project. She fully intended for her brother’s name to be recognized on the
team roster. But by the time the documents were submitted in the morning, they were
returned by the afternoon—along with a call to Nuch demanding an explanation.

Apparently, involving an “outsider” in the team posed a security risk for company data, but
the inconsistency didn’t make sense. There was no rule against hiring freelancers—Arseny
had done it many times before for full projects. Yet somehow, when it came to her brother, it
was suddenly not allowed.
Peach brushed it off, telling her not to overthink it.

“If that’s the rule, so be it,” he said. But Plub’s frustration lingered.

From then on, even minor tasks involving Peach seemed to run into obstacles—budgets
were cut, deadlines were rushed—there was always something. And behind every single
issue? Wivit’s name. He never openly admitted anything, but neither did he deny it. If
anything, he almost seemed smug whenever Peach found out he was behind the mess.

Peach couldn’t make sense of it.

As luck would have it, Peach started receiving offers from several high-profile magazines. To
keep things simple, he decided to step away from Arseny’s projects for a while and focus on
other freelance work instead.

That’s how things went for almost four months—until Nuch was promoted to team lead.

The moment she took over, Nuch wasted no time calling Peach. She insisted he return to
work with them—this time, officially. Peach had just finished a few other gigs, and since he
trusted Nuch, he agreed. It felt good to be back.

Everyone seemed happy to have him… well, almost everyone.

Peach had been keeping his head down, avoiding unnecessary drama. With Nuch now in
charge, things were running smoothly. No more disruptions, no more headaches.

At least, until today, when it seemed like their fragile ceasefire was about to end.

Peach leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, one leg casually resting over the other.

He had already finished his part in the Autumn Collection project. Even if they kicked him out
halfway through, at this point, he honestly couldn’t care less. He had decided to stay out of it,
no matter how much Wivit tried to stir things up.

Getting dragged into Wivit’s nonsense would only make things harder for Plub.

And now that Wivit was taking over as team lead?

Peach was starting to worry about his sister’s safety in the workplace.

The conference room was packed. All four sub-teams were gathered.

At the head of the table, Wivit stood with his arms crossed, wearing a warm, almost brotherly
smile.

“Hello, everyone,” he began in his usual gentle tone. “Thank you for taking the time to join us
today.” Wivit’s voice was calm, almost soothing, like an older brother speaking to his younger
siblings.

“I’m Vit, and from today onward, I’ll be the leader of your team.”
Peach held back the urge to roll his eyes. If there was one thing Wivit excelled at, it was
putting on a show. It was no surprise that he’d managed to charm a promising
sixteen-year-old into falling for his act.

“First of all, I want to say how impressed I was with the Fall Collection project,” Wivit
continued, his tone full of praise. “It was a massive undertaking for all four teams, but you all
pulled it off beautifully. We still have three more seasons to go, so let’s keep up the great
work! It might be difficult, but I know we can do it together.”

Difficult? Of course, it’s difficult when you and your cronies don’t lift a damn finger!

Peach was seething inside but managed to mask his irritation, turning his gaze away as if
uninterested. There was no way he was going to let Wivit notice the furious stream of curses
running through his head.

He reminded himself to stay calm; he wasn’t about to cause trouble that could come back to
haunt his sister.

“Actually, today’s meeting was meant to discuss the Winter Collection,” Wivit said, his
ever-annoying smile still in place. “But since the Fall project is already complete, I thought
we could take a moment to appreciate everyone’s hard work. As a little morale boost, I’ll
show you the promotional clip for the Fall Collection.”

Wivit’s gaze flickered briefly to Peach, and for a split second, there was a smugness
there—a smile that vanished so quickly Peach wasn’t sure if he had imagined it.

What’s his angle?

Peach wasn’t too worried about the work itself. As petty as Wivit could be, the guy cared too
much about his own reputation to sabotage a project with his name attached to it. So, Peach
simply sat back and watched the promotional video without a word.

The All Seasons: One Word project was designed as a mini-drama, telling the love story of
two people navigating life through the seasons. The Fall Collection represented charm and
allure, with the male lead, Arun, exuding a subtle yet sexy vibe against a bustling urban
backdrop, wrapped in the scent of his favorite fragrance.

Once the clip ended, it transitioned to the magazine designs and promotional images. The
shots of Arun, dressed in Arseny’s signature accessories and cologne, were striking and
polished. Peach scanned the images quickly but thoroughly, checking every detail.

They were definitely his photos, and nothing seemed out of place. Satisfied, he gave a small
nod to himself.

Even though he doubted Wivit would go so far as to sabotage his work, Peach still couldn’t
bring himself to trust the guy.

That distrust was justified when, after all the images had been displayed, the storyboard
details appeared—concluding with the team credits. This was the presentation Wivit planned
to submit to upper management. If it was approved without issue, it would be finalized for
publication.

But there was a problem…

Peach pressed his lips together, his brow furrowing slightly. Before he could say anything,
however, his younger sister, Plub, was already on it.

The moment the video presentation ended, she shot her hand up like lightning.

“Excuse me, Vit. I think there’s some missing information in the video.”

“Missing information? How so?” Wivit responded with his signature soft, friendly smile, as if
he were genuinely open to any critique.

“Why isn’t Peach’s name listed?” Plub’s tone was firm, and her sharp gaze made it clear she
wasn’t backing down.

The issue was that Peach’s name was nowhere to be found in the credits. Worse, the
positions that should have been his had been replaced by someone else entirely.

“Peach was the one who came up with the concept for this project. He attended every team
meeting and shot the entire Fall Collection. Why isn’t his name in any of those roles?”

“Oh, that,” Wivit said, his expression not faltering in the slightest. “We reorganized the team
credits, and his name may have been left out by mistake.” He let out a lighthearted chuckle
before adding, “But I suppose we can add his name under photography. As for the project
concept, well…”

He trailed off, turning toward Peach with that infuriatingly serene smile.

“It wouldn’t really be accurate to say it was your idea, would it? After all, it was a
collaborative effort from the entire team. I’m sure you understand, Peachayarat.”

Peach clenched his jaw, his hand tightening slightly around Plub’s arm—a silent signal for
her to hold back. The rage boiling inside him was dangerously close to spilling over, but he
forced himself to stay calm.

Stay calm. Don’t make things harder for Plub.

“Just make sure you fix it. We wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re only good at stealing
other people’s work,” Peach said, his tone cool and even. His lips curled into a slight smile,
but the small crease in his forehead betrayed his irritation.

“Of course. I’ll have the team correct it right away,” Wivit replied smoothly, though a flicker of
something unreadable crossed his face.

“While we’re at it, let me introduce a new team member.”

The team leader walked toward the door, opened it, and called someone in from outside.
A slender young man stepped in hesitantly behind Wivit. He had delicate features, large
round eyes that gleamed with youthful energy, and a bright smile that lit up the room. A
heavy DSLR camera hung around his neck.

“Let me introduce someone,” Wivit announced with a proud smile, his tone brimming with the
satisfaction of a man who believed he was making a great contribution to the team.

“This is Trend, our new full-time photographer. He’ll be joining us, starting with the Winter
Collection project.”

Wivit grinned like an older brother proudly showing off his sibling’s achievements, clearly
pleased with himself.

“From now on, we won’t have to scramble to find part-time photographers for each project.”
WAKE-UP CALL #14

Peach grabbed his sister’s arm firmly, fully aware of how stubborn Plub could be. The
chances of her standing up and causing a scene were high, but he couldn’t allow that to
happen. Wivit was a master at maintaining appearances, and if Plub lost her temper, she
would be the one to take the blame immediately.

“Didn’t Nuch hire Peach until the end of the project?” one of the team members interjected,
frowning in confusion. They had worked with Peach several times before and found his skills
and attention to detail impeccable. The idea of replacing him had never crossed their minds.

“Nuch only signed a contract for the fall collection,” Wivit responded calmly, flashing his
signature broad smile. “The rest of the project was just a verbal agreement. I thought it
would save us the trouble of drafting new documents. Besides, it’s more cost-effective for the
team if we hire a full-time company photographer.” He gave Tren a light pat on the shoulder
before draping his arm around the young man’s shoulders in an overly familiar manner.

“Besides, while Tren may not have as much experience as Peach,” he continued, his tone
dripping with condescending sweetness, “this fresh perspective and enthusiasm as part of
the new generation should make up for it. I’d appreciate it if everyone gave him a fair chance
before jumping to conclusions.”

Pausing for effect, Wivit locked eyes with Peach, his expression polished to
perfection—smooth and professional, yet brimming with unspoken challenge.

“Mr. Peachayarat is a well-known photographer with a busy schedule,” Wivit added, his
words deceptively kind. “I’m sure it’s an inconvenience for him to be called upon all the time.
Stepping aside to let younger talents take over this project wouldn’t be too much of a burden,
right?”

Peach pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing slightly. But in a fraction of a second, he
concealed his irritation with a calm, casual smile, as if none of this had unsettled him in the
slightest.

“I have no problem with that. I’m happy to support new talent,” Peach said smoothly. “But if
you ever need a hand, you know I’ll always be here—all you have to do is ask, Mr. Wivit.”

The new team leader’s smile faltered slightly, his eyes hardening for just a fraction of a
second before softening again.

Don’t mess this up… or you’re finished.

Although the meeting had officially ended, in Plub’s eyes, it had been anything but peaceful.
If her brother hadn’t held her back, she would have already done something about it.

She followed him to the parking lot, lowering her phone after a frustrating call with their
ex-team leader, now a housewife.
“Nuch said that bastard already sent the team list to upper management. She only found out
because he yelled it out right before this morning’s meeting. No one could fix it in time.”

Peach gently patted her head, as if soothing a hissing cat with its fur bristled. He knew Nuch
had good intentions.

Originally, she had drafted a contract covering only the fall collection, hoping that if the work
turned out excellent, she could negotiate a better rate for him next time. No one had
expected Wivit to use that as leverage.

Peach knew exactly what Wivit wanted—to see him crawl back, begging for the job. But
Peach wasn’t that desperate. He didn’t need a job badly enough to humiliate himself before
someone like that.

Still, a pang of regret twisted in his chest. The project he had worked so hard to build from
scratch… gone. He clenched his jaw, frustration simmering beneath his skin, trapped with no
outlet.

“I’m going to talk to the department head,” Plub declared, determination burning in her eyes.

“Don’t even think about it, Plub. Let it go. Stay away from that guy.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently guided her to a nearby bench.
Kneeling in front of her, Peach placed his large hand over hers, squeezing lightly.

“Don’t give up, Peach,” Plub pleaded. “We may not have the connections to fight him, but I
won’t back down so easily.”

“Plub, this isn’t about winning or losing. That bastard is a rabid dog—he won’t stop chasing
me, no matter what. Even without this job, I have plenty of work ahead. You know that.” He
tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. He could see how angry she was—he felt the
same—but he couldn’t let this mess drag her down too.

“Stay out of it, Plub. If he hates me, let him come after me alone. If you try to fight him, I’m
afraid he’ll come after you too. You’re my sister… and I’ve already caused you enough
trouble.”

“You’re my brother too,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “Why should I just stand by and
watch someone hurt you?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She was furious—at Wivit for what he had done and at
herself for being unable to fix it.

Peach pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing her face gently against his shoulder as he
ran his fingers through her soft hair. Seeing her cry made his chest ache.

It had always been just the two of them against the world, and now he had made his beloved
sister cry.
“Shh… it’s okay,” he murmured softly. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. If you cry too much, your eyes
will get puffy… What will your brother do if his beautiful sister isn’t as pretty anymore?”

He cradled her gently, as if comforting a child.

“Why, Peach? Just because we don’t have connections like him… is that why he has to treat
you this way?” Her voice broke. “What did you ever do to him? Why won’t he just leave you
alone?”

Peach didn’t answer. He simply pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head and continued
rubbing her back and shoulders until she stopped trembling.

When she finally seemed calm enough, he gently wiped away her lingering tears with his
fingertips. Plub managed a small, shaky smile before heading back inside.

Peach stayed behind, watching her disappear into the building before getting into his car.

Resting his head against the steering wheel, he let out a long, tired sigh. His chest felt as
tight and heavy as Plub’s must have. But as her older brother, he could only force a smile
and pretend everything was fine.

His gaze drifted toward his phone. When Plub mentioned “connections,” his mind
involuntarily recalled that man—the mafia heir.

Since their last tense encounter, whatever it had been, there hadn’t been a single call or
message from him. Peach had wanted to put some distance between them, feeling that
maybe he had already crossed too many lines.

Asking for help now seemed… unthinkable.

He exhaled sharply, trying to push the thought away. He hadn’t lied to Plub—Peachayarat
was one of the top photographers in the country. His schedule was packed, probably until
next year. He didn’t need to hold onto anything connected to Wivit’s name.

But even knowing that, bitterness still simmered beneath his skin, with no release in sight.

Meanwhile…

Mok played the dual role of personal secretary and bodyguard to the president of Arseny
Corporation, a responsibility entrusted to him by the family patriarch himself. Since
childhood, he had been trained to follow and protect the eldest son of the Arseny family.

In addition to documents related to the Russian family conglomerate that Theerakit had to
master, there were also files on the fragrance company in Thailand, which Thee had built
from scratch. This made Theerakit’s workload far heavier than that of an average corporate
president.

Typically, Mok organized the paperwork into four main categories…

Non-Urgent and Unimportant Documents, Urgent Documents, Important Documents, and
Finally, Documents That Were Both Urgent and Important.

Over the past week, Mok had decided to move the project file for All Seasons: One Word to
the “Important” category.

Most of the bodyguards, unaware of the finer details, assumed that Mok had moved the file
because the president’s latest fling was a young and handsome model. But he knew better.
It wasn’t because of the model—why would the president’s new toy matter, anyway?

The real reason he moved the file was a certain photographer whose status remained
unclear in his mind.

That day, new documents were delivered. Mok quickly opened the file and noticed the title of
the project he had already classified as “Important.” Deciding to read it first, his eyes
scanned the pages, a slight frown pulling at his forehead.

He had done his own research on Peach and knew exactly who the photographer’s former
team leader was. He also knew that her resignation had officially taken effect yesterday,
meaning Ms. Nuch had only finished her work one day ago.

However, in his hands was a new team roster for the project, dated two days prior.
Somehow, the file had made its way through the usual corporate channels, landing on the
president’s desk much faster than usual.

Too fast to have been properly drafted. Too fast for the document to have been submitted
through official procedures, especially since the former team leader’s signature was
conspicuously missing.

Mok set aside his growing suspicions and read the file more carefully. When he reached the
last page, he finally saw what was wrong.

The photographer’s name was nowhere to be found.

Having served the president long enough, Mok immediately reclassified the file as “Urgent
and Important” and even retrieved previous related documents for cross-referencing.

After organizing the papers and slipping the updated team list at the bottom of the stack, he
walked toward the executive office, knocking firmly on the door and requesting permission to
enter.

Theerakit sat behind his massive desk, multiple stock charts flickering across the screen in
front of him. An iPad filled with documents lay waiting at his side, along with a large stack of
printed files. The tension in the room was thick, making it clear that no sane person would
willingly approach him at that moment.
However, despite his heavy workload, the president of Arseny Group was staring at his
phone, a deep scowl darkening his expression. The air around him felt oppressive, as if he
were on the verge of closing a billion-dollar deal.

Mok couldn’t help but shake his head slightly, unsurprised by the scene.

After reporting the previous night that he had safely dropped Peach off—deliberately slipping
in Peach’s final words to be passed along—his boss had become eerily silent.

Since then, Thee had been glued to his phone, alternating between stealing glances at the
screen and picking it up only to set it down again, as if waging an internal battle.

Mok had never seen his boss like this before, though, strangely, it didn’t seem out of place
now.

“Mr. Thee, urgent documents for your approval,” the secretary announced, stepping forward
to place the papers on the desk, completely unfazed by the suffocating atmosphere radiating
from his employer.

Thee hummed in acknowledgment without looking up, giving only a fleeting glance before
refocusing on his phone—as if it held the secrets of the universe.

For God’s sake, if you want to call, just do it already.

Mok thought with mild exasperation. As much as he was tempted to let his boss stew in his
own mess for a while, the matter at hand couldn’t wait.

If Thee found out later, he’d only end up blaming Mok for the delay.

“Boss, these documents really need your urgent attention,” he pressed firmly.

Thee shot him a sharp, slightly annoyed look before reluctantly tearing his gaze away from
his phone and toward the stack of documents.

Mok had kept the previous project team list. Quietly hoping Thee would notice something
was off and ask for the old file himself, he remained silent. If Thee overlooked the
inconsistency and signed off blindly, Mok would have to bring it up anyway.

Having already leaned a little toward the photographer’s side in his heart—and knowing his
boss’s unpredictable mood swings—Mok had reached a solid conclusion:

If Thee didn’t notice the problem, he’d have to speak up for the sake of his own survival.

The young secretary stood quietly, watching as his boss swiftly reviewed the stack of
documents with practiced efficiency.

Thee’s sharp analytical skills and resolute nature allowed him to process issues at lightning
speed. Everything was going smoothly—until he reached the final file in the pile.

His already furrowed brow deepened, and his hand froze mid-turn. His fingers traced the
listed names for the third time, moving faster with each pass.
“Where is Peach’s name?”

Mok suppressed a knowing smile.

It seemed the photographer’s importance had just leveled up again.

“The new project leader requested a replacement,” Mok replied evenly, repeating the exact
line from the document. “They proposed using the company’s in-house photographer to
reduce costs.” His voice was calm and detached, void of any emotion.

“I don’t approve of this!” Thee’s voice dropped dangerously, laced with a growl that could
freeze blood. “That boy can’t just walk away from a project he’s responsible for.”

Despite the cold, demanding intensity of his tone, Mok didn’t even blink. He had been
through this countless times and was already completely desensitized.

“I’m sure Peach wouldn’t abandon his work. I checked his schedule myself. He’s available
for the next three months—I specifically cleared his agenda for this project,” Mok stated
firmly. He had personally verified the photographer’s availability when conducting his earlier
background check.

The room pulsed with oppressive tension—the kind that would make most people’s knees
buckle in fear. But Mok, seasoned by years of navigating his boss’s volatile moods,
remained unfazed.

“Who suggested the change?”

“The new team leader’s name is Wivit, sir. The head of marketing has already signed off on
the approval. All that’s left is your signature to make it official.”

“Freeze all documents from the marketing department. Tell the department head to write me
a detailed explanation,” Theerakit snapped, his voice sharp and unforgiving.

He abruptly stood up, long strides propelling him toward the door as he ordered his car to be
prepared.

Mok shook his head, half-amused.

Good thing he had saved that file for last.

He had a feeling his boss wouldn’t sit back and let this slide.

Perhaps it was time to start drafting a hiring notice for the marketing department—because
they might be needing some new employees soon.
WAKE-UP CALL #15

Peach lay sprawled on the bed, arms and legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling. An
indescribable emptiness weighed on his chest, leaving him feeling detached and exhausted.

The emotional storm from yesterday had calmed, but a persistent heaviness still clung
stubbornly to his chest, making even the thought of moving feel exhausting.

The contract for the All Seasons: One Word project had only been a verbal agreement with
Nuch, but he had cleared his entire work schedule for three months just for it. Now, with the
project canceled, he was left with absolutely nothing on his plate—a strange and unsettling
reality.

He could try to reschedule old projects or accept new assignments, but the mere thought of
working drained him even further.

With a long, resigned sigh, his frustration melted into a paralyzing laziness.

To be honest, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been so genuinely free. As a child,
he had worked tirelessly to support himself and his younger brother. After sending his
brother to school, working nonstop had become second nature!

Maybe taking a break wasn’t such a bad idea after all. His eyes drifted to the calendar. The
empty slots stared back at him mockingly. He felt lost, like a car forced to brake suddenly
after speeding too fast down a highway.

Pressing his lips together, Peach’s gaze moved to the bookshelf against the wall. Among the
work-related reference books was a stack of travel guides Plub had left behind years ago.

Maybe… he could take a trip.

The thought brought a slight sense of relief. He picked up his phone and started searching
for potential destinations, preferring a peaceful and relaxing place. He wasn’t in the mood for
anything adventurous or demanding—just a quiet escape to clear his mind.

The beach seemed perfect.

Once Peach made his decision, he set out to pack. He pulled out comfortable clothes he
rarely wore and began mentally planning his trip. Driving along the coast with a camera
seemed like the escape he needed.

He had just finished packing the essentials in his bag and was planning to hit the road the
next day when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Pausing, he stepped out of the bedroom, frowning in confusion.

He had lived in this condo for years and could count on one hand how many times he had
interacted with his neighbors, and even then, it was only in passing courtesies. Who the hell
would be ringing his doorbell now?
Before he could figure it out, the doorbell rang again—this time more insistently. The sharp
sound made him jump. Worried about disturbing the neighbors, he rushed to the door,
practically running. He pulled it open in one swift motion, completely forgetting to check the
peephole.

The last person he expected to see was Thee, standing imposingly in the doorway with his
arms crossed and a dark, unyielding expression.

“Mr. Thee?” Peach managed to gasp, his mouth slightly open. Before he could ask what the
man was doing there, the stern-faced mafia boss easily pushed the door open, forcing his
broad frame inside.

Still dazed, Peach could only stare, frozen for a moment. But as soon as he saw Thee walk
into the apartment as if he owned the place, indignation flared.

“Mr. Thee, change your shoes first,” Peach snapped, his voice carrying a hint of urgency. He
was too lazy to mop the floor again if dirt got tracked in. Without thinking, he grabbed Thee’s
arm, holding it firmly as his mind focused entirely on finding a pair of slippers.

Thee glanced at the hand gripping his arm, something unreadable flashing in his eyes,
though his expression remained neutral. He stopped in his tracks, silently pleased, though
his voice stayed as cold as ever when he asked,

“Why should I?”

“Your shoes are dirty. I’m not cleaning the floor again.”

“I’ll call a cleaning service.” Thee remained expressionless, already reaching for his phone
as if he meant it. Peach then grabbed an old pair of slippers that belonged to his sister.

“Just change your shoes, that’s all. Here, I have my sister’s slippers…” Peach trailed off,
suddenly noticing they were bright pink with a giant fluffy bunny tail on the back.

His breath caught as he looked at Thee again, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of
forcing him to wear them. Without missing a beat, he tossed the slippers across the room.

That was close. As if he would let a ruthless mafia boss wear those slippers. That would
surely be signing his own death warrant.

“…Just take off your shoes, please. It’s much easier than calling a cleaning service.”

Theerakit hesitated, but when he caught Peach’s pleading expression, he sighed and
stepped back, removing his shoes. Then, with the air of someone who owned the place, he
walked into the living room and lounged on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee
table as if it were his personal space.

Arguing was pointless, so Peach hurried to get a glass of water, moving on autopilot, and set
it in front of his uninvited guest.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

The abrupt question made him freeze. However, he was getting used to Thee’s random
interrogations, so he didn’t let it show. Silently, he placed the glass down before sinking into
the chair across from him.

“I had no reason to,” he replied with a small smile, lowering his gaze. “I didn’t know what to
say.”

The lingering fear from that day still clung to him.

Thee studied him in silence, his expression unreadable—less cold and authoritative than
usual, almost… subdued. Even his voice was quieter when he spoke again.

“Why did you abandon the project?”

“I didn’t quit. The team told me they didn’t need me anymore. What else was I supposed to
do?” Peach said with a shrug, though the tightness in his chest flared up again. “If you’re
worried about Aran, don’t be. It looks like you two are getting along just fine. You can
continue without me… I’ll even send you his number.”

“I’m not worried about Aran. I’m worried about you.”

Peach froze, lifting his head to stare at the man in front of him in disbelief. Thee’s face
remained unreadable, as calm as ever, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. His tone
was firm, steady—there was no softness in his gaze, but the intensity carried something
stronger: unwavering determination.

“You’re not the type to give up easily. That project was yours. Why didn’t you fight for it?”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t do anything.” Peach’s voice wavered, cracking under the weight of
emotions he had repressed for so long—rage with no outlet, resentment with no resolution.
Everything crushed his chest, making it hard to breathe. “If I had stood up for myself, Plub
would have been the one to suffer. They have connections… power. I couldn’t let my sister
get hurt because of me. But I’m so angry, so furious I can’t even think straight, yet I was
powerless.”

“Then why didn’t you call me?”

The same question—again. Peach sat still, his mind reeling. Had he misunderstood Thee’s
meaning all this time? He had assumed the mafia boss was simply upset about not being
informed about Aran, as usual. But now… it seemed the meaning ran deeper.

Could it be possible… that someone actually wanted to protect him?

“…Could I… really have called you?” Peach asked softly, his voice distant. Since Mr. Thee
had given him that number, he had never considered using it—aside from answering
whenever Thee called him, demanding updates or giving orders.

After all, he was a mafia boss. How could Peach have ever thought he had the right to ask
for anything?
“There are hundreds, thousands of people who would kill to have my number,” Theerakit
said, his tone dripping with arrogance. “But you? You’ve had it all this time… which means I
gave you permission to call me.”

Peach blinked, his mind spinning. A tightness gripped his chest, emotions tangled into an
impossible knot.

“…If I had called… would you really have helped me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Thee’s tone was steady, unwavering. “You’re mine. No one messes with
what’s mine.”

Peach froze. Thee’s gaze remained firm, unyielding, as if daring him to question his sincerity.
His voice carried a weight that felt almost tangible, rooting Peach in place. There was no
deception, only sheer conviction—steadfast like a lone tree standing tall amidst a raging
ocean.

“I… Can I really call you? If I do, will you really help me? I won’t have to fight alone
anymore? I won’t have to be afraid of that bastard’s connections… I won’t have to just
accept it?”

Thee crossed his arms, his stance exuding superiority, as if to say, What part of that don’t
you understand?

“You’re mine. Isn’t that connection enough?” His lips curved into a confident smile, radiating
authority, as if he could bend the world to his will with a mere flick of his fingers. “Even if the
sky falls, I’ll help you hold it up—or I’ll make my men do it.”

His words, so typically mafia-like, hit harder than any vow of protection. The emotions Peach
had fought so desperately to suppress surged forward, spilling over like foam from an
overfilled glass of beer. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t tear his eyes away from Thee’s resolute
gaze. His chest tightened, and before he knew it, hot tears spilled down his cheeks.

Thee stiffened, startled, instinctively straightening. His thick brows furrowed in

frustration—clearly, he wasn’t used to handling something like this. But in the end, he simply
stayed where he was, letting Peach cry until every last trace of anguish had drained away
with his tears.

Whether it was just a trick of his blurred vision or something else, Peach thought he saw a
softness in those familiar smoky-gray eyes—a rare tenderness, usually hidden beneath his
hardened exterior.

Whatever it was, for the first time in a long while, Peach felt like he was standing on solid
ground.

After breaking down completely in front of someone for the first time in his life—for a total of
fifteen minutes—Peach finally managed to pull himself together. He muttered an apology for
the emotional outburst and excused himself to the bathroom to clean up.
Thee hadn’t hugged him, hadn’t tried to console him, hadn’t told him to stop crying. He had
simply sat there, watching silently, waiting patiently, giving Peach the space to release every
bottled-up emotion he had been carrying.

Strangely enough, that quiet support made him feel… better.

Peach wiped his tear-streaked face with a towel and returned to the living room, only to find
the sofa empty. Thee was nowhere in sight. He frowned, glancing around. His condo wasn’t
exactly spacious—there weren’t many places a mafia boss could go.

Just as he reached the bedroom, he saw Thee standing in the doorway, his broad figure
tense, his expression dark and stormy. Gone was the calm, steady presence from
before—now, he radiated pure fury, like a brewing tempest.

What the hell now?

“What’s going on?” Peach asked cautiously, choosing his words carefully despite the
confusion swirling in his mind.

Theerakit turned sharply, his eyes burning as he pointed a trembling finger at something
inside the room.

“Tell me—what the hell is this? Were you planning to run away? Let me make one thing very
clear: with the Arseny family’s reach, you could fly to the other side of the damn planet, and I
would still find you.”

Peach blinked, confused, before leaning in to see what had triggered such outrage. His gaze
landed on his half-open suitcase and the pile of clothes scattered across the bed.

Understanding hit instantly.

“I wasn’t planning to run.”

“You didn’t call me, but your first thought was to run?” Thee’s voice was sharp, laced with
something dangerous. “Remember this—the only way to escape me… is through death.”

The young photographer turned away, making a monumental effort not to roll his eyes. He
racked his brain, wondering if there was some overly dramatic soap opera airing lately that
had planted yet another absurd idea in Thee’s head.

Note to self: tell Mok to pick better shows for Mr. Thee. Ones with less over-the-top plots.

“Mr. Thee, calm down. Relax, okay?” Peach reached out and grabbed Thee’s large hand,
giving it a firm squeeze to make sure he had his attention. “I’m not running away. I’m not
packing up my things, I’m not moving or anything like that. I’m just going on a trip.”

The mafia boss stared at the slender hand gripping his own. Instantly, the suffocating tension
in the air seemed to ease, the heavy atmosphere lifting just enough for him to breathe
properly again.
Thee let out a slow exhale, about to pull his hand away—but then he tightened his grip
instead. His fingers lazily traced circles on the back of Peach’s hand, as if he was enjoying
the touch far too much.

“Where are you going?” His voice was smooth, deceptively casual. “I’ll buy you a plane so
your trip will be much easier—go and come back quickly.”

Peach gaped at him.

“Mr. Thee, control yourself!”

WAKE-UP CALL #16

Theerakit felt an inexplicable sense of comfort.

The young photographer’s hands weren’t soft like the ones he usually preferred. They were
calloused in places, rough from hard work—hands that told a story of effort, not the smooth,
silky kind. And yet, he realized he liked this closeness far more than he had expected.

He curled Peach’s hand, bringing his finger up to his wrist. Seeing that the faint red marks
had completely disappeared brought him a satisfaction he couldn’t quite explain.

For the past two days that Peach had been away, maybe it was because their last encounter
had left a bitter taste in his mouth—there had been a mix of frustration and confusion that
refused to fade.

It wasn’t just discomfort; it was something heavier. He didn’t know what it was.

When he found out that Peach had been harassed, rage had exploded within him—how dare
someone touch what was his? And yet, deep down, he had felt strangely… excited. It had
given him an excuse to seek Peach out again.

Even when Peach had cried—something that should have been uncomfortable or even
annoying—it hadn’t bothered him at all.

He had seen countless people cry before. Beautiful women with perfect figures, adorable
men with soft, pleading eyes, even old men with faces twisted in pitiful desperation. Whether
they sobbed as if their world was ending or tried to cry in a way that seemed seductive, it
had always irritated him.

But not Peach. Not even a little.

Thee’s eyes flickered toward the open suitcase lying on the floor, and he cleared his throat,
suddenly self-conscious. Then it hit him: maybe he had overreacted just a little.

Even so, he couldn’t shake the thought of Peach disappearing. The idea had sent a sharp
pain through his chest, a hollow emptiness that left him reeling. It had irritated him so much
that he had lashed out without even meaning to.

Thee pressed his lips together slightly, his frown deepening as he caught the exasperated
look on Peach’s face. He decided to steer the conversation in a completely different
direction.

“So, what made you suddenly decide to take a trip?” He moved subtly, blocking the bedroom
door, with no intention of revisiting the embarrassing moment from before. “Don’t you have
work to do? Or are you just taking the chance to run off and play?”

“I have three months of nothing but free time. And I’m too pissed off at that idiot to accept
any jobs, so yeah, I figured I’d go on a trip,” Peach answered, his tone sharp and filled with
lingering irritation.
“Are you sure you don’t want the plane?” Thee asked again, frowning slightly. That earned
him a narrowed, disdainful look from Peach.

“No. Absolutely not. Don’t waste money on unnecessary things.”

Thee’s lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile, so subtle it was barely visible.

Somehow, Peach scolding him was… adorable.

Thee froze for a second, startled by his own thoughts. He quickly let go of Peach’s hand, his
expression a mix of surprise and panic. That, of course, made Peach tilt his head slightly,
looking at him with curious eyes, the faint redness still visible around them.

…Adorable.

“Are you okay? Are you feeling sick or something?” Peach asked, his tone softening as he
instinctively leaned forward, only to hesitate and pull back.

“…” Thee’s frown deepened, irritation bubbling in his chest. Why pull away?

“Why don’t you sit down for a bit? I’ll get you some water.”

The young mafia boss didn’t bother responding. Instead, his strong hand caught Peach by
the arm and half-guided, half-dragged him toward the couch. He pressed him down onto it
with just enough force to make sure he stayed put, ignoring the bewildered look Peach shot
him. Without a word, Thee walked to the small kitchen and grabbed a clean towel and some
ice cubes.

He returned, wrapping the ice securely in the towel, then firmly grasped Peach’s chin, tilting
it upward, holding him in place as if he could barely move.

“Close your eyes,” Thee ordered brusquely when he noticed Peach watching him with those
big, round eyes.

At the command, Peach immediately squeezed his eyes shut. Thee used his fingertips to
gently massage his eyelids before pressing the ice-wrapped towel against them.

“Keep it there. They’re so swollen that if you don’t, they’ll be a mess tomorrow.”

“You’re really good at this. Do you do it often for people?” Peach asked with a slight, playful
smile. “You don’t seem like the type to cry much—more like the type to make others cry.”

Thee’s gaze drifted to Peach’s lips, which were still moving with his teasing remarks. His soft
cheeks, peeking out from under the towel, had a slight flush that hinted at shyness.

Thee liked this—more natural, less afraid.

Realizing he had been staring at Peach’s lips for too long, Thee quickly averted his gaze.
“Do you want to go back to work?” he asked, his tone serious as he tried to steer the
conversation elsewhere. “I’ll handle your team leader myself. You can start tomorrow if you
want.”

“I think it’s better to leave it for now,” Peach said, removing the towel and flipping it to find a
colder side before pressing it back against his skin.

“Someone like Wivit, if you take them down by force, they’ll only hold a grudge. I don’t want
Plub getting dragged into this.”

“So what, then? Are you not going back to work at all?”

Thee’s brow furrowed, his displeasure evident. Peach noticed and couldn’t help but laugh,
his lips curling into a mischievous smile as he arched an eyebrow in playful challenge.

“Only if that guy begs me to come back. That would be satisfying.”

Thee looked at Peach, and instead of finding him obnoxious or cunning, he just thought he
was endearing. Too endearing. He turned away, crossing his arms to stop himself from
reaching out to touch Peach’s soft, flushed cheeks.

Peach wasn’t even remotely close to the type of person Thee usually liked—tall and lean
with a polished, refined face. He wasn’t the small, sweet-looking type that typically caught
his eye. And his personality? It couldn’t be more different.

But somehow, being around Peach brought Thee a strange sense of peace that he couldn’t
put into words. It was a kind of comfort that let him lower his guard, go along with what
Peach wanted without overthinking. It felt freeing, like he could truly be himself. And when
Peach wasn’t around, he felt strangely irritated.

He paused, trying to make sense of it in his head.

Was it possible that he already thought of Peach as a friend?

With a small tilt of his head, Thee decided that was the most reasonable explanation.
Mentally, he placed Peach in the category of a trusted friend.

His gaze lingered on Peach’s sly smile, on the way his eyes sparkled with whatever mischief
he was plotting. He didn’t seem threatening at all. In fact, he gave Thee a strange, warm
feeling inside.

He should keep him as a close friend.

“So, what’s your plan?” Thee asked as he settled onto the couch, crossing one leg over the
other in his usual confident manner. He clasped his hands together, clearly interested in
whatever nonsense Peach was about to suggest.

Even if it was just harmless entertainment, Thee felt strangely inclined to play along.
“I’m thinking of taking a relaxed road trip, driving wherever I feel like, stopping to take
pictures, enjoying good food, and then sleeping wherever,” Peach said with a soft smile on
his lips. His eyes sparkled. “In the meantime, I plan to give the rookie a chance to handle
things. But if his work isn’t good enough, you’ll surely call me back to fix it anyway.”

Thee gave a weak smile. It was like watching a little kid try to plan something big. As a good
senior, he thought maybe he should let the kid take the lead for once.

“Yeah, it looks like there will be a lot of problems with that job,” he said, nodding in
agreement. If Peach said there would be problems, then there had better actually be
problems!

“But don’t bother them too much, okay?” Peach warned, his tone light but firm. “If they do a
good job, give them credit. They’re just rookies, they have no idea about all this drama.
Besides, a project like this could be really important for their portfolio.”

For the young photographer, his real frustration was with Wivit. He didn’t want the future of
the new employees to be ruined just because of petty office politics or some immature power
play.

Thee didn’t make any promises. Instead, his smile widened slightly, hinting at thoughts no
one could guess. Who would dare try to understand the mind of a mafia boss? When it came
to settling scores, he wasn’t the type to forgive or forget, not even the worth of a single cent
in interest.

“Have you already decided where you’re going?” he asked indifferently, though inside he
was calculating how long he could let Peach be away before needing to call him back. He
didn’t want the guy disappearing for too long, but he figured a short break wouldn’t hurt—a
chance to escape the chaos for a while.

“I’m thinking of the beach,” Peach said, removing the fabric from his eyes and gently rubbing
his temples. “It’s been forever since I last went. I was picturing just driving along the coast,
enjoying the view, maybe taking some sunset photos. Sounds nice, right?”

“I have a hotel by the beach.”

The passing comment made Peach pause. He looked at Thee with a mix of suspicion and
mild exasperation, prompting Thee to quickly clarify. “I’m a co-owner. I can get you a
discount. It’ll save you some money.”

“To be honest, as a somewhat successful photographer, I have a good amount of savings,”

Peach replied seriously, though it seemed the implication completely escaped Thee. What
did a hotel have to do with his savings, anyway?

“Why don’t you just go in and drop my name? Or better yet, I could call and book you a
room.”

Peach shook his head firmly, his expression turning adorably grumpy. “That’s your privilege,
Mr. Thee. I can’t just go around throwing your name like that.”
The mafia boss frowned deeper, clearly confused. I offered, so why can’t he? Crossing his
arms, he tried to figure out what else he could do. He wanted to make up for all the trouble
Peach had been through, both because of him and the company.

“How about I just give you my credit card instead?”

“Mr. Thee!”

Theerakit left the condo looking much happier than when he had arrived. Mok, waiting
downstairs, felt a wave of relief at the sight. It seemed the conversation between the two had
gone better than he had feared.

At first, he had been worried. Knowing his boss’s… unique way of thinking and how easily he
could misinterpret situations, Mok had been tense—especially when Theerakit had entered
earlier like a raging storm cloud. Mok couldn’t help but worry about the safety of the
photographer left alone in that room. He had even tried to follow his boss inside, only to
receive a sharp look and a silent order to wait by the car below.

Four hours later, the discussion upstairs seemed to have come to an end. Mok closed the
passenger door after his boss settled into his seat, then moved to the driver’s side. As the
car began rolling down the narrow alley leading to the main road, Mok’s thoughts drifted. The
condo was in a prime location, near the main road and right next to the BTS line. For a place
like that, it wasn’t ridiculously overpriced.

The comment took the young secretary by surprise, leaving him blinking blankly in
confusion. Years of working for his eccentric boss had taught him to stay calm, so he held
back from slamming the brakes in shock.

“Should I cancel the marketing department’s paperwork, then?” Mok decided to switch to a
safer topic, convinced that Theerakit’s comment hadn’t been meant to provoke a real
response. Besides, he wasn’t particularly eager to find out why his boss was suddenly
interested in buying another condo. However, the response he received only deepened his
confusion.

“No. Don’t cancel it.”

“Wait, really? So… you’re just going to let Mr. Peach go?”

“Peach is going on vacation,” Theerakit said simply, stretching out his legs and crossing one
over the other. He leaned back against the seat with the lazy grace of a large cat settling in
for a nap—though this particular cat felt more like a lion than a house cat.

“But I think it’s time we made some changes in the company.”

Thee’s voice was calm, yet laced with a silent authority. A faint smile played at the corners of
his lips, but his sharp eyes burned with a menacing glint. The air in the car grew heavier,
causing his secretary to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Even when a predator seemed to rest its claws and remain quiet, under its watch, it was still
a predator.
“Let’s start by closing Studio A for renovations,” he continued in a tranquil tone. “It looks like
we’ll need a substantial budget for it, too. I suppose that means there won’t be any funds
available to support photo sessions for now.”

Mok’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile, his eyes briefly flickering with silent
understanding.
WAKE-UP CALL #17

Arseny Corporation was a massive conglomerate with businesses operating in both the gray
and black markets. Given its vast scale, the company had an enormous marketing budget,
enough to build its own fully equipped studio facilities for photoshoots and video production.

The largest and most advanced of these was Studio A, which had been completely booked
for three months for the All Seasons: One Word project. The studio had been reserved to
complete four collections at once, leaving smaller projects and subsidiary shoots to be
scattered across other studios.

But this morning, upon arriving at Studio A, the team was met with an unexpected sight. The
main doors were locked with heavy chains, and a bold vinyl banner hung across the front,
announcing that the studio was undergoing renovations. The posted schedule indicated that
it would remain closed for an entire month, starting today.

None of the team members had been informed beforehand, and they stood in shock at the
entrance. Today marked the first day of the promotional photoshoot for the Winter Collection,
featuring lead model Tawan, a rising star and well-known name. Mistakes or delays were
simply not an option.

“What now, Vit?” Trend asked nervously, his face a picture of concern. He had joined Arseny
as a photographer just a year ago and had yet to make a name for himself.

When Wivit personally recruited him as the lead photographer for such a major project, Tren
had accepted without hesitation, thrilled at the opportunity.

Even if the position came with its own baggage, Tren had never once regretted saying yes.

Wivit’s brows furrowed deeply as he tried to process the situation. He couldn’t reach his
department head, the very person he had aligned with before this chaos erupted. But now,
when a crisis struck, that person had conveniently vanished into thin air.

“Vit, the facilities manager said Studio A is off-limits. Emergency renovations. There’s no way
to open it,” reported a team member who had just gotten off the phone. Wivit’s expression
darkened further at the news.

“Why now? I told them we booked Studio A for three months. Can’t they wait until we’re
done?” His voice was calm, but frustration simmered just beneath the surface. The polite,
carefree smile he usually wore was nowhere to be found.

The team member hesitated, looking uncomfortable and unsure how to break the news
delicately.

“It’s an order from the President.”

Damn it!
Wivit ran a hand through his hair, his patience wearing thin as the minutes ticked by. The
shoot with the actor was scheduled for tomorrow, and if he couldn’t fix this, they’d end up
paying overtime fees.

Worse, he would lose face in his first project as team leader.

“Vit, the facilities team says there’s another studio available,” another team member chimed
in hesitantly.

“Which one?!” he demanded, a flicker of hope appearing on his face. At this point, he’d take
anything.

“Studio Four.”

The response snuffed out that hope in an instant.

Studio Four was ancient, one of the original spaces built when the company first started.
Sure, it wasn’t completely unusable—the structure was still intact—but the interior was
terribly outdated, lacking modern equipment. It was basically a glorified storage room.

That studio was usually reserved for newcomers testing their skills or as a last resort for
remote shoots. Almost no one chose to work there anymore.

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

There were four available studios in total, and Studio Four was the furthest away. It was
relatively small—only about a third the size of the one they normally used. Inside, it was
spotless and spacious, free from the clutter he had feared.

But it was too empty.

The entire studio had nothing except for a plain white backdrop, a few basic lights, and an
old mid-range camera that had clearly seen better days.

“Vit, is this seriously all we have to work with?” the young photographer complained. He was
used to working with state-of-the-art cameras, editing software, automated color-adjusting
lights, and a full range of supporting equipment. To be reduced to just one camera and some
dim lighting? Unacceptable!

“We can borrow from the other studios for now,” Vit said reassuringly, ruffling Train’s hair
affectionately. He pulled out his phone and called the team’s subleader to coordinate with the
other studios.

However, after calling every studio, the response was the same—no.

“Mr. Mok ordered all studios to speed up their work. No one is willing to lend us anything,”
the subleader reported apologetically.
Vit frowned, puzzled. Why the sudden urgency in every department? That had never
happened before.

“It’s fine. I’ll submit a request for additional budget approval,” he replied confidently. Their
current project was the biggest in the company. There was no way they would deny his
budget request.

But just fifteen minutes after instructing his assistant to prepare the urgent request, his
phone rang with bad news—

All marketing department expense requests had been frozen.

“Why?” he hissed, barely suppressing the urge to shout. The studio was still full of
hardworking team members, getting the place ready for tomorrow’s shoot.

[The President ordered all marketing department requests to be put on hold,] came the
hesitant response on the other end. Vit’s chest tightened at those words, a deep sense of
dread creeping over him.

“The President again?”

[Apparently, the Head of Marketing is being investigated for accepting bribes. All documents
are temporarily on hold, except for urgent requests, which Mok will personally review before
forwarding them 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 at once?!

Panic twisted in his chest—bribery investigations? If that was the case, then his own past
actions might also come to light!

“No problem. Thanks.”

After ending the call, his hand gripped his phone so tightly that it trembled. Scene after
scene of his past actions flashed vividly in his mind, his nerves winding tighter with each
one. He was practically buzzing with the urge to storm into the marketing department and
confront the Head of Marketing right this second.

Noticing the growing distress on his boss’s face, Trend stepped forward.

The young photographer wrapped his slender arms around Vit’s, giving him a small shake
and pouting playfully.

“Vit. I’m going to get what I need tomorrow, right?”

Trend’s tone was sweetly persuasive, the kind that had always worked for him. He was used
to being spoiled, 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 could not slip—not
here, not now.

Translation:

“We’ll see tomorrow,” he said vaguely, dismissing Train with a tense smile before turning on
his heels 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 someone else? What a joke!

“Sounds like great fun!”

Peach said lazily, reclining on 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 slight salty stickiness behind. It was annoying but refreshing at the same
time.

[Fun? More like a nightmare for me, Peach! But… I can’t lie—it was pretty satisfying.]

His younger sister’s voice crackled through the phone, followed by a mischievous laugh that
practically dripped with arrogance.

Peach frowned. Who the hell had taught his sweet little sister to be so cunning? He almost
asked—but then he remembered the absolute mess he’d been in two days ago and decided
to let it go. Instead, he leaned back with a satisfied smile.

“I bet Tawan is over the moon,” he mused, thinking about the always-frowning celebrity who
seemed to hate him since the dawn of time. Tawan could charm anyone with that killer
smile—anyone except him. If Peach had to guess, the guy was probably throwing a private
party just to celebrate not working with him.

[At first, he was happy,] Plub snorted, sounding completely unimpressed. He could
practically see her pouting on the other end. [But after dealing with the new photographer?
His good mood lasted about an hour before he started sulking.]

“Newbies are like that,” Peach offered with a shrug, though Plub huffed in frustration.

[You better keep your phone close! The job is a disaster, and now the president is breathing
down everyone’s neck, demanding results ASAP. The art team is about to quit. Everyone
misses you like crazy. Honestly, I’m starting to regret letting you go on vacation.]
Peach chuckled, already making a mental note to bring souvenirs for the team. They were
drowning in chaos while he was off the grid, living his best life. A peace offering wouldn’t
hurt.

After surviving a headache-inducing call with Miss Mafia Boss and successfully sending Mr.
Thee back home where he belonged, Peach felt lighter. 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 relaxed trip somewhere not too far—just
enough to unwind for about a week. Happily, he pinned locations on his maps app, planning
his route with almost childlike excitement.

The next morning, he packed up and left his condo. Before heading out, he texted his sister,
promising to bring back souvenirs.

She called immediately, excited that he was finally taking time off. After reminding him about
the souvenirs one more time, she told him to drive safely and enjoy his vacation.

He promised to do as she suggested.

Turning off his internet and tucking his phone into his bag, Peach allowed himself to enjoy
the peaceful surroundings. Normally, he handled work through chat apps or email. Only
close friends or family had his real phone number.

…Well, maybe he’d make an exception for a certain grumpy mafia boss.

After chatting with his sister for a few more minutes, Peach ended the call and lazily placed
his phone on his stomach. Just as he closed his eyes, thinking he might take a quick nap,
the phone vibrated.

He picked it up, lips curling into a slight smile. Funny how it rang the second he thought
about it.

When he left that morning, he hadn’t bothered to message Mr. Thee. Honestly, he didn’t see
the point. He had already mentioned he was going on vacation—not disappearing off the
face of the earth. Besides, he didn’t have any pending work, so there was no reason to
“check in.”

On 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 more than a hundred
notifications waiting for him.

Two were from his sister. Four were from his team, venting about work. The remaining
messages? All from Theerakit Kian Arseny, the one and only.

Nearly ninety messages in two days—what the hell was going through his head?

Peach wanted to ask, but he figured that would only make things worse. With a sigh, he
started scrolling through the avalanche of texts instead.
As much as he wanted to complain about the sheer number of messages, deep down, he
couldn’t really be mad.

Despite the over-the-top behavior, there was something sincere about Thee’s efforts—even
endearing. Sure, some things were a bit excessive, bordering on ridiculous, but not enough
to truly annoy him.

Shaking his head slightly, Peach replied with a picture of the serene, endless blue ocean and
an adorable sticker. After hitting send, he turned his internet off again and called his sister.

When he got an incoming call while still online, he deliberately ignored it, continuing his
conversation with his sister until they hung up. The phone rang again almost instantly.

Peach glanced at the screen, a faint smile forming when he saw Mr. Thee’s name flashing.
After a brief pause, he finally answered the call.

“Hello, Mr. Thee.”

[Where are you?]

The deep, gruff voice on the other end sounded more like a menacing growl than a question.
Peach raised an eyebrow. If they were face-to-face, he might have been a little intimidated.
But over the phone? He found it amusing.

“At the beach, of course,” he replied, his tone cheerful, even playful. “Didn’t I tell you I was
on vacation?”

[…You didn’t answer my messages.]

The threatening edge in the mafia boss’s voice softened, replaced by something that almost
sounded… sulky?

Was he in a bad mood?

“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 persuasive, almost teasing tone, though
he still wasn’t sure why Thee sounded upset—or why he felt the need to soothe him.

Seeing Thee like this was… strangely endearing.

[…Hmph.]

Thee’s resigned sigh came through the phone. He stayed silent for almost a full minute, the
only sound being his steady breathing. Just as Peach was about to hang up, Thee’s voice
cut through the silence:

[Wait.]

The sharp command sounded almost like a scolding. There was a faint thud in the
background, as if someone was pacing back and forth.
[When are you coming back? It’s been three days.]

“It’s only been two. How are you even counting the days?” Peach corrected with a laugh.

[I could have someone find you right now,] Thee shot back instantly, making Peach laugh
even more.

“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 sensation of relaxation settling into his muscles.
The vacation was really making him too lazy to think about work.

[But traveling 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 then, you’d be safe.]

“No way! You have tons of work to do—you can’t just leave like that.”

Peach immediately dismissed the idea, his tone firm. Taking the mafia boss on a trip would
be the opposite of relaxing. He could already picture an army of bodyguards following them
around. And he’d probably end up acting as Thee’s personal assistant, catering to his every
whim. One wrong move, and who knows—he might get tossed into the ocean just because
it’s nearby.

Sure, he liked the ocean—but definitely not the idea of drowning in it.

[Why not? Mok could handle things while I’m away. No matter where you want to go, I can
come 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 have responsibilities, Thee. At least show some consideration for Mok." Peach carefully
avoided all the meaningless conversation and focused on the practical point. "That's all for
now – I'm going back to enjoying my vacation." Peach ended the call with a satisfied smile,
placing the phone back on her stomach. He grabbed his straw hat, placed it over his face,
and closed his eyes, letting the soothing sound of the waves wash over him. The soft smile
that lingered on his lips refused to fade.

It really was a good day.

WAKE-UP CALL #18

"Are you absolutely sure this is the kind of work you want to present to me?"

The room seemed to drop a few degrees when the most powerful person at the table spoke,
his tone laced with irritation. His sharp, penetrating gaze remained steady and intimidating,
projecting a suffocating pressure that made everyone hold their breath. Heads instinctively
bowed, each person silently praying not to become the target of that dominating stare.

Today was the first presentation of the Winter Collection, part of the ongoing project "All
Seasons: One Word." Just yesterday, promotional images had been released in major
fashion magazines, generating an overwhelmingly positive response. The campaign photos
featuring Aran with the Autumn Collection products had gone viral on social media.

Part of the buzz came from Aran's striking appearance in the photos—hypnotic and
androgynous, combining beauty and charm with an irresistible touch of mischief. His
captivating presence left people fascinated. Not only had the magazines sold out, but
pre-orders for the Autumn Collection's matching perfume and accessories had also reached
record numbers.

For Wivit, who had recently been promoted to team leader, these glowing reviews were
something he accepted with pride, without a hint of shame. After all, he had been the
sub-team leader during the Autumn Collection project, playing a key role throughout.

But now, the challenge was even greater. Expectations for the Winter Collection were
sky-high.

The ongoing project aimed to tell a story through the brand ambassador's journey across the
seasons, with matching perfumes and accessories symbolizing each phase. With the
Autumn Collection setting such a high standard—and teasers already hinting at a
follow-up—people were eagerly awaiting the reveal of the Winter Collection with bated
breath.

The team hadn't expected the pressure to be so intense that the company's president
himself would show up for an initial meeting. He was supposed to be comfortably seated in
the executive boardroom upstairs, waiting for the final presentation after everything had
been polished—right?

Theerakit didn't care what others thought. In fact, even if he had been explicitly told to stay
away, he would have come down anyway. He had been suppressing a storm of emotions for
days, bottled up so tightly that he didn't know where else to direct them.

He wasn't even sure what exactly was bothering him. As a boss, he made an effort not to
take his frustrations out on his subordinates, even if those closest to him could feel the
tension radiating from him like an oppressive fog.

The young mafia boss sat with one leg crossed over the other in the oversized leather chair,
one hand supporting his chin while the other tapped rhythmically on the conference table.
The constant drumming echoed in the room, matching the frantic heartbeat of every
employee present.

"Did you even look at the Autumn Collection photos?" His voice cut through the silence like a
blade when no one dared to speak. "What is this supposed to be? I can't feel any emotion or
narrative from these images."

He wasn't exaggerating, nor was he trying to be harsh. The photos weren't bad; they met the
technical standards expected of any professional photographer. But they were utterly
lifeless—bland and forgettable, lacking the magnetic appeal that had made the last
campaign a success.

"We deeply apologize, CEO. The usual studio wasn't available, and we were short on
equipment, so the results were worse than the previous collection..."

"Oh, so now you're saying it's my fault for not approving the budget?" Theerakit interrupted
coldly, his tone sharp enough to make the air in the room drop a few more degrees. Vit's
eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head, stumbling over his words to deny it.
Theerakit's lips curled into a bitter smile, his dark gaze hardening with even more intensity.

"If the next presentation doesn't show significant improvement, maybe you're not cut out to
be a team leader after all."

With that, Theerakit stood up from his chair, ending the tense meeting on a chilling note. As
he left, he slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone to check for messages or
missed calls.

Seeing none, he let out a long, frustrated sigh, the emotions swirling inside him in a tangled
mess he couldn't unravel.

It had been five days since Peach had left on a solo trip. He had gone completely silent,
responding only with a random vacation photo whenever Theerakit texted him, something
that managed to irritate him even more each time.

He wasn't used to feeling like this. He didn't even understand what it was.

A few days ago, he had found himself impulsively calling the young photographer. Peach
had answered, his voice muffled with sleep. They had exchanged only a few words, just
enough to confirm that he was still alive and well, before ending the call.

For the first time in days, the furious storm inside him had calmed, if only for a fleeting
moment.

Now, Theerakit crossed his arms, his eyes fixed on his phone as if it could ring through
sheer willpower. He had already called Peach once that morning, asking the same question
he had been asking about when he would return. As usual, Peach had dodged the question,
steering the conversation toward light chatter before abruptly ending the call. Theerakit
thought about calling again to press for an answer, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
Five days...

His brow furrowed in frustration. He couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing his phone, he called
his secretary, instructing her to summon Plub to his office immediately. He leaned back and
waited. It didn't take long before the young woman arrived.

He gestured for her to enter, studying her silently as she approached. Small and slender, she
barely reached his chest. Her red-tinted hair framed a well-defined face with sharp, familiar
features. The resemblance to her older brother was unmistakable.

But what stood out most were her large eyes, serene, unflappable, and completely fearless
as they met his.

Theerakit was silently impressed, albeit reluctantly. But his voice was all business when he
finally spoke.

"You're Panatchakorn from the Art Department, right? What happened with the project? Why
is the quality so poor?"

"Apologies, CEO. Today's presentation was just a first draft. The Art Department hasn't done
much retouching yet, so the photos may look rough or unfinished. I'm very sorry about that."

"I recall your supervisor telling me the Art Department had already approved it." He raised an
eyebrow, surprised that she admitted it so easily.

"To be honest, editing the raw photos was more difficult than expected. The files weren't
color-corrected or adjusted in any way. So we had to start from scratch. With our team
handling multiple magazine projects, we simply couldn't meet the deadline. I'm very sorry."
Plub pressed her lips together. She was straightforward by nature, honest to a fault, even if
she was a little intimidated by the man towering before her.

There was something else she hadn't mentioned: the team was used to Peach's photos,
which were usually pre-edited in some way. This time, having to adjust everything
themselves threw their entire schedule off.

"I'm not blaming you," Theerakit interrupted when he saw her bow her head in apology. He
paused briefly, hesitating. His voice softened unconsciously. "Did your brother mention when
he'll be back?"

Plub was taken aback. There was something strangely personal in the way he asked, an
undercurrent she couldn't quite identify. Shaking off the thought, she answered honestly.

"He didn't say anything. He's been thinking about taking a long trip for a while, but work kept
piling up. Now that he's finally on vacation, I guess he plans to be away for a while."

Theerakit's gaze shifted, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he could
suppress it. Still, something in him quietly registered her words. He should let Peach take
more breaks from work. But the idea of not hearing from him, even for less than a week,
already had him restless and uneasy. He hated feeling this way. He never wanted to feel this
way again.
Next time, he would go with him.

Resolved in his decision, the young mafia boss straightened his back, pushing those
rebellious thoughts aside. He refocused his attention on his subordinate.

Plub stood frowning in front of Theerakit's desk, clearly lost in thought. What was on her
mind didn't interest him in the slightest. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he signaled her
to return to work, offering no explanation.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Theerakit picked up his phone and called Mok, issuing
additional orders.

"Tell Wivit I want another round of project revisions in three days. The next delivery better be
a significant improvement," he said, his voice calm but firm. A slight smile tugged at the
corner of his mouth. "Remember, the photos from the full collection were exceptional. I
expect that level of quality again... from the same photographer."

A little extra pressure should speed things up.

………………..

Meanwhile, Peach had been hopping from beach to beach for five straight days, soaking up
the sun and sea until salt practically coated his skin. It was the longest vacation he'd ever
taken. On the morning of the sixth day, after buying souvenirs for everyone, he finally got in
his car and headed back to Bangkok.

He had already texted Plub about his return. As for Mr. Thee, since he had called that
morning, Peach figured there was no need to text him again.

Since that particular phone call, the young mafia boss seemed to have had a sudden
epiphany—he could call every day. After that, Peach's phone rang like clockwork.
Sometimes it was just a brief exchange, a few words before the call ended, as if Thee only
needed to hear his voice.

Even with the daily calls, Thee's messages kept piling up in the chat app. Every time Peach
went online to upload vacation photos, there was a new batch of notifications waiting for him.

He wasn't exactly annoyed—but he was curious. What does Mr. Thee want?

Despite his brilliance, Thee's thought process could be strange at times, so much so that
Peach never bothered trying to understand it. Normally, he would have just asked directly,
but since it didn't seem like a big deal, he let Thee do as he pleased.

After a quick roadside lunch on the sixth day, his phone started ringing again.

The unknown number flashing on his phone didn't faze Peach; he already had a good idea
of who it might be. A sly, mischievous smile spread across his face as he let the phone ring a
couple more times before finally answering.
"Peachayarat speaking."

[This is Wivit, team leader for the Arseny project.]

"Oh. Mr. Wivit! How can I help you?" Peach replied in a deliberately neutral tone, though his
face betrayed how amused he really was.

[…]

There was nothing but tense silence on the other end. Peach could hear Wivit breathing
heavily, clearly still on the line but struggling to find the right words. His smile widened a little
more.

He didn't hate Wivit—but right now, this was too satisfying.

"If there's nothing important, I'm going to hang up."

[Wait!] Wivit blurted out, panicked. After a brief pause, he finally managed, [I was wondering
if you'd be available to rejoin the "All Seasons: One Word" project as a supervisor?]

Peach rolled his eyes silently. The same old Wivit. Always obsessed with saving face.
Pretending nothing had happened, as if they hadn't clashed before, took a certain level of
audacity.

If Wivit was willing to swallow his pride and make this request, he must have been under
immense pressure.

Did Mr. Thee pull some strings behind the scenes?

"I seem to recall you saying quite clearly that you no longer needed a part-time
photographer. Didn't you already have a full-time photographer lined up?" Peach replied
smoothly, his voice dripping with mock politeness.

[Well... the president is really breathing down our necks... And the new full-time
photographer is still pretty green. They might not be able to keep up.]

"Oh my, that sounds terribly inconvenient," Peach said with exaggerated sympathy, his tone
as insincere as it could be. He could tell Wivit picked up on the sarcasm.

Peach heard the faint sound of teeth grinding over the line, making Wivit's next sentence
even icier: [So, will you take the job or not? If it's about the money, just say so. I can talk to
the president and work something out.]

"Don't make it sound like you're trying to buy me off. As one of the best photographers in the
country, I hardly need the money," Peach replied, his tone silky but sharp. It wasn't like him
to boast, but watching Wivit squirm was highly entertaining. He added casually, "I haven't
taken on any new projects yet, but last time you kicked me out. Showing up out of nowhere
and asking me to rejoin your team... might seem a bit desperate, don't you think?"
The sound of teeth grinding returned, this time harsher, angrier. Peach could practically feel
Wivit's frustration seeping through the phone, making his smile widen.

[...Mr. Peachayarat... Would you... please... come back and take over the "All Seasons: One
Word" project...] There was a brief, tortured pause, as if he were summoning the last shred
of pride he had left. […Please.]

Peach's smile grew so wide it almost hurt. He barely managed to suppress a laugh, clearing
his throat as his eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Well, since you're begging so politely—and we go way back—I'll take the job," he replied
with feigned reluctance. "But this time, I'll need to read the contract first. You know, with the
cost of living going up and all, someone's got to cover that."

Without waiting for a response, he ended the call, feeling more energized than ever. With a
buzz of satisfaction, he started the car and headed back to Bangkok, completely content.

Supply and demand, baby.

WAKE-UP CALL #19

Peach returned that afternoon, feeling refreshed after six days away. Once he unpacked, he
called Tawan's manager to schedule a new shoot for the following day.

Tawan's contract already covered the possibility of an extra day of filming, although normally
only one was assigned. If things went wrong again, Peach would have to cover the damages
himself, not to mention how seriously it could tarnish the company's reputation. It wouldn't be
a complete disaster, but it was definitely something he wanted to avoid.

The next morning, Peach was outside Studio 4 with his trusted camera slung over one
shoulder and a messenger bag full of essentials.

His usual relaxed work style was on full display: nothing out of the ordinary. What was
unusual, however, was the imposing figure standing stiffly beside him, arms crossed,
exuding a slight aura of authority and tension. He hadn't taken his eyes off Peach for a
second.

"Do you want me to open Studio A for you?" the CEO offered seriously, his brow furrowed
with concern. "Should I order more equipment? I can have it rushed over right now."

"No, thanks," Peach dismissed the suggestion instantly, his tone firm. "Just having you here
talking to me already makes me a target." He could practically feel the curious stares burning
into him. Even though those looks were filled more with concern and sympathy than
jealousy, they still made him uncomfortable.

Their conversation remained hushed, ensuring no one else could hear. From an outsider's
perspective, all they saw was the serious, authoritative-looking CEO giving brief, precise
instructions.

Standing next to the photographer was the much smaller Peach, who barely reached his
shoulder. Peach wore a faint, uneasy smile, clearly worried about the situation. Given the
explosive incident at the last meeting, all the onlookers naturally assumed the CEO was
there to intimidate the young photographer.

You were used to being under scrutiny, though this time, most of the stares weren't directed
at you but at the man beside you. He had been in a good mood after seeing Peach first thing
in the morning, but now irritation simmered beneath the surface.

Meanwhile, Peach, far less accustomed to being the center of attention, grew increasingly
uncomfortable with each passing second.

"I don't want you to struggle," the mafia boss murmured with clear disapproval. He had
already done much to pressure Wivit and didn't see why Peach should suffer for it too, but
the smaller man shook his head firmly. Peach not only seemed unfazed but also had a spark
of excitement in his eyes.

"People will think I'm using connections," Peach shrugged, his smile widening playfully. "I've
been pushed around before, so I'm not going to stoop to their level. Besides..." His eyes
gleamed mischievously, "Don't you think this makes things a bit more... exciting?"
Thee's intense gaze softened at that smile, and the heavy atmosphere he had been radiating
seemed to ease. Everyone around them finally breathed a little easier. His sharp, stoic face
even seemed to hold the faintest hint of a smile, though it was barely noticeable.

"I trust your skills," he replied evenly, though Peach could feel his mood lifting. After
exchanging a few brief gestures with others on set, Thee turned and left, allowing the tense
air around the studio to dissipate completely.

When things returned to normal, familiar faces from the team approached to give Peach
supportive pats on the shoulder. Some even offered words of encouragement, though he
couldn't understand why. He accepted them with a polite smile, still puzzled. Even Plub
came over with teary eyes and wrapped him in a tight hug, whispering fiercely, "Stay strong,
okay?" before biting her lip to hold back a sob.

What the hell is going on now?

Peach wondered but didn't bother to ask. Time was running out, so he focused on preparing
the studio. He had brought a small string of fairy lights to enhance the room's ambiance,
along with a sheer fabric he had borrowed from the art department, ready to work his
creative magic.

The main reason Peach refused to switch studios was that he felt forcing the other side in
this way would apply too much pressure. If he went back and demanded a larger studio, it
would invite endless comparisons and accusations of favoritism. Honestly, just knowing what
he was up against in advance already felt like cheating.

If he wanted Wivit to accept defeat fairly, the only way was to fight on the same playing field.

Soon enough, the young actor arrived. His long legs carried him into the studio with a frown
etched on his handsome, sharp-featured face. However, when his gaze landed on the
familiar photographer behind the camera, his frown seemed to relax slightly, only to crease
again with irritation a moment later.

Peach shook his head, practically hearing the storm of thoughts swirling in the actor's mind.
Sometimes he wondered if people hopelessly in love were inherently irrational. Could he
please just listen to reason for once?

Dismissing that thought, he refocused on the task at hand. Today was his only chance: half a
day, to be exact. There was no room for errors.

The shoot went smoothly. The photos turned out just as he had imagined, and within two
hours, the job was done.

While reviewing the final shots on his camera, he let one of the assistants accompany Tawan
to change back into his street clothes. He was so absorbed in checking the images that he
didn't notice the shadow creeping into his light until it completely blocked the screen.

Looking up, he found himself face-to-face with a petite young man with fair skin, wide, bright
eyes, and an irresistibly cute face. If Aran was the definition of beauty, this boy was
adorable.
There was just one problem: Peach was almost certain this was Wivit's new full-time
photographer—the one hired to replace him.

And for the life of him, he couldn't understand why the guy was standing there smiling at him,
his eyes practically sparkling like stars. What was even more baffling was that the boy
greeted him loudly right there, in front of the entire team. Everyone still in the studio knew
exactly who he was and why he was there. So... what was this supposed to mean?

"Hi! My name is Trend," the young man bowed politely, his respectful demeanor making it
impossible for Peach to ignore him.

"Peach," he nodded, keeping it brief. Judging by the boy's baby face, he was probably
younger. Still, Peach remained on guard; he had no idea if this approach was friendly or
something more calculated. After all, Trend was on Wivit's team. Peach had been pulled
from the project midway, his name erased and replaced. Expecting this sudden greeting to
be pure and innocent felt... naive.

"I've heard a lot about you, Peach," Trend said, using the respectful Thai prefix for an elder,
"I couldn't miss the chance to see you work in person today. As a junior trying to learn the
ropes, I hope I'm not bothering you." He tilted his head with a charming, adorable smile, but
Peach only felt more tense.

Honestly, dealing with Wivit's overt hostility would have been easier than facing a smile he
couldn't quite trust.

He forced a stiff smile in return but said nothing. Trend, seemingly unfazed, took a breath
and stepped closer, craning his neck to look at the camera hanging from Peach's neck.
"Wow! These shots are amazing! Totally out of my league."

Peach frowned and instinctively took a step back. He hated when people he didn't trust
invaded his personal space. Even with Aran, whom he considered family, he maintained
some boundaries—this was far from okay.

"They'll look clearer on the computer," he murmured, taking another step back. His shoulders
felt stiff, and his grip on the camera trembled slightly.

Trend chuckled awkwardly before moving to check the images on the computer. His eyes
shone with admiration, though a flicker of envy crossed his face.

Peach, highly attuned to people's emotions, could tell Trend's awe was genuine, but so was
the underlying resentment. So when the other turned with another bright, innocent smile,
Peach only felt more uncomfortable.

"They're really impressive, even unedited," Trend exhaled in awe, clearly mesmerized by the
images. "I've always wanted to be a photographer. I got great grades in school, but once I
graduated... it's been tough."

"You majored in photography," Peach finally replied, keeping the conversation going now
that Trend had retreated to the computer screen. He still felt uneasy but couldn't help being
curious about Trend's motives.
"Yes! I graduated in Communication Arts, majoring in Photography," Trend's proud smile
widened. "Where did you graduate from?"

Peach's brow furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowing as the pieces began to fall into place.

"I didn't major in this."

"Really? You're so talented. I thought you must have studied photography!" Trend exclaimed
with what seemed like genuine surprise, his expression so perfectly innocent it almost
seemed calculated. "I was wondering why you weren't hired full-time here. You're so good...
how could Vit let someone like you slip away?"

Peach quietly lifted his camera, then crossed his arms and leaned casually against the edge
of the table. His lips stretched into a wolfish smile, the kind that would make his little sister
scream in horror, not joy.

What an awful smile.

"I'm quite picky about the jobs I take. Freelancing is nice: you can choose which jobs to
accept. No need to take orders from anyone," Peach shrugged casually. His tone was light,
free of tension. "And honestly, no one's ever asked about my degree or GPA when I work.
But it's a shame. I graduated in German Studies with honors, but I never get to brag about
it."

He paused briefly, then added with a slight smile, "But as you said, this job is about skills, not
grades, right?"

The smaller boy's cheeks flushed a deep pink, his delicate hands clenched into fists. His
large eyes glistened with unshed tears, making him look so pitiful that anyone glancing over
would think Peach was bullying some helpless rookie. Peach's smile widened a bit, his eyes
curving into something dangerously gentle.

Slowly, he raised a hand and gently wiped a tear from Trend's flushed cheek with the pad of
his finger, soft, almost tender.

He wasn't just a self-taught photographer fumbling his way through the craft. If this was a
game of pretense, Trend was years too late to even try matching his skill.

"I know you're upset, but don't worry. Photography is about practice. Your work isn't bad, it
just has room to grow."

Peach's voice softened into something warm and reassuring, designed to draw sympathy
from the onlookers now casting worried glances their way. Peach extended his hand and
gently shook Trend's trembling one. His soft smile faltered for just a second but held firm.

"If you ever want advice, don't hesitate to ask. I'll be happy to help."

He barely finished his sentence when a sudden sharp pain shot through his wrist. His entire
body was yanked backward, making him stumble until his head hit something solid: a warm,
unyielding wall that shouldn't have been there. Blinking in confusion, Peach struggled to
regain his bearings. He looked at the iron grip holding his wrist, with strong, unrelenting
fingers. Slowly, his gaze traveled upward from the stretched black suit sleeve over firm
muscles to a chiseled face twisted in a fierce frown, dark eyes burning with barely contained
anger. Only then did he realize the "wall" was the young mafia boss. Landing so close that
their bodies almost touched.

Thee's brow furrowed into a hard line, his expression radiating such intense displeasure that
Peach momentarily forgot how to react.

Despite the strong grip, there was no real pain, just firm restraint, as if careful not to hurt him
while making it impossible to escape. After what felt like an eternity, Theo's icy gaze turned
to Trend, freezing the smaller man in place with a look so cold it could have frozen anyone
on the spot. Cold, calculating, and utterly devoid of warmth, it carried an unspoken threat
that made Trend's breath catch.

"What's going on here?" Thee's low, firm voice cut through the air like a blade, his deadly
calm laced with intimidating pressure. Trend's mouth opened as if to stammer an excuse, but
fear rooted him in place. He couldn't speak... he couldn't even think. All he wanted was to
rant.

As the tension around them escalated, Peach simply looked at you with an expression of
pure bewilderment, completely unfazed by the suffocating atmosphere. Internally, he couldn't
help wondering: What the hell is wrong with him this time?

He was still scared. It seemed like he might kill him in a fit of rage. But the hand gripping his
wrist, though strong, did so carefully, deliberately. Calmness seeped through him, silently
whispering that things were still under control, even if he didn't know what had triggered
Thee's sudden outburst.

"Mr. Thee, calm down, okay?" Peach gently rested his fingers on the back of Thee's hand,
still gripping his wrist. "Is something bothering you?"

Thee's sharp gaze returned to him. Peach tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. The mafia boss
let out a low, guttural chuckle before asking coldly, "Shouldn't I be asking what you two were
doing? Getting so close... Have you no shame?"

Peach stared back, expressionless. The words sounded like they were ripped from a bad
soap opera. He decided to let it slide and only address what seemed important.

"I was just giving some photography advice to a junior in the field," he explained, pausing to
glance around. They were definitely drawing attention again—thanks to Thee's looming
presence practically crowding him in front of everyone. Peach sighed inwardly and shifted
gears. "You came because you wanted to see the photos, right?" he offered softly. "Why
don't you take a seat while I go get them for you?"

Without waiting for a reply, Peach gently freed his wrist, his large eyes pleading with
practiced charm. Thee hesitated briefly before his grip loosened and let him go. Peach
nodded slightly and respectfully, then turned and walked back to the full-time photographer.
Trend was still in front of the same computer, his hands clenched into fists, though his eyes
practically shone with determination. Peach watched for a moment before stepping closer
and clearing his throat to snap Trend out of his thoughts.

The smaller man flinched slightly and quickly turned. The forced, fake smile he had shown
earlier was long gone, though there was still a slight tremble in his body. His eyes were alive.
Peach realized he truly loved photography.

"A photographer's weapon... is the camera. The first thing you need to master is knowing
your weapon inside out," Peach said quietly, almost as if talking to himself. He felt ridiculous,
like some guardian spirit, but he pressed on anyway.

"It's true that expensive weapons are of better quality. But if you don't know your own
weapon, if you don't understand what it's capable of, you won't be able to use it effectively,
even if it's divine-level."

Trend's trembling had faded, replaced by a sharp determination that lit up his eyes, his
composure falling back into place like a sword sheathed.

"It's not just about reading the manufacturer's manual. True understanding comes from
hands-on experience. You need to know what works and what doesn't—that's what really
matters."

Peach let out a small sigh, running a hand through his already messy short hair, making it
even more unruly. "After that, it all comes down to experience. I'll post the photography
schedule on the team board. You can drop by if you want to see it, but just so you know, I
won't sit down and teach you. Figure it out yourself."

Trend's head snapped up. His eyes shone with renewed determination, though his lips were
still pressed together as if holding back a flood of emotions. Peach saw the fire burning there
and decided that was enough. He turned, ignoring the smaller man entirely. He could tell
Trend loved photography, but where that passion would take him from here was entirely up
to him.

However, when Peach turned, he froze. Standing motionless was the mafia boss, the
imposing young mafia boss who, instead of retreating to the couch as he had suggested
earlier, now stood with his arms crossed, staring intently at him. He was still within arm's
reach, those long limbs ready to snatch him up in a second if he so desired.

Great, I just finished one problem—now onto the next.

WARNING #20

For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what had set you off this time.

He seemed to be in a good mood this morning before heading off to work, so what the hell
happened to put him in such a foul mood all of a sudden? He wondered if Bat didn't dare to
ask. The last thing he wanted was to poke the bear and make things worse.

"Mr. Thee, did you come here because you needed something from me?" Peach asked,
steering the conversation while subtly moving you both away from the curious onlookers.
The way you stood there, arms crossed and face dark with irritation, had already sent the
juniors into a work frenzy, heads down and fingers flying over keyboards as if their lives
depended on it.

Even Peach couldn't help but feel like he was offering himself to the devil.

"What? This is my studio. I can go wherever the hell I want," Thee snapped, tightening his
arms across his chest. His displeasure was very clear. But when Peach moved, you followed
without hesitation, staying close enough that your long arms could reach out if needed.

Peach let out another sigh. Clearly, they needed to have a serious conversation. If you kept
acting like this, they weren't going to get anywhere. Turning fully to face you, Peach leveled
his gaze with a calm, steady look and asked evenly, "Mr. Thee, are you... mad at me about
something?"

Thee frowned, still looking like he might explode again, but when his eyes met Peach's calm,
unwavering gaze, something in him seemed to deflate. The stormy tension around him
gradually faded.

"I'm not mad at you," you said, your voice softening as the furrow in your brow eased. Peach
had no idea what caused the sudden mood swing, but if Thee was calming down, he wasn't
going to complain. His own shoulders relaxed, and a soft, warm smile spread across his
face, his eyes softening into crescents.

Finally! The demon-possessed boss seemed to have left the building.

He stiffened, his eyes widening slightly before quickly looking away, leaving only a faint pink
tint rising to the tips of his ears. Peach blinked, puzzled, but decided not to press. As long as
Thee wasn't being prickly, that was enough for him.

"Don't be so... nice," the young mafia boss murmured after a moment, his voice low and
almost too soft to hear. "You don't have to be kind to people who've been terrible to you."

"But technically, I was also terrible to him. He removed my name from the project and put his
own. So, I made sure he had to take his name and beg to put mine back," Peach replied with
a slight shrug. He spoke with complete nonchalance.

Peach wasn't the type to hold grudges. In fact, he was the classic introvert—reserved, quiet,
and reluctant to engage in drama. He usually let things slide unless it was absolutely
necessary.
But after having been screwed over by Wivit too many times, even he couldn't just turn the
other cheek.

Seeing that Thee seemed to be returning to normal, Peach circled back to the question that
had been bothering him from the start. "So... why did you come here? Did you need
something from me?"

Please don't say you're here to hound me about deadlines...

Theerakit's expression went blank for a second, as if he had completely forgotten his original
reason. Then he cleared his throat and got straight to the point.

"There's a company event tonight—a party celebrating how the Falcon Collection broke its
previous sales record. We've invited several media outlets," he paused, looking a bit...
uncomfortable. "Do you... want to come with me?"

Peach raised an eyebrow and pulled out his phone to check his emails. His brow furrowed
slightly as he scrolled. "I didn't get an invitation email. Am I supposed to go?"

"It was... a mix-up," Thee's face hardened again, serious but clearly uneasy. "The team sent
out invitations to everyone involved in the project, but... there was a bit of a mess at the time,
so the email... never got sent to you."

Peach nodded slightly, understanding the situation. Given the recent terrible experience of
having his name removed from the project list, HR must have sent the invitation based on
the updated list, leaving his name out entirely.

"It's fine. Let Trend go in my place." But the frown on Thee's face only deepened, turning into
a picture of defiance. Clearly, he didn't agree with that idea.

"Do you want to go? I can add your name."

"No, thanks," Peach's reply came without hesitation, his expression unreadable.

"You don't want to go because of those people, do you? I can have them remove that jerk's
name if he bothers you."

"You can't do that," Peach sighed. "He's the project leader. If you remove him from the list,
it'll only fuel more rumors for the press to write about."

"Then come with me."

"No way. I hate parties," his refusal was firm, accompanied by a look of disinterest and
sleepy eyes. "Besides, I have work to finish tonight. I'm not going to waste time on a
meaningless event."

The moment Peach rejected him, the mafia boss's expression darkened again, his sharp
features tensing with something almost predatory. His gaze narrowed, and the air grew thick
with intensity, like a beast sizing up its prey.
"What kind of 'work'? Are you meeting someone else?" His voice dropped dangerously, a
growl vibrating in the back of his throat. "You dare reject me... for someone else? You've got
guts, Peachayarat."

Peach was left speechless, only snapping back to reality when Thee took a decisive step
forward, closing the space between them. Instinctively, Peach brought a hand to his face,
stifling a groan of frustration.

For the first time, he seriously considered screaming into his own palm. Peach took a deep
breath, lowered his hand, and met Thee's intense gaze with silent exasperation. He wasn't
about to let himself be intimidated by this absurd possessiveness.

"Calm down, Mr. Thee. I told you I have work, not a date," his voice was firm, with no trace of
fear despite Thee's imposing stance. "And that 'work' happens to be your project. Did you
forget about tomorrow's meeting? You asked to review progress this afternoon. If I don't pull
an all-nighter, the art team won't have the revisions ready in time."

Thee stilled, his clenched jaw loosening as realization dawned. His frown faded, replaced by
a flicker of satisfaction. But despite regaining his composure, he made no move to step
back.

Peach shifted, uncomfortable with the sudden closeness. Just as he was about to take a
step back, Thee's large hand encircled his wrist, firm but not harsh.

"It's past noon. Have you eaten?" the young mafia boss asked in a low voice, his thumb
brushing distractedly against the inside of Peach's wrist. "You have stomach issues. You
need to eat on time."

Caught off guard by the sudden change of topic, Peach allowed himself to be gently led, only
realizing what was happening when they were already halfway out of the studio. Behind
them, Thee's secretary had carefully packed Peach's bag and equipment, making sure
nothing was left behind.

Mok, Thee's right-hand man, barked orders at another bodyguard to have Peach's
belongings placed in the black European car parked in the underground garage. Before
Peach could protest, Thee opened the car door and firmly guided him inside.

I was only supposed to open the door... How did this turn into being pushed into the car?

He sighed internally but didn't complain. A delicious, free meal in exchange for being
"kidnapped" didn't seem like the worst deal. Peach leaned back in the luxurious leather seat
and allowed himself to relax. His lips curved into a slight smile of satisfaction.

Strange... When had his fear of the mafia boss sitting beside him faded into nothing more
than a quiet comfort?

Since Peach had requested somewhere near the office, explaining that he needed to check
in with the art team again in the afternoon to ensure he could work smoothly tonight, the
young mafia boss complied without a word of protest. After parking at a large nearby mall,
Thee led the way inside.

With his tall, broad frame and long, purposeful strides, Thee naturally outpaced Peach, who,
while above average in height, still couldn't match Thee's pace. However, Peach made no
effort to catch up. Lunch breaks were supposed to be relaxing, not a race.

Besides, it wasn't like he was going to get lost. The imposing mafia boss stood out like a
beacon in the crowd, his strong presence further accentuated by the two bodyguards trailing
behind him. Peach could clearly see Thee even from behind. Noticing that he was leaving
Peach behind, Thee glanced back, slowed his steps, and adjusted his pace to match
Peach's.

That subtle act of consideration brought a strange warmth to his chest.

"What are you in the mood for?" Thee asked, scanning the restaurant signs with a frown.
"Seems like everything's packed."

"It's past 1 p.m., still peak lunch hour," Peach replied with a shrug. Crowded restaurants at
this time of day were normal for him. For Thee, who likely frequented private dining rooms in
upscale restaurants, it was another story.

Peach's eyes scanned the options, looking for somewhere with a short wait. Both of them
had work waiting back at the office. Plus, the CEO beside him definitely had a mountain of
tasks piled up. He'd only been holed up in his office for three hours, and judging by the
exhausted look on his secretary's face when they left, the workload must have been anything
but light.

After a quick glance around, his eyes landed on a bright green sandwich shop that stood out.
It was the famous place with two-meter-long bread and fully customizable fillings. Quick,
convenient, and portable—perfect for grabbing a bite without wasting time. Even better,
there was no line.

Without a word, he grabbed Thee's sleeve and pulled him toward the shop. The taller man
followed without resistance, making it seem almost too easy. Soon enough, they were
standing in front of the sandwich shop.

"Have you tried this place before?" Peach asked, his eyes lighting up as he pointed at the
menu. "It's so good! I order it all the time when I work late. You can eat it with one hand—it's
got everything: bread, veggies, meat, and it tastes amazing."

He glanced at the menu with interest, his professional focus piqued at the mention of
Peach's enthusiasm. It was as if he were evaluating a potential investment. Peach ordered
his usual mix of sliced chicken, ham, and bacon, topped with extra cheese, and turned to
Thee, who stood there with a slight frown, clearly lost. In the end, Thee gave up and let
Peach order for him.

Peach happily chose a large meat and cheese sandwich for Thee and added a tuna
sandwich for the assistant waiting nearby.
Once they had their food, Peach unwrapped his sandwich and took a big bite, his cheeks
puffing slightly as he chewed. He walked leisurely, the sandwich lifting his spirits. Watching
him, Thee did the same. After his first bite, Thee's expression shifted to mild surprise—he
hadn't expected something so affordable to taste this good.

They walked a bit further, finishing their sandwiches bite by bite. Once the crumbs were
gone, they returned to the car. Despite the traffic, Mok managed to get his boss and the
photographer back to the office on time. Peach asked if they could swing by the parking lot
on the other side to drop him off; the meeting materials were still in his car, which was
parked in the general lot, while the executive spaces were in an upper-level lot on the
opposite side.

Peach got out of the car and turned to thank them with his usual politeness. But just as Mok
was about to drive away, Peach called out for him to wait a moment.

The young photographer hurried to his car, almost breaking into a run. After rummaging in
the trunk for a few seconds, he returned with a large pack of three-flavored crispy squid
snacks.

"Mr. Mok, this is for you. This brand is amazing. Great for munching while working," Peach
said, handing the large pack of squid snacks to Thee's secretary with a wide smile. Mok
nodded slightly in thanks, turned on his heel, and headed toward the building, making his
way to the art department to meet his younger sister with another large bag of treats.

Meanwhile, Theerakit narrowed his eyes, and a faint air of displeasure began to seep out.
His gaze fixed on the bag of squid snacks in Mok's hands, unwavering. Sensing trouble, Mok
quickly stuffed the package into his bag.

"Boss, you don't even like spicy food, let alone squid," Mok pointed out, keeping his tone
neutral. Internally, he was screaming in protest; how could the young mafia boss even
consider snatching his favorite snack when he clearly didn't enjoy it? But the oppressive aura
radiating from the mafia boss showed no signs of dissipating.

"No bonuses this year," Thee commented casually, crossing his arms and turning his face
away, radiating icy indifference. The young secretary was left speechless. He desperately
wanted to point out that Peach had just hauled a huge bag of snacks upstairs for the art
team. Why was he the only one being punished here? But in the end, he could only swallow
his frustration along with his unshed tears.

Being a secretary was an unfortunate job.

WAKE-UP CALL #21

Theerakit Kian Arseny, the half-Russian mafia heir turned luxury magnate, had built an
empire in the world of perfumes and jewelry. His fame wasn’t just due to his strikingly good
looks or his unfathomable wealth; it was the enigmatic allure he carried—an irresistible
magnetism that drew people in wherever he went.

But tonight’s gala was different. The usual air of untouchable arrogance that surrounded him
had turned into something far more chilling—a cold, cutting aura that made the room feel ten
degrees colder. Tension radiated off him in waves so intense that no one dared to approach
within a hundred meters.

Speculations ran wild, desperately trying to figure out what had gone wrong: what could
have caused the young mafia boss to exude such latent displeasure. His barely contained
irritation created an oppressive atmosphere that made even the boldest journalists think
twice. Sure, they were hungry for a headline, but no story was worth risking their lives.

Who would have guessed that his furious demeanor stemmed from something as ridiculous
as... a lost bag of spicy, crispy squid?

He let out a long, frustrated sigh, the lingering annoyance still churning in his chest. Rarely
was he someone who got worked up over anything. In fact, emotions had always felt distant
and irrelevant to him—neither warmth nor bitterness could touch him.

He wasn’t insensitive, just... empty. Detached. The only softness he ever felt was reserved
for his family, the only ones who could stir any tenderness in him. The outside world had
never managed to provoke even a single tremor in his carefully guarded heart.

Yet now... a lost bag of squid was enough to put him in a foul mood.

Accepting a glass of wine from a passing waiter, Thee gently swirled the crimson liquid,
letting its aroma unfold before taking a slow sip. His gaze drifted toward the stage, where
models showcased Falcon’s latest collection of perfumes and jewelry. He felt utterly bored.

Wivit took the stage and presented the project as the team leader after delivering the
opening speech. Behind him, the screen displayed the Autumn Collection—a captivating
image of Aran in a flowing suit, his wrist adorned with a striking rose gold bracelet. His
expression was perfectly serene, his gaze steady and unreadable. But then, his eyes landed
on a familiar, elegant signature discreetly etched in the corner of the image. His gaze
softened.

Oddly enough, the model’s seductive beauty, something that had once fascinated him, paled
in comparison to the pull of that small, familiar signature.

The young mafia boss lowered his eyes slightly. This wasn’t the first time his heart had been
still and cautious. Aside from his family, he had never deeply cared for anyone else.

But Peach... Peach made him feel at peace, a calming presence that enveloped his restless
mind. With Peach, he felt safe, free to be his true self without fear of betrayal or hurt.
That unexpected warmth blossomed in his chest, sweet and comforting. It was something he
wasn’t willing to let go of now, a feeling that grew stronger with each passing day.

He wanted Peach to see only him, care only for him, and stay close enough to reach.

The intensity of that need surged, dangerously close to the surface.

A sudden burst of applause snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw Wivit
standing proudly on stage, chest puffed out and wearing a triumphant smile. Thee’s
expression darkened, and the cold edge returned to his gaze. The brief softness in his
features faded like a passing breeze.

Peach might act coy, might push and pull enough to tense up. But not with him. Never with
him.

The swirling darkness in Theerakit’s eyes only eased when his secretary approached,
breaking the tense atmosphere, though his frown deepened further.

"Boss, why don’t you eat something?" The secretary offered him a plate of food and deftly
took the wine glass from Thee’s hand. "Drinking wine on an empty stomach will get you
drunk."

"Bring me the spicy squid."

"You don’t eat squid, boss," Mok insisted firmly, his voice steady, though he lied through his
teeth without the slightest hint of guilt.

"Whether I eat it or not is my business—but I want it."

"Maybe you should just tell Peach directly that you’re upset because he didn’t bring you a
souvenir."

Mok sighed, genuinely lamenting the crispy squid snacks still tucked away in his own bag.
Theerakit crossed his arms, lifting his chin slightly, his pride practically tangible.

"Why should I beg for a cheap snack?"

As he said it, he questioned himself. He didn’t like squid. He hated spicy food. And that was
just a common snack, easily found anywhere. Why was he so upset over something so
trivial?

His lips pressed into a thin line as he dismissed the irritation boiling inside him. He wasn’t
willing to waste time analyzing his emotions... not now.

As the young mafia boss wrestled with his thoughts, he didn’t notice the sly, mischievous
glint in Mok’s eyes as his assistant offered him a deceptively sweet smile.

"If it were a gift from Mr. Aran, would you still be this upset, boss?"
Theerakit stiffened. He had almost forgotten that name, but hearing it now brought up an
image of Aran’s impossibly perfect face from a previous promotional shoot. Oddly, he felt
nothing. Just a faint, distant memory, like an old photograph he had long stopped looking at.

He realized his interest had faded so completely that even thinking about Aran felt pointless.

But then... Another face surfaced—Peach’s. That calm smile, his cheeks puffing slightly from
biting into an overstuffed sandwich. The glint of tears sliding down his face like falling gems.

Peach wasn’t conventionally beautiful, not like Aran was. But something about him made
Theerakit’s heart twist in a way he couldn’t explain.

Mok, noticing his boss lost in thought, smiled even wider, unable to resist twisting the knife a
little more. "That’s called being possessive, boss."

In that instant, Mok noticed his boss’s ears turning an intense red. The sharp, intimidating
eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Ridiculous!" Theerakit muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough like a growl—but
the lingering blush robbed the words of any threat.

Smiling silently, Mok mentally upgraded the photographer’s importance in his boss’s life.
Satisfied with his little jab, he stopped teasing... for now. His gaze swept the surroundings,
making sure no one was within earshot. Most of the crowd seemed fixated on the stage,
leaving them alone.

Lowering his voice, Mok switched to business mode, delivering the day’s updates. As
Theerakit’s assistant, he handled all non-critical communications. Everyone in their circles
knew that if they wanted something from the Arseny family, they had to go through him, not
just for security but due to the family’s many hidden agendas. Every matter had to be
funneled through the proper channels.

After a brief pause, Mok looked down before delivering the final report. "Mr. Krich informed
me he’ll be flying to Thailand next week."

Theerakit’s eyebrow arched at the mention of his younger brother. His eyes gleamed with
mischief as he turned to Mok, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "How long is Rome
staying?"

"A month."

"Great. I’ll take the entire month off and leave everything in your hands."

"That’s not happening. There’s still a lot of work to be done," Mok replied firmly, his lips
twitching slightly downward.

"You should get ready to leave, boss," he continued, his tone turning professional again.
"You have an online meeting first thing in the morning."
"Delay the meeting by a couple of hours," Thee ordered, switching to command mode with
his secretary. His mind wandered to someone who was likely working late into the night.
"And prepare me two sets of sandwiches and iced americanos."

Utterly exhausted, Peach slumped into his office chair, barely keeping his eyes open. The
computer screen confirmed his last email had been sent, finally allowing him to collapse with
a sense of relief.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t pulled all-nighters before, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it,
especially after a full day of shooting, only to come home and dive straight into more work.
The routine had left him drained...

He removed his computer glasses and rubbed his temples, trying to ease the ache radiating
from his tired eyes. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that the instant noodles from
earlier had long been digested. He was too exhausted to bother making a proper meal, so
he decided to ignore the hunger and curl up in his chair for a quick nap.

Just as he was about to enjoy the much-needed rest, the shrill sound of his doorbell pierced
the silence like a blade.

Peach groaned, sinking deeper into his chair in stubborn denial. But the incessant ringing
didn’t stop. After a moment of internal whining, he forced his tired body to straighten and
trudged to the door. Standing on his tiptoes, he peeked through the peephole and froze.
Standing on the other side was none other than Thee, looking seconds away from ringing
the bell again. Peach yanked the door open.

"What brings you here so early, Mr. Thee?" he murmured, stifling a yawn so hard tears
welled up in his eyes.

The mafia boss hesitated for a fraction of a second, his stormy gray eyes piercing as they
swept over Peach from head to toe—messy hair, sleepy, teary eyes, an oversized,
stretched-out T-shirt that exposed his collarbones, and shorts barely visible beneath the hem
of the shirt, revealing long, toned legs.

To Peach, this was a perfectly normal at-home outfit. After all, he was about to crash. But for
some reason, Thee’s expression darkened ominously.

Without a word, Thee firmly grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back into the
apartment. His sharp gaze darted toward the condo hallway, searching for potential
witnesses. Once he was sure no one had seen Peach in such a state, he slammed the door
shut and locked it. He turned and shot Peach a hard, disapproving look.

"Your outfit looks indecent. Are you planning to show off to someone?" Thee’s voice came
out low and gruff, his expression stern. Too tired to understand what he meant, Peach simply
frowned in confusion and replied bluntly, unfazed by the intimidating tone.

"I’m about to sleep, so of course I’m in pajamas. What do you expect, a suit?" He paused to
yawn and squeezed his eyes shut as he massaged his temples. "And it’s six in the morning.
Who else would come besides you?"
His face softened instantly, as if someone had flipped a switch. For a moment, Peach could
have sworn there were sparkles shining in the air behind him. Apparently, sarcasm didn’t
register in Thee’s selective hearing.

"Only me, right?" he asked, his voice suddenly light and cheerful.

Peach, still groggy and squinting, could only nod lazily.

Normal people didn’t show up at someone’s house at six in the morning. Ignoring Peach’s
less-than-enthusiastic look, Thee stepped further into the apartment, his long legs moving
with purpose. He grabbed Peach’s arm and guided him to the dining table, pressing him
gently into a chair. It was only then that Peach noticed the two plastic bags Thee was
carrying, releasing a delicious aroma of congee.

"I was going to get that sandwich you like, but Mok said congee would be better," he
explained, frowning slightly as he questioned himself. Peach nodded enthusiastically,
instantly on board. Something light and easy on the stomach was exactly what he needed
after such a long night.

The savory scent of food pulled him a little further out of his daze. Giving Thee a quick
glance, he stood up and, without a second thought, fetched two bowls from the cabinet.
Returning to the table, he carefully opened the bags and poured the hot congee into the
bowls, the white steam lazily floating in the air. He added crispy mini dough sticks, thinly
sliced ginger, and a drizzle of soy sauce for extra flavor. Pushing one bowl toward Thee,
Peach smiled warmly.

"Thank you. Eat with me," Peach said with a wide smile.

Peach’s stomach was growling, and food showing up at his door without him lifting a finger
instantly put him in a better mood.

The young mafia boss paused briefly, his eyes softening in a way that was almost
noticeable.

"Do you want me to buy you a congee shop?"

"No, thanks," Peach declined flatly, already used to Thee’s over-the-top offers. He didn’t take
the suggestion seriously in the slightest.

After finishing the bowl of congee, he felt his stomach comfortably full, and the warmth
spread through his body, making his eyelids even heavier, weighed down like lead. Peach
lazily stacked the empty bowls in the sink and decided to deal with them after waking up
around noon.

"I brought you some coffee; it’s in the fridge. Go get some sleep and have it at noon when
you wake up," the mafia boss said as he followed him to the kitchen, holding a cup from a
popular coffee chain. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he noticed Peach looking drowsy
again.

"I’ll be back at noon to pick you up."

Peach nodded distractedly, barely processing the words. As Thee headed toward the door, a
sudden thought struck him. He called Thee to wait and hurried to his workspace. When he
returned, he was holding a wind chime.

The glass wind chime faded from deep blue at the edges to pure white in the center,
decorated with elegant swirling wave patterns that seemed almost alive. A delicate shell with
a soft pink hue hung from the end, producing a clear, soothing sound with the slightest
movement.

"This is for you. Sorry, it’s a bit late. I painted the waves myself, and it just finished drying,"
Peach said with a proud smile. "They say the sound of wind chimes helps calm the mind.
Maybe you can hang it up and see if it works for you."
WAKE-UP CALL #22

The morning meeting was a joint conference attended by the entire Arseny conglomerate.
With several branches operating overseas, most of the meetings were conducted online via
video calls, allowing representatives to report from different corners of the world. Even
through the cold lens of a camera, the intimidating atmosphere generated by Arseny's heirs
remained as palpable as ever. The company executives not only prepared detailed reports
but also steeled their nerves in anticipation of the usual intensity.

But today, something unexpected happened. You, the young mafia boss, seemed... cheerful.
Not just slightly pleasant—his behavior bordered on outright amiable. His lips even curled
upward at times, almost as if a field of flowers stretched out behind him. The image clashed
absurdly with the stern, ruthless figure everyone was accustomed to.

Yet, no one dared to comment on the strange change. After delivering their reports, the
executives quickly turned off their cameras and logged off, disappearing with almost military
precision. Only two brothers remained on the call, locked in an intense stare.

Krichdanai Rome Arseny, Thee's only younger brother, studied him with narrowed, piercing
gray eyes that sparkled with curiosity. A mischievous smile played on his lips, as if he had
just uncovered a well-kept secret.

"Alright, spill it, Kian. What happened?"

"Nothing," Thee replied, as expressionless as ever. However, Rome immediately

straightened up and pointed an accusatory finger at the camera, as if trying to pierce through
the screen.

"No way! You? In a good mood? Don’t even try to pass that off as ‘normal.’ I’m not buying it."

Leaning back in his chair, Rome's smile widened slightly. His gaze softened, tinged with
genuine warmth. "Seeing me happy for a change isn’t so bad, is it?"

"Creepy!" Rome shot back instantly, though his jab didn’t seem to faze Thee at all.

The Arseny brothers couldn’t have been more different in personality, but their bond was
unbreakable. They had grown up together, shaped by harsh lessons: never trust anyone,
because true friends don’t exist in the mafia world. But one rule stood above all—trust your
brother more than anyone else. No matter how brutal the outside world could be, family was
the only constant. That’s why Thee’s unusually calm demeanor stood out like a beacon to
Rome, impossible to ignore.

Thee’s smile widened a little as he relaxed in his chair, his shoulders visibly loosening. He
reached out to pick up a glass wind chime resting nearby and gently twirled it between his
fingers. "How’s everything on your end? Are Mom and Dad doing well?"

"They’re great. They don’t act like retirees at all," Rome shrugged, though his gaze lingered
on his brother’s hand, still idly toying with the delicate wind chime. "What’s that in your
hand?"
"A wind chime," Thee held it up with quiet pride and turned it so Rome could see. "Pretty,
right? The wave patterns are adorable, and the shell at the bottom is just the right size. Plus,
it sounds beautiful."

Krich rolled his eyes, looking exasperated. "You’re talking about that trinket like it’s worth ten
grand."

"It’s worth more than those expensive designer pieces. You just don’t have an eye for
quality," Thee shot back, his voice sharp as he carefully placed the wind chime back in its
spot, guarding it like a precious relic. He didn’t even glance at his brother’s stunned, ghostly
expression.

"Hey! Kian. What’s going on? Since when do you like decorative knick-knacks like that?"
Rome leaned closer, looking baffled, as if trying to decode some hidden meaning behind the
wind chime. "Is it branded? It doesn’t look expensive."

"I like this one," Thee said, his face hardening slightly. "Is that a problem, Rome? Because if
it is, I can send Mok on an overseas mission for a month next week."

"Whoa, no need for that, Kian!" Rome raised his hands in surrender, his face adopting a
perfect mask of mock deference, like a scolded puppy. "No problem at all! That wind chime
is a masterpiece. A true work of art. I’ve never seen one so exquisite and absolutely
priceless, big bro."

Thee’s expression softened just enough to show approval. Rome smiled, his eyes glinting
with mischief again.

"So... who gave it to you?"

Thee narrowed his eyes coldly and ended the call without another word. He turned his
attention back to the wind chime in his hand.

He knew it wasn’t worth much. The painted waves were uneven, the strokes clumsy, and
there were even spots where the paint had dripped. Normally, he wouldn’t care about
useless decorations. Yet, holding it filled him with warmth.

He cradled it gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The frustrating encounter still lingered in
his mind, but just seeing the wind chime seemed to ease the tension.

"Boss, here are the additional documents from the earlier online meeting."

His secretary, Mok, entered the room after knocking three times with no response. She
glanced at the wind chime in Thee’s hand and sighed inwardly, feeling a wave of pity for the
poor thing. If it were alive, it would probably have withered from overhandling.

"Boss... wind chimes are supposed to be hung up," Mok cautiously reminded him, hoping
Thee hadn’t forgotten its true purpose—not as an improvised stress ball.
"I’m dealing with a serious issue here," the mafia boss murmured coldly, his expression
deadly serious. "Where should I hang it? If I put it in my condo, I won’t see it while I’m at
work. But if I hang it at work, I won’t see it when I go back to the condo."

Mok closed his eyes and silently counted to ten in an effort to stay calm. He stepped forward
and handed him the documents, deliberately ignoring the previous comment.

"These are additional reports from the last meeting," he explained. "And this set is for the
afternoon meeting."

Thee’s focus sharpened at the mention of the afternoon meeting. He had a session
scheduled with Peachayarat. He planned to pick him up at noon—there was no way he’d let
the other drive himself after pulling an all-nighter. It would also be a good excuse to have
lunch together.

As he flipped through the documents, his fingers drummed lightly on the desk.

His mind wandered: he had received a gift, but he had never given Peach anything in return.
He hadn’t even attended the celebration for the successful launch of the fall collection.

"Book me a full omakase course—reserve the entire session. I want a private room," Thee
ordered, looking up from the documents in his hands, which had no relation to the
conversation. "Get the most expensive course. I expect top-tier quality, worth every penny."

Mok blinked a couple of times before letting out a long sigh. Still, she nodded.

If this made his boss happy, maybe—just maybe—he’d finally get that year-end bonus.

………………..

The deafening sound of an alarm woke Peach. He blindly reached out to silence it, groaning
as he forced himself to sit up. His pounding headache was a harsh reminder of his
sleep-deprived state, but with the afternoon meeting looming, staying in bed wasn’t an
option.

Dragging his tired body to the bathroom, he hoped a cold shower would help clear the fog in
his mind. Lately, he had been feeling worse than usual.

Since returning from the beach trip, he thought it was just heat exhaustion; he wasn’t exactly
used to being outdoors, having spent most of his time cooped up inside.

After spending several days under the scorching sun, Peach thought he might feel a little
off—nothing a day of rest couldn’t fix. But he had clearly miscalculated. Since returning, he
had been burning the midnight oil without proper rest, and now his body was making its
protests known.

Once dressed, he headed straight to the medicine cabinet, took a painkiller, and rummaged
through the fridge. The morning porridge had long run out, leaving his stomach growling in
protest.
Thinking about the porridge made him pause. Even through the haze of exhaustion and
near-blinding fatigue, he could still vividly recall...

When Peach handed you the wind chime, the usually stoic man’s expression softened
unmistakably. The corner of Thee’s mouth lifted in a genuine smile, his eyes shining with
quiet delight, like a child receiving the toy they had always wanted. Peach doubted he even
registered what was said afterward.

Curiously, that smile stayed in his mind, etched so deeply that it made his cheeks flush
involuntarily. Peach touched his warm cheeks, dismissing it as a lingering fever, though he
couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

You were quite charming when you weren’t in your usual grumpy, bossy mode.

Snapping back to reality, Peach’s phone rang. He stretched, closed the fridge door, and
checked the caller ID. Seeing the name displayed, he blinked slightly in surprise before
answering without hesitation.

"Hello?"

[Peach, why so formal?] The sweet, familiar voice on the other end made him smile slightly.
Balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder, he went back to searching the fridge for
the coffee Mr. Thee had thoughtfully stored there.

"Nothing, just a little surprised," Peach replied casually, opening the coffee bag and pouring
it over ice. "So, what’s up, Mim? What made you call me out of the blue?"

[What if I said I missed you? Would you believe me?]

"I’ll consider it the day the sun rises in the west." His tone was calm, but a small smile
appeared on his lips. Hearing Mim’s laughter echo through the phone made his smile widen.

Mim was his most recent ex. Their breakup hadn’t been particularly painful for him. She had
asked him out shortly after his previous relationship ended, clearly stating that she was
looking for emotional support and a rebound. Peach hadn’t minded; they were already
somewhat close, so he agreed to give it a try. But when it became clear that his feelings
wouldn’t deepen, they mutually decided to end things.

Her reason for breaking up had been slightly irritating, but not enough for him to hold any
resentment. After all, he hadn’t been able to grow more attached to her either.

[I need a small favor from you], Mim said after her laughter died down, her voice taking on a
playful, persuasive tone. [My boss loves your work, but no matter how hard we tried, we
couldn’t get in touch with you. So... I took the liberty of calling you myself.]

Peach nodded to himself in understanding. He had been on a much-needed vacation,

completely disconnected, relaxing on the beach without a care. He also hadn’t included his
phone number on his work website because he preferred to keep his personal and
professional lives separate.
"So you’re leveraging your old privileges to hire me, huh? But no discounts."

[Please! I was more worried you’d hike up the price for that.] Mim grumbled, clearly aware
that her reason for breaking up hadn’t been the most graceful. [The project is super urgent,
Peach, I’m really sorry for taking a shortcut like this.]

Peach sighed and took another sip of his iced Americano. The bitter taste sharpened his
senses, dispelling some of his lingering fatigue.

"Alright. I get it," he said calmly. "But I’m tied up with a project right now. If the work is urgent,
I might not be able to take it."

[At least meet with my bosses first], Mim pleaded gently. [Then we can go over the details.
Think of it as a chance to catch up over dinner. Are you free tonight? I’ll book your favorite
restaurant.]

Peach frowned thoughtfully, checking his calendar. He only had one meeting scheduled for
the afternoon, with nothing planned for the evening. He had even marked the next day as a
rest day, hoping to catch up on sleep after several late nights.

A quick meeting wouldn’t hurt.

"Alright, but no promises. We’ll discuss the details tonight."

[Deal! I’ll make the reservation. See you tonight!] His voice brightened with excitement
before the line disconnected. Peach exhaled slowly, raising a hand to massage his temples
as the fatigue settled in once more. Just then, his phone vibrated again. This time, the caller
ID showed the name of a certain mafia boss.

For some reason, a strange sense of foreboding ran down his spine. Something told him
things were about to get complicated.
WAKE-UP CALL #23

The afternoon meeting was a complete 180-degree turn from the morning one—day and
night, really. The tension was so thick that even Mok, the ever-patient secretary, could only
sigh inwardly. If she had to trace the root of the problem, it undoubtedly started with what
happened in the car during lunch.

When Peachayarat, freshly dressed and ready, came down from his condo, he was already
getting used to seeing Thee waiting at the main entrance. He didn’t even question it
anymore. He greeted Thee with a cheerful "I’m starving!"—a clear sign that he wanted
company for lunch.

Peach still couldn’t understand why Thee kept accompanying him, but hey, free food was
free food. He didn’t bother arguing. This time, Peach suggested switching things up with
some Thai food. As much as he loved Japanese cuisine, eating it every day was too much.
He even considered suggesting a roadside food stall, but judging by Thee’s polished
appearance, he opted for a proper restaurant.

It was fine. It didn’t affect him at all—he wasn’t the one paying the bill.

While Peach was busy breaking the liquid yolk on his plate, Thee cleared his throat, looking
uncomfortable and a little shy. His ears turned slightly red, though he was trying his hardest
to maintain his composure.

"That night... at the company banquet... you didn’t attend," Thee began hesitantly. "So... I
thought maybe we could celebrate tonight. You did really well on the fall collection project."
His lips curved into a slight smile. "Don’t bother thanking me. It’s only fair to reward good
work."

Peach froze, his mouth slightly open, completely caught off guard. His mind raced as he
blinked in disbelief.

"Uh. I’m sorry, but I already have plans for tonight."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Thee’s expression turned stone-cold. His previously
soft features hardened, and the atmosphere in the room grew dark and heavy. His eyes
narrowed like a predator locking onto its prey.

The Arseny mafia had returned.

"I won’t let you go. You’re coming with me."

"Mr. Thee, I already promised. I can’t just back out," Peach sighed inwardly.

The possessive and unpredictable Thee had resurfaced.

"Who’s the meeting with? I checked your schedule; you have nothing," Thee’s voice was
calm, but irritation seeped through. Feeling cornered, Peach reluctantly mentioned the
client’s company.

"They want to discuss a last-minute project, so they asked me to meet them tonight," he
explained. "But don’t worry, I already told them I have a long-term project to handle. I haven’t
committed to anything yet, and I won’t let it interfere with your work."

"Since when do you meet clients at restaurants? That’s not your usual style," Thee’s eyes
narrowed with suspicion.

"A friend of mine set it up," Peach replied calmly. "I thought I’d combine work with catching
up over dinner." He paused, realizing where this was going.

"Am I not your friend?" Thee asked dryly. Peach fell silent, baffled by the unexpected
question. He wanted to ask, *Since when were we close enough to be friends?* but he
thought better of it.

Against his will, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. He couldn’t deny the warmth he felt,
like a hazy comfort settling in his chest. Ever since that day when Thee let his guard down
and cried in front of him, Peach felt... something had changed. Somehow, this complicated,
intense man had become a strange kind of safe space.

Even if being in that "safe space" came with a bit of emotional whiplash.

"The other meeting was scheduled first," Peach reasoned gently, knowing he shouldn’t fight
fire with fire. "I already gave my word. You didn’t book me in advance, Thee. Maybe you
could... ask next time before deciding something that involves me."

"Why are they more important than me?"

Peach blinked at the sarcastic remark, feeling a sudden sting behind his eyes. What answer
could possibly satisfy you when you asked that?

"It’s not about who’s more important. I have a work meeting; it’s a real commitment," Peach
explained, pressing his lips together.

Thee’s intense gaze fixed on him, sharp and unyielding. "Maybe you shouldn’t take the job.
You’re already overworked."

"If I stop working, how am I supposed to eat?"

He bit back the urge to point out that he wasn’t as rich as Thee. "Besides, for the past three
months, the only thing I’ve done is your projects."

Thee’s expression softened, though he conveniently chose to only hear the words *All I’ve
done is yours.* Satisfied for a brief moment, he pressed on, still unwilling to back down.

"I’ve seen your schedule. You have a lot of jobs lined up. Skipping this one won’t kill you."
"It’s just a meeting. I haven’t even agreed to take on the project yet."

"Then don’t go," Thee replied immediately, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "I’m
serious. You don’t need to work anymore."

Peach let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples to ease the growing headache. "And what
would I live on if I stopped working?"

"I’ll take care of you." Thee’s quick response was laced with satisfaction, as if he had found
the perfect solution. But Peach’s frown deepened, irritation creeping into his voice.

"You expect me to mooch off you? What kind of friend supports someone for life?" He
exhaled slowly, struggling to maintain his composure. He needed every ounce of self-control
not to snap at Thee’s exasperating stubbornness.

Thee’s intense gaze remained fixed, his expression hardening with determination.

"I can take care of you—for life if necessary."

Peach froze, feeling something odd in Thee’s statement. Surely, he only meant paying for
occasional meals. It couldn’t be more... right?

He forced a polite, distant smile.

"No, thank you. I love my work, and I already have plans for tonight. I won’t trouble you."

Thee’s frown deepened at Peach’s firm tone, sensing the resolve in his words. Reluctantly,
he shifted his stance, though backing down went against his nature.

"I just wanted to celebrate you," Thee’s voice softened, though the annoyance still lingered.
He crossed his arms and looked away, as if dismissing his own vulnerability. "I didn’t want
anyone saying that one works harder than the rest and never gets anything in return."

Peach sighed quietly, his irritation melting into something softer. Dealing with you sometimes
felt like navigating a stormy sea—unpredictable and relentless.

"You already raised my contract fee," Peach replied evenly, restoring his usual calm tone.

"That’s different." Thee’s eyes returned to him, gleaming with something unreadable. His
voice dropped to a growl. "It’s almost impossible to book the restaurant tonight. If you miss it,
you might never get another chance."

"I have a work appointment."

Thee cursed under his breath, clearly frustrated. An awkward silence settled between them,
lingering through the rest of the meal and even as they moved to the meeting room. Thee’s
scowl remained intact, his narrowed eyes radiating irritation as if he were still mentally
battling the unresolved tension.
Even now, as he presented the winter collection, Thee sat at the head of the table, his face
dark and stormy, as if he couldn’t be more disappointed with the designs, despite not uttering
a single word of criticism during the presentation.

The confusion wasn’t limited to outsiders; even Thee himself couldn’t understand why he
was so irritated. His blood boiled when he realized the photographer had chosen someone
else over him. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t Peach’s fault—it was his for not coordinating
properly. But Thee was used to Peach choosing him first. Every. Single. Time.

This was the first time Thee had been outright rejected. It hit him hard—he hadn’t realized
that for the past three months, Peach had been working almost exclusively on his projects,
leaving little room for anyone else.

Would Peach disappear once this project concluded?

The thought struck Thee like a punch to the gut. His frustration transformed into restless
anxiety, especially after seeing Peach’s unwavering eyes when he firmly refused. The
rejection unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

And it wasn’t just that. Something else gnawed at him—a bad feeling he couldn’t shake.

He had looked into Peach’s background before. He knew Peach didn’t have many close
friends, just a small circle of people he truly trusted.

And most importantly, the company Peach mentioned in passing? The background check
clearly indicated it was the workplace of Peach’s most recent ex, whom he had broken up
with not long ago.

Thee clenched his jaw. The presentation continued, but nothing registered. His mind buzzed
with restless thoughts, despite his attempts to reason with himself that it might just be a
coincidence. Maybe someone else from the company had reached out, maybe it had nothing
to do with her.

But no matter how he rationalized it, his irritation burned even hotter. He hated the idea of
Peach meeting that ex again.

"Boss, is everything okay?"

Mok’s voice pulled Thee out of his thoughts. He shifted slightly, and his eyes fixed on the
image displayed on the screen. He recognized the photographer’s work instantly. Peach’s
style was unmistakable—hauntingly beautiful, even with minimal equipment. Somehow,
Peach had evoked a lonely year-end winter scene, with the soft glow of scattered Christmas
lights shining throughout the frame.

Thee’s expression softened involuntarily. Seeing Peach’s elegant signature in the corner of
the photo, the suffocating tension that had been weighing down the room dissipated.

Everything about Peach still managed to get under his skin.

"No problem. We’ll proceed with this," Thee finally said, nodding to his assistant and
signaling to the others. "Meeting adjourned."

Mok raised an eyebrow at his boss’s unusually distant behavior but said nothing. Mentally,
he noted that he’d need to draft a full summary of the meeting later; clearly, Thee hadn’t
heard a word of what was said.

Once the room began to empty, Thee casually flipped through the meeting notes while
waiting for everyone to leave. Finally, he stood up, ready to leave as well, but just as he
crossed the threshold, someone lightly tugged on his suit jacket. The pull wasn’t strong, but
it was enough to stop him.

He turned, ready to snap at whoever dared to grab him, but he froze when he saw Peach
standing there, looking hesitant and... vulnerable.

Peach bit his lip, his eyes wide and uncertain, almost pleading without realizing it. Thee
inhaled sharply, feeling as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. His heart pounded so
hard it startled him.

"What is it?" Thee asked, clearing his throat and keeping his voice steady—despite the
flicker of emotion in his eyes. He glanced down at the small hand still clutching his jacket,
fearing Peach might notice the intensity burning in his gaze.

Fortunately, Mok was very discreet. The moment she saw Peach grab Thee’s jacket, she
quietly slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her, making sure no one else
stumbled upon the sight of her usually cold and untouchable boss standing there with a faint,
unmistakable smile lighting up his face.

Peach looked confused, as if he couldn’t understand why he had run after Thee and grabbed
his jacket in the first place. His teeth bit down on his lower lip, tight with unease. Without
thinking, Thee gently ran his thumb over that tense lip, slow and deliberate.

"Don’t bite. You’ll hurt yourself," Thee murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. The
warmth and softness lingering on his thumb felt too good—too comforting—to let go of so
easily. His heart, which had just begun to calm, raced again.

He wanted to touch him more and more.

Peach blinked, releasing his lip as instructed, still looking unsure of himself. After a long
sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number, his hand still clutching
Thee’s jacket as if letting go wasn’t an option. Thee made no move to pull away. He didn’t
even consider telling him to let go.

In fact, replacing that grip with holding hands didn’t sound so bad.

"Hey, it’s me... Peach," the photographer greeted the person on the other end of the line.
Thee couldn’t hear the response, but he stayed close, straining to listen.

"About our meeting tonight... Can we reschedule? Something urgent came up."
Thee’s head snapped up, his eyes widening and gleaming with something suspiciously close
to hope. If he had ears and a tail, they’d already be perked up and wagging.

Peach never canceled appointments—never. Not unless it was something serious like an
accident or sudden illness. His professionalism was practically legendary.

Was it too much to hope... that Peach canceled for him?

"Tomorrow works, of course. I’m sorry, Mim."

The name slipped from Peach’s lips so naturally, so softly... and in an instant, the warmth
surging through Thee froze. His sharp eyes narrowed, suspicion howling louder than ever in
his mind.

He remembered that name very well... Peach’s most recent ex.

Thee crossed his arms, waiting until Peach finished the call. When Peach finally turned, he
lightly tugged on Thee’s jacket, silently asking for attention. Those wide, expressive eyes
looked up at him with a touch of playful innocence, and his lips curved into a sweet,
persuasive smile.

"I’m free tonight... Do you want to take me somewhere, Thee?"

Thee froze, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at that smile. A faint blush crept up his
cheeks, traveling all the way to his ears. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing
visibly. Something deep within him stirred, restless and undeniable.

No matter how much he enjoyed the moment, the memory of Peach’s ex’s name still gnawed
at the back of his mind, fueling a slowly burning irritation.

He closed his eyes briefly, regaining his composure. When he opened them again, his
expression was cold and unreadable, as if nothing had happened.

"Let’s go. I’ll take you there."

He turned and walked ahead, feeling a slight pang of disappointment when Peach finally let
go of his jacket. Sliding his hand into his pocket, Thee pulled out his phone and typed a
message to his secretary with practiced speed.

A full report on all of Peach’s exes by tomorrow!

WAKE-UP CALL #24

Peach wasn’t much of a talker by nature. When they ate together, it was usually a quiet
affair—just the sound of utensils gently clinking against plates, with neither of them feeling
the need to force a conversation. It was that kind of comfortable silence that wrapped around
them like a warm blanket. Before you knew it, Thee had become addicted to that quiet
companionship.

But tonight was different. Despite it being a celebration, Thee had planned...

Despite choosing a high-end Japanese restaurant, he knew Peach would love it...

Despite booking an extravagant omakase course, Peach had once mentioned wanting to
try...

Even in such a nice place, the atmosphere between them felt tense, almost suffocating, as if
the air was too thick to breathe.

Thee glanced at Peach, sitting still and silent beside him. His face was unreadable, his usual
warmth reduced to a faint, polite smile every time he accepted a dish from the chef behind
the wooden counter. Even that smile never reached his eyes.

Thee’s chest tightened with frustration. He couldn’t ignore the growing discomfort gnawing at
his stomach, and patience had never been his strong suit. Turning fully toward Peach, he
crossed his arms, his brows furrowed. His narrowed eyes practically burned with suppressed
irritation, craving release.

But lashing out at Peach wouldn’t solve anything, no matter how tempting it seemed.

"Are you mad at me?" Thee asked bluntly, his voice carrying a rough edge he couldn’t hide.

Subtlety had never been Thee’s forte. He was used to speaking with precision and
determination, whether negotiating business deals or giving calculated orders. But when it
came to emotions he hadn’t planned for, his words always came out unpolished and painfully
direct.

Peach blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the intensity in Thee’s tone. After a moment,
he took a small sip of tea before finally turning to Thee.

Thee’s gaze was as calm and steady as ever.

"I wouldn’t say I’m mad, but I’m definitely not happy," Peach said calmly, his voice as firm as
ever. He had never been one for sarcasm or beating around the bush. "You made me break
my word about work, and of course, that’s going to upset me."

Thee pressed his lips together, understanding the words but unable to shake the irritation
bubbling under his skin. The name Peach had casually mentioned earlier and the soft tone
he’d used to say it only made his frustration grow.

"Ha! Is it about work or the person you were supposed to meet?"

The mafia boss almost bit his tongue the moment the words left his mouth. The long sigh
Peach let out in response only made Thee’s fists clench tighter, his knuckles turning white
from the pressure.

"Mr. Thee, can you be reasonable for a moment? I don’t know what’s going through your
head, but what you did wasn’t right," Peach’s voice softened, as if trying to calm a stubborn
child throwing a tantrum.

"It doesn’t matter who I had the appointment with or what it was about. If I made a promise,
it’s my responsibility to keep it unless there’s an unavoidable emergency. That’s just basic
courtesy."

Theerakit pressed his lips together and looked away. He knew he was being scolded. If
anyone else had spoken to him like that, he wouldn’t have even bothered listening. At best,
they’d get a cold laugh before he made them regret daring to cross him.

But with Peachayarat? He felt utterly defeated. Frustrated, cornered, and unable to do
anything about it.

"So, you’re saying someone else is more important than me?"

"I’m not saying anyone is more important than anyone else. It’s about keeping promises and
respecting others," Peach replied with unwavering seriousness, refusing to back down an
inch.

The cold look in Peach’s eyes and his stoic, unreadable expression made Thee’s chest
tighten uncomfortably. That sharp. The sinking feeling drowned out the heat of his anger in
an instant, leaving him feeling inexplicably empty.

"If I had told you in advance, it wouldn’t have been a surprise," Thee said softly, his voice
losing its earlier edge. For the first time, he was starting to realize that maybe he wouldn’t
win this argument. He never would have. He’d been in openers like this before, and he
certainly wasn’t used to not having a smart retort ready.

"Then you have to accept the risk that comes with it."

The mafia boss glanced at Peach, who seemed to have calmed down a bit, though he still
wasn’t back to his usual self. Thee would have preferred Peach complaining or scolding him
like he always did, rather than staying silent like this. This silence felt like a wall slowly
building between them, pushing Peach further away.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Thee reached out and gently grasped Peach’s
wrist. His touch was light, almost hesitant, as if testing the waters. When Peach didn’t pull
away, his fingers slid down to his palm, holding it carefully.

"You’re still mad at me for something else," Thee said, his brows furrowing. The tension in
Peach’s behavior hadn’t completely faded, and it left Thee feeling unusually unsure of
himself.
It was strange—letting someone else’s emotions affect him this way. Aside from his family,
Thee had never cared about anyone’s feelings, for better or worse. He’d never let himself be
swayed by anyone’s mood, and all those who irritated him had met an unceremonious end.

But he couldn’t act that way with Peach. The memory of the red marks he’d left on Peach’s
wrist haunted him, gnawing at him. He hated the idea of hurting the man in any way, hated
even more the idea of someone else doing it. And yet, Peach’s tacit irritation made him feel
like he was walking on a bed of nails.

Peach finally pulled his hand away and turned to accept another piece of sushi from the
chef. He savored it slowly, leaving Thee to stew in the silence. Only after wiping his hands
with a wet towel did Peach finally look at him, his expression calm but serious.

"Why do you think I’m upset, Mr. Thee?"

"Aside from forcing you to come here, what else could it be?" Thee murmured, a hint of
unexpected vulnerability slipping into his tone.

Thee had booked this place with Peach in mind, but here he was, being scolded instead of
thanked. Though he understood the reasoning, he couldn’t help the pang of hurt.

Since when did Theerakit have to feel hurt by someone?

Thee propped his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, turning his face with a pout
that could be seen from outside the restaurant. But Peach? He didn’t seem the least bit
fazed, looking more exasperated than anything.

Why does he always have to look so fed up with me?

"And what do you think you did to upset me?" Peach asked calmly, not answering but
flipping the question back at him. There was no sarcasm, just seriousness.

"You’ve asked me twice now, which means you must have some idea of what you did
wrong."

The mafia boss pressed his lips together, his eyes darting around to avoid Peach’s gaze.
Meanwhile, Peach waited patiently, making no effort to rush him, as if giving him time to
figure it out on his own. The silence stretched uncomfortably until Thee finally spoke.

"You didn’t like it when I said I’d take care of the bill, did you?" He frowned, searching his
thoughts for anything that might have upset Peach. "Why? Doesn’t everyone like money?
Even when I work, I think about profits and gains."

"Of course, everyone wants money. I want money too," Peach replied, nodding. "There are
times I wish I could stay in bed all day and have money magically appear in my account."
Peach nodded, but just as Thee was about to retort, Peach raised a hand to stop him, as if
training a dog to wait.

Thee’s brows furrowed slightly at the thought, but when his eyes met Peach’s calm, clear
gaze, his irritation faded. Fine, he thought reluctantly. I’ll play along.
"But aside from money, I also love what I do. Do you know how much I had to struggle for
this? I took any job that came my way, anything that could pay. For a long time, it was just
Plub and me. We only had each other." Peach continued, his tone firm and free of self-pity,
not seeking sympathy or suggesting his struggles had been particularly tragic. Peach wasn’t
the type to wallow in misfortune.

"I knew I loved photography. But back then, doing what I loved felt like an unbearable
burden. Cameras are expensive, and turning something I was passionate about into a career
that could support both me and my brother? It seemed impossible." Peach went on. His gaze
fell as a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a nostalgic warmth creeping into his
voice. He paused, and his fingers traced the edge of the table as if tracing memories from
the past. "I waited. I snuck into galleries just to see the exhibits. I picked up discarded
cameras, fixed them, and used them. Even with those secondhand, banged-up ones, I was
happy just to be able to take pictures."

Peach’s tone was calm, firm, with no trace of bitterness or melodrama. Yet, you could feel
the weight of every word, the mix of pain, ambition, and quiet determination. It wasn’t pitiful;
if anything, it made Peach shine brighter, his resilience and passion turning those hardships
into something extraordinary.

"It took me a long time to get here. A lot of people gave me opportunities, helped me get to
where I am now, to become a full-fledged photographer." Peach admitted, looking at Thee
with a faint smile that carried hope and a hint of vulnerability. His eyes softened, but his
voice grew firm.

"That’s why I didn’t feel good when you told me to stop working. Maybe my work doesn’t
seem as important as yours, but I love what I do."

Thee’s frown deepened as he listened, absorbing the weight of Peach’s words. He could feel
the guilt sinking into him, something unfamiliar and unsettling. And when he saw the nervous
flicker in Peach’s gaze, a mix of apprehension and fear, his chest tightened.

He’d seen that look before. Once. Back then, he’d sworn to himself he never wanted to see it
again. Yet, there it was, staring right at him. And the worst part? He was the one who caused
it... again.

He’d never felt so angry at himself before.

"I was wrong. I didn’t think about how you’d feel," Thee said quietly, his voice strained with
regret. Peach’s expression softened a little, but it still felt like he was waiting for something
more. "How can I make it up to you? I didn’t mean to make you feel that way."

"You already know what I want," Peach said with a faint smile, his gaze settling on the new
plate of sushi the chef had placed in front of him. "But be careful, Thee. If you wait too long
to say the right words, they might lose all their meaning."

Thee frowned, his mind racing. He’d always been the type to throw money at a problem, but
he knew that approach wouldn’t work with Peach.
The memory of that wide, bright smile, the first one he’d seen on Peach, flashed in his mind.
He wanted to see that smile again. Not this distant, somber look.

"I’m sorry."

His voice was firm, the weight of his words reflected in the smoky gray of his eyes as he held
Peach’s gaze. He wanted him to feel the sincerity, to know he truly regretted his actions.
Peach froze for a moment before a small smile began to curve at the corners of his lips. It
wasn’t as radiant as before, but it was warm, with a touch of sweetness and quiet
satisfaction. Thee exhaled deeply. The air between them hadn’t completely cleared, but at
least the suffocating tension had dissipated, replaced by a subtle, delicate warmth.
Unconsciously, a soft smile appeared on Thee’s face. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad
either.

Not far away, his secretary discreetly let out a sigh of relief. For the first time in what felt like
years, he could finally breathe.

He watched his boss for a moment, his expression caught somewhere between
exasperation and disbelief. Was he imagining it, or did Thee suddenly look like a big dog
wagging its tail in delight?

Well, at least someone had managed to keep you in check. That was progress.

Mok let his thoughts wander for a moment before snapping back to reality when he felt a
vibration in his chest pocket. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen, frowning
slightly at the caller ID. After a quick glance toward Thee to confirm the situation was under
control, he gestured for one of the bodyguards to take over and quietly slipped out of the
dining room.

Walking down a side corridor, he answered the call with his usual serene tone. "Hello."

[Oh, don’t sound so distant. You’re making me feel lonely,] said the playful voice on the other
end of the line, joking enough to make Mok roll his eyes, even though the caller couldn’t see
him.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Krich?"

[You’re really not going to call me Rome like you used to?] The voice on the other end
softened, sounding heartbreakingly sad.

…But Mok knew better than to fall for that act.

[Don’t worry, you can save it for when we’re in bed, right?]

Before Krich could finish his sentence, the sad tone shifted to something sly and teasing,
mixed with perverse amusement. Mok pinched the bridge of his nose, a sharp headache
taking hold. He could already feel the need for a painkiller.

Keeping his voice calm and neutral, he shut down any opportunity for further mischief. "So,
do you actually have something important to discuss?"
[Alright, alright, very serious, Mr. Secretary! And here I am, missing you so much.]

"If there’s nothing urgent, I’ll hang up now."

[Wait! Wait! I just want to know: does my brother really have someone in his life now?]
Krich’s tone shifted again, this time with genuine curiosity. The serious note in Krich’s voice
made Mok pause, his finger hovering over the disconnect button. He knew how much Krich
cared about his brother. Despite the constant backstabbing among other mafia families, the
Arseny brothers were fiercely loyal to each other and willing to die for one another if
necessary.

Having been raised alongside the two brothers since childhood, Mok knew better than
anyone how unbreakable their bond was.

"No, he doesn’t," Mok replied after a moment, frowning slightly as he considered his words.
"To be more precise, it’s like he has someone in mind, but nothing’s progressed yet."

The laughter that burst from Krich on the other end of the line was loud and full of mischief.
Mok relaxed a bit, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes sparkled with
amusement.

[Nothing official, huh? But who knows, things might have progressed behind the scenes.]
Rome’s voice still carried a trace of laughter as he tried to sound serious again. [No, wait.
Kian hates skinship. And let’s be real, he doesn’t take orders from anyone.]

Mok arched a brow slightly, recalling the wistful look in Thee’s eyes when Peach took his
hand and how obediently he acted, almost like a dog with perked ears and a wagging tail.
He couldn’t help the faint smile that curved at the corner of his lips.

"I think you might need to update your information, Mr. Krich."

[Really? Well, then stopping by next week should be interesting,] Rome chuckled, his
surprise evident. Then, on cue, his voice shifted to a playful, sugary tone. [But you know I’d
only go there for you. My whole heart and soul are yours, Mok.]

Mok’s expression turned to one of exasperation. "If you have no real business, I’ll hang up,"
he replied, his tone flat.

Rome laughed again, feigning offense. [What a cold heart,] he complained before his voice
turned genuine.

[I miss you.]

Mok didn’t respond. Instead, he ended the call silently, clutching the phone tightly to his
chest. The loud thumping of his heart startled even himself, and his cheeks burned so much
that he bit his cheek to keep from smiling.

Dealing with the Arseny brothers is equally exhausting… both of them.

WAKE-UP CALL #25

Peach dragged himself home, his chest heavy with confusion and exhaustion that seemed to
crush him from the inside out.

It had been an incredibly long day for him. The physical and emotional fatigue left him
completely drained, with no desire to move or do anything. To make matters worse, the mild
fever he’d been battling hinted that the effects of the medication he’d taken at lunch had
completely worn off.

After sleeping through the night in a long stretch, Peach felt a little better the next morning.
While he wasn’t fully recovered, the symptoms were much less severe than the day before.

Once he freshened up and had a light breakfast, he headed to the café where he’d agreed to
meet Mim. Since he had no work left to resolve today, he decided to leave home earlier than
planned. At least that way, he’d have time to grab a coffee beforehand.

The café they’d chosen was a medium-sized establishment offering a wide variety of drinks,
savory dishes, and desserts. It was a place Peach had frequented often when he and Mim
were still together. But after their breakup, his tight schedule had prevented him from visiting
again.

Peach ordered a coffee and then looked for a seat. He chose a table by the window
overlooking the garden, thinking it would be easy for Mim to spot him when she arrived.
Plus, the view of the green leaves was comforting—a welcome relief for his tired mind.

The young photographer set his coffee cup on the table and leaned back in his chair. His
gaze drifted aimlessly toward the outdoor garden as his thoughts once again returned to
yesterday.

---

Normally, Peach was calm and level-headed, not someone who lost his temper easily. But
the mafia heir’s words from the previous day had managed to get under his skin. Yet, in the
end, he softened and rescheduled his plans to accommodate him.

However, he was growing more and more confused. He was usually a calm person, but he
wasn’t someone who was easily swayed, especially when it came to work—he was stricter
than anyone. The only exception was Plub, for whom he’d soften without hesitation.

But who would’ve thought he’d find himself unexpectedly vulnerable to this mafia boss?

Peach stared out the window, lost in thought. Yesterday, he’d received an apology from the
young mafioso, the first of its kind. It had been awkward and uncertain, but somehow sincere
and genuine. He could feel the real remorse behind those words.

Beyond the sincerity, there was something subtly sweet lingering beneath the surface.
He frowned and felt his heart skip an unexpected beat. Earlier, when he’d received that
apology with such a serious look, he’d already felt a momentary flutter. He’d dismissed it as
a mere impression, but now his heart wavered once more.

Wavering? What nonsense! This was a man, and none other than a mafia boss. Besides,
Thee was the one interested in him!

He dropped his head onto the table with a loud thud, the confusion inside deepening. He
repeatedly told himself to get a grip. Even though he couldn’t see how Mr. Thee and Aran
could connect, he knew Mr. Thee would never be interested in someone like him.

Wait a minute! Why was he even concerned about whether Thee liked him? He wasn’t
interested in this guy at all!

He almost pulled his hair out, feeling like he’d become too sentimental lately. He’d always
dated women. There was no way he could fall for this man, no matter how endearing he
might be, like a big, stubborn dog trying hard to obey while maintaining his pride and bristling
fur.

And that wind chime wasn’t helping him gain clarity, contrary to what any advertisement
might claim.

The young photographer straightened up and let out a long sigh. He slowly swirled his coffee
cup, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

At that moment, he was caught in a haze of uncertainty, struggling to regain his emotional
balance as quickly as possible.

He was taking another sip of coffee when a slender woman approached him. She had
elegant proportions, a voluptuous bust, and curvy hips. Her face was striking and
meticulously made up. With her fitted dress and ten-centimeter heels, she looked even more
dazzling.

"Hey, Peach. I see you’re still married to coffee," she greeted casually, waving from a
distance.

Peach looked up and stood to meet her, his lips stretching into a bright smile. "Mim, looking
as beautiful as ever," he teased. "These ten-centimeter stilettos don’t scare you even a little,
do they?"

"Don’t even start," she warned, seeing that he was about to dig up some old, embarrassing
memory of her early attempts at wearing high heels. This made him chuckle softly.

---

Mim was about to say something more when another man entered the café. Her demeanor
instantly transformed. She straightened up, becoming a consummate professional,
extending her hand formally.

"Good morning, Mr. Peach. This is Mr. Touch, my boss, whom I mentioned earlier."
Peach offered a faint smile, momentarily tempted to tease his friend but decided against it.
He turned to greet the newcomer.

"Hello, Mr. Touch. I apologize for the last-minute change yesterday that inconvenienced you
and Miss Mim."

"Not at all," Touch responded with a genuine smile. "I’m really happy to meet you."

Peach simply smiled back, discreetly studying the other man. Touch was tall, with
well-defined muscles and fair skin. He wore rectangular glasses that framed his sharp,
distinctly Chinese features, giving him a handsome, almost sophisticated look. While Thee
might be the annoying, unreliable mafia type with an international bad-boy aesthetic, Touch
seemed clean-cut—more like a polished, intelligent young professional.

"I apologize for being so direct in calling. Mim mentioned you don’t like business calls much,
but this matter is quite urgent," Touch said, bowing slightly. His politeness made Peach feel a
little uncomfortable.

"I just want a bit of privacy, that’s all," Peach offered a faint smile, quickly steering the
conversation toward business. "So, what kind of project are you working on, Mr. Touch? I’m
currently busy with a long-term project for Arseny, so I might not be able to take on large
tasks or ones requiring extensive travel at the moment."

"I understand," Touch responded with a soft smile and a slight nod, his eyes gleaming with
an intense shine. "Actually, I’ve just opened a new modeling agency. I have two or three
models signed, and I was hoping you could help me shoot the promotional launch for them."

Peach nodded. In an era where online media held enormous influence, the first promotional
shoot for new models was crucial not only for individual reputations but for the entire
agency’s image.

"I only have three models. We’d shoot in the studio, no out-of-town locations. Just two or
three shots per model for the promotion would be perfect," Touch continued enthusiastically,
his seriousness making Peach smile.

"That should work. I can probably finish it in a day," Peach did a quick mental calculation.
"But I might need to clarify some things first. I’d say in about three or four days. Are you in a
hurry, Mr. Touch?"

"Not at all," Touch nodded vigorously, his demeanor serious. "I’m a huge admirer of your
work. Having you shoot our launch would be an incredible start for my agency."

Peach looked at that genuine smile and sighed silently. He hesitated—normally, he didn’t like
taking on additional projects. But next week, he had some free time while other teams
finalized their winter collections before moving on to summer lines. Plus, after postponing
their meeting yesterday and seeing Touch’s continued effort to meet, a mix of guilt and
consideration took hold of him.

Finally, the young photographer offered a faint smile.

"I’m happy to work with you, Mr. Touch."

---

Across the street, within sight of the café, a sleek black European car with tinted windows
sat idly.

Inside, a tall Russian mafia boss sat with his legs crossed, visibly irritated. A large iPad
rested in his hands, displaying documents he was supposed to be reading, but his smoky
gray eyes were fixed on the tall, slender figure inside the café.

Damn it! He was furious seeing Peach dining with his ex, both smiling broadly.

He could only watch, boiling with frustration. He knew full well he’d made a mistake
yesterday and deserved to be angry, but that didn’t mean he was happy to see the other
man sitting and smiling with his ex.

And why was that guy getting so close to Peach?!

The young man clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes dangerously. He was ready to
storm into the café if that guy dared to touch his person.

Mok glanced at his boss through the rearview mirror and sighed softly, thinking about the
morning’s instructions for an "out-of-place visit." The young secretary, after consulting the
schedule, wondered when exactly this visit would take place. But with no meetings or
appointments, he’d simply driven there without questioning.

Not that he could argue. The large iPad in the young mafia boss’s hands was effectively
open to work.

And technically, they were out of the office.

"Boss, if you go in now, Mr. Peach will be furious," Mok warned in a flat tone, a hint of a
smile dancing in his eyes. Thee clicked his tongue against his cheek, knowing full well that
as much as he wanted to grab someone by the neck right now, he couldn’t risk making
Peach angry again.

"Do you have any information?" Thee asked, not taking his eyes off the slender figure in the
café.

"I’ve sent the information about Mr. Peach’s ex," Mok reported calmly, unfazed by the
unusual request. By now, anything related to Peach had become Thee’s top priority.

"As for the client’s background, I expect to have it by this afternoon."

Thee grunted in acknowledgment, still frowning as he reluctantly turned his attention back to
the documents displayed on his iPad.
From the driver’s seat, Mok reviewed his own files on his tablet but couldn’t help sneaking a
glance at his boss. The tension on Thee’s sharp, brooding face remained stubbornly fixed,
prompting Mok to break the silence.

"You know this isn’t normal, right?"

The shift in how he addressed Thee didn’t go unnoticed by either of them. This wasn’t a
subordinate speaking to his employer—it was a childhood friend dropping the formalities.
Though raised as a foster son to become the right-hand man of the next Arseny family head,
Mok was more than just an assistant. He was the only true friend Thee had allowed into his
guarded world.

"I know," Thee murmured, his anger turning into restless frustration.

"Good," Mok nodded, his tone firm and warm. He returned to his work but added casually, "I
like seeing the two of you together. But if you’re not careful, you could lose him."

He was fully aware that what he felt wasn’t normal. He knew he had issues when it came to
dealing with people; he always had. He’d never cared what anyone outside the family
thought of him. As someone situated at the top of the power hierarchy, he’d never needed to.

Mok was his friend—trustworthy. But what he felt for Peach was much deeper. Peach wasn’t
just someone he liked having around—he was someone Thee wanted to cherish... but also
possess completely.

Peach was sweetness wrapped in steel—a rare, precious soul that Thee was desperate to
protect... and too obsessed with to let slip through his fingers.

His gaze, his smile, his voice, even the smallest, most trivial details—he wanted them all to
belong solely to him.

For the first time, he understood what his younger brother had once said about falling for
someone.

It seemed... he liked Peach.

The moment he admitted it, his heart beat wildly, as if affirming the discovery. A soft warmth
seeped into his chest, wrapping him securely, leaving him willingly trapped by the feeling.

He frowned deeply, unwilling to accept how real this emotion felt. Every one of his actions
betrayed him. He’d never liked anyone before... not really. He’d been with men and women
of all kinds, none of whom had stirred anything inside him. Yet here he was, completely
wrecked by a straightforward, sensible photographer with no trace of flirtation in him.

The vibration of his phone in his jacket pocket broke his thoughts. He pulled it out hastily,
narrowing his eyes as he read the brief message:

PE@CH: Want coffee? I’m at a café and can get you one.

I need to get one for Plub anyway.

At that, the corners of Thee’s mouth lifted into a rare, genuine smile, a warmth reaching his
usually cold, sharp eyes.

There was no avoiding it. He really liked Peach... a lot.

His gaze drifted back to the café, seeing Peach talking to someone with that familiar, kind
smile. At that moment, the vast world around him narrowed until only one person remained
in focus.

The first thing he needed to learn was how to respect what Peach wanted, no matter how
frustrating it might be for someone used to being in control.

"Let’s head back. I need to be a good boy and wait for my coffee at the office," he murmured
with a faint smile, not bothering to explain whether his secretary understood what he was
saying as the car smoothly drove down the street, leaving behind a much lighter
atmosphere.

For now, he just needed to be patient—a good boy waiting quietly. He’d weave his way into
Peach’s life, seamlessly becoming an inseparable part of it.

Until the day came when he could tie Peach to him completely and never let him escape
again.
WAKE-UP CALL #26

Peach couldn’t shake the feeling that something strange was going on around him.

Well, not exactly around him, but with a certain someone who was acting oddly enough to
keep him on edge.

"Mr. Peach, I’ve brought you breakfast," announced a familiar black-clad bodyguard,
standing stiffly at his door.

Peach frowned in confusion. For three days straight, the same man had been delivering
breakfast and an Americano directly to his door. When he asked who was sending it, the
man only replied that it was on the boss’s orders. Apparently, the boss knew Peach often
skipped breakfast despite having gastritis, so he’d ordered meals to be delivered to him
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.

The first day, Peach had been so baffled he almost felt paranoid. Sure, Mr. Thee had treated
him to fancy dinners before, even once bringing breakfast to his room. But arranging daily
meal deliveries via a bodyguard? This 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, refused so firmly it seemed like stepping into the room might
trigger a life-or-death crisis.

Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, Peach let it go with a polite gesture and retreated
inside with the breakfast in hand.

---

However, the meal deliveries weren’t the only strange thing. Mr. Thee’s behavior had
become equally peculiar.

Lately, Peach had been busy with new shoots and tests for the summer collection campaign.
Determined to clear some off-hours work, he planned to free up time to help with a project
he’d promised Mr. Touch days ago.

He planned to use his downtime for about a week while other departments focused on
wrapping up their winter collection projects.

Two days of reshoots and one day of costume tests were ahead, and as he prepared, the
CEO, who should’ve been swamped with work and too busy to care about one of the
company’s many projects, was sitting cross-legged in a corner of the studio.

Peach crossed his arms, completely baffled. They were now using Studio A, the large studio,
and in a corner where one could clearly observe the work without disturbing others. There, a
large leather couch had been placed, complete with a small coffee table for placing things.
At first, he wondered where the couch had come from, but when he saw the tall figure of the
young man casually lounging on it, holding a large iPad likely open with some documents,
his curiosity shifted.

He was no longer surprised by the sudden appearance of the couch, but he was intrigued as
to why this mafia boss was there.

The photographers had been buzzing with rumors that Mr. Thee was actually there to
observe someone, and that someone was undoubtedly the beautiful, petite male model
who’d supposedly had a candlelit dinner with the famously ruthless executive. The excited
whispers spread like wildfire.

Peach frowned slightly. He wasn’t interested in the rumors because he already knew Mr.
Thee was interested in Aran, though that interest seemed confined to bedroom matters with
no hint of turning romantic.

Or perhaps Mr. Thee was actually obsessed with Aran.

His frown deepened as he pondered. The upcoming summer and spring collections would
include sessions pairing Aran with Tawan, with a concept centered more on love and
romance. Maybe Mr. Thee was thinking of making a move.

He pressed his lips together, feeling a slight but inexplicable irritation.

Shaking off thoughts of Thee and Aran, he dismissed the matter entirely. If Thee had
changed his tactic from pursuing to simply watching the young model, that was his business.
As long as it didn’t interfere with his work, he couldn’t care less.

Still, he couldn’t help stealing another glance at the couch. There sat Mr. Thee, looking
completely focused and serious as he worked, an expression he didn’t often see. That made
him steal glances more often than he cared to admit. Judging by how Thee’s eyes rarely
strayed from his iPad and how tightly he was frowning, it was clear he was buried under a
mountain of tasks.

Shifting his gaze a little further, he could see the studio entrance crowded with people
desperate for a chance to meet the powerful CEO.

Normally, getting into Mr. Thee’s office was nearly impossible, let alone setting foot on his
executive floor.

So, when word got out that the elusive business magnate had set up camp in the studio,
hopefuls flocked, thinking it was their golden opportunity. Too bad Thee’s bodyguards kept
the line firmly; no outsider had managed to set foot inside. Not a single one.

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He found it odd that his project head, Wivit, hadn’t shown
up either. With such a rare chance to get close to the CEO, one would expect Wivit to be
front and center, ready to pounce.

Then again, considering the sheer number of people trying to catch Thee’s attention, he
supposed Wivit must’ve been swamped with work too.
It wasn’t surprising, given how massive the Arseny conglomerate was, with its dozens of
companies spread across several countries. Thee’s temporary relocation to Thailand was
aimed at launching Arseny’s new jewelry and fragrance lines. If things went as planned, he’d
likely hand the reins back to the board and move on to oversee another company.

The more he thought about it, the more puzzled he felt about the mafia boss’s thoughts.

If he’s so busy, why bother sitting here? Wouldn’t it be better to work elsewhere?

"Mr. Peach, would you like some water?" The sudden voice pulled Peach from his thoughts.
He turned and saw the CEO’s secretary, Mok, standing nearby.

When had he gotten there?

"Thank you," Peach said with a faint smile, accepting the glass, though he was still frowning.
Mok noticed and smiled subtly.

Clearly, I’m in no hurry to explain anything.

"You’re a little flushed, Mr. Peach. Are you feeling alright?"

Peach touched his cheek and felt a bit of warmth radiating from his skin. He hadn’t rested
enough since the day he first felt unwell. All he could do was take the medication on time
and hope the symptoms would subside, but five days had passed, and he hadn’t returned to
normal.

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

Mok cast a brief look at his employer. Those smoky gray eyes were already fixed on him,
sharp and intense. Seeing that fierce gaze, Mok’s smile widened as he turned back to Peach
and replied with a light chuckle.

"He’s keeping an eye on someone," the secretary answered, turning to Peach. "Mr. Thee
said most TV drama protagonists always make time for their love interests: hanging around,
showing up unexpectedly, creating 'accidental' encounters. But since his workload is too
heavy for that, he thought he’d just move his work down here and sit where he could be
seen."

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

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

"Mr. Thee doesn’t actually watch dramas, but the lady—er, I mean, his mother—is a huge
fan of Thai dramas," Mok replied, letting a small conspiratorial smile appear on his face. His
eyes sparkled with mischief as he continued, "And for the record, Mr. Thee isn’t here to
watch Aran."
Peach blinked, his face blank with confusion. If the mafia boss wasn’t there tailing the model
he so obviously wanted to drag into bed, then who was he watching? Before he could
process it, Mok’s faint smile deepened, and he smoothly shifted the conversation to
something entirely different.

"Do you like the breakfast combos? Is there anything you’d like adjusted?"

"I’d like him to stop sending them," Peach replied firmly, looking uncomfortable as he added,
"It’s awkward. He’s been sending breakfast every day—it’s too much. I feel bad accepting it."

"No need to feel bad. Mr. Thee sees it as a benefit for you. You have a history of stomach
issues, and as a freelancer, you don’t have health benefits. So Mr. Thee decided to offer this
instead."

Mok told Peach firmly, leaving him staring, dumbfounded by Mok’s deadpan explanation.
Something about it felt completely off, but the seriousness in Mok’s tone left him at a loss.

He tried to think of some kind of 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 session. Apparently, the studio they’d initially booked had been
changed. Instead of a small space near the office, the shoot was scheduled in Studio B, one
of the Arseny Corporation’s facilities.

Peach frowned in confusion. Studio B was the second largest in Arseny’s catalog. Sure, their
studios were technically open to external bookings, but they were famous for being top-tier,
equipped with state-of-the-art gear, and insanely expensive to rent. Not to mention, the
queue to get into the studio was often packed with the company’s own projects.

He could guess that Mr. Touch was a wealthy man who could rent a studio and skip the
queue to use it the next day. He must have very powerful friends in the scene.

Perhaps 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 rentals, unless they were personally
acquainted. But Peach couldn’t help finding the contrast striking: the image of this
mild-mannered young man seemed completely at odds with the half-Russian mafia boss.

Peach set aside his suspicions and quickly replied with a brief acknowledgment just as Aran
stepped forward, announcing he was ready to work. Peach turned to do a final check of the
lighting and set, raising his trusted camera to his eye.

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

The half-Russian mafia boss quietly lifted his head, his gaze fixed on the slender
photographer moving back and forth. His smoky eyes held a glint of satisfaction.
He hadn’t seen the other man for several days due to conflicting schedules, and texting
wasn’t the same as seeing him in person. As long 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’ve been a bit of a hassle, but
it’d be worth the effort. Thinking of the new employer, the young mafia boss couldn’t help
curling his tongue slightly against his cheek, not entirely pleased. He wanted to encourage
Peach to keep his distance but feared coming off as creepy.

Touch, or Tatsuyuki Shohei, was the only son of the Shohei family, a major Yakuza clan from
Japan. Currently, they were somewhat competitors of the Arseny group, vying for a foothold
in the Southeast Asian market. While they weren’t sworn enemies, they certainly weren’t
reliable allies either.

Thus, the sudden offer to use Arseny’s studio immediately raised suspicions.

By chance, he and the young Tatsuyaki knew each other somewhat, having been
classmates in the past. After a lengthy phone negotiation, he claimed it was necessary to
shoot in an Arseny studio because Aran, who’d just signed as a model for the Shohei group
and was currently the brand ambassador for Arseny Ice, so only Arseny’s studios would do.
The other party seemed puzzled by the reasoning but immediately agreed to switch to
Studio I, especially since no rental fee would be charged.

Even if they suffered a small loss, it was insignificant to the deep pockets of the Arseny
family.

Thee casually fixed his gaze on Peach, as the surrounding team began to whisper softly with
deep sympathy.

Previously, Wivit had made mistakes that displeased the CEO. Recently, all projects under
his supervision had been plagued with problems. No matter how many times he presented
his work, all he found was harsh criticism. His projects were suspended, and trained team
members were continuously transferred to other teams, stripping the project head of his
prestige.

The team members who’d elevated themselves as Peachayarat’s guardian angels began to
dry 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 focused his attention on Peach, and even come down to closely monitor
his work! Their beloved Peach seemed to be going through a tough time!
WAKE-UP CALL #27

Today was supposed to be a day off for Peach, but it wasn’t really. He had three days of
leave, but two of them were already reserved for his ex’s projects. His grand plan of sleeping
in had been shelved, and he’d have to hold his breath and wait two more days for a proper
break.

This morning, in addition to the bodyguard he was already familiar with delivering his
morning coffee, the tall man in black also informed him extensively that Mr. Thee’s younger
brother would be flying in from Russia, making it impossible for the young mafia boss to
sneak away as usual. Peach nodded, still somewhat confused as to why he needed to know
this.

Rumors had been circulating lately. Despite his reluctance to listen to them, working with
such a large team, especially the makeup artists and stylists, meant that gossip spread
faster than government intelligence.

The news that Mr. Thee would personally oversee the studio operations had already spread
far and wide. While most people focused on the young photographer as a possible harbinger
of bad luck, following team leader Wivit, who was already under scrutiny, even more
interesting rumors emerged. The most exciting whisper was about the young mafia boss
being in love, supposedly so smitten with a model that he was stalking him at work.

Of course, those who had worked together for a long time not only didn’t believe this but
found the idea terrifying. The intimidating-faced mafia boss, who always seemed to look at
the world with disdain, falling head over heels for someone and sitting around waiting, was
simply too bizarre.

---

Peach thought the source of these rumors was more likely the model Aran’s manager. In the
past, despite Mr. Thee’s history of frequently changing partners, no rumors had ever leaked.
Anyone who dared to cross those boundaries would be instantly blacklisted from the
industry, with no good way out.

Aran, who had signed with the new agency, probably made her manager believe her
connections were important enough to quietly spread rumors. Beyond generating publicity, it
might even boost the young model’s fees.

Peach nodded slightly. Indeed, Mr. Thee was keeping an eye on Aran’s work, so calling it a
rumor wouldn’t be entirely accurate. He could only hope nothing bad would come of it.

---

Returning to the task at hand, today’s shoot was overseen by Mim, but Mr. Touch, the boss,
was notably absent. Not that it was strange. As a company president, it was unusual that
he’d personally met Peach in a café that day.

The Shohei agency had three models. Besides Aran, whom he was familiar with, the other
two were rising stars who had been making waves recently. One was a curvaceous woman,
her body type clearly different from typical model standards, yet possessing undeniable
appeal. The other was a young male model in his early twenties, built like an athlete, with a
fresh, adorable face, clearly a model with a promising future.

Peach secretly admired Touch’s eye for talent. "These three models are diverse and
distinctive. With proper management, just these three could make for an impressive debut."

---

"Be careful with that! My necklace is incredibly expensive. Your entire year’s salary wouldn’t
cover it!"

The shrill voice made him look up from his computer. Today’s team wasn’t the usual one and
seemed quite new. As the lead photographer, he’d have to oversee everything personally, so
he was more than willing to dive in, preferring hands-on involvement to mere direction.

He glanced toward the source of the voice. The female model was standing with her hands
on her hips, yelling at a member of the wardrobe department, whose face had fallen. The
staff member seemed to be a newcomer, likely still awkward and inexperienced.

Peach held back, observing the situation. Seeing a senior wardrobe staff member step in to
handle the issue, he turned his attention to the lighting. He wanted a slightly darker
atmosphere to enhance the play of light, but he had to be careful not to create unwanted
shadows.

Unexpectedly, a slender figure approached, the shrill voice cutting close enough to startle
him.

"How come the lighting is so dark? Is this team full of inexperienced newbies?" The model
stepped onto the set, waving her hand dismissively before fixing her gaze on him, "Do you
know the photographer shooting today is a famous photographer with incredible work? Don’t
do anything stupid that could embarrass the agency!"

Peach blinked, more amused than angry. Standing with his arms crossed, he replied with a
slightly playful tone, "The lighting isn’t dark at all. I think it looks quite beautiful."

The model turned around. "Beautiful? My face looks completely washed out. As if!"

"But the current concept revolves around light, sound, and mood, doesn’t it? It’d be more
fitting to create a slightly darker tone to highlight the colored lights."

A small smile played on his lips. With no intention of clearing up the model’s
misunderstanding, his smile widened with amusement.

"Or maybe the famous model hasn’t even read today’s session concept? I thought Shohei
agency models would be more professional."

The woman raised her finger, ready to lash out, but in an instant, a tall young man stepped
between them. The soft-faced young man offered a wide smile, deliberately ignoring the
female model standing in the middle of the set.
"Hi, Mr. Peach. I’m Kinn. I’m so excited to have the chance to work with such a famous
photographer!" he greeted enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Kinn was so tall that Peach had to tilt his head back slightly to look him in the eye. Judging
by the sight, his height was almost on par with Mr. Thee’s mixed build, though Kinn seemed
much younger, especially when he smiled widely, his cheeks puffing up, exuding such bright,
cheerful energy it was almost blinding.

A perfect subject for photography.

"Peach, nice to meet you too. I look forward to working with you," he said, offering a small
smile and a firm handshake, completely ignoring the stunned woman standing awkwardly
between them.

---

"I’ve never done a session playing with lighting effects like this before. It’s really exciting,"
Kinn said enthusiastically, practically brimming with energy. "Honestly, I’ve been practicing
poses in front of the mirror, trying to figure out angles where the shadows make me look
cool, but I couldn’t find any that felt right."

He did his homework.

Peach couldn’t help but smile at that thought. The kid was clever with his words: he
conveyed his effort without seeming boastful. Humble, but clearly eager to learn.

He’s going places.

"Don’t overthink it. I’m aiming for something natural. We have plenty of time today, so let’s
discover the best angles together," Peach replied, his smile widening until his eyes curved
into soft half-moons.

He was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t notice Kinn freezing slightly, his eyes
widening just a fraction as warmth flushed his ears a vivid red.

---

Peach was about to say something more when a familiar voice called out from across the
set. He turned to see another young model running toward him, with a radiant smile and a
pretty face all his own.

"Peach! You didn’t tell me it was you doing the photo shoot today!" Aran puffed out his
cheeks in mock indignation, which somehow only made him look more adorable. "We saw
each other yesterday, and you didn’t say a word!"

"Surprise," Peach said with a smile, raising his hand to fix Aran’s hair, which had fallen out of
place due to his earlier run.

---
Before anyone could say another word, the woman who had been completely ignored earlier
made her move. She squeezed her voluptuous figure into the space between Peach and
Aran, deliberately separating them. Her red dress, adorned with pink and white prints,
accentuated her curves, and her saccharine smile was so exaggerated it seemed more
unsettling than attractive.

"Oh my… so it’s Peachayarat! I’ve been following your work for years!" Grace chirped in a
sweet tone, deliberately leaning in so her chest brushed against his arm. "I’m so sorry about
earlier! The lights were so dim I didn’t notice. Plus, you look so young. I never would’ve
guessed someone as talented as you could have such a fresh face!"

Peach subtly stepped back and gently moved closer to Kinn with a faint smile. He noticed
the young man beside him stiffen, his whole body going rigid. Curious, Peach glanced at
him, but it was too dark to make out his expression.

He assumed the other party was nervous. Aran was a well-established independent model
with a decent portfolio, and Grace had clearly been in the industry long enough to develop
her arsenal of tricks. But Kinn? He seemed like a rookie, probably with only a handful of gigs
under his belt. It wasn’t surprising he felt tense in a situation like this.

Peach turned to Kinn and reached out to gently clasp the slightly sweaty palm of the younger
man. Kinn’s hands were large but elegant, with strength and symmetry that made them ideal
for showcasing jewelry in photo shoots.

As Peach pondered this, he gave Kinn’s hand a reassuring squeeze and flashed him
another warm smile.

---

"Relax. We’re going to keep it chill in this session. I want everyone to bring their authentic
selves to the table," Peach said, stroking the back of Kinn’s hand a couple of times before
letting go. Then, he turned to the group and began briefing the three models in notebooks,
his tone clear and focused.

Today’s plan was to showcase three distinct styles, reflecting the Shohei brand’s spirit of
diversity. Each model would embody their own unique vibe, with fizzy drinks and lighting
emphasizing freshness and energy. Each had their own signature color.

---

"I knew it! Such a complicated concept had to mean the photographer was tough. Turns out,
it’s you, Peach," Aran murmured, still grumbling while blinking fast enough for Peach to
notice.

"What’s wrong? Something in your eye?" Peach leaned in a little closer, concerned. All the
models were wearing colored contact lenses for the session, and he worried they might
cause discomfort.

"Just a little irritation. I don’t wear contacts often," Aran admitted, clenching his fists to avoid
rubbing his eyes.
"Don’t rub them, or the lenses could scratch your eye," Peach warned, his tone firm but
gentle. Then, turning to an assistant, he called out, "Get him some eye drops. A little
lubrication should ease the irritation. You’re going to need to be able to handle the lights
later."

Aran nodded and shuffled off to tend to his eyes, leaving Peach free to start with the other
models. Grace, clearly still annoyed at being sidelined earlier, wasted no time stepping
forward and volunteering to go first. Her determination to dazzle was written all over her
face.

Peach didn’t argue. He simply gave a few instructions to adjust the lighting before raising the
camera to start shooting.

Her theme revolved around red and pink tones—her outfit, magenta contact lenses, and
plum crimson lips all working together to create a bold, sultry look. Grace struck pose after
pose, exuding confidence as her gaze locked onto the lens with a fiery intensity.

Not the most pleasant personality, but her performance was solid.

He took a variety of shots—close-ups, mid-range frames, and full-body shots, changing

angles and capturing multiple styles for each range. Satisfied, he nodded slightly, signaling
she could take a break.

---

While Peach reviewed the images as he waited to adjust the lighting again, he noticed a
shadow nearby. Looking up, he found Kinn standing close, beaming with a cheerful smile
that turned his eyes into delicate half-moons. Peach raised an eyebrow in question, silently
wondering what was going on.

"I’m not feeling very confident. I’m still pretty new to the modeling world, so I hope you can
guide me through this," Kinn admitted, his tone tinged with worry, though his radiant smile
completely contradicted his words.

Peach smiled again, a little overwhelmed by the sudden shift in how Kinn addressed him.
But he figured it was just the guy’s way of breaking the ice and making the work feel less
formal.

"Don’t worry. Just relax, okay? I’ll guide you through everything."

"I could really use some extra motivation," Kinn added playfully, leaning in slightly. His bright
smile and the faint blush covering his cheeks made him even more charming.

"How about this? If I do a good job today, you have to take me out to dinner," Kinn proposed,
his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Peach raised an eyebrow and then let out a chuckle. This kid was sharp and clearly knew
how to work his way into making connections. As one of the top photographers, Peach had
encountered plenty of bandwagon-jumping tricks in the industry. But he had to admit, there
was something refreshingly earnest and endearing about Kinn’s approach.
Quickly weighing his options, Peach realized it wasn’t a bad deal. Kinn was still a fresh face
in the industry, with plenty of potential. A dinner in exchange for solidifying a connection with
a promising talent seemed worth it, so Peach agreed with an amused smile.

Kinn’s face lit up, his smile so wide it nearly closed his eyes. Filled with confidence, he
walked onto the set, shedding his playful demeanor to embody a professional, hardworking
model in an instant.

---

Kinn’s theme revolved around earthy tones—brown and green. He wore fitted brown pants
paired with a light green jacket, which perfectly complemented his green-colored contact
lenses. The white shirt underneath was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of his toned
chest, striking a natural yet subtly sexy vibe. As Kinn moved through his poses, Peach made
occasional adjustments, but it didn’t take long to get a variety of shots. Each captured a
different side of him; some radiated youthful charm, while others exuded a quiet, mysterious
allure, like a vast, wild forest inviting exploration.

As soon as Kinn heard the word "done," he instantly transformed back into a kid who hadn’t
even hit twenty. The young model rushed over to him, practically bouncing with excitement
as he asked to see the photos. Peach simply laughed and handed over the camera without
any fuss.

"So, does this mean I made it?" Kinn asked, looking up with a grin so wide it nearly took over
his face. "Do I get that free meal?"

"Start thinking about what you want to eat. The photos turned out amazing," Peach replied
with a smile. With that, he turned his attention back to preparing the lighting for the final
model of the day.

---

Peach massaged his temples as he waited, feeling the lingering effects of fatigue. His fever
had subsided, but the dizziness wouldn’t let up. He figured it was a mix of sleep deprivation
and being under the harsh, changing studio lights for hours. He rubbed his eyes slowly,
trying to steady himself, until the crew called out that everything was ready.

The final model, Aran, stepped onto the set, embodying a deep blue theme—a mix of
mystery, sensuality, and professionalism, all at once. His look was striking—a dark blue
blazer paired with wide-legged pants in a violet-blue hue, vibrant blue contact lenses that
caught the light, and a face so beautifully balanced between masculine and feminine that it
was impossible to look away.

Peach took shot after shot, completely absorbed in capturing Aran’s stunning presence. But
just as he was wrapping up and hadn’t even had the chance to review the photos, Aran’s
hand shot up to rub his eye, clearly forgetting about the contact lenses.

"Ran, don’t rub your eye!" Peach’s voice rang out as he quickly set the camera aside and
rushed over. He grabbed Aran’s hand and gently pulled it away, frowning with concern. He’d
seen cases where someone rubbed their eye while wearing contacts and ended up with
scratches or even serious corneal damage.

"It really hurts," Aran complained, clearly uncomfortable but docile enough to stop touching
his eye. Peach immediately called for clean water and asked the makeup team to come over
and remove the lenses. As he waited, he cupped Aran’s face with both hands, tilting it gently
upward so he could inspect the model’s eye for any signs of injury.

He barely had time to examine Aran’s eye when the smaller model was yanked out of his
hands. Before he could react, a clenched fist shot toward him, landing squarely on his
cheek. Pain exploded instantly, radiating up to his temple. His ear rang with a high-pitched,
piercing tone, drowning out everything else. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as
the force sent him to the ground, the room spinning uncontrollably around him.

"What the hell are you doing to Ran? I warned you to stay away from him!" someone roared,
their voice booming but muffled in his ears. His vision blurred, and his head pounded too
much to comprehend what was happening.

Vaguely, he saw a figure stepping between him and his attacker, heated voices clashing in a
distant haze. The commotion faded into the background as dizziness overtook him, and
everything faded to black.
WAKE-UP CALL #28

Theerakit Kian Arseny was famous for being a cold and inflexible CEO, intimidating and
intense. His presence in meetings created an almost suffocating pressure, leaving no room
for compromise. Adding to his fearsome image were the persistent rumors about his ties to
the Russian mafia, painting him as a ruthless enforcer.

But when it came to his family, the man who demanded perfection at work would drop
everything for them without a second thought.

The tall, broad-shouldered mafia heir stood with his arms crossed at the airport, waiting with
surprising patience. His face remained impassive, betraying none of the frustration one
might expect after waiting for his younger brother, no matter how late he was.

Soon, another strikingly tall figure approached—a man with striking golden hair framing
sharp features. His pale greenish-gray eyes sparkled with mischief, giving him a charismatic
charm. Though his face bore a strong resemblance to Theerakit’s, it was softened by a
perpetual, playful smile that set him apart.

Who would believe this laid-back man was destined to lead the Arseny family—Russia’s
largest mafia syndicate?

Despite their contrasting personalities, there was no fraternal rivalry for power between
them. Theerakit, resolute and unyielding, relied on his brother Rome’s cunning and
experience to navigate the shadows. For behind-the-scenes operations, Rome’s natural
shrewdness made him the better candidate for the role of leader. He willingly stepped aside
to let his younger brother take the reins, while Rome, in turn, entrusted Thee with the
public-facing business empire without hesitation.

---

Rome walked up to his brother with a wide smile, slinging an arm around his shoulders and
giving him a few light pats as a greeting. Then, with almost childlike charm, he directed his
playful grin at his brother’s secretary, approaching with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Now it’s winter in Thailand, and since Mok doesn’t like the cold, I came all the way here just
to keep you warm."

"Thailand doesn’t have winter," Mok replied flatly, stepping back intentionally. "Besides, you
have a mountain of work waiting for you. You don’t need to worry about me."

Rome leaned in, letting the tip of his nose bump Mok’s cheek on purpose. He was ready to
keep teasing until his brother grabbed him by the neck and yanked him back with a calm but
firm expression.

"Stop being inappropriate with my secretary."

"Then why don’t you give him to me?" Rome responded, unfazed, his face lighting up with a
cheeky grin.
Thee smiled faintly before signaling for his brother to follow him somewhere less visible.
With two tall, strikingly handsome men flanked by a group of black-suited men, they had
become too much of a spectacle.

As they passed by a café, Thee stopped. His gaze, usually sharp, softened slightly, and he
finally gave in to temptation, stepping inside to place an order. Rome followed, a hint of
confusion on his face.

"Didn’t you have your coffee yet, Thee?" Rome asked, trailing behind without protest. It was
already late morning, and his brother, who usually had his espresso first thing, didn’t seem
like the type to skip his routine.

"I felt like it," Thee replied curtly, offering no further explanation.

Rome shrugged and turned to the barista, ordering without missing a beat.

"Alright, then a latte and an espresso."

"Americano."

"Huh?" Rome froze mid-sentence and looked at his brother, puzzled. "You only drink
espresso. You’ve literally said Americanos taste like dishwater."

"I’m having an Americano. Do you have a problem with that?" Thee responded,
expressionless, shutting down any further questions.

They seemed ready to continue debating coffee preferences when the secretary entered the
shop with a laconic expression. Mok walked straight to his boss, leaning in slightly to whisper
something in a low voice.

"Boss, Miss Plub just requested emergency leave."

After recently elevating the photographer’s importance in his mental hierarchy, Mok had also
extended that priority to Peach’s younger sister. Any sudden leave requests now went
straight to his desk.

Thee’s brow furrowed slightly as Rome turned to listen with clear interest.

"She said her brother has been admitted to the hospital."

---

That single statement made Thee’s smoky gray eyes widen in alarm. The atmosphere
instantly turned suffocating, with an oppressive weight filling the room. Mok swallowed,
forcing his voice to remain steady as he continued.

"I’ve already arranged for a car, sir. I’ll handle the afternoon schedule in your absence."

Thee nodded with a curt gesture before grabbing Mok’s arm and pulling him toward Rome in
one swift motion. Rome, ever agile, extended his hands and caught the startled secretary
with a smile, pulling the smaller man against his chest.
"Take care of him for me," the young mafia boss ordered, nodding at his brother before
striding out of the café without waiting for his drink. He headed determinedly toward the exit,
where his sleek black car was already waiting. Without a word, he slid into the back seat.

Another trusted bodyguard in the driver’s seat acknowledged him with a single nod, needing
no further instructions. The car roared to life and accelerated immediately. As the icy
atmosphere inside the car thickened, the vehicle seemed to speed up in tandem. Luckily, the
hospital where the young photographer had been admitted wasn’t far from the city center.
About forty minutes later, after cruising down the highway, the car came to a smooth stop in
front of the hospital.

---

As soon as Thee stepped out of the car, a young PR woman clicked her heels energetically
toward him. Her confident stride couldn’t hide the slight tremble in her forced smile, betraying
how nervous she was. If it hadn’t been for the hospital director personally ordering her to
provide the best VIP service possible, she wouldn’t have dared approach him.

"Lead the way," Thee ordered curtly, offering no further explanation. He had already called
the hospital director directly to inform him of his arrival and the reason for his visit. He had no
intention of wasting another second.

After taking the elevator up to the private ward, he walked toward the last room at the end of
the hallway. He knocked lightly a couple of times before opening the door without waiting for
permission, assuming the occupant was still resting.

He didn’t expect to find Peach lying there, wide awake, looking at him with curious eyes.
Aside from looking a little pale, he seemed fine.

"Mr. Thee? Don’t you have business to attend to today?" Peach asked, tilting his head
slowly—a gesture that made it clear he wasn’t feeling his best.

"Why didn’t you call me when you were admitted?!" Thee demanded sharply, stepping closer
as he scanned Peach from head to toe. His gaze lingered on the bruised cheek and the
cracked corner of Peach’s lips, both visibly red and swollen. His frown deepened.

"What happened? Why are you in the hospital?"

"The doctor said I’ve been working too hard," Peach admitted sheepishly. "I got a little
dizzy... and I think my blood sugar dropped too, probably because I skipped dinner last
night."

He offered a weak apologetic smile and raised the hand still hooked up to an IV. "They put
me on a saline drip. The doctor said I can leave once it’s done."

"But didn’t the doctor recommend staying one more night... just to be safe?"

The unfamiliar voice came from the other side of the room, startling Thee. A tall man he
didn’t recognize emerged from the visitor seating area, which he hadn’t noticed when he first
entered.
Thee’s sharp gaze swept over the newcomer, a boyish-looking guy who couldn’t be more
than twenty. He was tall and athletic, with a wide, bright smile that made his eyes curve
charmingly. Objectively speaking, the kid was attractive model material, with a promising
future in the industry.

"After the trouble I went through to bring you here, at least stay one more night and make the
effort worth it," the young man said with an easy smile directed at Peach. Thee’s irritation
bubbled, threatening to break his calm façade. Mentally, he crossed out the kid’s "promising
future" right then and there. Whatever future this guy had, it definitely wasn’t going to
develop anywhere near him.

Bring who?!

He stepped closer, deliberately ignoring the young man while suppressing his annoyance as
much as possible.

"Why did he have to carry you?" His tone was sharp and firm, though the fingers lightly
brushing Peach’s cheek were painfully gentle, as if touching fragile butterfly wings.

"I fainted," Peach admitted sheepishly. "He was nearby, so he helped carry me." Then, as if
remembering his manners, he quickly added, "I forgot to introduce you. This is Mr. Thee, my
boss. And that’s Kinn, a model I was shooting today."

Peach’s eyes darted away, avoiding Thee’s gaze, a clear sign he was glossing over some
details. But Thee decided not to press for now. Peach needed rest more than anything. The
things he wanted to know... he could figure out on his own later.

"Thank you for bringing my person here," Thee said coldly, shooting Kinn a glare that
radiated pure disdain. "You can leave now; I’ll handle things from here. There’s no need for
you to stay."

"Happy to help." Kinn’s smile widened, but this time, his eyes didn’t crinkle with warmth.
They gleamed with a sharp, knowing edge.

"Oh, you two are already leaving," Peach interjected with mild exasperation. Neither of them
seemed to hear him. Thee had already turned his back on Kinn, dismissing the young man
entirely as if he didn’t exist. His focus was entirely on Peach, lying pale and exhausted in the
hospital bed.

"I can’t leave when there’s no one to take care of you," Thee murmured, his fingers brushing
the corner of Peach’s mouth. His sharp gaze darkened briefly before returning to normal,
though he still paid no attention to the model in the room. His eyes remained fixed on
Peach’s pale face. After just one day apart, there he was, lying weak and lifeless in a
hospital bed. How could Thee leave?

"I’ll be fine. I just have to stay here until the IV is done," Peach sighed, sounding utterly
bored. "I promise your project won’t be delayed. Or better yet, give me a laptop—I can do
some work here."
"What work could be more important than you?" Thee murmured, his hand moving gently
from Peach’s cheek to his slender neck. The warmth of that soft skin tugged at his senses,
making it almost impossible to let go. "Stay tonight. Let the doctor monitor you. Think of it as
resting a bit, something you really need."

"There’s no point in staying. It’s just a waste of time and money," Peach’s voice took on a
playful tone, making Thee pause. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. He hadn’t expected
such a cute, grumpy reaction—and he definitely hadn’t expected the way it made his heart
skip a beat.

Ever since he realized what he truly felt for Peach, keeping his emotions in check had
become increasingly difficult.

"Stay. I’ll cover the hospital bill," Thee insisted, tucking the blanket around Peach.

His eyes landed on a bruise on Peach’s arm, his expression hardening instantly. "What
happened here?"

"Probably hit something when I fell. It’s just a bruise, no big deal," Peach replied casually,
moving his arm to show it off.

"And this," Thee’s fingers brushed the faint mark on Peach’s cheek, his chest tightening
painfully. The more he looked, the more it hurt. "I’m sure this isn’t from a simple fall."

Peach’s face tensed, clearly uncomfortable. Thee narrowed his eyes, his fingers lingering
near Peach’s lips for a moment before reluctantly pulling away.

"I’ll arrange for you to be moved to a VIP room. Rest well. Your sister should be here soon,"
Thee’s gaze shifted to the other man in the room, his expression turning cold. "You should
leave now. I won’t trouble you further."

"No problem. I’ll be happy to help," the young man replied with a calm smile, unfazed by the
icy atmosphere.

Thee frowned. He wanted nothing more than to kick the guy out, but he feared upsetting
Peach, who lay pale and tired in the hospital bed. In the end, he signaled one of his
bodyguards to keep an eye on the guy and report any suspicious behavior. Meanwhile, he’d
speak to the hospital director about moving Peach to a better room.

And while he was at it, he’d get to the bottom of what really happened.

---

With long strides, Thee left the room, determined to return quickly and deal with the
annoying model once and for all. However, just as he was about to turn the corner of the
hospital’s common area, he caught snippets of a heated conversation. His steps halted.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he listened intently, unconcerned about eavesdropping.

He wouldn’t have cared... if they hadn’t mentioned Peach’s name.

Peeking into the rooms, he recognized the two figures arguing—models currently working on
a campaign for his company. Their angry voices carried even after the glass door closed.

"Why won’t you listen to me? I told you nothing’s going on!"

"Listen? You were practically kissing him, Ran! All I hear is his name," the actor sneered,
gripping the smaller model’s wrist tightly and pulling him closer. "What? Do you love him that
much? Is that why you keep defending him?"

"I don’t think of Peach as more than a friend. He’s like an older brother to me. The one I
like... is you, Tawan. But if you keep acting like this, then it’s over. Get out of my life."

"No way. You’re mine. I’ll never let anyone take you away from me!" He grabbed Aran’s arm
again, only for the model to pull free, his eyes filled with determination.

"You think hitting Peach proves you love me? That was the most disgusting thing you
could’ve done. Get out of my life. If you can’t sort yourself out, stop playing with me." Aran’s
voice took on a dangerous warning. He took a firm step back. "I’m not a possession you can
claim. I don’t need anyone’s permission to live my life. I already bowed my head and
apologized to Peach on your behalf. That’s as far as I’m willing to go. From now on... we’re
done. We don’t belong to each other."

Aran turned his back and walked away, leaving Tawan shouting his name and chasing after
him in vain. Neither of them noticed the imposing figure standing in the shadows, arms
crossed, having heard every word of their heated conversation. His stormy gray eyes
darkened, gleaming with a fierce, predatory light.

Finally, everything made sense.

WAKE-UP CALL #29

Peach stared at the closed door and let out a silent sigh. The atmosphere from earlier still
lingered, heavy and unsettling in a way he couldn’t quite explain. It was obvious that Mr.
Thee didn’t like Kinn—that much was clear. But why? Was it something personal? Or was
Thee just naturally distant, the type of person who lacked social grace and found it nearly
impossible to make friends? 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, had
plans to pick up his younger brother from the airport today, had shown up at the hospital
unannounced. Perhaps Mok, Thee’s ever-knowing secretary, had informed him. Though
Peach couldn’t understand what had made Thee arrive so quickly, he couldn’t deny the
strange warmth that blossomed inside him.

If he were to map out his relationships, Mr. Thee wouldn’t even appear on the chart, not
even as a trusted friend. And yet, somehow, Thee kept slipping past his defenses, little by
little. Peach didn’t know where Mr. Thee fit into his life, but having him nearby always
seemed to calm his mind, melting fears he hadn’t realized he still held onto. Maybe this was
what it felt like to have someone powerful by your side, someone who could protect you
when things went wrong.

Satisfied with placing Mr. Thee in the category of “reliable backup when needed,” Peach
relaxed, letting the tension ease until sleep began tugging at his heavy eyelids once more.
Just as he was drifting off, the model sitting by his bedside moved his chair closer and broke
the silence.

“Are you really not going to press charges?” Kinn asked, frowning with genuine frustration.
His intensity made Peach blush a little despite himself. Peach hadn’t been unconscious for
long and woke up shortly after Kinn brought him to the hospital. At first, he thought he could
leave immediately, but the world tilted dangerously when he tried to stand. In the end, he
was forced to stay overnight and receive an IV drip.

It was then that Aran showed up, sobbing so hard that his contact lenses fell out, his nose
and eyes red and swollen. As soon as he reached Peach’s bedside, he bowed deeply and
apologized loudly, his voice trembling with desperation. Peach could be forgiving with family,
but he had never been one to show mercy to outsiders—especially when things escalated to
physical violence. He had every intention of pressing charges, if only to cover his medical
expenses. There was no way he was 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 had known for years. Cutting
ties felt completely... wrong.

Aran promised to drag Tawan over to apologize properly and insisted on covering all medical
costs. Peach had told him he didn’t have to do that—the person who caused the problem
should take responsibility, not Aran. Aran just smiled faintly and said it was the last thing he
could do for Tawan. Peach didn’t fully understand what he meant by that, but seeing the
determination in Aran’s eyes, he didn’t press further.

“But I can’t accept any more work from Tawan,” Peach had told Aran clearly. No matter how
close they were, Peach couldn’t pretend nothing had happened. “I won’t feel comfortable
working with him anymore. Don’t worry, I won’t badmouth him or get anyone to blacklist him.
It’s just me. I can’t accept his projects again.” Aran nodded with quiet understanding, bowing
once more before apologizing with a resolute look, so Peach didn’t ask any more questions
after that. He could only hope Tawan wouldn’t lose his temper and attack someone again.

Peach snapped back to reality and looked at Kinn. The tall model still had a deep frown,
frustration radiating from him without any signs of abating. The news from the team that had
visited was that Kinn had nearly punched Tawan on the spot. A fight almost broke out if Aran
hadn’t yelled at him to help carry Peach to the hospital. What a way to start a new modeling
agency—it wasn’t exactly the auspicious beginning they had hoped for.

“I couldn’t help it. Aran is like a younger brother to me,” Peach admitted with a touch of
exasperation. Though he cared for Aran, he had already decided this would be the first and
last time he let something like this slide. If something like this happened again, even if it
risked his reputation, he would press charges without a second thought. “Instead, let’s talk
about you.” He turned to Kinn, his lips curving into an amused smile. “Weren’t you scared
back there? That’s a Russian mafia boss you were messing with.”

“Terrified,” Kinn admitted, laughing as he raised a trembling hand. “Look at this—my hand is
still shaking like crazy!”

“Then why were you trying to pick a fight!” Peach chuckled, showing zero sympathy for
Kinn’s dramatic display.

He still couldn’t understand why those two had taken such an instant dislike to each other.
The other guy was a half-Russian mafia boss and a company president, not exactly
someone who should care enough to argue with a rookie model. Maybe it was just bad
chemistry. Some people just clash at first sight for no logical reason. Those two seemed to fit
that description perfectly.

“If I let fear take over, I’ll lose before the fight even begins,” Kinn grumbled, pouting when
Peach didn’t offer any words of comfort. But in true Kinn fashion, he quickly perked up and
flashed a wide smile. “Are you hungry? I can run down and get you something to eat. Or
maybe something sweet to lift your spirits?”

“I don’t eat sweets.”

The door opened with a soft creak, interrupting the conversation. A tall, broad-shouldered
man entered the room, carrying a bag of treats from a popular bakery and a steaming cup of
warm milk that filled the air with a comforting aroma.

“I know you prefer coffee, but you need to rest. Warm 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 prevent the
heat from burning Peach’s hand. Once satisfied with the temperature, he handed it over.

Peach accepted the cup, puzzled but touched. The rich, warm aroma of the milk soothed his
nerves. He took a slow sip, savoring the creamy warmth mixed with just a hint of natural
sweetness, no added sugar. One sip was enough to send a comforting heat spreading
through his chest.

“Thank you... I didn’t mean to trouble you,” Peach said, looking up with a soft smile 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 who took 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 hue before he quickly regained his usual composure, so fast that Peach wondered
if he had 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 played on his lips. Absurdly,
he stroked his chin with a long finger, as if lost in thought. “Maybe I should invest in a dairy
company while I’m at it,” he murmured aloud. Peach blinked, momentarily stunned, before
deciding it was best to pretend he hadn’t heard that.

“Didn’t Mok come with you?” Peach asked, steering the conversation to safer ground. “Your
secretary is usually glued to your side all the time, isn’t he?”

“Mok stayed behind to look after my younger brother. He just arrived today from Russia, and
there’s no way I’m letting him out of my sight,” Thee commented, suddenly remembering
something. “I 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 always on top of things, end
up so exhausted like that?

Thee cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly dodging the unspoken question. Then he turned
his sharp gaze toward the model sitting stiffly by the bedside. His eyes narrowed slightly, and
the corner of his mouth twitched into a fleeting smile—a mocking smile from someone who
clearly had the upper hand. But it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

“Aren’t you going to leave yet?” The mafia boss sank into the chair on the other side of the
bed, crossing one leg over the other. His hands interlaced, and he exuded the air of
someone about to negotiate a high-stakes deal. “I should thank you for looking after my
man. Everything’s settled now, so you can go. I won’t keep you.”

“I’m worried about Peach. I’m not going anywhere yet,” Kinn replied with a smile that felt
oddly stiff, almost forced. It wasn’t the same cheerful smile Peach had seen before. Not even
close. “Mr. Thee, you’re the CEO of a company, right? You must be swamped with work.
Surely, you don’t need to bother staying here just because your photographer is sick. I’ve got
it covered.”
“These days, work can be handled on an iPad, in case you didn’t know,” the mafia boss
retorted, his smile deepening as his smoky gray eyes gleamed with an intensity that burned
slowly. “And since my man is the one who’s hurt, that takes priority over any work.”

Lying between the two men glaring daggers at each other, Peach sipped his warm milk
quietly, feeling like he was in the front row of a drama. It was oddly entertaining, even if he
couldn’t understand their conversation.

Before either of them could say anything more, someone knocked on the door. Instantly, the
fierce gazes of both men turned toward it in unison, as if ready to pounce. The person who
opened the door froze, startled by the sheer tension in the room. The newcomer was a bald,
plum-colored man with a shiny, polished head, save for thin strands of gray hair on either
side. His round face, slightly marked by wrinkles, had an air of arrogance. His squinting,
shifty eyes moved with a slyness that made him seem as trustworthy as an overinflated man.

Despite having entered the room with a nervous step, he had clearly felt confident and bold
when he knocked moments earlier.

“Good evening. I’m a legal representative for Mr. Tawan’s family. You can call me Yuth,” the
middle-aged lawyer introduced himself, bowing slightly as he extended his business card.
However, none of the three younger men in the room made any move to take it.

Kinn deliberately ignored Thee, rummaging through the bag of snacks Thee had bought for
him, showing no respect for the man who had paid for them. Thee’s gaze flickered briefly
toward the model as he watched him pull out a snack to share, but he quickly refocused on
the unfortunate lawyer. The relaxed atmosphere vanished instantly, replaced by a cold,
tense air.

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

Mr. Thee always seemed to enjoy flaunting his connections and power, relishing the
satisfaction of being asked for help. So, Peach thought 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 firm, but it carried a chill that made Yuth shiver where he
stood. The icy tension radiating from the mafia boss contrasted sharply with Peach’s calm
demeanor as he sat on the bed, cheeks puffed like a squirrel as he chewed on bread,
completely unbothered.

Damn it!

His employer hadn’t mentioned he’d be walking into such a terrifying situation!

Yuth quickly tucked his business card back into his pocket and wiped the sweat from his
shiny head with a handkerchief. Forcing a polite, professional 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. There was no need to act so submissive. After all, his employer was a newly minted
millionaire, one of the country’s most successful businessmen. How hard could it be to
smooth things over after his boss’s son lost his temper and hit a defenseless photographer?
This should have been a walk in the park. Except now, nothing was going as expected.
Weren’t they supposed to have no connections?

“And exactly how do you plan to compensate him?” Thee’s voice was sharp and intimidating,
his dominant demeanor catching even Peach off guard. Still, Peach wasn’t scared. He knew
Thee was defending him, and though he didn’t understand why, it was enough to focus on.

“Of course, we’ll cover all medical expenses in full, down to the last cent,” Yuth said quickly,
pulling out a checkbook with practiced confidence. “And for the emotional distress caused,
we’ll be happy to offer additional compensation as an apology.”

When Yuth named a considerable sum in the tens of thousands, Peach’s eyebrows rose in
surprise. He had no intention of pressing charges, but such a large payment? That was a
pleasant surprise. He hadn’t expected things to work out so well for him.

But clearly, the mafia boss didn’t feel the same way.

“You call that a responsible offer?” Thee sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “I didn’t
realize the Veeraarpakorn family was short on money. Naming your son Tawan—‘Sun’—only
for him to turn out so petty.” Peach turned to look at him, stunned by his audacity. A small
pang of regret washed over him at the potential loss of that generous sum. Feeling Peach’s
gaze, Thee immediately refocused on 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:
Didn’t I do well?

Not letting the poor, nearly veteran lawyer faint in his hospital room was probably an
achievement in itself.

“That’s quite a bit of money,” Peach murmured softly, leaning toward the cabinet. “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 that amount,”
Thee said, straightening his posture, his tone dismissive.

“And why would I take your money, Mr. Thee?” Peach replied, cutting off the mafia boss’s
strange train of thought. “Be reasonable. I already said I wouldn’t sue. Besides, private
hospital fees aren’t cheap. I don’t even know why Kinn dragged me to a fancy hospital like
this in the first place.”

“You won’t sue, but Arseny will. Causing a scene at Arseny’s studio, tarnishing the
company’s reputation, and harming an employee both physically and emotionally—it’s only
natural that Arseny will take legal action,” the mafia boss replied, his tone firm and steady, as
if that were the most logical conclusion in the world—while the lawyer visibly paled, as if all
the implications had just hit him. Thee’s words seemed to echo ominously in his mind.
Who didn’t know about Arseny? How had a simple assault against a humble photographer
turned into a confrontation with that powerful family?

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

“Truth is, I’ve caused another problem for your company,” Peach said with a falsely sad tone,
carefully testing the waters. Knowing Thee was firmly on his side and so indulgent with him,
he couldn’t help but push a little further. “I already mentioned I don’t feel comfortable working
with Tawan anymore. If there’s any project with him as the model, I’ll have to turn it down.
But I’ve signed a long-term contract with your company. If I want to terminate it, will there be
any penalties?”

Thee’s eyebrows immediately furrowed, and his expression darkened. Peach froze, scolding
himself internally for overstepping. He had 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 harsh reprimand, Peach was surprised when the question came
completely out of left field.

“Why would you need to break the contract?” the mafia boss asked, his tone filled with
displeasure.

“The photoshoots for the summer and spring collections are paired with Aran and Tawan. I
really can’t work on those projects,” Peach murmured hesitantly.

“So what?” Thee crossed his arms, his gaze steady and unwavering. “If it comes down to a
choice, I’ll always choose you.”

Peach blinked, stunned into silence, his eyes widening slightly. A sudden wave of heat
rushed to his cheeks, and he could feel the warmth spreading like wildfire.

He bit his lip and looked down in a futile attempt to calm his racing heart. Taking a deep
breath, he forced himself to counter.

“If it’s a choice between the model and the photographer, Mr. Thee, you have to choose 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, his thumb brushing gently over the back of it. His voice, calm
and resolute, left no room for doubt.

“Choosing you is the most valuable investment I could make.”

Peach froze, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. Without thinking, he grabbed the
blanket and pulled it over his head, retreating into his sanctuary. Thee’s eyes lingered on his
now-empty hand, a flicker of nostalgia crossing his face. Then, as if effortlessly shifting
gears, he turned to flash a smug, mocking smile at the model who was taking things too
seriously on the other side of the room.

“I think we’re done here with the lawyer,” Thee said, turning to the middle-aged man, his tone
cutting through the room like ice.

Rising to his full height, Thee’s imposing figure left no doubt that the meeting was over. His
gaze bore down on the man like a boot crushing an insect. “Arseny will no longer work with
the Veeraarpakorn family, so tell your boss that.”

The lawyer visibly paled, nodding hurriedly as he practically fled the room. He looked like a
man who had narrowly escaped a brush with death. The mafia boss walked to the door,
opening it just enough to issue orders to the bodyguard outside. His voice was calm, but it
carried an undercurrent of steel.

“Blacklist the Veeraarpakorn conglomerate on 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 to a chilling glint that flashed in his eyes. “Take some extra time
to visit the actor, Tawan. He hit one of mine. 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 boss
ordered the remaining guards to maintain strict vigilance. Once that was settled, he softened
his expression back to neutral, replacing the cold threat with a faint smile before returning to
the room.
WAKE-UP CALL #30

Theerakit arranged for Peach to be moved to a VIP room—a luxurious hospital suite where
even the accompanying area seemed designed for royalty. There was a small bar, a privacy
screen for the patient, a guest lounge with luxurious refreshments, a compact bed for
overnight stays, and entertainment equipment that seemed excessive for a single-night stay.
Was all of this really necessary? He was only staying one more night. Still, Peach kept his
mouth shut and let the mafia boss have his way. Theerakit inspected the room until he was
satisfied everything was in order. After sharing lunch, he finally left, but not before giving
Kinn strict instructions to return with him.

Kinn grumbled but eventually obeyed, dragging his feet like a child forced to leave his
favorite playground.

Once peace and quiet settled over the room, Peach thought he might as well catch up on the
sleep he’d missed. But no matter how much he wanted to relax, sleep wouldn’t come. He
could only lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.

In the silence, Mr. Thee’s voice echoed in his mind—firm and serious, without a hint of
flirtation. Yet those simple words made his heart pound like a jackhammer, the heat rising to
his face until he was sure he must be bright red.

What the hell? He was as straight as they came, had dated women his whole life. How could
he be thrown off balance by a damn mafia boss like that?

Groaning in frustration, he yanked the blanket over his head, almost screaming into it just to
release the pressure building in his chest. Even now, he couldn’t understand what was
happening. Why did the fierce, intimidating mafia leader, who had been hopelessly in love
with a pretty-faced model, suddenly seem to have shifted his focus to him?

Peach wasn’t stupid. Even if his heart had tried to dodge the reality at times, he couldn’t
ignore the change that happened after Thee declared he was done with Aran. No matter
how much he tried to convince himself he was overthinking it, the signs were undeniable.

Especially lately—it had become so obvious he couldn’t run from it anymore.

He opened his eyes, determined to push aside the swirling thoughts and get the rest he so
badly needed. But just as he was starting to relax, someone knocked on the door. He
opened his eyes and saw his younger sister entering, looking like she was about to cry, so
he called her softly, extending his arms.

Her eyes filled with tears, her lips trembling as she ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.
Her thin arms wrapped tightly around him as warm tears soaked his hospital gown, chilling
his skin as if guilt had become tangible.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t cry. I’m fine. I’m strong. See?” Peach kissed her temple and gently
rubbed her thin shoulders. He murmured reassuring words over and over until her sobs
calmed and she slowly loosened her grip.
Plub pulled back with a pout, her eyes and nose red from crying, still looking visibly upset.
He stroked her cheek, touching her gently, and offered a small apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry for worrying you. I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” His fingers brushed
under her eyes. “No more tears, okay? Your eyes will get puffy. It’s all my fault. I swear I’ll be
more cautious. No more overexerting myself.”

“You’d better mean it!” she huffed, narrowing her eyes as if ready to hold him accountable.
He nodded seriously, his expression solemn enough to ease her worry.

With a reluctant sigh, she dropped the angry look but leaned in, her fingers gently brushing
the faint bruise still lingering on his cheek. A cold anger flashed in her eyes.

“Why did they hit you in the first place?” she grumbled, her cheeks puffing slightly in
frustration. “And what kind of useless boss do you have now? How could they let a lunatic
into the studio and hit you like that?”

“The CEO isn’t a security guard, Plub. He can’t watch over me all day.” He chuckled, ruffling
her hair playfully. “Come on, stop pacing. What snacks did you bring me?”

It only took a couple more jokes before Plub’s annoyance faded. She eagerly rummaged
through her bag and pulled out a stash of snacks. Peach almost fell to his knees in
reverence. Just one meal of bland hospital food had nearly defeated him.

He wasn’t on any strict diet, but “healthy” seemed to be the hospital’s default setting—a
nightmare for someone who would choose meat over vegetables any day. He wasted no
time and opened a cheese-flavored snack. The salty, MSG-packed flavor exploded in his
mouth, giving him a moment of bliss, until his earlier thoughts started creeping back,
accompanied by a lingering unease he couldn’t quite shake.

“What would you say… if I told you I might be… interested in someone?”

His voice trailed off, and the question slipped out before he could stop it. He cringed,
mortified, just as Plub’s eyes widened with excitement. She practically jumped to the edge of
the bed, her expression lighting up as if she’d hit the gossip jackpot.

“Who? Where? When? Spill it all! Is someone interested in you now?” she fired off questions
rapid-fire, grabbing his arm and shaking it with surprising strength for someone so small.
“Wait, is it Mim? Is the old flame reigniting? But I don’t like her! She broke my big brother’s
heart—you can’t go back to her!”

“It’s not Mim,” he murmured, feeling his face heat up.

Plub wasn’t about to let it go. “Not Mim. Is it that new model from your last shoot? Though
she seemed a bit scary.”

“…Not her.”

“Hmmm…” She frowned, her brow furrowing in serious contemplation. “Are there other girls
on your team I don’t know about? Or… did Shohei’s agency hire new staff besides Mim?”
Peach opened his mouth as if about to say something, but then closed it again, clearly at a
loss for words.

He sat there, fidgeting, trying to figure out how to string together a coherent sentence. It took
him several moments before he finally murmured.

“Not… not a girl.”

His hands flew up to cover his face as if that could somehow shield him from the whirlwind of
emotions rushing through him. His cheeks burned, and for a moment, he thought he might
actually wear out, not from sadness, but from sheer embarrassment.

He’d never hidden anything about his love life from his sister before. Plub knew all the girls
he’d dated, no secrets, no shame. But this time… this time felt different—more intense, more
uncertain.

Maybe because it was a guy.

Plub froze like a statue, her mouth hanging open and her eyes bulging as if they might pop
out of her head. She snapped her mouth shut a second later, slapping it with both hands as
if trying to suppress secondhand embarrassment. After a few moments of frantic mental
regrouping, she cleared her throat dramatically, leaned in with an almost conspiratorial glint
in her eyes, and whispered.

“Peach… do you like boys?”

“No!” he practically shouted, his face burning with embarrassment from his ears to his neck.
“Just… I thought maybe someone was… flirting with me. That’s all. I don’t like him or
anything.”

“If it’s just flirting, you can ignore it, right?” she teased, a mischievous smile playing on her
lips, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I am ignoring it,” he murmured, his voice barely audible now, shifting awkwardly in place.
“It’s just… maybe… I felt something… a little.”

Plub’s eyes widened even further, practically glowing with curiosity. She grabbed his arm and
shook it enthusiastically, like a child begging for candy. “Who?! Who’s making my brother
feel things? Spit it out!” The more she pressed, the more Peach’s face burned. Before she
could delve deeper into this mortifying conversation, he covered his head with the blanket
and cocooned himself in it like a human-sized chrysalis. And just like that, the conversation
ended.

“Who?! Tell me right now!” Plub demanded, still buzzing with excitement. Her eyes sparkled,
matching her wide grin, as if she were caught in the middle of the most intense scene of her
favorite novel. “Who’s the one making you so flustered? I’m dying to know!”

“Watch your mouth.” Peach peeked out from under the blanket and lightly flicked her
forehead. His chest still felt tight with unease. “You… you don’t hate me, do you?”
Plub blinked, and confusion crossed her face. But Peach couldn’t look her in the eye. He
lowered his gaze and noticed his fingers trembling slightly. He’d never judged anyone for
who they loved. But he’d also never liked a guy before. Just thinking about it felt like
venturing into uncharted waters, far from the safety of the familiar. Safe, but lonely.

The space he’d always thought was safe now felt empty.

“Why would I ever hate you, Peach?” Plub said softly, reaching out to take his hand, giving it
a reassuring squeeze. “You’re amazing. You’ve always been the best brother anyone could
ask for—you’ve done everything for me. You’re the most talented photographer I know, and
you’ve always been my hero.” Her gaze was steady, warm, and honest, shining with
unconditional love. Peach’s chest tightened again, but this time with something lighter: relief,
gratitude. A smile tugged at his lips as he hugged her tightly, holding her as if he never
wanted to let go.

“Thank you,” he said with a wide smile.

Plub hugged him back just as tightly, smiling.

“You don’t have to thank me, dummy. I’m just so glad I get to be your sister.” After a moment,
she pulled back, her mischievous smile returning as her eyes narrowed playfully. “But, since
we’re being all sentimental and honest… it’s confession time. Who’s got you so flustered?
Do I know him?”

Peach’s eyes darted away, his cheeks heating up again. “Yeah. You… probably do.”

“I know him?!” Plub squealed, practically bouncing with excitement. “Who is it? Come on, tell
me!”

Peach slid to the far edge of the bed, desperate to escape her relentless enthusiasm. When
she looked ready to climb onto the bed after him, he quickly raised his hands in surrender.

“I’ll tell you when I’m sure, okay?” He ruffled her hair playfully and gently pushed her away.

Plub pouted but reluctantly backed off.

“Fine… I’ll wait,” she grumbled, clearly displeased but willing to give him space. Then her
expression shifted to something more serious, her voice firm and sincere. “But just tell me
this. Is he good to you?”

Peach paused, his mind racing through every memory—the brief, charged encounters, the
tension that had once gripped him so tightly, and the strange, unexpected comfort that had
slowly taken its place.

After the incident, he’d felt the tension in his head. He remembered the apology, the genuine
way it was offered, even as his heart still raced with nerves. He’d smiled through it all,
pretending everything was fine, as he always did.

But then… that moment when the hospital room door opened and the mafia boss walked in.
For the first time, Peach felt his guard drop—really drop. In that instant, “everything will be
okay” no longer felt like an empty promise. And the way he looked at him—steady, attentive,
as if Peach were someone worth caring for…

“Yes,” Peach admitted softly, a gentle smile curving his lip, his eyes crinkling with warmth.
“He’s really good to me. A little weird sometimes, but… he’s been nothing but kind.”

Plub smiled faintly and finally eased off her interrogation. “I don’t know who he is, but if he
can make you smile like that, I don’t mind.”

Peach exhaled a long, shaky breath, a heavy weight lifting from his chest. “I’ve never liked a
guy before,” he admitted quietly. “But… being with him feels… right. For the first time, I feel
like everything will be okay… like I can finally breathe.”

“Then isn’t that a good thing?” Plub tilted her head, frowning thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s just
because you’ve never felt this way before. But if he’s a good guy, if being with him makes
everything feel right, and if he can make you smile like that, I think it’s worth the risk.”

Peach pressed his lips together, uncertainty still clouding his face. Plub leaned in and
wrapped her arms around him loosely, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Why not give him a chance?” she suggested softly. “If he’s really as good as you think, and
if what you feel grows into something more, that’s beautiful. But even if it doesn’t work out, at
least you’ll know you tried. It might hurt for a while, but it’s better than wondering ‘what if…’”
She paused, straightening with new determination. “And don’t worry—if he ever treats you
badly or makes you cry, I’ll take care of him.”

Peach blinked, momentarily stunned, before a spark of amusement lit up his eyes. “You’ll
take care of him? How about you stop running from cockroaches first, and maybe I’ll believe
you?”

Plub puffed out her cheeks in mock indignation, then burst into laughter, her brother joining
in. Their shared laughter filled the room, pushing away the remaining tension. The
conversation soon drifted to lighter topics, trivial things. But even as they talked, the
uncertainty in Peach’s heart slowly settled, his tangled emotions beginning to take clearer
shape.

All he could hope for now was that this time, he wouldn’t end up regretting it.
WAKE UP CALL #31

After chatting a bit more, there was a knock at the door. Both siblings turned to look just as a
tall figure entered. The man had broad shoulders, with slanted, monolid eyes framed by
familiar rectangular glasses. He carried a huge "get well soon" basket in one hand.

"Mr. Touch? How did you get here?" Peach greeted him with a slight smile.

"I left worried," Touch joked lightly, stepping closer.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Touch. You really didn’t have to go to the trouble." Peach, still too
weak to sit up, could only offer a polite smile. The company president quickly stepped
forward and shook his head firmly.

"It’s no trouble at all. Honestly, I should have come sooner. You got hurt at work—that’s my
responsibility." His expression softened with genuine regret as he placed the large basket on
the bedside table. "Consider this a small token of gratitude. And don’t worry—I’ll cover all
your medical expenses."

"That’s not necessary. I’m pretty sure someone else has already taken care of the bill."
Peach’s tone was casual, though his thoughts drifted to the mysterious mafia boss who had
swiftly brought him to this VIP hospital suite. If that man hadn’t already settled everything,
Peach thought he’d have to squeeze the money out of Tawan somehow. But judging by Mr.
Thee’s earlier behavior, Peach doubted he’d need to resort to any coercion.

"That’s fine, that’s fine. Anyway, let me at least treat you to a meal sometime," Touch offered
with a warm smile, then paused as if something had crossed his mind. "Speaking of work.
The image files—do you still have them?"

Peach nodded apologetically. "Yes, I have them... I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll have time to
edit or retouch the images. I might need to ask for an extension."

He always took his work seriously, ensuring every project was delivered on time and often
with nearly polished, ready-to-use images.

"That’s fine. Just send me the files, and I’ll have the art team finish them," Touch offered
kindly.

"I can’t do that," Peach objected, frowning. "I agreed to handle the art myself when I took on
the job." He was very particular about responsibility—he’d never take advantage of others or
let anyone take advantage of him.

"But I think—"

"That’s enough!"

Plub, who had been silently listening between them, finally intervened and raised her hand to
stop the conversation. Her expression was calm, but her slightly furrowed brow revealed her
growing irritation. She turned to her brother and scolded him firmly.
"Peach, you need to rest. You promised me—no work, period." After a pause, she focused
her attention on their guest. Her face remained serious, though a slight professional smile
curved her lips.

"Good afternoon. I’m Panatchakorm, Peach’s younger sister. I work in the art department at
Arseny Company, but I also help with his freelance projects. I’ll handle the remaining image
edits on his behalf. Would that be acceptable?" Touch blinked, momentarily taken aback by
her firm, imposing gaze. He quickly composed himself, replacing his surprise with a warm
smile that crinkled his eyes kindly.

"That would be wonderful. Thank you, Panatchakorm." He extended his hand in a friendly
gesture. "I’m Touch. It’s a pleasure to work together. May I call you Plub? Since we’ll be
working closely, it seems appropriate to go by first names."

Plub glanced briefly at the large hand before extending hers to shake it, her lips curving into
a slight smile that didn’t reach her sharp, piercing eyes.

"Likewise," she replied curtly, withdrawing her hand just as quickly. Then, with a polite but
firm gesture toward the door, she added, "Let me show you out. This way, please."

Are you already kicking him out?

Peach could only scream those words internally, not daring to voice them. His sister’s sweet
but dangerously sharp smile was too intimidating. The last time he’d seen that look was
years ago, when her boyfriend cheated on her best friend. She’d smiled like that right before
punching the guy so hard he lost a tooth. She was probably furious now that Touch had
brought up work while she was trying her hardest to make Peach rest. She’d even convinced
him to stay another night at the hospital for peace of mind.

Fortunately, the young CEO didn’t seem offended. If anything, he seemed downright
amused, his expression bordering on delight. He simply nodded graciously and bid Peach a
polite farewell before walking toward the door at a leisurely pace, as if waiting for Plub to
follow and properly escort him out.

In the end, she had to tell Peach she’d head home first to work on the images. Only then did
Touch finally leave, disappearing with her through the door.

Watching them go, Peach frowned slightly. A strange premonition washed over him, as if he
were about to lose his sister to something—or someone. Still, when it came to love, he
preferred to let her make her own decisions and support her from the sidelines.

Besides, he could barely manage his own life.

After a while, just as his uneasy thoughts began spiraling, Plub called, almost as if sensing
her brother’s worry. She ranted furiously about how inconsiderate Touch was to talk about
work while Peach was stuck in a hospital, her annoyance spilling through the phone. He had
to calm her down with reassuring words for quite some time.

[I’m heading to your place to get the image files. I’ve already taken time off work, so I’ll
handle everything. Just rest, okay?]
Plub had often helped him with image edits before delivering the final product to clients,
especially when he’d taken on too many projects and gotten overwhelmed. Though she
sometimes got annoyed, her skills were top-notch and trustworthy.

"I understand. Thank you," Peach replied without arguing, deciding not to worry his sister
more than necessary. "You don’t need to come take care of me tonight. Just finish those
images and get some sleep, okay?"

[Got it. You’re being discharged tomorrow afternoon, right? I’ll pick you up then.]

"Alright. Do you want to grab something to eat? My treat—consider it payment for your help."

[No, I’ll treat you to celebrate you getting out of the hospital!]* she protested before quickly
switching to an excited tone when food came up. *[Let’s have shabu, Peach. You haven’t
had it in years!]

"Is that what you want to eat, or are you just using me as an excuse?" Peach teased with a
chuckle. "Fine, my treat, but no alcohol."

Plub groaned through the phone, saying she wouldn’t make things difficult for him while he
was still recovering. Peach, not really believing her, simply laughed. He wasn’t sick enough
to need his sister babying him like this.

After chatting a bit more and making sure Plub had returned safely to her room, he ended
the call. Glancing at the clock, he realized it was already quite late and he was starting to
feel tired—the dizziness that had been improving was returning, likely because he hadn’t
slept enough. He decided to rest, but first, he needed to charge his phone.

He turned to the side of the bed, closed his eyes, and tried to meditate for a moment,
gathering energy despite feeling lazy. After a while, he slowly pushed himself up on his
elbow. The slight dizziness came quickly, but it wasn’t as intense as days before. He was
just exhausted from lying down all day.

Peach stretched his arm as far as he could, his fingers brushing the charging cable.
However, before he could grab it, the door to his hospital room opened.

He turned to look, still reaching for the cable, and the person who stepped through the door
froze, eyes wide with surprise. Before Peach could react, they rushed toward him,
effortlessly lifting him and placing him back on the bed with a gentle motion. So much for his
effort.

Peach lay there, staring blankly, feeling a little defeated. He’d managed to overcome his
laziness to the point of almost reaching the cable, but before he knew it, he was back to
square one.

"What do you think you’re doing?" the mafia boss scolded harshly, his face filled with
concern. "What if you fell and broke a bone? Why didn’t you call someone? You could’ve just
pressed the nurse button."
"Who would I call, Mr. Thee? I’m alone here," Peach replied lazily, his voice dragging with
exhaustion. "Besides, I was just trying to charge my phone. Why would I need to call a nurse
for that?"

"Call the bodyguards outside the room if you need help," Thee snapped, though Peach could
hear something odd in his tone, a hint of something that made him frown.

"Wait a second... You have bodyguards outside my room?"

"Of course. I have them watching over you. I just didn’t let them in because I didn’t want to
bother you," Thee replied matter-of-factly, his expression as if asking, *What? Did you think
I’d leave you here alone?*

"I’m just a photographer. Why would I need bodyguards? Are you planning to keep me
locked up or something?" Peach grumbled, not entirely serious. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel
scared. In fact, there was a strange comfort in the man standing before him.

The mafia boss shook his head, his expression unusually serious, a stark contrast to the
casual sharpness he usually carried.

"I’m not going to do anything you don’t like," he said firmly, grabbing Peach’s phone and
plugging it into the charger by the bed. "Those guys are only here temporarily—to make sure
nothing happens. What if someone tries to sneak in and attack you while you’re sick? Then
what?"

Peach, who had been about to retort, stopped mid-thought. Instead, he let out a long sigh, a
slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips as if the whole thing amused him.

"Come on, Mr. Thee, be reasonable. Who would even bother trying to hurt me?" Peach
replied, exasperation mixing with a hint of sarcasm. "What are they going to do? Slip me
poison? Turn off the fan to claim some imaginary inheritance?"

"Who knows? A lawsuit against the Veeraarpakorn family could be worth a fortune," Thee
said with complete seriousness. Peach couldn’t help it—this time, he genuinely laughed.

Seeing that laugh, the mafia boss’s lips curved into a slight smile, his usually sharp eyes
softening slightly. He adjusted the blanket around Peach, tucking it carefully at the edges as
if wrapping something precious.

"Get some rest. The sooner you recover, the better. I’ll stay and take care of you tonight."

"Wait... What?"

Peach, who had been on the verge of sleep, sat up abruptly, his eyes wide with surprise.
Had he heard that right? Was the fearsome Russian mafia boss seriously planning to stay
and play babysitter in his room tonight?

He couldn’t even process the idea properly! Had he just started thinking about opening up to
him a little, and now they were jumping straight to this?
"Why can’t I stay and take care of you?" Thee snapped, his tone sharp again as his gaze
hardened. "Do you already have someone else lined up to stay with you tonight? Don’t get
any weird ideas. I’m the one paying for this room. If anyone sleeps here, it’s me!"

*Where did this script come from? Some over-the-top soap opera?*

Peach blinked incomprehensibly at Thee, processing the rapid words that left him no room to
argue. Still, since the tone wasn’t really angry—just mildly annoyed and exasperated—he
didn’t bother taking it seriously.

Or maybe he was just getting used to it.

"I’m not seeing anyone, Mr. Thee. I just thought you might feel uncomfortable sleeping here.
I didn’t say you couldn’t stay."

He watched the satisfied expression on Thee’s face with a slightly amused smile. Part of him
was tempted to ask if sleeping with Mr. Thee didn’t count as "going wild," but he wisely kept
the comment to himself. No point poking the bear unnecessarily.

Thee nodded slightly, pleased as his earlier frustration faded. His rough but warm hand
brushed Peach’s forehead, an improvised way to check his temperature, before lightly
stroking the back of Peach’s hand.

"Good. Now rest. Sleep as much as you can. Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up for discharge, and
then I’ll take you somewhere nice to cheer you up." Peach paused mid-yawn, suddenly wide
awake. His streak of bad luck clearly wasn’t over. The mafia boss’s plans for tomorrow
directly clashed with a commitment he’d already made with Plub. "Uh... Mr. Thee, I’m really
sorry, but I can’t go with you tomorrow," Peach said hesitantly, his voice tinged with guilt.
"Plub already has plans to pick me up, and we’re going to have shabu together."

Peach instinctively leaned his neck back, bracing for the inevitable eruption of "Grumpy,
Possessive Thee," a personality he’d encountered far too many times.

But instead, Thee only paused for a moment and looked down briefly. When he finally spoke,
his tone was calm, devoid of the irritation Peach had anticipated.

"Will it just be the two of you?"

"Yeah, it’s been a while since I last went out with Plub, so she invited me."

"Alright, I’ll come too. My treat," Thee said, nodding to himself as if that settled everything.
Without waiting for a response, he turned to order Peach to get some sleep, effectively
ending the conversation. Grabbing his iPad, Thee crossed the room to turn off the main
lights, leaving only the small lamp on the nightstand behind the partition. Then he settled in,
clearly preparing to work while keeping an eye on Peach through the night.

Wait a minute! When did I agree to let Thee tag along?

WAKE UP CALL #32

Thee leaned back, flipping through documents on his iPad. After signing the last one for the
day, he set the pen down and stretched his arms, relieving the stiffness from sitting too long.
The sofa he was on was top-notch, soft and comfortable, but hours of work still left his
muscles tense.

He grabbed the now-cold cup of tea nearby and took a long sip, his gaze drifting toward the
clock. It was late. By now, he should have been attending a dinner or meeting with a
business partner. Instead, he’d cleared his entire schedule the moment he heard someone
was in the hospital—even though the situation wasn’t serious enough to warrant real
concern.

Standing up from the sofa, he strode past the room divider and into the patient area. Peach
was fast asleep in the hospital bed, comfortably wrapped in a white blanket that almost
swallowed his slender frame. His thin arm, delicate bones barely visible, rested on his
stomach. Though his complexion was still pale and faint shadows lingered under his eyes,
he looked peaceful.

Thee approached the bed, hesitating briefly before gently brushing the back of his hand
against Peach’s soft cheek. He held his breath, careful not to wake him. His hand lingered,
lightly tracing the corner of Peach’s eye, brushing over the faint dark circles there.

He’d never noticed how exhausted Peach looked until now. His fingers moved to the space
between Peach’s eyebrows, pressing and massaging in slow, soothing circles. Almost
immediately, Peach’s lips curved into a drowsy smile, and his expression relaxed into
something much more serene.

Thee couldn’t help but smile, his eyes fixed on Peach’s face, unable to look away. The more
he looked, the more fascinated he felt, caught in a feeling he couldn’t quite explain. Even
asleep and unaware, Peach seemed endearing, utterly captivating.

There was no way he’d have let the bodyguards in here—not when they could see Peach
sleeping so vulnerably. Not a chance in hell!

Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He’d set it to
silent so as not to disturb the patient. As soon as the buzzing registered, he stepped back,
walking quietly toward the room door before slipping out with practiced stealth.

“What is it?” The moment the door closed behind him, the warmth in his expression faded
like a light being switched off. His temporary personal bodyguard (who also doubled as his
secretary while Mok was on leave) stood waiting, accustomed to this sharp, no-nonsense
tone. With a brief nod of acknowledgment, he began his report.

“The issue with that celebrity has been resolved, sir. Their legal team requested a mediation
meeting before proceeding with the lawsuit. They offered to terminate the contract on their
end and pay compensation as agreed, including physical and emotional damages. They
want to negotiate the final amount during the meeting.”
“Our legal team will handle it. I want every last cent they owe, no compromises.” His voice
was cold and authoritative, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Understood.” The interim secretary replied firmly, though inwardly he shuddered. The chill in
Thee’s tone seemed to seep into the air, making him silently beg for Mok’s swift return. If he
stayed in this role much longer, he might freeze to death from the intensity.

“Anything else?” Thee snapped, growing more irritable by the second. This was eating into
time he could be spending inside the room—even if Peach was asleep and didn’t need
anything.

“The new model the team contacted has confirmed their availability. They’ll come in
tomorrow for a casting session. Will you be attending?”

“No. Hire whoever you think is best. Let the team handle it.” His reply was curt, and the
irritation began to boil. “What else? Spit it out.”

Swallowing hard, the reluctant stand-in secretary steeled himself, determined to get the final
report out as quickly as possible. All he wanted now was to return to his usual bodyguard
duties, preferably somewhere far from Thee’s icy command.

“The postponed meetings from yesterday and today have been rescheduled per Mr. Mok’s
instructions,” the temporary secretary reported. “However, Mr. Aran requested an urgent
appointment. Should I confirm it, Mr. Thee?”

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have been something worthy of Thee’s attention.
A mere model shouldn’t have the audacity to suddenly request a personal meeting. But
given Thee’s previous interest in the strikingly beautiful model, and the fact that the whole
mess involved the disgraced celebrity, his bodyguard-turned-secretary decided it was safer
not to reject the request without consulting first.

Thee’s eyes narrowed sharply, ready to lash out, but something made him pause.

The truth was, part of the reason Peach got hurt was because of the model’s overly familiar
attitude toward his photographer and his inability to control the situation. Perhaps it was time
to address that issue directly, ensuring everything stayed in order moving forward.

This was the perfect opportunity to remove two troublesome people from Peach’s orbit for
good.

With a small, satisfied nod, Thee dismissed any hint of jealousy from his mind. His decision
was purely logical… or so he told himself. “Schedule the appointment,” he ordered curtly.

Turning around, he re-entered the hospital room. “Unless it’s urgent, don’t call me again,” he
instructed firmly before closing the door behind him. The only thing he regretted was that the
room didn’t have a lock.

Peach was still fast asleep, his soft breathing occasionally interrupted by gentle snores,
almost endearing. Thee adjusted the blanket, making sure it was soft and warm, then sat in
the chair beside the bed.
The hospital’s VIP suite had a small single bed meant for family members, located behind a
room divider. Though not as luxurious as the king-sized bed in Thee’s penthouse downtown,
it was far more comfortable than sitting in a chair all night. But from that far corner, the
patient’s bed would be out of sight… and that wasn’t acceptable.

Without a second thought, Thee decided he’d rather stay there, keeping watch. Everyone in
Thee’s family was strong and healthy, with no history of hospital stays. As for others, he’d
never cared enough to pay them any attention.

But when it came to Peach, he found himself willing to sit there all night, determined to be
the first face Peach saw when he woke up. If anything bad happened, he’d be ready to step
in without a second thought.

He leaned closer and gently took Peach’s pale, cold hand in his. The room was chilly, and
Peach’s skin felt icy. Thee rubbed his hand slowly, letting the warmth seep through his touch.

The moment he’d heard Peach had been rushed to the hospital, his heart had sunk in a way
he’d never experienced before. Though Mok quickly assured him it wasn’t serious, his chest
still felt tight, weighed down by fear. His hands had gone numb from the shock, tormented by
the thought of losing Peach.

Lowering his head, Thee pressed a soft kiss to Peach’s delicate hand before resting his
forehead against it. The warmth of Peach’s palm against his face calmed the storm inside
him.

Never again. Feeling like this, even once, was already too much.

………………..

Peach stirred, slowly opening his eyes. His head ached, making his vision blurry and
unfocused. His mind was foggy, unable to piece things together immediately. He blinked as
he looked at the pristine white ceiling, trying to orient himself.

It took him a moment to remember he was in a hospital bed. He must have fallen asleep
early the previous night and slept through until morning. Maybe that was why he felt so
groggy.

He made an attempt to move and stretch his stiff muscles, but something heavy and warm
pressed against his wrist. Turning his head slowly, he saw a familiar head of dark hair with
soft grayish-brown highlights catching the light, a sight both familiar and strangely
comforting.

Peach raised his free hand and gently ran his fingers through the soft dark hair, trying to
figure out where he’d seen it before. Just then, the person moved and slowly lifted their
head, smoky gray eyes locking onto his, the initial calm in them shifting to quiet alarm.

Wait… had the Russian mafia boss really been sitting by his bed all night? And had he just
been playing with the guy’s hair like it was nothing?
Peach froze, stiff as a robot with its battery drained. His hand jerked back as if he’d touched
something scalding. He held his breath, bracing for some kind of explosion.

But instead of an outburst, Thee greeted him with a slight, surprisingly warm smile. He even
seemed… in a good mood?

“How are you feeling? Better now?”

“Y-yeah… I feel better.” Peach stammered a little, still nervous. “Did you… stay here all
night? You must be sore.”

“Just a little.” Thee’s tone was calm, almost casual, though his smoky eyes gleamed with
something that looked like satisfaction—a rare and surprising sight.

Peach couldn’t believe he could read the meaning behind Thee’s otherwise inscrutable
expression.

Peach, who had crossed paths with the mafia boss too many times, had apparently
developed a talent for deciphering his subtle changes. Still, the current reaction was
unexpected. At first, Peach thought Thee hadn’t noticed his little slip—the way he’d been
playing with his hair like it was no big deal. But when Thee’s smoky gray eyes settled on his
still-raised hand, it became clear that Thee knew.

And not only did he not seem upset, but he also seemed to be in a good mood.

The young photographer was completely baffled. He remained frozen as Thee leaned closer.
A large, warm hand brushed his socked foot and then his forehead, checking his
temperature with a surprising gentleness. Satisfied that Peach was fine, Thee leaned
forward and prepared to help Peach sit up. His movements were careful, deliberate—but
undeniably awkward, as if he wasn’t used to this kind of closeness.

Peach pressed his lips together, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks despite his best efforts to
maintain composure. Gently, Thee pushed him back, putting a little distance between them
so he could breathe.

With a deep breath, he managed to sit up. Thankfully, the dizziness was gone, and only the
lingering fatigue from oversleeping remained, though he felt much more refreshed overall.

“How are you feeling? Still dizzy?” Thee’s deep voice asked, his hand cold from the air
conditioning lightly brushing Peach’s head with surprising care. “Tell me if you feel unwell.”

“I’m fine now. Really.” Peach offered a small smile.

Satisfied, Thee nodded, leaning down to pick up a pair of slippers and carefully placing them
at Peach’s feet. Before Peach could react, Thee moved to put them on him. Startled, Peach
jerked his leg back so quickly he almost fell off the edge of the bed.

“W-what are you doing?” Peach asked, but Thee looked up, expression blank as if he
genuinely didn’t see the problem.
“The floor’s cold. You were going to the bathroom, right? Put these on first.”

“I can do it myself, thank you! Just… leave them there.”

Peach practically begged, his heart pounding in his chest. Thee frowned slightly, muttering
something like, “It doesn’t look like this on TV.” Peach’s jaw dropped. Thai dramas? Which
one had he watched? Did he really think mafia bosses doing these things wasn’t weird or
downright creepy?

Mortified beyond reason, Peach looked down, avoiding Thee’s eyes as he slid his feet into
the waiting slippers. He lightly pushed Thee’s shoulder, urging him to back off and create
some much-needed personal space.

Never in his life had he been attended to like this. It was overwhelming. Strange. The tender
gestures felt too intimate, leaving him flushed with embarrassment and an unease he
couldn’t shake.

It was too much—it scared him.

“I’m going to freshen up!” he blurted, the words tumbling over each other in his haste to
escape. Without waiting for a response, he hurried to the bathroom, “fleeing” the bewildering
scene as if his life depended on it.

Peach wasn’t entirely sure what expression Thee had when he left earlier. He worried he
might have accidentally offended him. Seeing his clothes neatly prepared in the bathroom
only made him feel guiltier. After freshening up and composing himself, he cautiously
stepped out of the bathroom.

The room was empty. Thee was nowhere to be found. Peach looked around but didn’t think
much of it. He quietly walked to the side of the bed where his few belongings were placed.
Since he’d been unexpectedly brought to the hospital, his sister Plub had to bring him a
change of clothes. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have had anything to wear home.

Just as he finished zipping up his small backpack, the door opened. Thee walked in, his face
as impassive as ever. But when their eyes met—Peach noticed the slightest change in
Thee’s usually sharp gaze, as if there was a faint hint of a smile lurking. Subtle, but
unmistakable.

Mr. Thee wasn’t someone who smiled often. Seeing even the faintest trace of warmth on his
face was like spotting a shooting star—rare and fleeting.

Peach smiled back, pretending the earlier awkwardness never happened. “Are we heading
back now?” he asked casually.

The mafia boss nodded slightly, stepping closer to gently press Peach onto the bed and
telling him to wait while he handled the bills. Before leaving, he handed Peach a bag
containing freshly fried dough sticks and a warm soy milk drink.

“Have a snack while you wait. I’ve never tried these before, but Mok said most people like
them.”
Peach’s stomach growled at the sight of the crispy dough sticks. Just as he was about to
take a bite, he paused and reconsidered. Lifting the bag, he handed it back.

“Why don’t you try one first? They’re really good! They go great with black coffee, milk, or
even soy milk. Dip them in condensed milk if you want something sweeter!”

Thee was silent for a moment, eyeing the fried treats with mild curiosity. After a brief pause,
he leaned down and took a bite of the dough stick Peach was still holding. The crispy outer
layer gave a satisfying crunch, contrasting with the soft, airy inside.

“Pretty good.”

Peach froze, mouth agape, staring at the half-eaten dough stick still in his hand. Before he
could think too much about it, he shoved the remaining piece into Thee’s mouth, turned
around, and bolted to the hospital’s water station. Grabbing the plastic cup nearby, he busied
himself pouring soy milk, hoping the cold drink would calm his racing heart. Thee stepped
back, chuckling softly, then moved to the sofa and settled in with a relaxed air.

Meanwhile, Peach remained by the counter, his forehead resting lightly against the cabinet,
his cheeks burning with heat.

What the hell was that?! He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t muster the courage. Instead,
he downed his soy milk in one gulp, begging himself to recover.

It’s just Mr. Mafia being weird! Don’t overthink it!

The hospital staff didn’t take long to handle the bill. Apparently, they’d brought a card
machine to the room for convenience, and Peach caught a brief glimpse of a deck of black
credit cards. He almost asked if it was the famous Black Card. Without missing a beat, Thee
casually handed it over for inspection and gave it to him as a backup in case the other one
maxed out. Peach frowned, shaking his head in disbelief, then grabbed his bag and walked
toward the exit.

When they reached the hospital’s main entrance, Peach stopped dead in his tracks, staring
wide-eyed at a luxurious sports car parked outside. Even though he wasn’t into cars, he
could tell its price probably surpassed his lifetime earnings. Thee walked toward it like it was
no big deal, opening the passenger door before gesturing for Peach to get in.

“Where are you meeting your sister for shabu?”

Peach blinked, utterly speechless. He’d assumed Thee’s offer to join them was just a joke.
But now, sitting in the car with the engine roaring, it was clear Thee wasn’t kidding.

When they finally arrived at the famous shabu restaurant, Thee got out of the car and walked
alongside Peach, their shoulders almost brushing as they moved. He stayed close, not
giving an inch of space, until they reached the restaurant’s entrance. Peach glanced
discreetly at Thee, half-expecting him to turn around and leave, but the man showed no
signs of walking away.

How was he going to explain this to Plub?

WAKE-UP CALL #33

Plub was sitting in front of the steaming shabu pot, arms crossed and lips pursed. In front of
her were two men. The smaller one sitting further 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 life.

“Would you mind explaining 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 carefully placed it on her plate.

“Trying to shut me up with food, huh?” she snapped, narrowing her eyes, though she still
popped the pork into her mouth without hesitation. “Don’t think one slice will be enough!”

Peach chuckled, grabbing more meat and vegetables to cook for her, his efforts to appease
her evident. Meanwhile, the imposing figure beside him, none other than Thee, noticed and
casually ordered another round of food trays, as if the current mountain of dishes wasn’t
enough.

When they entered the restaurant, Mr. Thee had almost insisted on buying the entire place.
Peach 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, as he found it hard to
understand how much all of that cost.

Peach 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 gourmets: *If you order it, you finish it!*

Of course, he only pulled his own hair out of exasperation. There was no way he’d dare
touch Thee’s.

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

“Mr. Thee covered all my hospital bills when I was admitted,” he said, pausing to take a
breath. “So I thought I’d invite him to a meal as a thank you.”

Peach nearly bit his tongue. He almost never lied to his little sister. Sure, half of what he said
was technically true, but the guilt was already starting to eat at him. 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?!

“Well, well! Mr. Thee must have such a kind heart!” Plub flashed a dazzling smile that made
her eyes squint slightly. To her older brother, however, that overly sweet smile was far more
terrifying than her usual glare. “But a cheap place like this doesn’t seem to suit your tastes.
Maybe we should save a proper thank-you dinner for another time, hmm?”
Thee raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly catching her not-so-subtle attempt to shoo him
away, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Instead, the tall man leaned back in his seat with a relaxed air, sipping the restaurant’s
cheap green tea as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “It’s fine. These things are
measured by the heart, not the price.”

“But surely you’re drowning in work, Mr. CEO. How is it that Peach managed to rope you into
a last-minute invitation?” Plub pressed, refusing to back down. “In any case, I think it’d be
best if you headed back now. I wouldn’t want to waste your valuable time.”

“It’s not a waste. If it’s for your brother, I’ll always make time.”

That calm response made Peach choke on his tea, coughing so hard that the entire table
turned to look at him. Plub, on the other hand, froze in place, mouth agape and eyes wide,
staring at the president, who leaned over to gently pat Peach’s back as if it were the most
natural thing in the world.

Plub quickly grabbed a napkin and handed it to Peach before leaning in, lowering her voice
to a sharp whisper. “Peach… is this… what I think it is?!”

Peach pressed his fingers against his temples. All his efforts from just ten minutes ago had
gone down the drain.

With a resigned sigh, he nodded slightly, barely audible, but enough to make Plub explode
with excitement. She covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes shining with a silent
scream of joy. Her shoulders shook as she practically vibrated in place, her face filled with
contagious happiness. Once she managed to compose herself, Plub cleared her throat, her
face still red, but her expression turned serious. She leaned forward and, in the most serious
tone imaginable, asked:

“CEO… are you trying to court my brother?”

Peach’s jaw dropped, and he could almost feel the heat flooding his face, spreading so fast it
felt like his ears stopped working. He completely forgot to stop Plub, forgot that his little
sister was bold, impulsive, and the polar opposite of his reserved nature. But he didn’t
expect her to be *this* impulsive!

“Don’t call me ‘CEO,’ just ‘Mr. Thee’ is fine,” the mafia boss replied, completely unfazed by
the bluntness of the question. He looked utterly relaxed, more so than Peach had ever seen
him. “If things go well, maybe someday you’ll call me Brother Thee.”

Peach froze mid-thought, any excuse he’d been about to give immediately wiped from his
mind. It was as if someone had thrown a grenade right at him, leaving only a ringing in his
ears and a desperate need to disappear.

Plub, on the other hand, lowered her head and clenched her fist, repeatedly hitting the seat
as if she were bursting with pure emotion. 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, could no longer take it. He turned his head, raising a hand to partially cover
his face in a futile attempt to hide the growing embarrassment. He was so close to just
banging his head against the wall to end this nightmare.

In a desperate attempt to keep himself busy, Peach focused intensely on dipping meat and
vegetables into the shabu broth, as if his life depended on it. With determined hands, he
piled food onto the plates for the other two, hoping that pushing them to eat would somehow
distract them from their ridiculous staring contest. It took him a while to recompose himself,
but once he felt his face had returned to its normal color, Peach finally dared to clear his
throat and redirect the conversation to another topic.

“So… how’s work going?” he asked, jumping to the question that had been tormenting 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,
grab his camera and head straight out the door.

“The winter collection has been put on hold. Luckily, we hadn’t started designing the
magazine yet. Right now, we’re in the middle of interviews with a new model for the
campaign,” Plub replied between bites of cheese pork, savoring each mouthful.

Peach pressed his lips tightly, feeling the guilt swell in his chest. Although he knew, logically,
that it wasn’t entirely his fault, the ripple effects of the situation had clearly affected others,
and that was enough to leave him feeling uneasy.

“I’m sorry. I’ve caused trouble for everyone,” he said with a slight apologetic smile, his eyes
dimming with regret. Thee frowned deeply, looking as if he wanted to intervene, but Plub
shook her head firmly, her expression resolute.

“There’s no need to apologize. This wasn’t your fault, Peach,” Plub said, shrugging as she
flashed him a bright smile. “Though I know you’ll still feel guilty anyway. But seriously, I’ll say
it again: this isn’t on you. I’m happy to redo all the work, and honestly, all the team members
who know what happened agreed that we should replace the model. That guy was a total
pain. Even the makeup artist complained 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 quieter and not the most sociable
person on set, but he’d never been bad enough to warrant that kind of reaction. He wasn’t
the type to stir up drama or have people talking behind his back, at least not from what
Peach had seen.

“It’s not so much about him as a person,” Plub said, lowering her voice to the gossipy tone of
a coworker ready to spill the tea. “But when it comes to anything related to Aran, he
becomes the most insufferable person on the planet. If the makeup is too bold, he
complains. If the outfits are too revealing, he complains. It’s always something! And these
are all things that were written in his contract from the start—if he didn’t like it, why did he
sign?”
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 even before the session was over. It was
maddening, 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, simply smiled, completely unfazed.

“He’s the one who broke the contract. What’s he going to complain about?” she said,
shrugging nonchalantly. “And if he tries to cause trouble, I’ll run straight to Mr. Thee!”

“Well done! If you come to me next time, I’ll treat you to bubble tea.”

Thee continued gathering information silently, diligently cooking meat and vegetables and
placing them on the plate for the smaller figure beside him, not missing a single beat. He
nodded with a serious expression, clearly pleased to have one less nuisance to worry about
and happy to ease the burden for the person next to him. Peach, on the other hand, had no
idea what was going through the mafia boss’s head, nor was he interested in finding out. He
simply decided to tune out the strange conversation, letting it pass as he turned to chat with
his sister instead. With a piece of meat already on his chopsticks, he said, “It’s partly my fault
too. Next time, I’ll bring you some snacks to make up for it.”

Plub laughed, not shy at all, and quickly blurted out the name of the snack shop where she
wanted him to get her something before returning to work talk.

“By the way, I just heard that the new model has already passed the interview. Buhnga just
sent a message in the group chat a while ago. It seems he’s already signed the contract,
and his schedule is completely free now. You can schedule the session whenever you want.”

“Wait, why was Buhnga the one conducting the interview?” Peach raised an eyebrow, trying
to recall his name. Buhnga was the assistant of Team Three and had been competing to
take over the team leader position before Wivit ended up getting the spot.

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

“That guy’s out of the team,” Plub replied, her voice still filled with irritation, unable to even
say his name. “In fact, he left the company entirely. There’s a rumor that he’s being sued for
fraud, but I’m not sure if it’s true.”

Both siblings instinctively turned to look at Thee, who responded with a firm nod. His lips
curved into a slight smile, but his eyes held a dark, unsettling intensity.

Peach immediately turned away and decided to pretend he hadn’t seen or heard anything.
Plub, on the other hand, seemed very pleased and mentally awarded extra points to the
mafia boss as she smiled to herself.

“Anyway, it’s rumored that this new model is super cute. Ridiculously cute. Looks and
personality, both top-tier,” Plub added. Her eyes lit up as she laughed, pretending to act shy.
The exaggerated act was so fake it was almost charmingly annoying, enough to make
anyone want to pinch her cheeks.

Peach turned to Thee and said he was getting full and it was his turn to eat. Before he could
say more, Plub, who had been silent for a moment, suddenly spoke.

“Oh, by the way,” she began, tilting her head slightly. “That model said he’s a huge fan of
your work, Peach. He really wants to work with you again.” Plub frowned. “I was going to ask
where you shot someone so handsome, but then I thought it’s pointless since you have 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—a tall, broad-shouldered guy who couldn’t be more than
twenty, with sharp, striking features.

But… no, it couldn’t be.

………………..

Later, Peach entered the company with a large bag of snacks, just as he’d promised. Well,
except for one small detail—he hadn’t spent a single cent of his own money on them.

That morning, as usual, the mafia boss had shown up in front of his office. After sharing
breakfast together, he casually informed Peach that he had work outside the office in the
morning but would return in the afternoon. Before leaving, he handed Peach a huge bag of
snacks.

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

“You said you’d bring them snacks, 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 boss replied, 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.

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 on the table, the team swarmed in like kids in a candy store, their
eyes practically glowing with excitement at 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 really buy this?” she asked again, narrowing her eyes with a sly, knowing
smile. Caught red-handed, Peach let out a resigned sigh and nodded. Plub burst out
laughing, clearly amused, before diving into the bag to grab her share without the slightest
hesitation.

“Oh, by the way. Peach! This is the new model who’ll be working with us,” one of his
teammates called out, gesturing for him to come over. Peach recognized her as someone
from the PR team; she was the one who usually coordinated with the models for the
photoshoots.

Grabbing the two bags of snacks, Peach headed over, his curiosity piqued. He saw a tall
figure talking to another team member. From behind, the guy looked strangely familiar,
though Peach couldn’t place him.

He handed a bag to the PR team member and turned to wait for the new model to introduce
himself. A few moments later, the guy turned around, revealing a strikingly handsome face
with puffy cheeks that gave him a youthful, almost childlike charm. He didn’t look older than
seventeen or eighteen.

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

“Hi, Peach! I’m glad to see you here again.”

“Kinn!”
WAKE-UP CALL #34

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

Sitting at the head of the long table, Thee drummed 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 old, cunning foxes of the Arseny clan who had survived countless power
plays.

This was precisely why his younger brother, Rome, had gladly stepped back and let him take
the reins of the family while positioning himself as the brains behind the scenes. Rome now
ruled as the hidden king of the Arseny family’s growing business empire, far removed from
these exhausting power struggles.

Mok sat beside Thee, jotting down key points with great attention. Rome, as expected, had
skipped the meeting entirely and flown off to handle some personal business in the
countryside.

After four and a half grueling hours, the meeting finally ended. Thee exchanged a few brief
words with some of the more influential elders about pending business matters before
turning on his heel and striding out with long, determined steps.

He had hoped to have lunch with Peach, but the prolonged 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 in the rearview mirror and sensed 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 looked up from the iPad in his hands when the car stopped in front of the studio.
Instantly, his mood improved. Mok mentioned he’d order lunch ahead of time, earning a brief
nod before Thee stepped out with a slight smile on his lips.

But the moment he set foot inside the studio, he frowned again. His sharp, intense eyes
fixed on the male model standing confidently in the center of the set, flashing a dazzling
smile.

*What the hell is he doing here?*

Irritation flared. He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to march over and drag that
smug-smiling 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.

With his teeth clenched and muscles tense from suppressed frustration, he shot a glance at
Peach, who was completely absorbed 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 turned on his heel and stomped over to the familiar leather couch,
dropping onto it with a dull thud.

Crossing one leg over the other, Thee folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, silently
brooding. Before long, Mok returned with lunch in hand. He meticulously set out the food,
unfazed by the stormy air radiating from his boss.

“That guy. What the hell is he doing here?” Thee grumbled, low and dangerous, gesturing
toward the model.

“He went through the standard audition and interview process,” Mok followed his line of
sight, expression as calm as ever. “Mr. Touch recommended him, and he also agreed to take
a pay cut after the filming delay. His skills as a model 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 touch of subtle sass. “I recall you skipped the interview process and told us to pick
whoever fit the profile. You said it didn’t matter who.”

Thee’s face darkened instantly. He felt an intense urge to strangle someone, but realized the
only person who deserved that treatment was himself.

Without further discussion, he reluctantly ate 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 electric with irritation.

Later, Peach finally called for a break, satisfied with the shots he’d taken. As he reviewed the
images on his camera, he headed toward the refreshment table, only to notice Thee
brooding in a corner of the studio, his expression anything but welcoming. Without
hesitation, Peach approached.

“Are you back, Mr. Thee?” he greeted warmly, flashing a bright smile before eagerly
grabbing his camera. He stepped closer, clearly excited to show off the photos he’d taken.

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

Realizing his thoughts were wandering dangerously, Thee looked down, forcing himself to
regain control. His lips twisted into a soft, unusually tender smile as his earlier stormy mood
dissipated almost instantly.
“That guy… he’s not bothering you, is he?” Thee asked, low and almost coaxing, his tone
protective. “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. “Kinn’s really
talented and 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 sparkled with pride and joy for his work, the words stuck in his
throat. How could he argue when Peach was so happy?

In the end, all Thee could do was watch as Peach returned to work, his lingering gaze filled
with a helpless longing he couldn’t shake.

“Boss, you have meetings scheduled for this afternoon,” Mok announced, stepping in only
after Peach was out of earshot. Thee acknowledged him with a brief nod, though his eyes
remained stubbornly fixed on Peach’s retreating figure, unwilling to look away.

He hated the idea of meeting anyone, but after skipping two days of work to take care of
Peach, his schedule was a mess of back-to-back appointments he couldn’t ignore.

“I’ve arranged the meetings in the president’s office. There are some documents that also
need your signature. I have them ready,” Mok said once more. With a resigned sigh, Thee
rose from the couch, and the irritation he’d managed to suppress began bubbling up again.
His mind raced with unwanted scenarios of the model getting too close to his photographer.
Just the thought darkened his expression.

Finally, he reached his office. After quickly handling a stack of documents, he began allowing
scheduled visitors to meet with him. The series of shrewd, self-serving conversations
weighed heavily on his already frayed patience, layering frustration upon frustration with no
end in sight.

Thee didn’t mind negotiating deals—he was more than skilled at it—but he despised
sycophants, especially those who manipulated emotions for their own gain.

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

Once, he’d allowed himself to trust, only for a supposed friend to use their bond to gain
favors and advantage. Since then, he’d built unbreakable walls around his heart, reserving
true closeness solely for his family.

The mafia boss slowly rubbed his temples, trying to ease the mounting tension. With a brief
nod to Mok, he allowed the day’s final appointment to enter.

The moment he heard the click of the door opening, he looked up, only for his brows to
furrow immediately.
“What do you want?”

The unexpected guest flinched, his wide, wary eyes lifting to meet Thee’s gaze. There was a
nervous hesitation in the way he shifted his weight, visibly on edge. His face, delicate and
heartbreakingly vulnerable, looked on the verge of tears. It stirred something instinctive—the
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 void.

“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 trembling, clasped hands.

Thee watched indifferently, reclining in his leather chair. He didn’t bother offering the man a
seat.

“If you have something to say, spit it out.”

Aran hesitated, clearly questioning himself. He narrowed his eyes, and irritation sparked like
a lit fuse. His patience, already worn thin by the day’s endless grievances, was dangerously
close to snapping.

Today, there were too many reasons to be angry.

“I’m begging for leniency,” Aran’s voice was barely more than a whisper, choked with unshed
tears. His red-rimmed eyes glistened with unspoken sorrow. “Please, let Tawan go.”

For a fleeting moment, Thee remained still. His stormy, smoky gray eyes darkened,
becoming colder than winter frost. The name he loathed hearing echoed loudly in his mind,
reigniting the embers of unresolved fury.

“Did anyone ask that idiot to stop acting like a bastard?” His voice was low and sharp. For an
instant, an image flashed in his mind: a young photographer lying motionless in a stark
hospital bed. That bruised corner of his mouth. His fragile body, almost swallowed by the
sterile white sheets. 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 murmured, shaking his head. His voice,
barely a whisper, was heavy with exhaustion. “To Tawan… and his family. Don’t you think
you went too far?”

“I don’t see how I did,” Thee replied coldly. His expression was inscrutable, making Aran’s
face pale even further.

“Tawan is seriously 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… then what is?”
Aran’s trembling voice broke as tears streamed freely down his cheeks. His small frame
shook pitifully, consumed by helplessness. Yet, Thee’s cold gaze remained impassive,
touched only by mild irritation.

“If his hands can’t be used for anything good, he doesn’t need them,” Thee stated calmly, as
if discussing the weather. “As for his family… if they couldn’t raise him right, they’ll have to
face the consequences.”

“Mr. Thee…” Aran’s voice quivered as he spoke the name, barely holding steady. After a
shaky breath, he took a faltering step toward him. His wide, tear-filled eyes pleaded
desperately. Thin fingers, trembling with fear, slowly reached out and lightly brushed the
back of Thee’s hand.

“Please… I beg you. Let Tawan go… just this once.”

The moment those soft fingers touched his skin, Thee jerked his hand away with a sharp
motion, producing a loud, resounding slap. Aran gasped, clutching his now-stinging,
trembling hand. He stumbled back, his delicate face marked by 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 shattered the last shred of self-control Aran
had left.

“You have no heart!” he shouted, his small body 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 hated 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 thoughts of wanting Aran in his bed now completely forgotten.

“Everyone says it… The makeup artists said it too…” Aran’s voice trailed off, his confidence
crumbling under Thee’s suffocating gaze. Suddenly, doubts began to creep into his mind.
Something didn’t add up. The atmosphere around Thee had become oppressive,
threatening; nothing about it screamed affection.

The makeup artists had said Thee was hopelessly in love with him. That he only followed
him out of jealousy. They even claimed the attack on Tawan had been driven by
possessiveness. They’d insisted on it when Aran had doubted, pointing out how Thee barely
seemed to want to be near him.

At first, Aran hadn’t fully believed it, but Tawan’s mother had cornered him. Her fury was so
intense it felt like a slap to the face. She’d blamed him entirely, ordering him to, for once, be
useful to Tawan. Her disdain for him, combined with her refusal to accept her son’s feelings
for another man, left him with no options.
And maybe… maybe they were right. After all, the CEO himself had agreed to see him on
such short notice. For a moment, his heart had soared, his hopes had flown.

But the man now standing before him… didn’t fit any of those expectations. He wasn’t the
man the makeup artists and the team had described. Theerakit stood tall, his presence
imposing and suffocating; the tension in the air was so thick Aran could barely breathe. His
legs began to shake, his knees threatening to give way. Fear slowly crept into his heart, like
ice spreading through his veins.

“Did they bother to tell you that the only thing I’m interested in is to get you into my bed?”
Thee’s deep voice was low but sharp, cutting through the tense air like a blade. “Because,
aside from sex, I don’t see anything remotely interesting about you.”

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

“So, are you willing to crawl into my bed to save your precious friend?”

The question made Aran’s head snap up, fear and panic etched on his face. Thee’s mouth
curved into a cold, sinister smile, calculated, cruel, and devoid of mercy.

“What a pity, you’ve already bored me.” His voice dropped even lower, more threatening
than before, each word resonating with a terrifying 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 startled, caught off guard by the sudden interruption. Thee’s eyes snapped toward
the partially open office door, realizing with a jolt that he hadn’t closed it properly when Aran
entered, likely due to his trembling hands.

Without wasting another second, Thee strode toward the door with long, determined steps,
practically yanking it open. There, pale as a ghost with wide, startled eyes, stood Peach, the
young photographer. His face had lost its color, and his hands trembled slightly, his
expression a mix of confusion and fear.

He must have heard everything.

Panic shot through Thee’s chest, making his hand twitch as if to reach out, but Peach
stepped back before he could. The younger man lowered his gaze and gave a stiff, awkward
bow, as if he didn’t know how else to react.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just… overheard by chance.” Peach pressed his
lips together and held up a small bag of snacks. “I just came to share some snacks from this
morning with you and Mok.”
“Please, listen to me,” Thee’s voice broke with urgency, words tumbling out in a rush. He
longed to pull Peach into his arms, explain everything, but Peach raised a hand and stepped
back to create some distance.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to talk right now. I just need to be alone for a while.” His gaze
flicked toward Aran, still frozen in the office, lost and uncertain. Peach’s eyes darkened with
silent resignation. “Please continue what you’re doing… Don’t worry about me.”

Without waiting for a response, Peach turned and walked away, his shoulders stiff but
trembling enough to betray the storm inside him. He never looked back, not even once.
WAKE-UP CALL #35

Peach lay sprawled on the floor, arms and legs stretched out, staring fixedly at the white
ceiling above. A whirlwind of emotions churned inside him, leaving him more confused than
ever.

That very afternoon, he had caught a glimpse of the young mafia boss sitting alone, looking
heartbreakingly dejected. Although Peach had already sent a text saying he couldn’t make it
to lunch, Thee never complained. He simply sat there, eating alone in silence, with an
expression so lonely that guilt twisted in Peach’s chest. Maybe he felt a little pity for him, or
maybe there was also a hint of affection mixed in.

After finishing his shoot, Peach decided to take out two bags of snacks he had saved that
morning. One was for Mok, while the other... well, if the mafia boss wasn’t too busy, he
thought they could share it together.

*When did I start thinking so much about Mr. Thee?*

The thought lingered as he walked down the hallway. He had never been to Mr. Thee’s office
before, but Mok had given him directions long ago, even assuring him that he was welcome
anytime. If Mr. Thee was with a client, Peach should let Mok know, but otherwise, there was
no need to hesitate. Though the invitation had initially puzzled him, memories of Thee’s
recent behavior stirred something in his chest. It felt like he was being courted. Mr. Thee
never said anything directly, but his actions spoke louder than words. He listened attentively,
went out of his way to protect Peach—sometimes too dramatically—but always with genuine
care. Peach had never been pursued by a man before, but the idea didn’t unsettle him. On
the contrary, it awakened something warm and uncertain deep within, leaving him
off-balance.

He was still sorting through his emotions, unsure where they might lead. But one thing was
clear: he was willing to try. He wouldn’t rush or force any answers. Instead, he let his feelings
grow naturally, step by step. If one day they blossomed into something more... he would
welcome it with an open heart.

The young photographer stopped in front of the office door and noticed it wasn’t completely
closed. He hesitated, debating whether to knock or peek inside to see if Mr. Thee was busy.
If there were guests, he would leave quietly.

What he didn’t expect was to see a beautiful-faced model standing in the middle of the
office, crying.

His steps faltered. Should he intervene? However, the mention of "Tawan" in their heated
conversation left him frozen. Fear made his eyes widen even more.

He only knew about the legal battles—he had no idea things had escalated to physical
violence.

He frowned as he silently vowed to get to the bottom of this. He understood Thee’s temper
(being a mafia boss had its extremes), but the idea that Thee might have gone too far
gnawed at his conscience.
A part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that this might somehow be his fault.

He was about to open the door when the model’s rising voice made him stop. Confronting a
mafia boss wasn’t a great idea. But what he heard next made his hand freeze in mid-air.

"Why?! Don’t you like me?"

"...I was only interested in dragging you into my bed..."

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

The photographer stood there, paralyzed, his ears ringing as if the world had gone silent
except for the hollow echo of those words. His mind clouded, and a sharp pain blossomed in
his chest.

Even when the conversation made it clear that the mafia had lost interest in the model, the
weight in his heart didn’t lift.

Confusion overwhelmed him, mingling with a suffocating sense of helplessness. When Thee
suddenly appeared in front of him, the words dried up in his throat. He felt awkward,
uncomfortable, too overwhelmed to meet Thee’s eyes.

In the end, he did the only thing he could do: he turned and ran. He needed space, to gather
his thoughts, to sort out the chaos in his mind.

"Peach, are you going to tell me why you’re here or what?" the young woman exclaimed as
she approached, finally crouching beside him. "You suddenly packed up and left to stay at a
girl’s house. If Mr. Thee finds out, he’s going to explode."

The mention of that name made him shudder, and his gaze instinctively shifted away.
Unfortunately, his little sister, who had grown up with him her whole life, could read him like a
book. She narrowed her eyes and leaned in even closer.

"What happened? Tell me." Plub moved to sit cross-legged and rested her chin on one hand
with a mischievous smile. "Consider it the price for staying here tonight."

Peach had never been able to hide anything from his sister, especially after showing up
unannounced with a travel bag. He finally relented and told her everything that had
happened.

"You feel guilty about Tawan, don’t you?" Plub tilted her head thoughtfully and crossed her
arms. "In a way, I get it, but honestly, you have nothing to feel bad about. He was the one
who hurt you first! I still want to hit him myself."

"Yeah, but he only hit me once. It didn’t have to go this far." His mouth tightened, the lack of
sleep clouding his face.

"What was just one hit for you probably felt like the end of the world for Mr. Thee," she
murmured, almost to herself. Noticing his confused expression, she quickly changed tack.
"Look, I’ll admit Mr. Thee went overboard. But let’s be real, someone who hits first without
thinking, doesn’t feel remorse, never apologizes, and even sends their lawyer and agent to
clean up their mess... that kind of person needs a serious wake-up call."

"Still... putting someone in the ICU is too much." Peach’s faint smile was tinged with guilt, his
gaze dropping. "The worst part is... a small part of me thought, ‘He deserves it.’"

Plub frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, she took out her phone, checked her messaging app,
and opened a conversation. "Look, read this. It’s the latest press release. Tawan has a
fractured hand and some bruises that aren’t life-threatening. He needs a splint and some
physical therapy, but he might not recover soon."

Peach took the phone and read carefully. The messages were from a journalist, a reliable
entertainment reporter Plub often contacted for trustworthy information about actors and
models her brand worked with.

Plub had asked about Tawan. She skimmed past some harsh words with a slight frown. The
response she received was straightforward: aside from his injured right hand, the rest of his
injuries weren’t that serious. He only spent one night in the ICU because he looked pretty
beaten up when they first found him. The next day, he was moved to a regular hospital room.

Peach’s mouth fell open slightly. The story he was hearing seemed very different from what
he had imagined.

"But Aran..." He felt the need to protest, sensing something still wasn’t right.

"Peach, you never follow celebrity gossip, do you?"

He blinked and silently admitted she was right. He had never kept up with entertainment
news; everything he knew came from Plub, who played the role of the all-knowing informant.

At that moment, the informant leaned in conspiratorially, cupping her hand as if about to spill
some juicy celebrity tea—even though they were the only two people in the room.

"Tawan’s mother hates Aran. She’s never accepted that her son likes men. She always
blocks them and hurls insults whenever she gets the chance. When Tawan was hospitalized
this time, Aran wasn’t even allowed to visit." Plub shrugged. "I bet she pressured Aran
somehow. Probably told him some sob story about Tawan being seriously injured and then
sent him to mess with Thee. Maybe she hoped Thee would change his mind and help her
with her business."

Peach’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe someone could be so low, deliberately throwing
Aran to the wolves, hoping the mafia boss would take his anger out on him. If the mafia
cooled down afterward, Tawan’s mother could come out on top.

"Breaking his wrist was definitely harsh. But as for pressing charges and cutting ties, I don’t
think that was over the top." Plub admitted as she poured two glasses of water. She handed
one to her brother. "But there has to be more to it. If it were just about Tawan, someone like
you would have dragged him in for a serious talk, not run away like this."
Peach offered a faint, uneasy smile. Both of them had faced many cruelties in life as
orphans. They had seen the darker side of the world so many times that hearing about a
mafia boss beating someone up wouldn’t make him run away.

He might seem kind, but he wasn’t naive. He understood how brutal the world could be. And
honestly, he didn’t even blame the mafia for losing control. If someone had hurt Plub and he
had enough power, wouldn’t he have done the same? At the very least, he would have
asked you to tone it down—he still felt guilty about how far things had gone.

With a tired sigh, Peach ran a hand over his face, trying to erase the persistent memory of
Thee’s rough voice echoing in his mind, the way he had propositioned Aran as if it meant
nothing. Even though he knew Mr. Thee had backed off afterward, the bitter taste of that
moment still clung stubbornly to his chest.

"I heard Mr. Thee tell Aran to get into bed with him," he admitted quietly, guilt and discomfort
weighing on his words. "He was probably angry... he said it in the heat of the moment... but
still... I hated hearing it."

He had told himself long ago that he could handle anything Thee threw his way. But hearing
it firsthand was a different story. It hurt much more than he expected.

So much so that the thought of seeing him again felt overwhelming. He was afraid Thee
would show up at his condo like he always did, so he packed his things and fled to Plub’s
house.

He wasn’t running away. He was regrouping. Definitely just catching his breath.

Plub raised an eyebrow, slid next to him, and gently placed a hand on the back of his. Her
fingers traced soothing circles.

"I think you like Mr. Thee now."

The words hit like a punch, making Peach flinch. He turned his head toward her, eyes wide
and cheeks flushing instantly.

"What?!"

"You like Mr. Thee. If you didn’t, why would you be so upset?" Plub rolled onto her stomach,
propping her chin on her hands with a teasing smile. Her grin widened. "Come on, three-time
Best Advisor of the Year, and now you can’t even understand your own feelings?"

Peach opened his mouth and then closed it again. His mind scrambled for a response, but
even denying that he liked him felt like something he couldn’t bring himself to say.

He had never lied to his sister. He always told Plub to be honest with herself. He couldn’t
start lying to her now.

"No, Plub, it’s just a good feeling, that’s all," he murmured, his eyes drifting toward the
window. "He and I are... worlds apart. Even if what he did to Tawan makes sense, a part of
me is still scared. What if one day he ignores me? What if the blade he’s used on others
ends up cutting me... especially since I’m a man too?"

"You can’t keep thinking about all that on your own. You have to let him share the burden
too." Plub frowned and sat up cross-legged. "I think you really care. Why don’t you try talking
to him?"

Peach turned to meet her gaze, a faint, tender smile tugging at his lips.

"Thanks, you’re the best little sister anyone could ask for." He opened his arms, and Plub
happily sank into his shoulder, hugging him tightly.

"You’re going to talk to Mr. Thee, right?" she asked, her voice muffled against his shirt.

"Yeah, I think I have to. But first, give me a few days to sort myself out. You won’t kick me
out in the meantime, will you?"

Plub chuckled mischievously and sat up. Her large, doe-like eyes sparkled with a sly glint,
hinting that something crafty was brewing in her mind.

"Peach, let me be the one to tell Mr. Thee you want to talk."

"Huh?" He made a questioning sound but didn’t outright refuse. Plub’s smile widened, an
almost perfect mirror of his own teasing expression when he was plotting something.

"I’ll let him know. At least, let me assess my potential brother-in-law." She chirped, practically
radiating excitement. Her smile grew so wide her eyes crinkled. Peach, already blushing with
embarrassment, could only groan inwardly. There was no stopping her when she was like
this.
WAKE-UP CALL #36

Plub walked confidently down the hallway after the secretary granted her permission to see
the CEO—or rather, after she contacted him and was practically escorted directly to his
office.

"Mr. Thee's mood has been a bit unpredictable lately," Mok warned with a serious
expression. As they walked, she noticed several employees passing by with tense faces.
"He's always intense at work, but lately, he's been very meticulous."

Plub frowned slightly but simply nodded. The atmosphere seemed calmer than she had
expected. She had imagined the classic mafia storm—furious anger, throwing things—but
she remembered the calmness Mr. Thee had shown when they went out for shabu.

Mok knocked on the large office door before announcing her arrival. Inside, the tall man was
seated behind a massive desk, surrounded by stacks of documents. His hands paused only
when she entered.

Theerakit looked up, his chiseled face marred by visible fatigue, dark circles shadowing his
piercing eyes, and his broad shoulders, usually held high with authority, seemed slightly
slumped. Yet, the atmosphere was cold, sharp enough to freeze the room. In his hand, he
gently cradled a delicate wind chime, holding it as if it were something precious.

Normally, Plub would have felt intimidated—after all, technically, she was still just a
subordinate. But today, she came as Peach's sister, ready to assess a potential
brother-in-law. Fear had no place here.

His smoky gray eyes slowly shifted away from her, blinking with equal parts hope and
anxiety.

"Is Peach with you? How is he?"

Plub raised an eyebrow. Her brother had been staying with her for three days. He had told
her he needed time to sort out his thoughts and decide what to say. Besides, the young
mafia boss had been in a volatile mood lately, and Peach didn’t want things to turn into a
shouting match.

Not that Thee made it easy to go unnoticed—he visited Peach so frequently that the condo
security assumed they lived together and even reissued him an access card. Staying at his
old house would have been like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Thee would have surely
barged in, no doubt.

Still, Peach hadn’t completely disappeared. He avoided phone calls but still responded to
Thee’s messages, albeit less frequently due to his busy work schedule. If it weren’t for that,
Plub might have thought her brother had left Mr. Thee for good.

But judging by the nearly hundred text messages Thee had sent, it was clear that the
reduced communication wasn’t on Peach’s side—it was Thee who had ramped up his
messages.
"You made Peach cry," Plub lied softly, though her brother hadn’t shed a single tear despite
being visibly exhausted. "He was really heartbroken. Why would you hurt him like that?" Just
that, and she could see Mr. Thee instantly deflate, all color draining from his face as the
atmosphere grew even gloomier. Seeing his distressed expression made Plub’s lips twitch in
amusement.

This was kind of fun.

She let him stew in guilt for a moment longer—consider it payback for making her brother
feel like crap. But when Thee sat there looking completely defeated, she finally sighed and
decided to dial back the drama.

At first, she had been prepared to bolt with Peach if Thee lost his temper. But instead, he
seemed to wilt before her eyes, like a plant abandoned under the scorching sun. She
couldn’t stand to see him like that, especially when her brother was in just as bad a state.

"Aren’t you mad at Peach?" Plub asked cautiously, narrowing her eyes as if trying to catch
him in a lie.

"Why should I be mad? He’s the one who’s mad at me." Thee leaned back in his chair and
looked down, pained and distant. His fingers brushed the wind chime in his hand as if its
gentle touch could anchor him. "He probably hates me by now."

Plub planted her hands on her hips. Watching Thee sink deeper and deeper into his
melancholy was getting old fast. With a sigh, she turned on her heel, grabbed a chair, and
dragged it over to place it right in front of him. Adjusting her glasses, she did her best to look
serious.

"I want to ask you something—seriously," Plub took a deep breath, steadying herself, "What
exactly do you feel for Peach?"

"I like him," Thee responded instantly, without even a hint of hesitation. His voice was firm,
his words slow and deliberate, as if he needed to convince even himself.

This wasn’t a passing thought. Ever since Peach had pulled away, his feelings had only
grown sharper, more undeniable.

"I like Peach… I love your brother."

Plub’s lips curved into a soft smile as the tension in the room eased.

"You won’t hurt my brother, will you?"

"Never."

Thee’s stormy gray eyes locked onto hers, deadly serious. His brows furrowed as if the
question itself were a personal affront. Plub let out a soft sigh, her gaze dropping for a
moment. When she looked back at him, her eyes shone with a warm calmness, tinged with
something deeper.
"There’s something you need to know. Peach would never tell anyone this, but I think you
should know." She said slowly, her voice almost distant, as if recounting someone else’s life.
"We weren’t orphans from the start. We had a mother… but she remarried, and the man she
chose turned out to be a cruel monster. He was violent and drank. But our mother… she
loved him anyway. We were just kids. We couldn’t do anything."

Thee straightened, paying attention to every word. His eyes darkened with a silent intensity,
as if he were etching every piece of the story into his memory, silently vowing to keep every
fragment of Peach’s past close to his heart.

"There was one time when I had a really high fever. Peach literally knelt and begged our
mom to take me to the hospital. But she didn’t care. She loved her husband more than her
own children. So, when that monster said no, she left us to fend for ourselves. Peach got a
pretty bad beating that day—his arm was broken. And me? I was just left there, waiting to
die." Plub began softly, her gaze falling to the floor. Her voice cracked slightly, but she
pressed on, her expression composed even though the words carried the weight of old
wounds. Time had dulled the sharp pain, but the scars were still there, faint but impossible to
ignore.

"Since then, Peach has hated violence. Like… really hates it. To be honest, he’s not
perfect—he has his rough edges and sometimes a vengeful streak. But when it comes to
violence, he’s scared of it. Whether it’s committing it or being on the receiving end, he just
can’t stand it."

The young mafia boss froze. His gray eyes widened in surprise, and a jolt of understanding
hit him like a freight train. His mind flashed back to that day at the restaurant, the day he
grabbed Peach’s arm too hard. It left a red mark on Peach’s wrist, barely anything, but his
face had gone completely pale.

And that other time, outside the office, Peach’s face had gone ghostly again. His eyes were
wide and unfocused, trembling with a fear so intense it was impossible to miss, even though
he tried to hide it.

Peach wasn’t just "scared"—he was *traumatized*.

"What happened after that?" Thee asked, his voice dry and rough, his expression a mix of
seriousness and sadness. He needed to know everything, every detail.

If it was about Peach, nothing was too small or insignificant.

"After? Peach carried me and ran. We managed to escape the house, and someone helped
us. Peach lied and said our mom was dead, so we ended up in an orphanage. We stayed
there until Peach turned eighteen. As soon as he was old enough, we moved out and started
living on our own." She concluded it as if it were a simple, clear story, brushing it off as if it
didn’t carry the weight of a thousand shattered moments. Her casual tone made it sound like
one of those "ten years later" clichés in a novel, glossing over the struggles and pain.
Though everyone knew it wasn’t entirely true, there must have been countless good and bad
moments in the past. But none of that mattered now.
"We never talked about it again. Even I never mentioned how scared Peach gets about
violence. Honestly, I’m not sure Peach even realizes it himself."

It was something only a sister who had lived by his side her whole life could notice. Peach
avoided action movies, skipped any sports that involved combat, and always seemed pale
when he saw news about violence. He tried to stay away from anything related to it, like
fleeing from a recurring nightmare he couldn’t escape.

"It’s my fault," Thee murmured quietly, sadness and anxiety tightening his chest. "I never
meant to make Peach feel like that." But it wasn’t just about making him feel bad. Thee
realized he barely knew the real Peach.

Behind that bright smile and calm, gentle demeanor—the protective shelter he created for
others—Peach might have been more fragile than anyone could imagine.

Not crying didn’t mean not suffering. A wound that had scarred over didn’t mean the pain
was gone.

"You shouldn’t blame yourself too much, Mr. Thee. Honestly… both Peach and I enjoyed
watching how things played out."

The young woman shrugged indifferently. This might have been the first time Tawan resorted
to physical violence, but it certainly wasn’t the first time Peach had gotten into trouble
because of him.

"But I still made a mistake… I made Peach hate me." The mafia boss’s shoulders slumped,
his sharp, intimidating face shadowed by a faint sadness. His voice grew softer, almost
defeated.

"I doubt he hates you. If he did, he wouldn’t have let me arrange this meeting."

Thee’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in shock, gleaming with a spark of hope. The
young woman chuckled and decided she had tested her future brother-in-law enough for
now.

"Do you have time tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Thee? Peach would like to talk."

"Of course," Thee responded instantly, his tone firm and confident. Even if his schedule
wasn’t free, he’d make sure it was.

"I can’t wait to start calling you Brother Thee," Plub joked with a bright, playful smile as she
stood up. "But, Mr. CEO, do your best, okay? I only have one request—never, ever use force
with my brother. And if the day comes when you no longer love Peach, please send him
back to me."

Thee looked at her, his gaze firm and unwavering. There was a gravity in his expression that
made it clear he had never been more serious in his life.

"That day will never come. I swear."

………………..

Peach finished all the work for the winter collection by the third day. After the last-minute
change in the main model, there was a mountain of tasks—promotional images, magazine
designs, and more. Peach couldn’t help but feel guilty for being the cause of such a massive
reset, so he volunteered to help with the final edits of the photographs and even assisted
with the magazine’s design and artwork.

Honestly, part of the reason he threw himself into work was because his mind had been all
over the place lately. He wasn’t sleeping well, so when insomnia struck, he simply got up
and worked through the night.

Peach picked up his phone and checked the unread messages in his app. Among the
messages from his team members, one name stood out at the top: Mr. Thee. A new
notification from him had just popped up.

He responded to his team’s messages first before opening Thee’s. Most of Thee’s earlier
texts were short and sharp, asking where he was, how he was, and why he hadn’t returned
to his condo. Peach chuckled at the slightly bossy tone in those messages before his eyes
landed on the most recent one.

T:I’m free all afternoon tomorrow.

And the morning after too.

Peach couldn’t help but laugh quietly, immediately assuming that Plub had gone ahead and
arranged the meeting. The night before, she had mentioned she would inform Mr. Thee
about the appointment. She had insisted on going alone, determined to interrogate her future
brother-in-law first. Apparently, only if Mr. Thee passed her little test would she agree to
arrange the meeting.

He couldn’t help but worry—what if that terrifying Russian mafia boss lost his temper and hit
his sister? Plub was very straightforward, almost to the extreme. If she accidentally said
something that upset him, how could he step in to help?

But Plub didn’t seem worried in the slightest. She laughed and said, "If I come back with a
scratch, that proves Thee is a horrible person. No way am I letting someone like that
become my brother-in-law."

"Hey. I’m back!"

Peach looked up at the cheerful voice coming from the door. Plub walked in with her arms
full of bags and her hands burdened by what looked like a whole feast. One of the large
white bags had the logo of a famous Korean restaurant, and the aroma of sweet garlic fried
chicken wafted through the room, instantly making his stomach growl.

Not only unharmed but positively glowing—he couldn’t help but wonder if something
suspiciously good had happened.
"What’s all this, Plub?" he asked as he got up to help her unload the bags onto the table.
"Did you win the lottery or something? Why did you buy so much?" He knew his sister loved
Korean food, but this was a ridiculous amount just for the two of them. It felt like a waste.

"Sorry to disappoint," she joked, laughing mischievously. "I didn’t spend a single baht on any
of this. It’s all courtesy of a certain someone picking up the tab. Come on, come on, I’m
starving!"

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but decided not to press her further. Instead, he helped
serve the kimchi soup into bowls while Plub happily laid out the variety of chicken boxes on
the table. Once everything was ready and the chopsticks were distributed, they finally sat
down to eat.

"Peach," she said, and her sister dropped a piece of glazed fried chicken onto his plate. "I’ve
sorted out the meeting with you. His secretary said you should call him to confirm the
time—he said you have his number."

"So, does that mean he passed?" Peach asked with a playful smile. Honestly, he could
already tell just by the way she came back in such a good mood—and with a food offering,
no less—that the answer was obvious.

"He passed, but whether he can win you over or not, well, that’s a completely different story."
She tried to keep a straight face, but it was hard to take her seriously when she was still
chewing a bite of chicken.

"That said, while he’s trying to court you, feel free to milk him for all he’s worth. Free meals
every day? Sounds like a dream to me!"

"Milk a mafia boss for three meals a day? Seriously?"

Peach laughed, and Plub immediately launched into a rant about how much her daily food
expenses were as an office worker, earning another laugh from him.

The two continued bantering for a few minutes, but soon the playful atmosphere settled.

Plub rested her chin on her hand and looked at her brother with warm, thoughtful eyes.

"Peach. I’m really glad someone can finally take care of you," she said softly, her voice
tinged with sincerity. She smiled faintly, her large, round eyes glistening with unshed tears
behind her glasses. "But just make sure it’s someone you really want, okay? Don’t worry
about me. If you’re not ready to give an answer, then don’t. And if it doesn’t work out, just set
it aside. No matter what, I’ll always be by your side."

Peach was silent for a moment, wondering if Plub still held a grudge over the whole Wivit
situation. She once thought she was the reason Peach had to endure Wivit’s mistreatment,
and while that wasn’t entirely wrong, it had been Peach’s decision. There was no need for
her to carry the guilt.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on her head and gently ruffled her hair affectionately.
"Got it. This time, I promise I’ll listen to my own heart first," Peach said with a smile.

Plub nodded enthusiastically, exclaiming, "Good!" before returning to her chicken, biting into
a saucy wing with total concentration. She left everything else—her brother’s decisions,
Thee’s persistence, and the future—in Peach’s hands.

Meanwhile, she’d keep herself busy milking that grumpy mafia boss for all he was worth, at
least until Peach figured out his answer.
WAKE-UP CALL #37

It was the second time Peach found himself walking down that long hallway. He looked
around silently, observing the immaculate white walls and polished marble floors gleaming
under the soft lighting. Meeting rooms and office doors lined the hallway on either side,
slightly spaced apart, and at the end stood a large wooden door, imposing yet welcoming.

Peach opened it and stepped into a modestly sized room. To the right was the secretary's
desk, while on the left was a small lounge area complete with a coffee machine and
refreshments. On the far wall was another door—one that led to the CEO's office.

The last time he had been here, he had stopped right in front of that same door. Now, Peach
offered Mok, the secretary, a polite smile in silent acknowledgment before taking a deep
breath. Then, he walked through.

The room on the other side was enormous and elegantly intimidating. A luxurious black
carpet covered the floor, muffling his footsteps as he entered. The decor leaned heavily into
dark tones of black and deep red, exuding power and sophistication. In the center stood a
commanding desk, while on the opposite side, a set of luxurious leather sofas was carefully
arranged for receiving guests.

Mr. Thee was seated on one of those sofas. As soon as he noticed Peach entering, the tall
man sprang to his feet, his smoky gray eyes fixed on him. There was a flicker of unease in
his gaze, almost as if he feared Peach might turn around and run. Peach approached slowly,
his steps faltering when he noticed something odd—on a table in front of the sofas were
more than three glasses of whiskey. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Thee with mild
confusion.

"Do you have guests? If so, I can come back later."

"No! I don’t have any guests. I cleared my entire schedule," Thee blurted out, his voice
alarmed, almost terrified.

"Then why are there extra glasses of water?"

"They’re not for anyone else. I prepared them for you," Thee paused, his usual confidence
wavering as he struggled to explain. "I thought maybe you’d want to throw one at me first.
You know, to vent or something. And then you’d still have another to drink afterward in case
you got tired."

Peach’s jaw dropped. He felt as if he had just heard something so absurd it gave him a mild
headache. Seeing Thee puff out his chest and brace himself like a martyr ready to be
doused with water made Peach raise his hands in surrender.

"I’m not going to throw water at you, Thee. It would make a mess."

"The floor is carpeted. If you throw it, the water will just soak in. It won’t make a mess," Thee
explained with excessive seriousness. Peach couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why
someone would need such an explanation.
"That’s exactly what would make the mess! The carpet would be a nightmare to clean! At
least think about the poor cleaning staff."

"Water doesn’t stain. And if it does, I’ll just replace the entire carpet. Problem solved," Thee
replied, expressionless, as if he were talking about buying something as trivial as a pack of
gum. "I’ll take care of the rest."

Peach opened his mouth, trying to find a response, but ended up closing it again, completely
lost. His head was starting to hurt from the absurdity of the conversation. It felt like they were
stuck in a strange loop, and he didn’t even know where to begin unraveling it. In the end, he
gave up and changed tactics entirely.

"I don’t want to throw water at you," he said firmly.

Thee nodded as if he finally understood. Peach exhaled a long, silent sigh of relief and sat
down on the sofa beside him. Despite avoiding him in person lately, Peach had still been
responding to his messages regularly. They had stayed in touch. But now that they were
face to face, the air between them felt strangely awkward, heavy in a way that was hard to
explain.

Peach glanced at the man beside him. With a furrowed brow, his expression tense and
serious, as if he were thinking about some major company crisis, Peach watched him
silently, trying to piece together what was going on. Thee’s face was sharp and handsome,
usually exuding confidence and control. Now, it showed unmistakable signs of exhaustion.
Dark circles hung under his eyes, his temples were visibly tense, and there was a slight
stubble along his jawline as if he hadn’t bothered to shave in a long time. Even his usually
piercing smoky gray eyes had dulled, their shine dimmed by fatigue.

He looked as exhausted as he had said.

"Mr. Thee, have you been very busy with work lately?" Peach asked softly, his voice gentle
as he unconsciously reached out to touch Thee’s slightly sunken cheek. "You look like
you’ve lost some weight."

Thee froze for a moment, his gaze fixed on Peach’s hand resting on his face. Peach
immediately realized what he had done and flinched, quickly withdrawing his hand while
murmuring an apology. But Thee’s hand was faster. He placed his palm over Peach’s,
holding it loosely in place—firm enough to keep it from pulling away. Instead of letting go,
Thee leaned into the touch, letting his unkempt cheek, dusted with a faint stubble, press
against Peach’s warm palm.

"Thank you for worrying about me," Thee murmured, his voice low and tired. His eyes
closed, and for a moment, he seemed completely vulnerable, almost fragile. "Lately, I’ve had
some things on my mind."

"Your work must be really stressful. I’m sorry if I’ve caused delays to the Winter project
because of me."

"Not at all, that project doesn’t worry me in the slightest," Thee replied softly, his tone
reassuring. He tilted his head slightly and pressed a light kiss to Peach’s palm, causing the
younger man to freeze in shock. "What drives me crazy is when you disappear like that.
Please, if something bothers you, tell me. Just don’t disappear without a word again, okay?"

Heat flooded Peach’s face, burning all the way to the tips of his ears. He stammered
incoherently, looking around in a panic, unsure how to respond. Yet, for some reason, he
didn’t try to pull his hand away. The warmth of Thee’s touch, his gentle grip, was strangely
comforting, and Peach found himself unable to break the connection.

Thee, however, was the one who pulled back, albeit reluctantly. He released Peach’s hand
for a brief moment, though he quickly took it again, his fingers gently tracing the back of
Peach’s hand in a tender, almost distracted motion.

"I’m sorry if I scared you," Thee admitted quietly, his voice tinged with guilt. His gaze
dropped slightly, as if he were ashamed. "I was so angry. Just thinking about something
happening to you—I couldn’t control my emotions. If you had been hurt more, or if you had
fallen and hit something, or even if that punch had landed in the wrong place with too much
force... you could have been seriously injured or worse. Just imagining that possibility was
unbearable."

He hesitated for a moment, his stormy gray eyes lifting to meet Peach’s gaze. But instead of
holding it, his attention shifted and settled on the corner of Peach’s lips. The scar had long
since healed, but the memory of the blood from that day seemed etched in Thee’s mind.
Gently, his rough fingers extended, lightly brushing the corner of Peach’s mouth, as if wiping
away something only he could still see.

"I’m so sorry," Thee murmured, his voice low and solemn. "But I don’t regret what I did to
that actor. If I had to choose again, I’d do it all over again."

Though this time, I won’t let you find out.

Peach let out a deep sigh, trying to steady the erratic rhythm of his heart. This time, it wasn’t
fear—not the kind he had felt before.

Instead, it was a strange warmth spreading through him, shaking him to his core in a way
that was almost more terrifying.

He was scared... but if it was Thee, maybe it was okay.

"I don’t blame you. I understand. You’re a mafia boss. Things like this must come naturally to
you," Peach said softly, his lips curving into a faint, hesitant smile. His voice was warm, his
eyes gentle. He added, "If anything, I should thank you. Without you, I probably would have
been hurt for nothing, unable to defend myself at all."

In this messy world, no matter how hard he fought, some things just couldn’t be changed.

"But I still made you uncomfortable," Thee murmured, his voice dropping again. His
expression clouded with guilt, his usual authoritative demeanor completely gone.

This time, it was Peach who squeezed Thee’s hand tighter, offering a gentle squeeze in a
tacit attempt to comfort him.
"At first," Peach admitted, his voice calmer, "I thought it was too much. I didn’t expect it to go
as far as someone ending up in the hospital."

"You ended up in the hospital too," Thee retorted sharply, his tone taking on a scolding edge.
But before Peach could respond, Thee quickly shook his head, cutting off the conversation.
"Forget it. Let’s not talk about this anymore. It’ll only make you feel worse."

Peach nodded silently, dropping the subject as Thee wished. His gaze fell to their
still-intertwined hands—with no sign that Thee intended to let go anytime soon.

But he had to ask. If he didn’t, the doubt would only keep gnawing at him.

"Mr. Thee, do you still like Aran?"

"No, I never liked Aran. Before, it was just lust. I’ve never had even a shred of genuine
feelings for that model," Thee stated firmly. His tone carried a finality far more serious than in
a previous conversation.

"But you invited Aran to your bed."

"I was being petty. I hate people who try to use my feelings for their own benefit," Thee
frowned, realizing his words could be misinterpreted, and quickly explained, "But I didn’t
have feelings for him. All of that was in his head. I’ve dealt with all those rumors. They won’t
come up again."

The faint smile that had been playing on Peach’s lips grew wider, to the point where he had
to lower his head to hide it. Strangely enough, hearing Thee’s emphatic denial filled his chest
with an inexplicable warmth. It was ridiculous how happy he felt over such a simple
statement.

He didn’t even want to know how much weight this mafia boss now held in his heart.

"I thought you liked Aran," Peach murmured, testing the waters.

"I like you."

The blunt confession was so out of place that it startled him, and his head snapped up to
meet Thee’s gaze. The smoky gray eyes he had admired since their first encounter locked
onto his, unwavering and intense. They carried a seriousness that made his heart skip a
beat. Thee’s lips pressed together as if steeling himself, his large hand trembling slightly as it
held Peach’s. The man who ruled with an iron fist, a model of confidence and pride, now
stood before him with his defenses stripped bare, baring his soul as if begging for his
feelings to be seen.

"I’ve never cared about anyone," Thee began, his voice low but firm. "No one outside my
family. Everyone else has always been insignificant. Until the day I met you." He lowered his
head and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Peach’s hand, his piercing gaze steady and
pleading. "You’re the only one who matters. The only one I’ve ever truly felt something for.
Without you, there’s no one else."
Peach froze, his mouth slightly open as the words stuck in his throat. An intense blush
spread across his cheeks, making his eyes burn as if tears threatened to fall. And when he
saw the faint redness creeping up Thee’s ears, his own embarrassment reached a whole
new level.

What just happened? What did he just hear?

He sat motionless like a robot that had run out of battery. Thee, clearly nervous, inched
closer until he rested his chin on Peach’s shoulder. That finally snapped him out of his
stupor. He flinched slightly, but the weight on his shoulder and the firm grip on his hand kept
him anchored in place.

"I don’t know," Peach stammered, his voice trembling. Thee’s gaze was sweet and
relentless, making him feel even more flustered. His hands moved awkwardly, as if they
didn’t know where to go. "I’ve never dated a guy before. I’ve never even liked one."

"But you’re not pushing me away. You’re not trying to run," Thee replied softly, shifting to sit
on the same sofa, his larger body inching closer bit by bit. He wasn’t even touching him, not
really, but the way Thee leaned in felt overwhelming, as if he were being swallowed whole.

How was he supposed to escape this?

He screamed internally, wanting to shout it out loud but too exhausted to do anything other
than sit there, stiff. His lips pressed into a thin line, his cheeks burning enough to make him
worry he might actually be running a fever.

"I don’t hate you, okay?" Peach murmured, turning his head as far as he could. Why did
Thee have to get so close? It wasn’t fair!

Even if he didn’t push him away, it was still embarrassing!

"Then, if you don’t hate me, that means you like me, right?"

"What kind of logic is that?!" Peach shot back instantly, his frustration spilling over. He turned
sharply to look at Thee, only to freeze again. Their faces were so close that their noses
almost touched. He could feel Thee’s warmth, every shared breath in the space between
them.

Thee held his gaze for a long moment before slowly pulling back. His retreat was careful,
deliberate, and tinged with reluctance. It seemed like he was forcing himself to let go,
repeating to himself over and over that it wasn’t the right time. Even if it was just a kiss, he
was willing to wait until the day he heard the words, "I’m ready."

For him, even a single kiss felt so precious he wanted to treasure it forever.

"Peach," Thee said softly, his voice firm despite the whirlwind of emotions. "If you feel
something—anything—for me, then maybe... we should try dating."
The young photographer shifted slightly, giving Thee space to sit properly. However, Thee’s
large hand still played with Peach’s smaller one, his touch gentle but persistent. His gaze,
though, was more serious than ever.

Peach blinked in confusion, completely lost as to how their conversation had come to this.
Seeing his bewilderment, Thee straightened his back and spoke again, his tone resolute.

"I know my work keeps me busy, but I promise I’ll take care of you. Wherever you want to
go, whatever you want to do, just tell me, and I’ll handle everything. I can take you to eat in
Japan. You’ve only been to two of those 'Restaurants You Must Try Before You Die,' right? I’ll
take you to the other eight, no problem. If anyone dares to mess with you, I’ll take care of it.
I’ll be your strongest ally, no questions asked.

And if you want to work, I’ll never stop you. But if one day you just want to rest, you can. I’ll
take care of everything for you."

At that, Peach couldn’t hold back any longer. Raising his free hand, he gestured at Thee as if
to say "enough," while the embarrassment clouding his mind began to fade, replaced by
laughter bubbling up inside him. Still, his cheeks remained burning red.

"What is this? You’re selling yourself pretty well, huh? This is overkill."

Thee’s smile widened, his eyes shining with delight. Just seeing Peach laugh filled Thee’s
chest with warmth. He reached out, taking the hand Peach had raised to stop him, and
gently lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to Peach’s knuckles. The entire time,
his intense gaze never left Peach’s face, not even for a second.

"I haven’t even told you the most important part yet," Thee said softly, his voice now tender.
"If you date me, I’ll be your family. I swear I’ll love, care for, and protect our family for the rest
of my life."

Peach froze, his wide eyes locked on Thee’s. The words struck a chord so deep it felt like
they resonated in his soul. Slowly, a tear slid down his cheek, unbidden, as his lips curved
into the widest smile he had ever worn.

"Is this promotion a limited-time offer?"

Thee gently wiped away the stray tear with care, his touch so delicate it was as if he feared
breaking something precious. His smile widened, matching the warmth in his eyes.

"Until my last breath."

WAKE-UP CALL #38

At the slightly ajar office door, two pairs of eyes peeked in, attentively observing the scene
inside. Though they were too far to catch the conversation, every gesture, glance, and
movement was clearly in their minds.

The first pair belonged to Mok, Thee’s secretary, who was discreetly keeping an eye on
things out of concern. Though he trusted that Thee wouldn’t hurt Peach, the unpredictable
shifts in his boss’s mood lately had left him uneasy.

The second pair belonged to the mafia’s younger brother. Tall and burly like his older brother,
he had wrapped the small secretary in a strong hug, resting his chin on top of Mok’s head as
he curiously watched the scene unfold.

"I never thought I’d see the day my big brother would fall head over heels like this," Rome
murmured, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "This trip turned out way more entertaining
than I expected. Guess I’ll have to call Mom and spill the tea."

"Mr. Krich, don’t tease Mr. Thee," Mok said as he straightened up and gently pushed Rome
back. He quickly closed the door, giving those inside their privacy once more.

"Mom’s a tyrant, you know," Rome replied with a mischievous grin, already pulling out his
phone to scroll through his contacts. "If anything, she’ll probably be so excited she’ll take the
next flight to Thailand."

His mom and dad were a modern, open-minded couple. Mom, a former supermodel and
actress with a wide circle of diverse friends, had always supported all kinds of love.

As for Dad, his main concern wasn’t gender at all. He was far more worried that his
workaholic eldest son would completely disconnect from love. Dad, a hopeless romantic who
had adored his wife for nearly forty years, simply wanted his kids to find someone to share
their lives with, just as he had.

"But I’m pretty sure Mrs. Thee would be even happier if Mr. Thee told her himself."

Rome paused, his expression turning thoughtful for a moment before a mischievous glint
shone in his silver-gray eyes. He leaned in, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"In that case, do you have something to keep me quiet, Mok?"

The secretary’s eyebrows furrowed, his face remaining serene despite the faint blush
creeping up his cheeks. With a sharp inhale, Mok pursed his lips and stepped forward,
cupping Rome’s face with both hands before planting a firm kiss on his lips.

However, just as he meant to pull away, Rome moved faster. The young mafia boss’s strong
hands gripped Mok’s waist, pulling him closer, while one hand slid up to cradle the back of
his neck. The playful kiss deepened, growing heavier as Rome’s lips pressed more
insistently against his. A soft swipe of his tongue brushed Mok’s lips before slipping in,
turning the kiss into a heated exchange that left the smaller man breathless.
Mok weakly thumped his fists against Rome’s chest in protest, finally managing to pull back
enough to catch his breath. But Rome wasn’t done. He leaned in to pepper a few more
kisses, ignoring the blush spreading across Mok’s face.

"That’s way too expensive for a bribe," Mok murmured, covering his mouth with both hands
as he stared at Rome, his cheeks burning red. Rome just laughed, thoroughly pleased with
himself, as he watched Mok huff and storm off to his desk.

Rome said he was going for coffee, but the moment Mok was out of sight, he pulled out his
phone and began typing furiously, a smug smile on his face. He sent a quick text to the
family group chat.

Casually, he just wanted to invite Mom to visit Thailand soon, adding a tantalizing teaser
about a surprise waiting for her that she’d have to ask his brother about herself.

Meanwhile, inside the office, Thee’s confident gaze and persuasive tone seemed to draw
Peach in deeper. The walls of resistance, already fragile, crumbled completely. Embarrassed
but unable to resist, Peach nodded slightly, his heart pounding so loudly he swore he could
hear explosions in his head.

………………..

Meanwhile, inside the office, Thee’s confident gaze and persuasive tone seemed to draw
Peach in even further. The walls of resistance, already fragile, crumbled completely.
Flustered but unable to resist, Peach nodded slightly, his heart beating so loudly he swore
he could hear explosions in his head.

The moment he said yes, Thee broke into the widest smile Peach had ever seen. His eyes
sparkled, as if someone had set off fireworks in them, radiating warmth and sweetness. That
smoky gray tone, which Peach had always found so captivating, now seemed to pull him in
deeper, making him fall even more under his charm.

"I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it, but I promise I won’t take it further," Thee murmured—his deep
voice filled with restraint. He slowly pulled away, almost reluctantly, as if savoring the fleeting
intimacy. Because if he pushed his luck any further, he wasn’t sure he could stop.

"Hungry? My treat. Let’s celebrate our first day together," Thee said, standing up and
extending a hand toward Peach. Peach looked at the outstretched hand, a small smile
tugging at his lips. Though he still wasn’t entirely sure about everything, he willingly took it,
feeling a strange sense of happiness as he did.

"Are we really celebrating the first day?" Peach asked, laughing softly to hide the
embarrassment clearly painted on his face. He tried to free his hand, but no matter how
much he tugged, Thee wouldn’t let go.

Instead, Thee tightened his grip and gave him a serious look, though the corner of his lips
curved slightly.

"This is the zero anniversary, Peach. Of course it’s important." With that, Thee turned and
pushed the door open, dragging Peach along as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Stopping just outside, he gave some instructions to his secretary, all while still firmly holding
Peach’s hand.

"Everything’s ready at the restaurant, right?" Thee asked.

"All set, boss. Here’s the car key," Mok replied, handing it over with practiced efficiency. His
lips curved into a small smile, showing a rare hint of emotion. "Congratulations, boss. And
congratulations to you too, Mr. Peach."

"Thank you. Make sure to mark this as an important date in my schedule, okay? Block it off
every year from now on."

Peach, who had been about to smile, turned his head to look at the man beside him. He
raised an eyebrow, as if silently asking what was so strange about what he had just said.
Without waiting for a response, he strode forward, his strong hand pulling Peach along with
him.

"What’s wrong with that? Mok’s my secretary. He handles my entire schedule," Thee’s tone
was casual as he headed toward the elevator, his grip on Peach’s hand unyielding. He even
pulled Peach closer to walk side by side. "I already have him blocking off important dates for
me—birthdays, family gatherings. I’m just adding today to the list."

Peach opened his mouth to argue but quickly closed it, realizing it would be too much effort
to explain why that was nonsense. Instead, he lowered his head, his cheeks burning more
with each step.

Not that it mattered. The day was about to throw even more embarrassment his way.

The CEO’s office was in the middle of the building, and since the elevator wasn’t private, it
was shared with the staff. Which meant that from the moment they left Thee’s office until
they reached the underground parking lot, Thee didn’t let go of his hand, not even for a
second.

Naturally, this caught the attention of every employee they passed. Some stole furtive
glances, their expressions ranging from curious to amused. Those closer to Peach’s team
shot him wide-eyed looks of disbelief or teasing smiles. Some even let out exaggerated
gasps or stifled giggles behind their hands.

The peak of Peach’s humiliation came when the elevator stopped at the art department’s
floor. Waiting there was Plub, who immediately stood on her tiptoes as if she’d just won the
lottery. Her mischievous smile stretched from ear to ear as her eyes darted between Thee
and Peach.

"So it finally happened, huh, Brother Thee?!" Plub said lightly, as if chatting with an old
friend, showing no hesitation despite the obvious power dynamic. Thee smiled smugly, his
eyes gleaming with satisfaction, clearly unbothered by her cheekiness.

"Of course. And thank you for your help."

"I’m ordering the salmon, please!"

"Order everything. I’ll cover it," Thee replied without missing a beat, his voice smooth and
confident. Then he turned to Peach, his eyes shining expectantly, as if waiting for a
compliment.

"Seriously, stop spoiling Plub like this," Peach murmured, pursing his lips before deliberately
looking away, avoiding the more mature glint in Thee’s eyes. He felt like those two were
getting along a little too well, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why it bothered him.

"And about the Korean food last time, thanks for that, but you don’t have to buy it next time."

"Why? Wasn’t it good?" Thee raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled, before turning to Plub, who
had already settled in as Thee’s new little sister. "I told you, that place was too cheap. Next
time, let’s try a more exclusive place, or if you really crave authentic Korean stuff, I’ll take
you there myself. We can fly together next time."

As soon as Peach heard Thee murmuring about bringing in a Korean chef for the next meal,
he quickly raised his hand to stop the conversation, trying to bring everyone back to reality.

"Enough," Peach sighed and then turned to his sister. "Plub, stop stealing food from people
so easily."

Plub stuck out her tongue with a mischievous grin, before suddenly pretending to remember
something. "Hey, Peach, you’re picking up your stuff to move back to the condo today, right?
Because I have dinner plans and I’ll be out pretty late. Do you think you’ll be okay carrying
your stuff on your own?"

"I don’t have that much stuff, don’t worry about it," Peach replied, narrowing his eyes slightly,
with a subtle hint of suspicion in his tone. "But wait, who are you having dinner with? You’ve
never mentioned anyone like that before."

Peach knew most of his sister’s friends, and whenever she went out, she always made sure
to say exactly who she was with.

But this time, when he asked, Plub simply gave him a mischievous smile and said she’d tell
him later when she got the chance.

The young photographer let out a long sigh and warned her to be careful before letting her
go back to work, still feeling a little uneasy about the whole thing.

The two walked to the car, but this time it wasn’t the familiar black car—it was a flashy
lime-green sports car that stood out. Peach’s eyes widened as he looked at it in awe.

"Wow, this car is amazing," he said, carefully touching the car’s body. "It must have cost a
fortune."

"You want it? I’ll give it to you," Thee said immediately, his expression serious. Then he
frowned, as if deep in thought. "But maybe you shouldn’t settle for a secondhand one. I’ll get
you a new one."
"No, thanks," Peach replied flatly, already used to the constant bragging about wealth.
Seeing Thee about to offer more, Peach quickly changed the subject. "By the way, who
picked the car’s color? It really stands out."

"I did. I usually like lighter colors, but for a car like this, it has to be dark to be imposing.
When I meet with clients, I need to look intimidating."

Peach raised an eyebrow at Thee’s response. He didn’t quite get it, but he supposed it made
sense coming from an executive, not someone like him, who worked to make ends meet.
Deciding not to dwell on it, he let it go.

Thee continued driving, mentioning that they first had to stop by his sister’s house to finish
packing Peach’s things. He offered to help move everything with a cheerful attitude. Peach
couldn’t help but wonder if he was just eager for him to move in faster, but seeing Thee so
animated, he simply smiled faintly and didn’t resist.

There wasn’t much to pack—just some personal items he’d left at his sister’s place. His
clothes, his laptop, and some work stuff were all he had to bring. The rest he’d already left at
his sister’s, just as she’d left some small things at his place.

Mr. Thee waited downstairs, insisting he shouldn’t go up to his sister’s room—after all, she
was single. Peach smiled, relieved that Thee was looking out for his sister, though the casual
closeness between them now was a little suspicious. His brow furrowed as he wondered
what they might have been talking about.

The tall young man took the suitcase and let Peach carry the laptop from the car. He walked
ahead, his movements so casual that the condo staff didn’t even think to ask for a name
card or anything.

Peach let out a silent sigh. Just as he was about to follow him inside, one of the staff
members hurried over to greet him.

"Mr. Peach, why are you back so early? Everything hasn’t been fixed yet."

"Fixed what?" Peach raised an eyebrow, completely confused by the comment.

"Huh? Didn’t you check the condo group chat?" the middle-aged man said, pulling out his
phone to search for something, then showing the message to Peach. "There’s construction
on the main road across the street. They accidentally damaged a major water pipe, and
they’re cutting off the water for a week to fix it. It’s not done yet."

Peach quickly pulled out his phone to check and realized he’d been so absorbed in his own
thoughts and work at his sister’s house that he hadn’t kept up with the condo updates. He’d
also turned off notifications, so unless he manually checked, he wouldn’t know.

He thanked the staff before returning to the car with Thee. He suddenly felt a little annoyed
at himself for not checking the updates earlier.

"What’s the plan now?" Thee asked as he returned to the car, his tone concerned.
"I guess I’ll have to stay at Plub’s place tonight," Peach said, resting his head against the
window with a tired sigh. "I feel bad for her. She insists on not letting me pay utilities, but if I
go to a hotel, she’ll probably scold me."

The young mafia boss fell silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he thought, before
offering a suggestion.

"Why don’t you stay at my place?"

"Huh?" Peach replied, his voice trailing off in surprise. He turned to look at Thee, completely
baffled as to how his condo ended up being an option.

"My condo’s pretty spacious. It has a nice desk so you can work, and there’s a guest room
that’s always clean because the housekeeper takes care of it. There’s also a big TV in the
room, so you can watch movies comfortably. Don’t worry about the bills—I’m rich and not
struggling." Thee explained, listing the perks of his place as if trying to tempt a child with
candy.

"I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t want to impose," Peach protested softly, though his
mind was already leaning toward accepting. "I could rent a hotel or a room for a short while.
It wouldn’t be a big hassle."

"Why feel guilty? We’re together, aren’t we? What’s wrong with me taking care of my
partner?" Thee said seriously, his tone as if he were negotiating a deal with an important
client. "Besides, at my condo, you’ll have me nearby. I’ll be there to keep you company while
you eat, help you with work questions, stay up late with you... basically, I’m not just your
partner, I’m family and a friend, all in one."

Peach raised a hand to cover his face, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, so much so
that he was sure they were turning a bright red. He couldn’t believe someone was literally
trying to sell themselves to him like this.

This was too much. He was so embarrassed he could barely stand it.

"If you don’t like that, I’ll buy you a new condo. Honestly, your place isn’t safe. How can they
let strangers wander around like that?" Mr. Thee said, finishing his sentence as he pulled out
his phone, ready to make a call. "What are you doing?"

"I’m calling Mok. I’m going to ask him to send me a list of condos he bought and moved into
today. We’ll go pick one out right now. I’m not letting you stay in a rental or a hotel."

"That’s not necessary!" Peach quickly reached out to snatch the phone from Thee, realizing
he was completely serious. "Okay, okay, I get it! I’ll stay at your condo this week. Sorry for
the trouble."

Thee turned to look at him, his large hand gently enveloping the smaller one. The pad of his
thumb traced light circles over it as he smiled, relaxed and pleased.

"My pleasure."
WAKE-UP CALL #39

"Little one," Thee murmured, "though no one's used it before. The housekeeper keeps it
clean just in case. If you feel cramped, you can always stay upstairs, in my room, with me."

"No, thanks," Peach quickly shot back, hurrying to drop his bag on the bed before Thee
could get any more ideas. His heart was already racing just from being in Thee's space.
Sharing a room with him? That would definitely give him a heart attack.

Thee tried to convince him a couple more times, but Peach firmly refused and stood his
ground. There was no way he was going to sleep in Thee's room. In the end, Thee relented,
though he frowned slightly, clearly displeased but willing to let it go.

"The bathroom's over there," Thee said, pointing to a spot in the corner of the room. Then he
paused for a moment and added, looking Peach in the eye, "There's a bathtub upstairs, you
know."

"Mr. Thee, do you have any spare toothbrushes?" Peach decided, for the umpteenth time, to
ignore the constant teasing. Instead, he moved on to something much more practical. "I left
all my stuff at Plub's place. I didn’t bring a single thing with me."

"Well, then let's go shopping. We'll pick up some personal items for you while we're at it,"
Thee said with complete naturalness as he quickly pulled out his phone to cancel the dinner
reservation for tonight. For Thee, booking another table was never a problem, but ensuring
Peach's comfort in his condo? That was priority number one.

Peach nodded slightly and headed to his temporary room to grab a few things. But when he
came back out, he froze. The mafia boss had already taken off his suit jacket, which now
hung casually over the back of the sofa. His tie was gone, and the top three buttons of his
shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of a toned chest that looked unfairly perfect. Both
sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing strong forearms with faint veins running along
the skin.

Peach instinctively took a deep breath. Then he immediately looked away, trying not to make
his reaction obvious. His heart was pounding so hard he was genuinely worried Thee could
hear it.

Damn it, Mr. Thee, with that rugged, carefree air, was too much for Peach to handle.

It was strange—he had always thought Thee was handsome, of course. But Peach had
never felt anything about it before. He had never felt attraction toward men in his entire life.
Yet now, standing in front of this half-Russian mafia boss, he could feel his heart racing and
warmth spreading through his body.

Yes, I know you're sexy, but did you have to go and flaunt it like that?

"Shall we go?" Thee's deep voice snapped him out of his thoughts. The mafia boss walked
up to him, completely unaware of the internal chaos he had just caused. "So, does this count
as a date now? I'd say it's officially the first one."
"Buying toothbrushes counts as a date?" Peach laughed, his laughter light and genuine, as
he followed Thee back downstairs. The casual vibe Thee radiated seemed to relax Peach a
little. Never, in his wildest dreams, had he thought he'd find himself in a moment like
this—laughing and buying toiletries—with a mafia boss who usually looked so intimidating.

"If I'm with you, anywhere feels like a date," Thee said firmly, his voice low and steady. He
glanced over, noticing Peach heading outside the condo instead of taking the elevator to the
underground parking lot. "So, where are we going?"

"I saw a small supermarket not too far from your building. It's late, the weather's nice... How
about we walk there together?" Peach responded with a warm, senile tone, pointing to a
bright pink sign visible in the distance. Thee followed Peach's gaze to the sign and nodded
without a second thought. No arguments. No objections.

"If I'm with you, I can go anywhere," Thee repeated, this time with a slight softness in his
tone. Then, after a brief pause, he turned to Peach with an almost comically serious
expression. "So... what exactly should I do to make it count as a date? Teach me."

*Didn’t you say it starts with flirting? Teach me how to do it.

The memory of Thee's earlier words replayed in Peach's mind, making him laugh. Without
hesitation, Peach stepped closer, took Thee's hand, and gently pulled him forward. "Come
on, let's go. I'll show you how it's done."

"I think I deserve a fee for these lessons. So, how much are you transferring this time, Mr.
Thee?"

"Take my credit card. And tomorrow we'll have another date."

Before Peach could process what had just happened, the mafia boss strode toward the
medium-sized supermarket, clearly in an excellent mood. Peach, on the other hand, stood
frozen in place, staring at him as if he had just lost a game he didn’t even know he was
playing.

Did I mess something up?

It took them no more than five minutes to reach the supermarket. Thee walked up to the
shopping carts and pulled one out with a confidence that didn’t match his usual image. He
started pushing the cart with surprising ease, his movements smooth and practical, and
Peach couldn’t help but comment on it. Thee just smiled, clearly pleased with himself, and
said he used to come here with his mom, so he was basically an expert at this.

Peach let out a soft chuckle and began picking out his personal items, tossing them into the
cart as they went. But when it came time to choose shampoo and body wash, Thee stepped
in and swapped the travel-sized bottles Peach had picked for large pump bottles.

Peach tried to tell Thee that he was only going to be there for a week, so there was no need
to buy the big bottles. However, Thee, completely unfazed, responded in his usual impassive
tone.
"If you're worried about wanting to use them, just stay until you finish them."

Peach pressed his lips together tightly, doing his best to keep a smile from breaking out. His
cheeks were burning, so he quickly turned his face away. Why did small gestures like that
suddenly seem so endearing?

"Are we going to dinner somewhere after this?" Peach asked, glancing at Thee, who was
casually pushing the cart behind him. Peach was sure he had gotten everything he needed,
and the shopping trip was finally coming to an end. "It's already dark. Do we have to go far?"

"Do you have something in mind that you'd like to eat?"

Peach shook his head. He had never been picky when it came to food, though lately Thee's
habit of taking him to fancy places had him worried he might get too used to luxury. He
nodded slightly.

"Then let's keep it simple. That way, we can get back to the condo quickly."

"Do you have work to finish tonight? If you do, you can head back first."

"No, I just want tomorrow to come faster."

Peach froze mid-reach, his hand hovering over a pack of instant noodles he had been
eyeing for dinner. His cheeks, which had just started to cool down, instantly flared up again.

Damn it! I’m not going to make it at this rate!

The next morning, Thee woke up to the sound of his alarm. He groaned, reaching out to turn
it off before sitting up in bed, his mind still a little foggy. Rubbing the back of his neck, he took
a moment to gather himself before heading to freshen up. After a quick internal debate, he
put on a short-sleeved shirt that had a relaxed vibe and left the top three buttons undone,
just enough to look casual but still put together. He paired it with fitted brown pants that
hugged his figure perfectly.

Once dressed, he headed downstairs. The night before, he had tried every trick in the book
to persuade his new boyfriend to stay in the same room as him. But Peach had stubbornly
held his ground, insisting on sleeping in the guest room. In the end, Thee had reluctantly
given in, though not without good humor.

As the mafia boss descended the stairs, he froze mid-step. His eyes locked onto Peach, who
was moving around the kitchen, clearly in the middle of preparing breakfast. The rich aroma
of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the faint, comforting scent of butter wafting through the
air. It seemed someone had gotten up early to make him breakfast.

Thee brought a hand to his chest, feeling the unusually strong rhythm of his heartbeat. He
had always been possessive, whether it was with things, places, or even his condo. No one,
aside from his family, had been allowed in. But seeing the slender man move around made
the space feel filled with an unexpected warmth. It tugged at his heart, and before he knew
it, a small smile appeared on his face.
Along with the warmth came an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness, one that made him feel
like he had something precious to call his own. The thought calmed him, steadying his heart
in a way he couldn’t explain.

"Are you awake?" Peach turned to greet him with a smile and set a cup of coffee on the
table. "I hope you don’t mind. I kind of took over your kitchen."

Peach looked different that morning, effortlessly charming. He wore a simple V-neck shirt
that gave off a relaxed vibe, paired with fitted black jeans that somehow made him look even
slimmer. His slightly grown-out hair was messily tied back to keep it out of his face while he
cooked.

…Adorable.

"No need to ask. Feel free to use whatever you want," Thee said, clearing his throat to hide
his smile. He walked over to the table, where a simple but well-served breakfast awaited
him—toast, ham, bacon, sausages, fried eggs, and two cups of coffee. The presentation was
so good it made him frown with curiosity. "Do you know how to cook?"

"Does frying eggs and bacon really count as cooking?" Peach laughed and handed him a
knife and fork. "This is all I can manage—survival food for when I’m too lazy to leave the
room."

Thee nodded, accepting the explanation as he began spreading butter on a perfectly golden
slice of toast.

"So, where should we go today?"

"Where do you want to go, Mr. Thee?"

"On a date."

Thee's quick response made Peach freeze for a second, his cheeks flushing slightly before
he stammered a protest. "I meant a place, Mr. Thee. Where do you want to go?"

The mafia boss paused, recalling the exhaustive research he had done the night before.
After working late to clear his schedule for today, he had spent hours reading about ideal
date spots. He had no prior experience in this field; he had never taken anyone on a date
before. But he wanted this to be perfect, something that would leave a lasting impression.

Thee, armed with the confidence of his hours of research on "how to plan a date," declared
without hesitation: "An amusement park."

Peach raised an eyebrow, his expression full of curiosity.

"You want to go to an amusement park? I didn’t know you liked that."

His hesitation, with a touch of doubt, made Thee's confidence waver. His thick eyebrows
furrowed in concern. Had he not done enough preparation? The article he had read the night
before said amusement parks were a classic date destination, right? Even TV shows
portrayed it as a must-do.

"Or... an aquarium?"

This time, the young photographer frowned, his face showing a strange mix of understanding
and exasperation. He let out a long sigh, which only increased Thee's unease.

"What do you think a date is?"

Peach asked softly, his tone mixed with amusement and warmth. The kindness in his gaze
eased Thee's anxiety, loosening the tension in his chest.

"For me, a date is about spending the day together to get to know each other more, to see
new sides of the person you're with," Peach began, not waiting for a response. His voice
was calm and sincere, each word laden with reflection. "It's a way for two people to
understand each other better and gain perspective on the other. That's why the word 'date'
shouldn’t have fixed rules about what to do or where to go. It should be a mutual decision,
something that reflects what both of you enjoy or don’t. It's not about forcing yourself to
follow what others do or what they think a date should be."

Thee looked down, processing Peach's words. His eyebrows furrowed even more as if he
were lost in thought.

"So, where do you want to go?"

"How about we pick a place we both enjoy? To be honest..." Peach hesitated, looking a little
uncomfortable. "I don’t like places with scorching sun or large crowds. Amusement parks
and aquariums are definitely not my thing."

"Me neither," Thee nodded, relieved to find common ground. He wasn’t a fan of those kinds
of places either.

"So, what do you usually do on your days off?"

Thee's gaze dropped again, his frown deepening as he thought hard. After a pause, he
responded, though his voice held a touch of uncertainty.

"...Probably watch movies."

"I figured," Peach chuckled, clearly not surprised by the answer, his laughter warm and
contagious. "I love watching movies too! How about we go to the cinema? There's this movie
that just came out, and it looks so good!"

He slid his phone across the table, showing a poster of a movie. It wasn’t a light romantic
comedy or an easy-to-digest big-budget film, but a serious drama, filled with life philosophy,
with an intense and intriguing plot. Thee looked at the poster, slightly confused. Wasn’t a
date supposed to involve watching a romantic movie? But before he could ask, he noticed
the excited glint in Peach's eyes. The way they lit up just talking about it, his enthusiasm
bubbling at the edges, made Thee's doubt vanish instantly. Instead of questioning, Thee's
lips curved into a slight smile.

If that was what Peach wanted to do, if this movie was something he was genuinely looking
forward to, then Thee would gladly go. Wherever Peach wanted to go, he would be there.

"Sure. Let's go watch the movie," Thee responded, his mind already mapping out the rest of
the day to make this date as perfect as possible. The countless articles and late-night
research on how to plan the perfect date hadn’t been in vain.

…And wasn’t a date supposed to end with a kiss?

WAKE-UP CALL #40

Peach took the young mafia boss to a luxury shopping mall in the heart of the city. It wasn’t
far from Thee’s condo, and since it was a Saturday, the trip was smooth and surprisingly
traffic-free for such a busy area.

However, since it was a Saturday, the mall was packed with people. Mr. Thee had insisted
that a date meant spending time together just the two of them, firmly refusing to let his
bodyguards follow too closely. In the end, Peach still noticed them discreetly trailing in the
distance, but he was relieved they weren’t drawing attention or interfering. Amid the bustling
crowd, no one stood out from Mr. Thee as they normally would. Peach was worried the mafia
boss might get irritated, either from the lack of personal space or, worse, accidentally starting
a fight with someone. To avoid any potential drama, he instinctively grabbed Thee’s hand
and held it tightly.

When he glanced back, he found Mr. Thee in an unusually good mood. Sure, Thee wasn’t
exactly the type to smile often, but Peach had spent enough time with him to notice the
subtle changes in his expressions. The relaxed, calm vibe he was giving off now couldn’t be
clearer.

But why was he so happy?

Peach didn’t ask. In the end, it didn’t matter, as long as Mr. Thee wasn’t upset. Instead, he
pulled Thee through the crowd, and to his surprise, Thee tightened his grip on his hand,
following without a single complaint.

Peach had already suggested going to a less crowded cinema or even booking a VIP room,
worried that being surrounded by so many people might bother Mr. Thee. But Thee had
flat-out refused, telling him he wanted to see what Peach’s everyday life was like. Mr. Thee
wanted to be part of it without making things harder for Peach.

Peach led Mr. Thee to the escalator that went up to the cinema level. When they reached the
ticket counter, Thee, who had been quietly cooperating the entire way, finally spoke up.

"Do we really have to pick our seats?"

He frowned at the screen, looking genuinely puzzled. A small smile appeared on Peach’s
lips. He remembered Thee casually mentioning that morning that he hadn’t been to the
cinema in a long time. Judging by his confusion, it really must have been years.

"Yes, after choosing the showtime, you have to pick your seats," Peach explained, crossing
his arms as he hesitated over which ones to choose. "I like sitting in higher positions, but,
well... those seats are usually much more expensive."

"What’s so good about them?" Mr. Thee asked, arms crossed. His frown deepened into what
seemed like a serious analysis. His tone and expression were so serious that Peach couldn’t
help but smile a little.

"They’re higher up, so you get a better view. But if the cinema isn’t that big, it doesn’t really
make much of a difference. These here are fine too," Peach said, pointing to a row a couple
of levels down. "Oh, and the top row has these couple-style sofa seats. Downstairs, it’s just
single seats. I’m usually fine with single seats since I mostly go to the cinema alone."

Thee reached over him, selecting the couple seats without hesitation. The move surprised
him, not just because Thee chose those seats, but because the tall man got so close, his
broad body practically surrounding him as he tapped the screen. Though it only lasted a few
seconds, the proximity was enough for Peach to feel the faint warmth radiating from Thee,
leaving him momentarily breathless.

Too close. Too close.

Peach instinctively pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. He pretended
to focus on the screen, tapping it as if checking his selections. Still, his flushed cheeks and
ears gave him away. Thee didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered on Peach’s blushing
face, pausing for a moment before a subtle smile appeared on his lips.

When the transaction screen popped up, Thee handed over his sleek black credit card
without a second thought. Peach glanced at the card out of the corner of his eye and
couldn’t help but roll his eyes, though he took it without protest. Once he swiped the card
and handed it back, Thee didn’t take it. Instead, he grabbed Peach’s hand with his, the other
casually tucked in his pocket, as he looked at the card with an almost disdainful expression.

"You can take this back now."

"You’re still going to be paying for everything today. Just keep it with you."

Peach almost protested, but Thee simply took his hand and led him forward. He had no
choice but to follow, silently accepting it.

They headed to the counter to grab a drink, but they didn’t bother with popcorn. Thee wasn’t
a fan of snacks during movies, and as for Peach, he usually got so caught up in the film that
he barely remembered to eat. A single drink was enough to keep his throat from drying out.

The young photographer led them to their seats in the theater—a pair of luxurious golden
velvet sofas. Peach sat down first but paused for a second when Thee sat beside him. Thee,
with his foreign heritage, was naturally bigger and broader than the average person, and as
he sat, his body brushed against Peach’s a little.

Peach tensed, feeling embarrassed, as if it were his first time having a boyfriend. He didn’t
quite understand why he felt this way. In contrast, Thee seemed completely at ease. He
stretched his arm, pulling Peach gently to lean against his solid chest without a trace of
discomfort.

"The chair’s not bad," Thee murmured, but as he did, Peach’s hand accidentally brushed
against Thee’s thigh. He heard a low, husky chuckle from Thee, the sound vibrating through
the chest Peach was leaning against. Thee didn’t stop there—he gently rubbed Peach’s
shoulder as if comforting him.
Peach bit his lip, embarrassed to the point where his cheeks felt red. But the warmth of
Thee’s chest was comforting, and the feeling of being protectively held made him feel safe.
So he relaxed, letting his head rest more comfortably against Thee’s tall figure.

They were together now. The person beside him was his, and at that moment, Peach
couldn’t feel more at ease. There wasn’t a single reason to reject this. But he joked to
himself that if anyone found out, they might tease him, saying, "You’ve gone soft!"

Peach focused on the movie, not letting himself get distracted by Thee beside him. He was
completely engrossed in the plot, aware only of the warm hand gently rubbing his shoulder.
The movie lasted just over two hours, but the story was so engaging that Peach didn’t feel
the time pass at all.

As the final credits rolled, he waited until the last one appeared on the screen, paying his
respects to the filmmakers. At the same time, he stretched his arms, loosening the muscles
that had tensed up during the movie. Then he turned to Thee, who had been his support for
the past two hours, and asked with a concerned expression, "Are you sore, Mr. Thee? I’m
sorry, I got so caught up in the movie that I didn’t notice."

"No, not really," Thee shook his head slowly, then reached out to gently massage the back of
Peach’s neck, pressing lightly to help him relax.

"No, I’m fine. It’s actually really comfortable and warm too," Peach smiled softly, letting Thee
continue massaging him with a relaxed attitude. Thee paused for a moment, seemingly lost
in thought, and Peach thought he heard him murmur something under his breath, but he
didn’t press.

"That was great. I really like this director. The plot was very engaging, but toward the end, I
felt a little confused," Peach said seriously, analyzing the movie for Thee with a focused
expression, showing how much he had paid attention. Thee nodded and then began sharing
his own thoughts on the film. They ended up discussing the movie from different
perspectives, and it was unexpectedly enjoyable to exchange their opinions. When was the
last time watching a movie with someone else felt this good?

"So, where are we going now?" Thee stood up and then offered his hand to Peach to help
him up, gently pulling him to his feet. "Are you hungry? It’s already noon. You have to eat on
time because of your gastritis, right?"

Peach blinked, feeling a warmth spread through his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. He
was sure he had never told Thee about his gastritis. Thee must have found out some other
way, but the fact that he asked, that he cared, made Peach feel so good that his heart
warmed.

It wasn’t just a nice feeling: Peach was now sure he really liked this mafia boss in front of
him.

"Yeah, let’s get something to eat," Peach said, squeezing Thee’s hand tighter before
standing beside him. "This time, you pick the restaurant. Normally you take me to places I
like, so I want to try something you like for a change."
Then he turned to look at him, his thick eyebrows arching in surprise, but the smile and
sparkle in his eyes showed how happy he was. Peach couldn’t help but return the smile with
a wide grin.

This time, it was Thee who led the way. The only thing that hadn’t changed, however, was
the hand that was still firmly intertwined between them, not letting go since they left the
theater.

The tall, mixed-race guy slowed his pace to match Peach’s, and it didn’t take long before
they stopped in front of a famous Italian restaurant. Peach had never eaten there, though he
had heard the name before. It was an exclusive place, the kind of restaurant he never
thought he’d step into, even with its Michelin star.

Peach’s jaw dropped. He almost wanted to ask if a place like this would even let someone in
a T-shirt and jeans in, but Thee opened the door with a calm, confident air and gestured for
Peach to follow him inside.

"It’s a franchise, no dress code required," Thee said, looking at Peach with a mischievous
glint in his smoky eyes, as if holding back a laugh.

Peach grimaced, feeling a little annoyed, but Thee just smiled slightly and continued pushing
him inside.

The mafia boss led him to a VIP room with large windows overlooking a fountain outside the
mall. Peach looked around, intrigued for a moment, before turning his attention back to the
menu on the table.

Peach liked Italian food, but he didn’t eat it often. And in a fancy restaurant where the menu
included a dinner that sounded foreign, he was completely lost, not even sure how the
dishes differed from one another.

After a moment of indecision, he looked at Thee, who was flipping through the menu with
ease, looking completely relaxed. Unable to resist, Peach asked.

"Do you come here often?"

"Quite a bit. I like European food, and this place does it well. The flavors are very balanced."

"Then, can you choose for me?" Peach smiled shyly, quickly closing his menu and admitting
without hesitation, "I don’t eat much Italian food, so I’m pretty confused by all this. I don’t
even know what’s what. Can you recommend something?"

"How about we go somewhere else?" Thee frowned, immediately closing his menu with a
snap, but Peach quickly grabbed his arm.

"No, it’s fine. You’ve already been so kind to me, Mr. Thee. This time, I want to try something
you like," Peach shook his head and smiled wryly. "But the menu is very complicated. I’ve
never ordered here before. I’m too embarrassed to ask the staff. Can you choose for me?"
Thee smiled softly, his eyes shining with affection. He didn’t seem bothered at all that Peach
didn’t understand the complicated menu and was happy to help. "What do you want to eat? I
can suggest something."

"I’ll have whatever you want," Peach smiled widely, "I want to be part of your life too, Mr.
Thee."

The tall man bit his lip, his eyes lighting up, and Peach found himself staring at him without
realizing it. It wasn’t until Thee reached out to gently pinch his ear that he snapped back to
reality, his face flushed.

"Can you not be so cute, Peach? I’m holding back here."

Peach’s eyes widened like saucers. He bit his lip to hold back a smile, but his cheeks were
already burning. He quickly hid behind his menu, pretending to read it again, though he still
had no idea what it said.

Why does admitting I like him make me feel even more embarrassed?

Thee simply chuckled softly, not pushing him further. Then he turned to call the waiter to
place their order. The man ordered a few dishes with long, hard-to-pronounce names before
closing the menu and handing it back.

Peach looked at Thee across the table. The man was tall, his hair usually neatly styled, but
today it was a little more relaxed, making him look younger. His smoky eyes, the ones Peach
loved to look into, sparkled as they met his gaze.

"I have a question," Peach decided to break the silence. The atmosphere between them was
too calm and made him feel strangely nervous, his heart beating fast in an odd way. It wasn’t
easy sitting here, looking at each other like this.

"Sure, ask whatever you want."

"What kind of coffee do you like?" Peach started with an easy question. Thee raised an
eyebrow, looking confused, so Peach quickly added, "You know so much about me. That
time Plub came over, I’m sure you heard a lot about me to the point where you seemed like
siblings. It doesn’t feel fair to me."

He frowned seriously, his forehead wrinkling, but Thee chuckled softly, amused. Peach
couldn’t help but protest.

"I’m serious, Thee," he complained, feeling the urge to hit the guy in front of him. He didn’t
have the resources to send someone to investigate like Thee did. "I want to get to know you
better. I want to know about you. I want to know more about you."

Thee’s eyes sparkled, clearly pleased, and a wide smile spread across his face.

"Espresso," he answered straightforwardly, not missing a beat. Peach, paying attention,

remembered his original question.
"That’s fine. I think it’s too bitter. I can only handle it if it’s an Americano," Peach said,
grimacing at the memory of the bitterness of a small sip of espresso. "What about your
favorite food?"

"Italian food," Thee answered quickly, staring at him intently instead of asking the next
question. Peach smiled widely, confident in his answer.

"Japanese food."

The two continued asking and answering questions like that for a while, until the meal came
to an end. Peach couldn’t help but smile as he discovered that Thee liked everything from
cheese to almost any kind of dairy product. Mr. Thee had chosen a cheese-heavy dish, but
only one on the menu; the dishes were things Peach would probably like. When they started
eating, Peach realized he liked everything much more than he expected. Mr. Thee always
seemed to pay attention to the smallest details about him.

"So, where are we going now?" Thee asked after handing the waiter his sleek gold-edged
credit card. Peach wanted to ask how many cards like that he had, but then he thought
better of it. He was afraid that if he found out, he’d faint from shock before he could respond.

"I want to show you more about me," Peach said with a smile, deciding without hesitation to
invite Thee into his personal space. "Would you like to come with me?"

"If it’s with you, I’ll go anywhere."

Peach, pleased with the answer, smiled widely, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. Then he
invited Thee to join him for some shopping. Thee agreed easily and followed without any
resistance.

Peach picked up various items—snacks, textbooks, some reading books, and general
supplies. However, the amount was quite a lot, and Thee raised an eyebrow curiously.
Without a word, he handed over his credit card as if saying that if that’s what Peach wanted,
he’d be happy to pay for it.

They loaded everything into the car and drove according to the photographer’s directions.
After taking a winding route to the outskirts, right on the edge of the suburbs, the luxury car
finally passed by a rectangular building.

Peach opened the car door, got out, and greeted a woman in front of the building naturally.
After a quick hug and exchange of a few words, Thee followed him inside.

"Mr. Thee, this is Miss Nualphong. She’s the caretaker of the orphanage," Peach said.

He paused for a moment, his eyebrows raised in silent question. Peach nodded with a smile
and explained in more detail: "This is the orphanage where Plub and I grew up."
WAKE-UP CALL #41

Peach led the way to the modest three-story building, surrounded by a playground with
some worn-out play structures. It was early afternoon, and a group of older kids was running
around outside, while the younger ones were still napping inside.

After handing out snacks to the kids, Peach gave some other supplies to Teacher
Nualphong. They exchanged a few warm words before he excused himself and headed back
toward Thee, who was waiting on the other side of the playground.

Well, "waiting" wasn’t exactly the right word. The stern-faced mafia heir was busy handing
out treats, though his serious expression and lack of smile seemed to intimidate most of the
kids. They stood awkwardly, hesitating to approach until one brave older boy stepped
forward, bowed politely, and accepted the snack with a grateful "Thank you." Only then did
the others gather the courage to finish up.

Honestly, as far as Peach was concerned, the fact that Thee hadn’t made anyone cry was
already a win.

Smiling to himself, Peach joined in to help distribute the rest of the snacks. With him there,
the kids became bolder, and soon, the treats were gone in no time—thankfully, they had
packed enough to save some for the little ones still napping.

"Do you want to take a look around?" Peach asked, noticing how Thee’s eyes kept scanning
the grounds as if trying to memorize every corner.

Thee nodded without hesitation, so Peach led the way, pointing out different spots while
sharing stories from his childhood.

Turns out, he and Plub had quite the mischievous streak growing up.

"That one over there was Plub’s favorite hiding spot," Peach said, pointing to a large
rectangular storage cabinet with a circular cutout in the middle. "Whenever she got mad or
was in a bad mood, she’d hide in there, or if someone came to 'visit' her."

"Visit?" Thee repeated, frowning slightly. He couldn’t quite understand what kind of "visitors"
an orphanage would have.

"People looking to adopt. They visit the center first to see if they connect with any of the kids.
After meeting a few times, if the child agrees, they complete the paperwork and take them
home as their legal child," Peach explained casually. He shrugged, not knowing much
beyond the basics since he had never been adopted himself. "I used to freak out every time
someone came by here."

"Why?"

Peach pressed his lips together and looked down at the ground as they walked. Still, he kept
talking, his voice steady despite the memories. "Maybe because I felt confused... and like a
really bad kid."
Thee followed silently, resisting the urge to press for more. They had learned that Peach
would share when he was ready.

They walked alongside the building to the open courtyard in the back, a quiet, peaceful
space surrounded by a small garden with vegetables and fruit trees. The breeze carried the
fresh scent of greenery.

"A part of me wanted Plub to get adopted," Peach admitted, interlacing his hands behind his
back and taking a deep breath. "I wanted her to have real parents, a better life, things I could
never give her." He paused, his gaze distant. "But another part of me... didn’t want her to
leave. Plub is the only family I have. If she left, I’d have no one."

"They could have adopted both of you," Thee suggested.

"People usually want younger kids," Peach shook his head with a faint smile. "I came here
when I was already pretty old—almost a teenager. Older kids are seen as problems waiting
to happen. The little ones... they’re just easier to love."

Thee frowned but stayed quiet. Peach’s tone wasn’t sad; if anything, there was a trace of
amusement in it, as if he were recalling something long past that no longer hurt him.

"Still, Plub was also scared of being adopted. She’d run away and hide all the time," Peach
chuckled softly at the memory. "She was so attached to me back then. Sometimes she’d fall
asleep while hiding. And they’d search everywhere for her, panicking. Then I’d come running
in and find her sleeping like she didn’t have a care in the world."

Thee looked down, focusing on the person beside him, noticing the faint smile that still
lingered on Peach’s lips.

Gently, he placed a large hand on Peach’s head and gave him a light, comforting pat.

"You’ve done well."

Peach found himself meeting Thee’s gaze with a lot of confidence, trusting that the man in
front of him wouldn’t mind what he was about to say.

"But the truth is, back then, I also wanted to be adopted. I wanted to leave with Plub... start a
better life somewhere," Peach admitted, his smile softening as a trace of uncertainty
flickered in his eyes. He had no idea if Thee would agree with this. "That’s why... when I’m in
a good place in life, when I’m stable... I want to adopt a child someday."

Peach lowered his head, biting his lower lip, glancing at Mr. Thee’s expressionless face.
Seeing no signs of rejection, he continued. "I know I can’t help all the kids out there.
Adoption isn’t just about throwing money at a problem. I want to raise a child as my own:
love them, help them grow up happy and strong." His hands clenched slightly. "Even if it’s
just one or two kids... I want to give them a chance. Make the dream I couldn’t have back
then come true."

He had carried this hope for a long time. If Mr. Thee really intended to stay with him—if they
were going to build a future together—this was something he needed Thee to accept.
But then, Thee’s face hardened, his eyebrows furrowing deeply, a wave of displeasure
emanating from him, making the air feel thick and heavy. Peach’s heart sank. Honestly, he
had expected Thee to accept it, never preparing for a rejection like this.

His lips pressed into a line as unease twisted in his chest. Still, once Peach made a decision,
he wasn’t someone who backed down easily.

It’s fine, he told himself firmly. If Mr. Thee didn’t want to be part of this, then he’d adopt the
child on his own. He’d manage somehow—even if it meant shouldering the responsibility
alone.

Peach took a deep breath, thinking he should say something, but Thee spoke first, his
expression clouded with concern.

"Kids usually don’t like me," Thee murmured, crossing his arms and frowning deeply. Worry
shone in his eyes. "What if... our child doesn’t accept me?"

Peach blinked, stunned, before bursting into laughter.

He hadn’t even adopted anyone yet, and Thee was already calling them their child.

"Calm down, Mr. Thee," Peach laughed, shaking his head. "You haven’t adopted anyone
yet."

"But if you do, they’ll be our kids," Thee insisted, still looking very serious. "I need to think
about this. If they only love you and are scared of me, that wouldn’t be good." His frown
deepened. "The Arseny family business doesn’t manage any schools yet... I’ll need Mok to
start looking into education investments."

Peach laughed again, letting Thee go into his over-the-top planning mode for a moment.
Then he stepped closer, his smaller hands gently enveloping Thee’s larger ones. His heart
swelled with so much warmth he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

"Mr. Thee, thank you," Peach whispered sincerely, squeezing his hands tightly. His soft smile
shone with genuine affection, his big, serious eyes fixed on Thee’s. "Thank you for
everything you’ve done for me!"

Thee’s tense expression melted instantly, his gaze softening as he leaned in, close enough
for Peach to feel the comforting warmth radiating from him.

"I’m willing to give you anything. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. Just tell me," his
voice turned soft, almost reverent. "I’m... really happy to have met you, my little one." He
reached out, and his fingers brushed Peach’s cheek with a feather-light touch. But before he
could pull back, Peach leaned his head into Thee’s palm, nuzzling it with an affection so
innocent that Thee froze, completely caught off guard.

"I like you."

Thee’s eyes widened, stunned, as Peach nuzzled against his hand again, with a fondness
so natural that he didn’t even seem aware of how much he was making Thee’s heart race.
"I really like you, Mr. Thee... so much. What should I do about it?"

Thee’s face lit up with a rare, wide smile that crinkled the corners of his sharp eyes, filling the
space around them with warmth and joy. Without a word, he opened his arms and pulled the
smaller man into a tight hug, holding him close to his chest.

"Don’t be any cuter, Peach. I already love you so much it hurts," he buried his face in the soft
dark hair resting against his chest before gently resting his chin on Peach’s head. After a
brief pause, his voice turned softer. "Can I ask you something? Will you call me Kian?"

Peach stilled, repeating the name in his head. Thee’s full name was Theerakit Kian Arseny,
but everyone simply called him Thee. He had never heard anyone use his middle name
before.

Sensing Peach’s thoughts, Thee tightened his grip slightly, making sure Peach couldn’t lift
his head to see the faint blush creeping up his ears.

"I’m a little possessive," he admitted, then lightly rubbed his cheek against Peach’s hair,
savoring the tenderness filling his chest. "Only my family has called me that... and now we’re
family too. Calling me Thee feels too distant. I don’t like it."

Peach’s lips curved into a smile against Thee’s chest, his heart beating so fast he thought it
might burst. He wanted to hide his flushed face, but he took a deep breath to steady himself.
Slowly, he pulled away from the warm embrace and lifted his face, meeting those intense
smoky gray eyes he had adored from the start.

"Kian. I love you."

Thee froze, completely still like a statue whose batteries had run out. His sharp eyes slowly
widened, and a deep blush spread from the tips of his ears to his cheeks. For a long
moment, he didn’t move—then, finally, his lips curved into a wide, radiant smile that lit up his
bright eyes like stars shining in the night.

"I don’t think I can wait until the end of our date," he murmured, leaning in until their noses
brushed, so close they shared the same breath. His voice softened into a gentle plea. "Can I
kiss you?"

Peach pressed his lips together, his face burning so fiercely he thought he might cry. Still, he
managed to nod slightly and shakily.

Thee murmured a soft "Good boy" before leaning in and gently brushing his lips against
Peach’s. He started with light, fleeting kisses, slow and tender, testing the waters. Then, his
lips playfully tugged at Peach’s lower lip, silently asking for permission. When Peach’s mouth
finally opened, Thee slipped his tongue in, their tips brushing, sending an electric spark that
turned the once-innocent kiss into something deeper, more intense.

One of Thee’s hands cradled the back of Peach’s neck, anchoring him in place as their
mouths moved in sync, exploring, savoring. He paused just long enough for Peach to take a
quick breath before diving back in, pressing his lips again and again, as if trying to memorize
the sweet taste forever. Peach’s fists weakly thumped against Thee’s shoulder a few times,
forcing the taller man to finally pull away, though he did so with obvious reluctance. He
couldn’t resist capturing Peach’s swollen lower lip one last time between his teeth before
letting go.

Breathing heavily, Thee admired the sight before him—Peach’s flushed cheeks, his clouded,
half-lidded eyes still dazed from the kiss. He looked completely irresistible without even
realizing it.

Thee swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to control himself. Unable
to resist, he gently placed Peach’s head against his chest, shielding him from view.

The mere thought of anyone else seeing Peach like this ignited a possessive flame within
him. He didn’t want to share even a glimpse of that soft, vulnerable side with the world.

Peach, meanwhile, focused on steadying his breathing, willing the heat in his face to
subside. Once he felt somewhat composed, he cautiously pulled away from Thee’s
embrace, his gaze shifting awkwardly. He cleared his throat clumsily, desperate to change
the subject.

"Actually... there are two kids I talk to sometimes when I come here. They’re siblings—an
older brother and a younger sister. They remind me a little of Plub and me when we lived
here." He gave Thee’s hand a small tug, urging him to move forward. "Do you want... to
meet them?"

"Don’t you call yourself 'Peach' like before?" Thee asked casually as he followed, though his
words strayed from the topic. "I thought it was kind of cute."

"Kian!" Peach blurted out, turning to look at him. His wide eyes tried to intimidate, but they
failed completely thanks to his puffed-up cheeks, tinged with a pink blush that made him look
anything but threatening.

Thee chuckled softly but didn’t press further, dropping the subject. They continued walking
together as the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting long, warm shadows. They returned
to the school building and went up to the second floor.

Peach stepped into one of the classrooms before greeting someone inside, signaling for
them to come out. Moments later, the door creaked open, and a boy stepped out. He was
small, barely reaching Peach’s waist, with a solemn face too mature for his age, devoid of
the usual childlike spark.

Well, almost. The boy’s serious expression softened the moment he lifted his gaze to Peach.
His big, doe-like eyes lit up like stars, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth,
making him look like the child he was supposed to be.

"Mhok, this is Thee, and Thee, this is Mhok," Peach knelt to be at eye level with the boy, his
tone gentle.

Mhok looked languidly at the unfamiliar man before him. His wavering smile faded, replaced
by polite reserve. With practiced manners, he pressed his palms together in a respectful
greeting before quickly turning back to Peach, his small fingers gripping his sleeve tightly.
"You haven’t come in so long," Mhok murmured, his eyes downcast. Peach’s face softened
with a wide, affectionate smile as he opened his arms invitingly. Mhok hesitated only for a
second before launching himself into the familiar embrace, his small body melting into
Peach’s chest.

"I’m sorry," Peach murmured, gently rocking them side to side as his hand sweetly stroked
Mhok’s hair. "I’ve been caught up with some things, but I’m here now." After a moment, he
asked, "Where’s Marn? I haven’t seen her yet."

"Marn is sleeping in that room," Mhok pointed toward a nearby door before turning to Thee,
his small eyebrows furrowed with suspicion. There was no trace of fear in his gaze, only
open curiosity. "Who’s that guy? Why is he with you?"

"I’m Peach’s boyfriend," Thee declared proudly, puffing out his chest as if he had just won a
grand prize. Peach could only groan inwardly, covering his face with both hands out of sheer
embarrassment, feeling equal parts shy and exasperated.

"What’s a boyfriend?" Mhok continued. His expression grew more serious, genuinely
puzzled.

"A boyfriend is someone who loves, cares for, and protects the person they love. They stay
by each other’s side until the end of their lives. Peach and I love each other, so we’re
boyfriends."

"So, you protect Peach?" Mhok’s eyes lit up as if he had just unlocked a new life goal. "Well,
I want to protect Peach too! And Marn! If I do that, does that make me Peach’s boyfriend
too?"

"No. You can only have one boyfriend," Thee’s face didn’t even twitch as he shook his head
solemnly. "But you can be our son. You’d be Marn’s big brother. Families take care of each
other too."

Mhok considered this deeply, his little face scrunching in concentration before nodding firmly
as if accepting a lifelong mission. Meanwhile, Peach wheezed with laughter, half-groaning
from pure amusement.

The two were absurdly similar.

Both Thee and Mhok turned to Peach, who was still kneeling on the floor, laughing so hard
he almost toppled over. Though neither fully understood what was so funny, seeing Peach
so happy made them smile too.

Whatever lay ahead, it seemed there was nothing to worry about.

………………..

Peach chatted a bit more with the boy, deciding not to wake the little one who had already
fallen asleep. Shortly after, they said their goodbyes. Mr. Thee, who had suddenly grown so
close to the boy, looked at him with a confused expression, then bent down to whisper
something in his ear. They talked for a while, planning something, before finally returning to
the car. When Peach asked what they had been discussing, Thee simply gave him a faint
smile, offering no explanation.

Peach sighed, let it go, and allowed Thee to drive them back to the condo without pressing
further.

On the way, the mafia boss boasted that he would cook dinner that night and promised
something special. They didn’t bother stopping to pick up anything else and headed straight
home.

But the moment the condo door opened, a stunning woman was casually sitting on the large,
luxurious sofa in the middle of the elegant living room.

She was strikingly beautiful, with sharp, piercing eyes that brought an air of cool confidence
to her sculpted features. Her jet-black hair was tied up in an elegant ponytail, with long
strands cascading down her back. She wore a fitted suit paired with tailored pants that
accentuated her slim, graceful figure, exuding effortless allure.

As soon as she saw them, she rose gracefully and walked toward them with determination.
Her long, slender fingers reached out to caress Thee’s face, her lips curving into a faint,
suggestive smile.

"Kian, why did you take so long? I’ve been waiting for what feels like an eternity."
WAKE-UP CALL #42

Thee's eyes opened in shock, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in and gently
wrapped the elegant woman in a careful embrace.

"Mom? How did you get here?"

"Rome told me you had a surprise planned," she replied softly. "So I took the next flight."
Then her sharp gaze turned to Peach, who was awkwardly standing a few steps behind. "Is
that the surprise you were talking about?" she asked, her tone icy but curious.

Peach shivered as her piercing eyes fixed on him. He had been lost in his thoughts for a
moment and now hurried to react. Hastily, he clasped his hands together in a respectful Thai
greeting.

"Good evening, ma'am. I’m Peach." He paused, glancing at Thee, who was looking back at
him expectantly, practically glowing with anticipation. Peach took a deep breath and forced a
polite smile before turning to the intimidating woman. "...I’m Thee’s boyfriend."

The moment those words left his mouth, Thee’s face lit up as if he had just won the lottery,
his satisfied smile almost smug. Peach barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead
focused on the woman in front of him, studying her with a mix of curiosity and caution.

At first, he had been stunned, and his heart practically dropped to his stomach when she
appeared, but hearing Thee call her "Mom" had been a strange relief. Now, with a clearer
mind, he could finally take in her features.

Thee’s mother was incredibly beautiful, her fierce and authoritative eyes a perfect match for
her son’s. But beyond her striking appearance and formidable presence, something about
her felt oddly familiar. Peach stared at her, frowning as he thought, until it suddenly hit him.

If it’s not a mistake...

"Are you Mrs. Nat?"

As soon as he asked the question, the woman in front of him froze for a split second before
turning fully toward him. Her sharp gaze was still intimidating, but the slight curve of her lips
into a faint smile told him he had recognized the right person.

Natlada—or Nat—was a renowned actress often typecast as the eternal villainess, and a
model with a raw, sexual allure that photographers practically worshipped. There was a time
when she was more famous than the leading actors and actresses combined. Known for her
electrifying performances as fierce and cunning villains, she possessed a charm that made it
impossible for viewers to look away. But at the peak of her career, when her star shone
brightest, Nat abruptly left the industry to marry a man outside the spotlight.

And it turned out that her husband wasn’t just outside the entertainment world—he also lived
outside the country.
"My goodness, I didn’t think anyone would still recognize me," she said, stepping closer, her
piercing eyes studying him intently. But Peach barely noticed the scrutiny. His own eyes
widened with excitement, shining with admiration as he found himself face-to-face with his
idol.

For any photographer, a model like Nat was practically a dream come true. No matter the
angle, she looked dazzling in every shot.

"Of course I remember you! You’re an absolutely stunning model, Mrs. Nat. You look
incredible from every angle and could bring out the mood and energy of any shoot. I’ve seen
a lot of your work. I’m a huge fan," Peach said, his smile wide and full of enthusiasm.

Nat paused for a moment, taken aback, before breaking into a broad smile that lit up her
face and softened her once-intimidating aura. Her sharp edges melted away in an instant.
The next thing Peach knew, her elegant arm was wrapped around his shoulder, and she
leaned toward him with a warm, affectionate gesture.

"How adorable. How did you end up getting tangled up with Kian, of all people?" Her
perfectly manicured fingers playfully brushed his cheek. It was then that he noticed
something else about her: Nat was tall. So tall that she was almost the same height as him,
a grown man.

"And where were you two heading, coming back so late?"

"I took him on a date. We were planning to have dinner at the apartment," Thee replied
softly, speaking to his mother without the slightest discomfort. "You’ve already eaten, Mom,"
he added. "Join us for dinner, won’t you?"

"I’ve eaten. How could you let him skip dinner? Go make something to eat, now. As for
Peach, you’ll come sit with me." Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Peach’s arm
and led him to the sofa.

Peach glanced back at Kian, who gave him a small apologetic smile. Though Kian’s
furrowed brow and worried expression weren’t exactly reassuring. Peach had no choice but
to let go of his boyfriend and obediently follow Nat’s order. Kian disappeared into the kitchen,
leaving Peach alone to face the formidable former actress.

Nat reclined in her spot on the large sofa and patted the cushion beside her in a silent
invitation—or perhaps an order. Peach hesitated for a moment before giving her a shy smile
and moving to sit next to her.

How was he supposed to stay calm? This wasn’t just any woman—it was Nat! His idol. And
on top of that, she was Kian’s mom. Sitting so close to her felt like a dream and a nightmare
rolled into one.

"So... tell me. What do you do?" Nat asked, her tone still carrying a slight edge of authority
that seemed natural to her. Her words had a certain sharpness, but the gentle touch of her
hand resting lightly on his gave Peach some reassurance. She even began to softly rub the
back of his hand, a small gesture that helped him relax a bit.
She seemed intimidating on the outside, but her actions felt surprisingly warm, like an older
sister who cared more than she let on.

"I’m a freelance photographer. Right now, I’m working for the Arseny Group."

"Oh, the photoshoot for the fall collection?" Nat’s eyes widened in recognition, and a flash of
excitement crossed her face. "Those photos were incredible! I kept saying how much talent
the photographer must have. The composition was exceptional—the balance, the angles,
everything. Just perfect."

"Thank you," Peach said, smiling with pride. Coming from Nat, someone he deeply admired,
the compliment meant more than anything he had heard before.

"And where’s your family from?"

"I’m an orphan. I never knew who my parents were," Peach replied without hesitation, his
tone even. "But I have a younger sister who works in the art department at Arseny."

Nat’s brow furrowed slightly, her expression tinged with concern. "So no guardians? No older
relatives to look after you?"

"Unfortunately, none at all," Peach responded, managing to keep his smile, though it felt
forced and empty.

He hated to admit it, but his thoughts began to spiral. As much as he teased Mr. Thee for
being obsessed with melodramas, his own brain couldn’t help but dredge up overly dramatic
dialogue from old soap operas he used to watch as a kid. Ironically, many of those started
with the very woman now sitting beside him.

"So who am I supposed to negotiate the marriage proposal with?" Nat murmured, shaking
her head. Her tone sounded serious, and for a moment, Peach’s stomach clenched with
fear. "This won’t do. Everything must be done properly. Kian has already lured you into
staying at his condominium. This is practically a scandal! We can’t let this slide. I’ll have to
arrange the formal engagement myself."

Peach’s jaw dropped. He stared at her in shock, his mind going blank as her words sank in.
Meanwhile, Nat laughed at his stunned reaction and reached up to ruffle his hair
affectionately.

She already knew everything about him, of course. In the world of the mafia, no one got
close to someone like Kian—let alone became an important part of his life—without being
thoroughly vetted. And Peach’s background? Spotless. If anything, it was filled with such
relentless effort and determination that it made her heart ache with fondness.

"What’s going through that head of yours? Did you really think I’d say I don’t approve
because you don’t have a fancy background or a wealthy last name?" Nat asked, her tone
teasing but kind.

Peach scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, caught off guard. "I’m sorry... I didn’t mean
to assume anything bad about you. But it’s true, I’m nowhere near Kian’s level. I’m... just
me." His voice trailed off, and he gave her a small, shy smile. Despite teasing Kinn for being
too dramatic, it turned out he wasn’t much better. Clearly, he had let his insecurities—and
too much daytime TV—get to him. Nat’s smile softened, and her gaze sharpened with silent
intensity.

"Peach, you’re Kian’s happiness. Why are you saying you’re not enough? Are you trying to
tell me that Kian’s happiness doesn’t matter?"

"No, that’s not it," Peach replied softly, with a weak but sincere smile. His eyes softened
unconsciously as he spoke. "The love Kian has given me is the most precious thing I’ve ever
received. But even so, while love can be between two people, being in a relationship isn’t
just about the two of us. It’s true that I don’t care what outsiders think, but how could I ignore
how you feel about it?"

Nat paused, her expression unreadable for a moment. She touched her lips with her fingers
before a broad, genuine smile lit up her face, and her eyes curved into half-moons. Then,
without warning, she hugged him.

"How can you be so sweet? No wonder you managed to win over Kian," she teased, cupping
his face with both hands. Her touch was warm and affectionate, her thumbs gently brushing
his cheeks. "Don’t worry about anything, dear. Neither I nor his father will have any issue
with this. And all that nonsense about the rich needing to marry other rich people? That’s
something fake rich people say. Honestly, I’d rather have someone help me spend all this
money!"

Her half-serious, half-playful boast caught him completely off guard, and Peach couldn’t help
but burst into laughter. For someone who was supposedly as intimidating as the mother of a
mafia boss, Nat was surprisingly charming and... well, adorable.

"But why don’t you carry fancy things with you? Don’t tell me Kian hasn’t been taking proper
care of you?" she asked suddenly, scanning him with mild confusion.

"Oh, no, not at all. He takes very good care of me. It’s just that... I really can’t handle such
expensive things. They’re not my style."

He tried to smile, but the memory of all the extravagant gifts Kian had tried to foist on him
made his head spin.

"Kian’s been trying to spoil you with expensive items, hasn’t he?" Nat puffed out her cheeks
slightly, clearly unimpressed. "After all the time I spent watching soap operas with him, you’d
think he would’ve learned something by now."

Peach blinked, puzzled. Wait... was that where Kian had picked up some of his habits?

"Does Kian really like watching soap operas?" He wasn’t sure why the idea struck him as so
funny.

But the mafia boss and dramatic TV shows didn’t seem to match at all.
"Dad has an entire cabinet filled with my work. When Kian was little, he loved going through
it with me. But Rome? That boy would always run outside to play the moment I brought
anything out," she said with a dramatic sigh, her expression exaggeratedly resigned. "I like
your work too. I even kept one of your posters."

"Oh my God." Nat gasped and brought her hand to her mouth, seeming genuinely moved.
"Why don’t you become my son? Tomorrow we’ll go straight to the courthouse and make it
official."

"Absolutely not." Kian’s deep, firm voice interrupted the conversation as he appeared in the
doorway with a plate of food. His sharp features were tinged with a slight frown, but there
was a hint of restraint in his expression, probably because he didn’t dare show too much
disapproval in front of his mother. "If you adopt him, how am I supposed to marry Peach?"

"When exactly are you planning to get married? I’ll prepare everything in advance," Nat
replied, completely unfazed, her tone almost challenging. "Peach, dear, what kind of
wedding do you want? A beach wedding? Or maybe in the mountains? Oh, a meadow full of
flowers would be so romantic, don’t you think?"

Peach was completely flustered, his face turning crimson as he tried to process her words.
Thee, who had been silently observing, now frowned as if he was ready to help plan the
wedding. Caught in the middle of this chaotic exchange, Peach raised his hands in panic,
desperately trying to stop them.

"Wait, wait—please, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Kian, Mrs. Nat—"

"If you keep calling me Mrs. Nat instead of 'Mom,' tomorrow I’ll take you straight to the
courthouse to sign the adoption papers," she declared, narrowing her eyes with a teasing
pout. Her tone was stubborn and petulant, so much so that it was eerily similar to Kian’s
when he was upset. Like mother, like son.

Peach froze and blinked for a moment. Then a small smile appeared on his lips, soft and
warm.

For someone who had spent much of his life unseen and unloved, the way she showered
him with care and affection was unlike anything he had ever known.

"Okay... Mom."

"What a good boy," she said affectionately, gently pulling him to his feet. "Now it’s time for
dinner. I heard you have a sensitive stomach, Peach. Skipping meals and eating at odd
hours is a big no-no, okay?"

"Won’t you stay for dinner with us, Mom?" Peach asked, standing up as Nat gently pushed
him to his feet. His polite and thoughtful behavior brought a soft smile to her lips, and she
couldn’t resist giving her new "son" another hug, clearly pleased.

"It’s fine, dear. I’ve already eaten," Nat replied with a playful wink. "Besides, I don’t want to
interrupt Kian’s date for too long. Otherwise, I’ll have to deal with his anger later."
"Just admit it—Dad’s coming after you," Kian conceded, stepping closer and effortlessly
sliding an arm around Peach’s waist, pulling him into a relaxed embrace. Nat rolled her eyes,
feigning annoyance, but her tone remained cheerful.

"Oh, shut up. You’re so jealous, Kian," she said, hitting him before turning to Peach. She
touched his face gently, her gaze warm and affectionate. "Take care of each other, okay? But
be patient with him."

Peach clasped his hands together and gave her a respectful bow, watching as Nat headed
toward the door.

Instinctively, they followed and saw her off, but when they noticed the group of bodyguards
already waiting outside, Nat made a firm gesture and told them to send her to the door. Kian
stayed by the door, watching until Nat entered the elevator. Once she was gone, he let out a
small sigh and went back inside, heading straight for Peach, who had approached the dining
table.

On the table was a perfect variety of cold soba noodles. The light brown strands were neatly
coiled on a wooden tray, resting on a bed of ice. Beside it was a bowl of cold broth, with faint
wisps of cold steam rising from the surface. On another plate was a tempting array of crispy
tempura shrimp and vegetables fried to a golden crisp. Peach blinked, surprised by the
thoughtful meal in front of him.

It was true that cold soba was one of his favorite dishes, and the weather had been
scorching lately, but he hadn’t expected Kian to go out of his way to prepare something he
liked.

"Did you make all this yourself?" Peach asked, his eyes wide.

"I just boiled the noodles. The broth is store-bought, and I had the housekeeper who came to
clean earlier fry the tempura so it would be fresh for us. Still hot and crispy." Despite having
just been scolded by his mother for being less authoritative, the satisfied tilt of Kian’s lips
betrayed how pleased he was with Peach’s reaction. Seeing Peach’s face light up like that
made it all worth it.

They sat across from each other at the table, picking up their chopsticks to grab the soft,
chewy soba noodles, one by one. They dipped the strands into the cold broth, twirling them
to soak up the flavor before taking a bite.

The subtle sweetness of the broth filled the air, and Peach closed his eyes, savoring the rich
aroma and flavor with a satisfied smile.

After finishing dinner, he collected the plates and bowls and stacked them carefully in the
sink for the housekeeper to handle the next day. Meanwhile, Peach made himself
comfortable on the sofa in front of the huge TV, casually scrolling through the options to find
something to watch.

His favorite spot in the penthouse was undoubtedly this one—the soft, luxurious sofa
perfectly placed in front of the massive screen. Not only was it soft and cozy, but it was also
stocked with a mountain of pillows and blankets, almost as if someone knew exactly what he
liked. The massive TV offered access to every streaming platform imaginable, with so many
options that choosing a movie often took longer than watching it.

As he browsed through the selections with the remote, Thee joined him, holding an elegant
glass of wine. Peach didn’t drink alcohol, so the glass was clearly for Thee.

The mafia boss sat very close, slipping an arm around Peach’s shoulders and gently pulling
him closer. His long fingers began to trace slow circles on Peach’s shoulder, radiating a
sense of calm that Peach couldn’t help but sink into.

Blushing furiously, Peach tried to steady his breathing, his heart pounding in his chest. But
as the warmth of Thee’s presence enveloped him like a blanket, the nervousness began to
melt away. Instead, a quiet sense of comfort settled in, and he allowed himself to relax,
leaning against Thee’s chest with a soft, contented sigh.

Thee took a few more sips of his wine, his eyes softening as he looked at the man curled up
in his arms. His expression was so tender it practically glowed. Leaning down slowly, his tall
frame hovered over Peach, and he planted a firm, lingering kiss on his temple.

"Can I kiss you?"

Peach couldn’t help but smile. The mafia boss was always so careful, always asking for
permission before touching him, as if Peach might shy away or say no. But not only did he
not mind, it made him nervous in the best way possible. His cheeks flushed an even deeper
shade of pink as he let out a shy, slightly exasperated laugh.

"You don’t have to ask every time."

"I can’t help it. I don’t want you to feel forced," Thee murmured, leaning closer before
pressing a soft kiss to Peach’s smooth forehead. Peach felt the urge to bury his face in his
hands, overwhelmed by the tenderness. He wanted to scream that asking for permission
every time only made him blush more.

"I won’t feel forced," Peach murmured, his cheeks still glowing pink. Tilting his head up
slightly, he pressed a small kiss to the sharp edge of Thee’s jawline. "If there’s something I
don’t like, I’ll tell you. And when that happens, you’ll stop, right?"

"I’m afraid that if I don’t stop in time, I’ll end up hurting you."

Thee’s lips brushed against Peach’s flushed cheek as they left a trail of kisses, slow and
deliberate, as if savoring every inch.

Peach couldn’t help but smile, wide and warm. No matter how nervous he felt, the affection
in his chest far outweighed his embarrassment. He shifted into a more comfortable position,
lifting both arms to wrap around Thee’s neck. His bright eyes met Thee’s in a soft, almost
pleading gaze.

"If it’s you, I trust you. You’d never hurt me, Thee."
The mafia boss stilled for a moment, his throat letting out a low, rumbling hum as if he was
struggling to keep himself under control. Thee pressed his lips together tightly, then wet
them with his tongue, his gaze fixed on Peach’s serious, intense stare... and brimming with
desire. It was as if all his restraint shattered in an instant.

"You’re too cute, Peach."

Thee groaned, capturing Peach’s lips in a deep, fervent kiss. His mouth moved with
purpose, his teeth tugging at Peach’s lower lip, coaxing it open before sliding his tongue
inside with practiced ease. Their tongues tangled, teasing and exploring as Thee claimed
every inch. The slight bitterness of good wine lingered in Thee’s mouth, mingling with
Peach’s own sweetness. He pressed deeper, his tongue sliding along Peach’s teeth before
tangling with his again, eliciting soft moans and shaky breaths. Thee didn’t stop, savoring it
all as if it were the most intoxicating thing he had ever tasted. Every so often, Thee pulled
back just enough to let Peach catch his breath before diving back in.

Thee leaned back slightly, his dark eyes scanning the breathless young photographer
slumped against his shoulder. Peach was panting softly, his chest rising and falling as if he
had forgotten how to breathe. His eyes shone with unshed tears, so tender and sweet that
Thee had to swallow hard to calm himself, forcing his scattered thoughts back into order.

"I don’t think I can stop anymore, Peach," Thee murmured, his voice low and husky. "If you
want me to, you’ll have to tell me to stop... right now." His lips descended again, capturing
Peach’s lower lip in a series of soft nips and gentle sucks, alternating between teasing and
pleading, as if begging for permission while demonstrating just how much he was losing
control.

For someone like Thee—a man who had never lacked for company and had never been
asked to hold back for anyone, this was uncharted territory.

This was Peach, the only person he wanted to protect, the one he wanted to cherish more
than his own life.

Peach felt his cheeks flush and his pulse quicken. He wasn’t naive; he understood exactly
what Thee was hinting at. But instead of fear or doubt, there was a strange flutter of
excitement—a quiet anticipation that made his heart beat even faster. And then, without a
word, he leaned in and kissed Thee, his actions speaking louder than any verbal permission.

The movie continued to play on the giant screen, but neither of them paid any attention to it
now.
WAKE-UP CALL #43

Thee effortlessly took the young photographer into his arms, their lips still locked in a
passionate kiss. He kissed him over and over, deep and consuming, pressing, nibbling, and
teasing as if to ensure Peach could focus on nothing but the fervor he was pouring into every
touch. Their tongues intertwined tightly, refusing to part, as Thee's kisses grew more
insistent, even possessive, drawing Peach deeper into the intensity of the moment.

Before Peach fully realized what was happening, he found himself gently lying back on the
enormous bed. Thee's taller, solid frame hovered over him, supported by his strong arms,
but their lips never broke contact. Peach's mind raced, already aware of where this was
heading. He wasn’t naive, but the mixed emotions of shyness and nervous excitement were
impossible to ignore. His cheeks burned with heat as he lay beneath Thee's imposing figure.

Judging by the obvious difference in their sizes, Peach didn’t need anyone to explain who
would take the lead here.

Thee left a trail of kisses down his neck, leaving faint red marks in his wake. His fingers
gently slid along Peach's sides, teasing through the thin fabric of his shirt before slipping
underneath. Thee's warm palms explored the firm skin beneath, tracing subtle lines of
muscle that involuntarily twitched under his touch. As his hands moved upward, they
brushed Peach's stomach, sending a wave of shivers across his skin. Peach couldn’t help
but tense at the sensation, a shiver of anticipation running through his body.

When Thee's fingertips brushed a sensitive spot on Peach's chest, he let out a soft gasp,
arching his back slightly on the bed. Seizing the moment, Thee pulled him closer and
removed his shirt in one fluid motion. Now, Peach lay naked beneath him, his pale, flawless
skin practically glowing under the dim light, untouched by the sun due to his indoor habits.
His chest rose and fell as Thee took in the scene, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

Thee leaned down and kissed Peach's soft skin, moving downward until he reached a pink
peak on his chest. Without hesitation, Thee's lips closed around it, alternating between
gentle sucks and playful bites. Peach's soft moan was music to his ears, and it only spurred
him to lavish the same attention on both sides.

Finally, Thee pulled back just enough to see Peach lying before him, his lithe body, his chest
rising and falling rapidly. Peach's gaze met Thee's, wide and bright, his eyes a mix of
shyness and something darker, stirred by the heat of the moment. His lips, slightly swollen
from their earlier kisses, remained parted as he caught his breath.

The mafia boss swallowed hard, his hand sliding along the slender, toned legs hidden
beneath tight jeans. His lips brushed Peach's ear, nibbling gently, eliciting a soft moan from
the smaller man.

"Peach... can I? You're too irresistible. I can’t hold back anymore."

Peach bit his lip, the taste of red wine from Thee's tongue still lingering, intoxicating him.
Heat surged from deep within, making him squirm. Yet, the sweetness in his heart
outweighed even the burning desire coursing through his veins.
Wrapping his arms around Thee's neck, Peach took the initiative and pressed himself into a
kiss. That single act was all it took to unlock something primal. Thee's kiss became fervent,
shifting from passive to aggressive in the blink of an eye. As their mouths devoured each
other, his hands skillfully unbuttoned Peach's jeans. In just moments, all barriers between
them were removed.

Thee leaned back slightly, his eyes roaming over Peach's pale body lying on the bed. It was
as if he wanted to memorize every detail, every curve. At the same time, he shed his own
clothes, revealing a lean, muscular physique and... something more. Something larger,
firmer, and impossible to ignore.

At least Dad’s foreign genes made themselves known.

Peach's gaze involuntarily dropped lower, and he swallowed nervously. Even though he had
made a decision and given his heart, facing the reality made his nerves tangle. Preparing for
something didn’t mean being ready for it.

Thee leaned in to kiss him again, deep and deliberate, pulling Peach's mind away from his
fears. His lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of possessive marks on the soft skin.
Peach's small body tensed under the attention, especially when Thee's tongue swirled
around his navel, eliciting a low, involuntary moan and arching his hips. That reaction nearly
pushed him over the edge.

The sound of Peach's hoarse moans and the subtle movements of his body were enough to
test Thee's restraint to the breaking point.

He made his way further down, his lips brushing the source of Peach's arousal, which was
already firm—throbbing with need. In comparison, Thee's mixed heritage gave him a notable
size advantage, and he couldn’t help but smile. Leaning down, he gave a soft kiss to the tip
before slowly taking Peach into his mouth.

He had never done this with anyone before, but when it came to Peach, he felt not the
slightest hesitation or disgust.

"Kian!" Peach cried out in surprise, his voice trembling as a wave of warmth enveloped him,
making the heat between his legs burn even more intensely. His smaller body writhed and
tensed, his lips clamping down to stifle his voice. His hands found Kian's broad shoulders,
unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

Thee accelerated his caresses, his movements deliberate and teasing. At the same time, he
reached for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand and liberally coated his fingers.

Taking advantage of Peach's dazed state, overwhelmed by pleasure in the front, Thee gently
slid a lubed finger into the tight, unbroken ring of muscle in his back.

"Ah—Kian, that hurts." Peach jerked, instinctively trying to escape the unfamiliar intrusion.
But when his hips lifted to withdraw, it only caused more of him to slide deeper into Thee's
mouth. The stark contrast of sensations—pleasure surging from the front and discomfort
from behind—left him trapped, torn between withdrawal and surrender.
His every attempt to move was met with Kian's firm grip and those persistent fingers circling,
pressing, coaxing his body into submission. It felt like he was locked in place: each
movement only heightened his sensitivity.

"I'm here. Relax, Peach. Just breathe," Thee murmured soothingly, pausing to release
Peach from his mouth. His lips ran down the smaller man's soft thighs, nibbling and licking
the flushed skin to stoke the fire simmering in Peach's center.

Moving back up, he captured Peach's lips once more, his tongue drawing out the tension as
her hands continued their dual assault—pleasuring the front while carefully working the
back. Peach clutched the sheets desperately, forcing himself to relax despite the unfamiliar
sensations. He could feel Thee slipping a second finger in, stretching him further, the
discomfort giving way to a heady pressure.

His entire body tingled, every nerve ignited with a mixture of restlessness and an aching
need deep in her belly. By the time Thee added a third finger, Peach's body was trembling
with fullness, the stretch pushing his limits. Thee moved carefully, alternating between slow
thrusts and twisting motions, eliciting faint gasps and moans.

When his fingers brushed a tender spot deep inside her, Peach arched off the bed, his
stomach visibly clenching as a sweet, high-pitched moan escaped her lips.

He smirked and with his other hand gently lifted the smaller figure's leg over his shoulder,
putting more space between them. He leaned down to place soft kisses along the delicate
curve of one ankle, his fingers tracing gentle circles against a spot that made the other
shiver. A deep, husky sound escaped as Peach's half-closed eyes glowed with sensations
he'd never experienced before.

Thee's gaze burned with silent passion as she admired every part of Peach. Just being close
was intoxicating. Even the elegant line of Peach's ankle, pale and soft beneath his touch,
made him linger longer than he intended. Taking a step back to steady himself, he checked if
everything was ready.

Once satisfied, he grabbed the golden package and opened it with his teeth in one swift,
expert motion. After ensuring everything was secure and ready, he swiped a generous
amount of gel over his fingers, determined to make this experience as comfortable as
possible.

This was Peach's first time, and Thee was determined to make sure it was filled with nothing
but tenderness. He wanted every moment to be something Peach would cherish. Thee
leaned forward and hugged Peach reassuringly. Gently, he guided the trembling hands
gripping the sheets to rest against his own back. His lips brushed against Peach's ear,
placing delicate kisses that melted into a soft whisper, low and tinged with emotion.

"Let me in. You're mine, Peach," he murmured. Peach met his gaze, her favorite smoky gray
eyes now brimming with desire and warmth. The connection sent a rush of heat through him,
one he could barely contain. Still, Thee held back, though sweat glistened at his temples
from the exertion. He didn't want to become a nightmare for the young photographer
beneath him.
"You're mine too, Kian," Peach whispered back. He pressed a lingering kiss to Thee's chin,
connecting them both in the intimacy of the moment.

"We belong to each other." The sound Thee made in response was deep, almost primal, as if
a thread of containment had finally snapped. Slowly, he adjusted himself, his large hands
cradling Peach's hips to offer support. With deliberate care, he began to guide their
connection, his movements slow and considered, making sure Peach felt every touch of the
closeness between them.

Peach gasped softly, his breathing quickening as the new sensation left him wide-eyed. His
fingers instinctively pressed against Thee's broad back, clinging for comfort. Though there
was tension, Thee's patience and gentleness slowly eased the discomfort. He clenched his
jaw tightly, the muscles along his face tensing with restraint. He did his best to soothe
Peach, alternating between gentle touches and soft kisses on his chest, hoping to ease his
discomfort.

"Relax, baby. You're holding me too tight," Thee murmured against Peach's lips, peppering
him with soft kisses to distract him. Slowly and carefully, Thee guided himself, inching
forward with a deliberate rhythm. He moved with unburied patience, allowing Peach's body
to gradually adjust.

Thee measured every movement, sinking deeper with each gentle pressure. He'd never
shown such self-control before, but with Peach, he must be determined to be careful. He
couldn't bear the thought of causing him even the slightest sting. No matter how much it
tested his resolve. He was willing to wait. Soon. They found themselves completely wrapped
around each other, their bodies pressed against Peach's.

A loud sound escaped Peach's lips, her breath sucking in as he felt the warmth spreading
through him. Instinctively, he adjusted, leaning in to make sure every movement brought him
comfort, even as Peach's soft breaths turned into quiet, shaky sighs. Leaning down, Thee
placed another kiss on Peach's lips, tender but lingering, his hands brushing over the smaller
man's flushed cheeks.

He waited, feeling the tension slowly ease. When Peach finally relaxed, Thee allowed
himself a soft, husky whisper near his ear, his voice filled with unbridled emotion.

"Just relax, my love. I can't hold back anymore." Thee kissed Peach deeply, his lips firm and
unyielding as his hands guided Peach's body to match his rhythm. Little by little, their
movements became more confident, each one filled with care and intention. Peach
responded instinctively, her arms wrapping tightly around Thee's broad shoulders.

As Thee's movements grew bolder, his lips found their way to Peach's collarbone, grazing
the soft skin reverently. His strong hands held Peach's waist, holding it firmly as they moved
in sync. The steady rhythm grew more intense, a shared wave of emotion overcoming them
both. Peach, inexperienced but eager, could only respond by holding on tighter, his body
following Thee's lead. His voice, sweet and breathless, filled the space between them, each
sound revealing how new and overwhelming it was to him.
Every movement tried to ignite something deep inside him, a warmth growing in his core
until it spilled over. In the end, Peach trembled against Thee, her hot body tensing as a wave
of release washed over him, leaving him breathless. Thee didn't stop, even after seeing that
Peach had already reached her limit. If anything, the tighter grip around him only fueled his
own desire. Tilting his head back, Thee let out a low, throaty sound, driven by the heat of the
moment. With one last, deep movement, he buried himself completely inside her, his body
trembling as heat spread through him.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on Peach's shoulder, his lips pressing soft kisses
along her flushed skin, as if trying to share the overwhelming emotions coursing through
him. The sex produced by the love of two people felt so much more meaningful! Carefully,
Thee withdrew, moving deliberately slowly so as not to cause any discomfort.

Despite feeling the lingering heat between them, he didn't stop. His hand moved quickly,
discarding the previous protection and preparing another. His lips found Peach's once more,
eliciting soft, breathless sighs as he repositioned himself, gently pressing forward.

"Ahh—Kian, what are you doing?" Peach's voice trembled; his body was still sensitive from
their previous connection.

"I told you I can't hold out any longer. I want to stay with you like this, all day and all night."
Thee gently bit Peach's ear, her breathing warm and steady as she shifted positions.

Taking a moment, he relaxed completely and then carefully guided Peach to lie on his
stomach, lifting his hips slightly to find a comfortable angle. Slowly and deliberately, she
moved forward again, making sure each movement was slow and deliberate.

"Um... I've already come." Peach moaned softly at the overwhelming sensation as they
moved again, his strong hands gently shifting her into a new position. Lying on his stomach,
Peach felt Thee lift his hips slightly, giving him better access. The movement was slow but
purposeful, and Peach could feel every moment of their renewed closeness.

"But I didn't say it was just a one-time thing." He moved his hips slowly, but maintained a
strong rhythm both in and out. Peach emitted sweet moans, murmurs of surrender, and the
sound of his name, repeated like a mantra. Thee's deliberate pace, slow but steady, elicited
all the reactions he desired, ensuring Peach felt the full extent of his love and devotion.

"Kian, don't tease me... ah, Kian..." Peach rested his head on the pillow, his voice trembling
with soft moans as he called out to his lover. Despite having reached his peak, his body
stirred again, unbidden.

"I'm here, my love. Tell me what you want," she murmured deeply. His lips brushed Peach's
shoulder to taste the faint saltiness of sweat. One arm wrapped tightly around the slender
figure, supporting him through every movement, while the other tenderly attended to him,
drawing even sweeter sounds from Peach. Peach turned to face him, his eyes shining with
unshed tears, his lips swollen and red from the bite. His flushed cheeks and ears made him
look absolutely endearing, testing Thee's patience to the limit.
He couldn't hold back any longer. Thee leaned down, capturing Peach's lips in a firm kiss,
muffling the soft cries that filled the space. At the same time, he increased the pace of his
movements, each one deep and intense. Peach clung to him, his body trembling as his
emotions grew ever higher.

A strangled cry escaped Peach as he reached his limit again, his body giving in to the
overwhelming sensations, releasing thick liquid all over the bed again. Meanwhile, Thee
followed shortly after, spilling her warmth that the younger boy could feel in his stomach
despite a condom as a barrier between them.

After a lingering kiss, Thee finally pulled away, though his reluctance was evident in his
every movement. Peach collapsed back onto the bed, completely spent, his breathing
shallow and uneven. Thee watched him with a loving smile, gently kissing his shoulder
before picking him up to carry him to the bathroom.

Despite Peach's sleepy protests and playful nagging, Thee stayed by his side, finding his
sulkiness more adorable than intimidating. He watched Peach with quiet concern, making
sure he didn't stumble or fall from exhaustion. Once Peach had freshened up and put on
clean clothes, Thee carried him back to the bedroom. Seeing the mess they had made, Thee
gently lifted Peach up in a good mood.

"Looks like the guest room is no longer available," Thee commented in a satisfied tone,
sounding anything but uncomfortable.

"Guess you'll have to sleep in my room tonight." Peach rolled his eyes dramatically, unable
to resist playfully tapping Thee on the shoulder. Far from being offended, the mob boss
chuckled, clearly amused, and guided the smaller man upstairs to his room with swift
determination. Thee gently placed Peach onto his enormous king-sized bed, where the
smaller body almost disappeared between the fluffy sheets.

After giving the scene a satisfied look, he stepped away to freshen up. When he returned,
Peach was already fast asleep, tiredness taking over after a long day of traveling, delivering
presents to children, and... well, other activities that had left him completely exhausted.

With a contented sigh, Thee slid into bed, sliding a strong arm under Peach and gently
pulling him until the smaller man was resting against his chest.

His rough fingers traced lazy patterns through Peach's soft, silky hair, twisting strands
around his fingertips as a soft smile curved his lips.

He admired Peach's serene face—the long lashes resting on her flushed cheeks and the lips
still slightly swollen from countless kisses. Faint marks ran along her neck, reminders of their
shared intimacy.

Having someone he loved, and who loved him back, lying so trustingly in his arms filled
Thee with a warmth he hadn't known he could feel. It was comforting, sweet, and tender, like
a perfectly toasted marshmallow, golden and soft. He tightened his embrace slightly, wishing
he could hold Peach even closer, as if merging their beings together. Pressing a lingering
kiss to the crown of her soft hair, he whispered, "Goodnight... Sweet dreams, my love."
WAKE-UP CALL #44

Peach woke up the next morning and sat dazed in the unfamiliar bed for a moment. His eyes
slowly scanned the room, trying to piece together where he was. Quickly, the memories of
the previous day came rushing back, making him groan in embarrassment. He buried his
face in his hands and stood up—especially when the dull ache in his body served as a
not-so-subtle reminder of what had happened.

Since their Saturday date, everything had escalated quickly—from meeting Mrs. Natlada at
the apartment to ending up completely "claimed" by Thee before passing out exhausted. He
hadn’t expected to wake up on Sunday morning, still tightly wrapped in those strong, warm
arms, their bodies tangled with barely any space between them.

It took Peach a good while to free himself from Thee's embrace without waking him. He
rushed straight to the bathroom, only to freeze in front of the mirror. His breath hitched as he
saw his fair skin now marked with pink blossoms scattered everywhere—faint traces of
possessiveness etched into every inch of him.

Thee's possessiveness clearly ran deeper than Peach had thought.

He stared at his reflection for a moment, still processing the sight, when familiar strong arms
snaked around his waist from behind, pulling him into a secure embrace.

"Why are you up so early? You should rest a little more," Thee murmured in a low, husky
voice, pressing a lingering kiss to Peach's flushed cheek. He sounded far too cheerful and
self-satisfied, which made Peach steel himself internally.

"I have work," Peach replied, his voice still a little groggy, though he didn’t bother to break
free from Thee's firm hold.

It was comfortable like this.

"Are you sure you're okay? Are you still sore?" Thee asked softly, a large hand resting
protectively on Peach's hip. "You don’t have a fever, do you? You’re not too tired?"

"A little sore, but I’m fine," Peach smiled weakly, patting Thee's large hand as a way to
reassure him. "I have work today. Let me get ready."

Thee, however, frowned as if he hadn’t heard a word. He nodded decisively, already making
a decision. "We should shower together. In case you can’t stand for long—I’m worried."

Before Peach could protest, Thee effortlessly lifted him and set him on the bathroom
counter. He disappeared briefly, returning with a towel and clear instructions: brush your
teeth, don’t lock the door—I’ll be right back.
Peach could only stare, dumbfounded, as Thee left the room, too exhausted and physically
drained to get up and lock the door. With no other choice, he resigned himself to the
inevitable. At least, Thee was somewhat considerate, despite some playful touches; he
didn’t push things too far during the shower.

Afterward, he finally let Peach dress while he himself left the room.

Peach slung his favorite bag over one shoulder and grabbed his camera equipment. After a
quick glance in the mirror, he headed downstairs, following the delicious aroma wafting from
the kitchen.

He went straight to the dining table. Breakfast was usually prepared by Thee's long-time
housekeeper, who had been with him since he first moved to Thailand. She was notoriously
picky about who set foot in her home, trusting very few people.

Given the cold weather, Peach had opted for an oversized shirt and comfortable cotton
pants. But as he approached the dining table, he noticed Thee sitting there, his eyes
narrowed in obvious disapproval, though a faint, amused smile tugged at the corner of his
mouth.

"What’s wrong?" Peach asked as he slid into the seat across from Thee, adjusting the collar
of his shirt that slipped slightly before picking up a spoon to dig into the fragrant bowl of
oatmeal in front of him.

"You’re too cute. I’m possessive."

Peach's mouth fell open, his cheeks burning instantly. No matter how many times Thee
showered him with compliments, he still couldn’t get used to them. He tried to bare his teeth
in a playful expression, as if warning him, but that only earned him a low chuckle from the
mafia boss, clearly amused.

"I'll take you to work," Thee said casually while Peach was mid-bite. Peach raised an
eyebrow in mild surprise but kept eating.

"Don’t you have work at the office?"

"Not today. Just a few documents to clear up," Thee shrugged, having already held some
meetings earlier in the week to free up time for their date. "But after dropping you off, I’ll
probably check on a couple of branches. There’s some on-site work I need to inspect."

Peach nodded, aware that running a business wasn’t the glamorous and simple life that TV
dramas often made it seem. The responsibilities of a CEO went far beyond just signing
papers with a dramatic flourish, and Thee’s empire extended far beyond a single
company—the Arseny Corporation was a massive network of businesses with complex
operations and a lot at stake.

Though Peach was just a photographer, deep down, he supported Thee, determined to back
him up however he could.
"I’ll pick you up this afternoon. Call me when you’re done, and we’ll swing by your condo,"
Thee added, but Peach frowned, confused.

"Why my condo? Are the pipes fixed already?"

"No. We’re moving your things here," Thee’s lips curved into a mischievous smile, his smoky
eyes gleaming. "Now I’m yours. You have me—you’re not thinking of pushing me aside, are
you? Using me and leaving me to sleep alone in your condo? That’s not going to happen."

Peach’s jaw dropped even further, his brain struggling to process the absurd statement.
Wait—was he the one responsible for whom now? Wasn’t he the one who had a "first-time"
experience last night?!

"Or better yet, I could move into your condo. We can keep the rest of my staff here and
move everyone next week."

"My place is too small for all your things," Peach grumbled, sounding more resigned than
sarcastic. He was just stating facts. His small, narrow apartment barely fit his own
things—there was no way it could accommodate two people.

"Then I’ll just bring myself and leave the rest," Thee replied, frowning with mock seriousness.
"Or better yet, I’ll buy the unit next to yours and connect them. Problem solved."

"Are you kidding me?" Peach couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head at Thee’s habit of
throwing money at problems. Thee’s sharp eyes softened, and his lips curved into a gentle
smile. His large hand absentmindedly caressed the back of Peach’s hand, as if the touch
itself had become second nature.

"Come on... live with me," Thee murmured, turning his hand to take Peach’s smaller one,
giving it a light squeeze. His deep voice carried a hint of pleading, which made Peach freeze
for a second. His eyes widened, and heat rushed to his cheeks and ears in record time.

Why did Thee seem even more charming and irresistible since they started dating? It was as
if his attractiveness had increased, leaving Peach completely disarmed.

Defeated, Peach averted his gaze and reluctantly nodded, unable to argue further. Thee’s
satisfied smile widened as he returned to his breakfast, clearly in a good mood. Somehow,
Peach realized too late that he had willingly fallen into Thee’s trap.

After they finished breakfast, Thee made a quick call to his secretary. After a brief exchange,
he grabbed his bag and gently nudged Peach toward the door, announcing that Mok was
already waiting for them. However, what neither of them expected was to open the door and
find Thee’s secretary stepping out of the neighboring apartment at the exact same moment.

If Peach remembered correctly, the neighboring apartment belonged to Thee’s younger

brother, someone he had never met but vaguely recalled hearing was just as possessive as
Thee himself. Seeing Thee’s secretary stopping by his brother’s place was... unexpected, to
say the least.
"Is Rome still asleep?" Thee asked casually, completely unfazed by the sight, unlike Peach,
who blinked in confusion, his face clearly showing how lost he felt.

"Yes, he’s still out cold. The lady stopped by his place last night, so it got... a little late," Mok
replied in an even tone, though his tired expression and faint dark circles told a different
story.

Thee nodded in understanding and gave Mok a firm pat on the shoulder as if offering silent
consolation. "Hang in there. I’ll let you leave early today. Go home and rest up a bit."

Mok visibly shuddered but wisely chose not to argue. Instead, he turned his attention to
Peach, who was still awkwardly standing behind Thee.

"Good morning, Mr. Peach," Mok hesitated for a fraction of a second before offering a faint
smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jar of thick cream. "I think powder
alone isn’t enough. A concealer might work better. You can use this if you’d like."

Peach frowned, confused by the seemingly random offer, until he saw Mok lightly tap his
own neck. His cheeks instantly flamed as he raised his hands to cover his neck in panic.

The marks Thee had left all over his body were already causing him trouble. Peach had
never used makeup beyond a basic mattifying powder, assuming that would be enough to
hide everything this morning. Clearly, he had been wrong.

"Speaking from experience, huh?" Thee teased, his deep voice laced with amusement. At
the same time, he tugged at Peach’s collar, adjusting it more comfortably. He might enjoy
leaving his mark, but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone else to see it.

"When are you and your brother going to stop being so incredibly possessive?" Mok
remained expressionless, all traces of embarrassment gone. Peach, listening silently from
the sidelines, realized something he hadn’t noticed before.

Without further discussion, Thee led the way to the elevator, his fingers firmly wrapped
around Peach’s hand, pulling him along.

Peach looked down, observing their intertwined fingers, and the corners of his mouth curved
into a soft smile. The warmth in Thee’s grip was comforting, easing his nerves. He gave
Thee’s hand a gentle squeeze in return, with no intention of letting go. Shortly after, a black
car pulled up in front of Studio A. Peach stepped out, ready to say goodbye, only to see
Thee stepping out of the car behind him.

"Is something wrong?" Peach tilted his head slightly, confused by Thee’s presence.

Thee responded with a soft smile, though there was an undeniable sharpness gleaming in
his eyes.

"I’m walking you in."

"But... we’re already here," Peach gestured toward the studio behind him, still confused.

"It’s not good enough. I need to take you all the way," Thee’s brief intensity left no room for
argument. Peach decided it wasn’t worth asking more questions and let Thee guide him
inside by the hand. After walking out of the company elevator hand in hand the other day, it
was likely the entire office already knew about them. He had long stopped worrying about
keeping it a secret.

...Though it seemed he had forgotten that some people still didn’t know.

As soon as they entered the studio, a tall figure rushed toward them. It was Kinn, one of the
models who would be filming the summer collection campaign alongside Aran. Peach hadn’t
expected Kinn to arrive so early.

The young model, barely twenty years old, smiled cheerfully as he approached—until he got
close enough to notice something. His entire body froze, his large eyes fixed on their
intertwined hands, still firmly clasped. Thee’s eyes narrowed slightly, his sharp features
taking on a predatory edge. His lips lifted at the corner in a faint smile, like a beast subtly
asserting its dominance over its territory.

"Peach and Mr. Thee. Why are you holding hands?" Kinn asked, his face blank with surprise,
clearly confused.

Thee immediately released Peach’s hand, but his movement was fluid, naturally shifting to
wrap his arm around Peach’s shoulders. His large hand gently pressed Peach’s head
against his shoulder before leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the hair, never taking
his eyes off the tall model.

Peach watched the scene, still not fully understanding what was happening. Though he felt
somewhat embarrassed by how close they were, his cheeks burning, he didn’t feel the need
to push Thee away. He knew Thee had a slight possessive streak. As long as it wasn’t too
overwhelming, Peach chose to let him do as he pleased.

What puzzled him, however, was the tension in the air between Thee and the model, as if
sparks were flying between them.

"I’ll pick you up tonight," Thee said softly, looking down to meet Peach’s eyes. His
expression, which had been tense a moment ago, seemed to soften into one of satisfaction.
He ruffled Peach’s hair a couple of times before turning to leave, walking away and leaving
Peach to face the curious stares of the people around him.

"What’s going on, Peach? Did Kinn already lose? But we haven’t even started," the model’s
deep voice broke the moment, and he dramatically slumped to the floor, running his hands
over his face. Peach blinked, startled. He didn’t understand why Kinn was suddenly acting
so childish.

"What’s going on, Kinn? What are you talking about?"

Kinn stared at him, frowning, his large eyes glistening with a hint of tears. But when Peach
gave him a blank look, furrowing his brows in confusion, the tall model dropped his head into
his hands and sighed deeply.

"Peach!"

Peach was about to ask him again when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. His
younger sister appeared, running toward him with wide, surprised eyes behind her round
glasses. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked flustered. Without wasting any time, she
grabbed his arms and quickly pulled him into a quiet corner, her body language tense, as if
she had something urgent to say.

"What’s going on, Plub? What are you doing?" Peach asked, laughing slightly as he sensed
what his younger sister was thinking.

"Why did you get out of the car with that guy? I saw you, you know?" she teased, pretending
to pout, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. "So now you’re going on rides together? Is
that what dating means? That’s not even the way! And what’s with all that sweet, cheesy
stuff in the studio? Have you gone soft now?"

"Actually, I’m staying with Thee now," he replied calmly, raising an eyebrow and giving her a
playful wink, which made Plub hit his arm with all her strength.

"Ow, that hurt, Plub! Why are you hitting me?"

"You deserve it," she replied, acting all sassy, half-joking, half-serious.

"That’s not it. The water pipes in my condo broke, so he’s letting me stay with him for now,"
Peach quickly clarified, almost choking on his words. He couldn’t help but wonder if his sister
had been hanging around Thee and his mafia friends too much lately. Her words were
starting to sound oddly critical.

"How long are you staying there?" Plub squinted, looking suspicious.

"At first, just a week... but then Thee said, since we’re already dating..."

Peach trailed off, hesitating, wondering how much of this conversation he could really share.
The words from the previous morning definitely weren’t meant for his sister. Plub stared at
her brother’s flushed cheeks before sighing. She gave his shoulder a few pats.

"I knew it. One night, and now you’re staying forever," she said, pretending to wipe a tear,
dramatically imitating a mother sending her son off to get married. "Poor Kinn, though, it’s
too late." Peach almost asked what she meant, but stopped when she quickly changed the
subject. He didn’t press further. The two siblings chatted for a while as they waited for the
team to set up. Then, a tall figure approached them.

Plub looked up, planning to greet the newcomer, but when she saw a petite woman walking
toward them, she quickly pulled Peach back and hid behind him. Her eyes, now filled with
malice, exuded a sudden surge of anger.
It wasn’t just Plub who was visibly upset. The male model also hurried over, his long strides
bringing him closer, standing ready as if prepared to confront anyone at any moment.

Peach looked up, and just seeing the person standing there made his cheek hurt again. But
since the two kids beside him were acting so irritably, he quickly grabbed his sister’s arm and
gently rubbed her head to calm her down.

Tawan slowed his pace, stopping at a distance when he noticed everyone around him
staring coldly. Peach quickly scanned the other side while holding his sister in a relaxed
manner, making sure she didn’t act impulsively. At this moment, the person he was most
worried about was probably the young man.

The male star’s face was expressionless, no longer showing the proud, smug look he used
to have. There was a fading bruise near his mouth and a bandage on his forehead. His right
hand was in a bulky white cast, supported by a sling over his shoulder. His calm demeanor
was so unusual that it made Peach take a second look.

Normally, when Tawan wasn’t with him, he wore a small smile, a bit arrogant but still
approachable due to his looks and charm. But when it came to Peach, Tawan’s attitude was
always irritating and rigid, almost to the point of annoying him. But this serene and reserved
demeanor? It was quite strange, and Peach couldn’t help but be surprised.

"Peach, I need to talk to you. Can I have a moment?" Tawan said, his eyes fixed on Peach’s,
trying to convey sincerity. Peach hesitated for a moment before giving his sister a gentle tap
on the arm, signaling her to get back to work.

"This is dangerous, Peach. What if that guy goes crazy again?"

"You think I can’t handle someone who’s injured, Plub?" Peach lightly tapped her forehead.
"Stop wasting time and get back to work."

"Then I’ll stay with you," Kinn said, his tone unusually cold, and the change in atmosphere
was striking. "I’m already—my makeup and clothes are ready. I just need to wait for my
scene, I’m sure you don’t mind, right?"

Peach glanced to the other side for a moment, remembering that when he was hit, Kinn had
stepped in to block it. They had even argued fiercely with Tawan, almost coming to blows
over the anger at the attack on him. Not to mention, Kinn had taken him to the hospital
afterward. Having Kinn at a reasonable distance gave him some comfort.

Though he had told Plub he could handle someone like Tawan, he couldn’t deny that, deep
down, there was still a lingering trace of fear.

"I won’t do anything to him. You can stay there and watch if you want," Tawan said, his voice
calm and nonchalant. Plub, who had been at the front, reluctantly stepped aside. She turned
and squeezed Peach’s arm tighter, reminding him to shout if something happened or if
Tawan acted aggressively.

As Plub walked away to do her work, Kinn took a step back, but his eyes remained fixed on
Tawan, never leaving him for a second.
Realizing this, Tawan took a small step forward, maintaining a safe distance. Not everyone
watching would feel more comfortable.

Tawan stood still for a moment, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts. Peach didn’t rush
him, simply waiting and observing. He glanced at the set and saw that they were still working
on setting things up. There was plenty of time.

"I’m stepping away from the industry."

Tawan spoke softly, lowering his eyes with unease. At the same time, there was a hint of
sadness in his aura. Peach tilted his head slightly, not understanding why someone would
leave the industry just because of an injury. Even if it was time to heal, that didn’t mean he
couldn’t return to being a star.

"I’m taking over my father’s company," Tawan continued, his lips pressed together. He spoke
in circles as if he didn’t know where to start. "My father has been under a lot of stress lately.
We’ve had a lot of problems, and he ended up in the hospital. So I’ve decided to take over
completely."

Peach pursed his lips. Though Tawan spoke vaguely, he could guess that one of the
problems might involve Thee, directly or indirectly. One thing that didn’t change about mafia
people was that they didn’t let things go once they got angry. If Thee was upset, he would
hold on and keep digging until everything crumbled.

Peach pressed his lips together, unsure of what to say, especially since he might have been
part of the reason those problems arose, even if it wasn’t directly his fault.

"I’m not here to scold you, nor am I asking for help," Tawan seemed to sense what Peach
was thinking and quickly spoke. He raised his uninjured hand to rub the back of his neck, a
sign of discomfort. "I just wanted to apologize. I might never see you again, but at least, for
the last time, I want to tell you I’m sorry."

Peach stared at Tawan. The young man’s gaze was calm, but there was a mix of sadness,
guilt, and concern in his expression. Peach could tell that Tawan’s words were genuine.

"I’m really sorry for hitting you that day. I’m sorry for treating you badly all this time," Tawan
lowered his gaze, bowing his head sincerely. "...I’m sorry for being a bad part of your life."

The young photographer relaxed a little, and his furrowed brow softened. While he couldn’t
feel warmth or familiarity toward Tawan, he also didn’t harbor enough resentment to reject an
apology.

"What’s done is done. Let it go," Peach replied bluntly, neither happy nor upset. "I hope
everything goes well for you from now on."

Tawan looked up, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smile, and his tension eased.
At least between the two of them, there was nothing left unresolved.

They didn’t speak further. Tawan simply nodded in farewell before turning to leave. Peach
watched him silently as he walked away, then his gaze shifted to a distant corner where Aran
stood, watching. The smaller model made brief eye contact with Tawan before turning and
walking away as well, leaving the actor staring until both were out of sight.

Peach didn’t know what kind of issues the two had, nor did he know if they could be
resolved, but, in the end, it was no longer his concern.

"Are you okay, Peach?" Kinn, who had been nearby, approached and asked. He had heard
the entire conversation, but more than that, Kinn was concerned about Peach’s feelings. It
couldn’t be easy for someone who had been hurt to face those who had harmed him, even if
the encounter was to receive an apology.

"Yeah, I’m fine," Peach said, flashing a wide smile. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off
his chest. He gave the younger model a few light pats on the shoulder and urged him to get
back to work. "Get ready for your scene. No more slacking off."

Kinn pretended to complain, saying he was just worried about him, but Peach simply
laughed and gave him a playful push to get back to work.

In the end, life goes on. It keeps spinning, bringing people into our lives. And while we play
the lead role in our own story, the world also throws us into the lives of others, sometimes for
better, sometimes for worse—some encounters brief, others lasting—all depending on where
life’s journey takes us.

The role we play in someone else’s story is determined by our own actions.

And in the end, all that will remain are the memories we’ve shared with one another,
memories that might one day become nothing more than amusing anecdotes in a
conversation.
THE LAST WAKE-UP CALL

The grand mansion was nestled deep within the estate, hundreds of meters from the main
gate. Tire tracks carved a long path through the pristine blanket of snow that stretched
across the grounds. On either side, well-maintained gardens—now hidden under a thick
layer of white—hinted at their beauty even in this frozen season. Not far beyond, a stone
fountain stood, its waters frozen solid under the biting cold.

A sleek black European car came to a stop in front of the mansion's entrance. Once the
vehicle had fully stopped, a tall man in a black suit stepped out from the front seat, his eyes
scanning the surroundings carefully before opening the rear door. From inside, a striking
young man emerged first, his smoky gray eyes immediately settling on the passenger beside
him. Without a word, he bent down and gently lifted a small girl who was fast asleep,
cradling her against his chest. His free hand reached out to help a young boy step out of the
car.

On the other side, Peach exited the vehicle, making sure the Arseny men had unloaded the
luggage and gifts before approaching the boy, taking his small hand in his own. This freed
Thee to hold the little girl more securely in his arms.

A tall bodyguard in a black suit opened the grand doors of the mansion, bowing slightly as
his employer and family entered. The staff, well-trained in decorum, lowered their gazes,
avoiding eye contact with the young mafia boss and his loved ones. Peach, now accustomed
to such protocol, led his son by the hand, walking just behind Thee as they entered the
house.

Inside the mansion, the warmth immediately contrasted with the icy world outside, as if they
had stepped into a completely different reality. The heat seeped through their layers of
clothing, and Peach began to remove his thick winter coat, helping his son out of his as well.
Every year, as winter arrived and the year drew to a close, the family would gather at this
sprawling estate on the outskirts of Russia to celebrate the season together. Peach handed
their coats to a waiting maid before turning to help Thee with his. The tall man moved with
deliberate care, ensuring the little girl in his arms remained undisturbed. Once he had
removed his coat, Thee turned his attention to the girl, tenderly removing her jacket without
waking her.

The girl nestled deeper into her father's arms, her rosy cheeks pressed against his chest in
pure contentment. Thee's lips curved into a soft smile at her relaxed expression, his heart
warming at the sight.

After handing their winter coats to the maid, the family ventured further into the mansion. At
the center of the house was a sunken living room, its floor designed in a circular shape a few
steps below the surrounding level. The spacious area was entirely padded with soft fabric,
creating a cozy atmosphere. On one wall, near the circular seating area, hung a massive
television. Currently, it was playing soft, melodic music from a streaming app, filling the
space with a tranquil ambiance.

"My goodness, Kian! Peach! Why did you take so long?" exclaimed a woman seated in the
middle of the padded area, quickly rising to greet them. She hurried over and extended her
delicate hands to embrace the young man who had stopped to offer a polite wai. "Mhok,
sweetheart, you're so handsome! My goodness, you've grown into such a fine young man!"

It had been three years since Peach and Thee began their life together. A year after moving
in with Thee, they had decided to formally adopt the two children, just as they had always
planned. Peach often took Thee to visit orphanages and spend time with the children to
ensure they found the perfect match. To their pleasant surprise, Thee effortlessly connected
with the children, and the bond between the mafia boss and the two kids was nothing short
of remarkable. Once they were certain of the fit, the adoption process was finalized without a
hitch.

The only notable change since then had occurred at the orphanage itself. Every time Peach
visited, the place looked better and better, to the point where it barely resembled its former
self. When he asked about it, the head caretaker, Teacher Nualphong, explained that a
generous benefactor had taken it upon themselves to sponsor the orphanage. This
mysterious donor not only covered all expenses but also sent people to improve the
facilities, ensuring they were clean, orderly, and safe. The orphanage had been transformed
into a sanctuary for children.

Hearing this, Peach couldn't help but glance at the mafia boss beside him. There was a
proud posture and a faint, knowing smile that gave it all away. Peach quickly pieced together
the story, even before Thee turned to him with an expectant look, as if waiting for praise.
Peach had chuckled softly at the time, though he later had to "pay" for this act of kindness
with more than a few rounds of his lover's passionate enthusiasm. In the end, he decided it
was worth the price.

When Peach first brought Mhok and Marn to meet their new grandparents—Thee's mother,
Natlada, and the formidable Arseny—the couple had fallen head over heels for the children.

They were so smitten that it wasn't long before the boy and girl were officially registered as
part of the Arseny family.

Peach often teased Thee, joking that he had been "dethroned" since the children were
clearly more adored by the family than he was. However, instead of feeling slighted, Thee
seemed to brim with pride, even devising ways to win his children's affection over that of
their doting grandparents.

"Why are you so late, Peach? I've been waiting forever!" a cheerful voice interrupted Peach's
thoughts. The voice belonged to Plub, another young woman of the household, who
emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of fresh fruit. She quickly set the plate on the
table, wiped her hands, and rushed over to see the children. Though eager to play and dote
on them, the sight of little Marn sleeping peacefully in her father's arms made her hesitate.
"She's so adorable. Isn't Marn the cutest, Mhok?" she whispered, careful not to wake the girl.

Mhok, the young boy, nodded solemnly, his eyes shining with pride and affection as he
looked at his little sister.
"What did you bring with you, Plub?" asked Natlada, who had been gently stroking her
grandson's hair with maternal affection before turning her attention to her newly adopted
daughter.

"Mangoes, Mom. I brought a bunch from Thailand because I thought you'd miss them," Plub
replied with a bright smile. She leaned in with an exaggerated, conspiratorial whisper. "And
guess what? Dad peeled them himself! He said it was to win your heart."

"Oh, my sweet girl," Natlada cooed, pulling Plub into a warm hug, her sharp, authoritative
demeanor softening further.

Two years ago, the family's adoption story had expanded beyond Peach and Thee. After
meeting Plub, Natlada had taken an immediate liking to her, and their conversations flowed
effortlessly. Before long, Nat had declared that Plub should also become part of their family.
"We're practically family already, aren't we?" she had reasoned. "Why not make it official and
welcome her into the family?"

Natlada had been particularly sensitive to the idea that Plub might feel left out, especially
since Thee, Plub's brother-in-law, had become an integral part of Peach's life. Nat had
refused to let Plub feel as though she had "lost" her only brother. Over time, her affection for
Plub grew to the point where she insisted on making her the youngest daughter of the family.

However, Plub had politely declined to formalize things legally, fearing that people might
assume she was clinging to her brother-in-law's wealth and influence. Despite her concerns,
she was treated as if she were already an official member of the family.

The family gathered on the soft, sturdy cushions of the living room, and little Marn, who had
slept soundly throughout the journey, was gently laid down to rest. Beside her, Mhok sat
struggling to stay awake, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Peach, ever the doting father,
coaxed his son to lie down, placing the boy's head on his lap. After tucking him in
comfortably with a blanket, Peach stroked Mhok's hair with slow, soothing motions until the
boy finally succumbed to sleep.

"Oh, is he out already?" came a tense voice from behind. Rome, Thee's younger brother,
leaned over the backrest, his tall figure towering over the seating area. His sharp gray eyes
sparkled with amusement as he looked at the sleeping child. "What a sleepyhead! Did he
just arrive and already fall asleep?"

"Can you not disturb the kids? They have jet lag," Mok, Thee's secretary, interjected with a
tired sigh as he approached from the other side of the room. His tone was stern, though not
devoid of affection. "Didn't they go to Disneyland yesterday? I bet they ran themselves
ragged."

"Of course they did," Peach replied with a soft laugh. "Last week, Thee took the kids to
Japan for a trip to Disneyland. From there, we flew straight to Russia. Between the travel
and the excitement, it's no wonder they're exhausted."

"I wasn't bothering them! I was just checking in because I care," Rome grumbled, though his
smile betrayed his amusement. He reached out and pulled Mok into a tight hug, clearly
unfazed by the secretary's protests. "You like kids, don't you? Admit it! I've always said you
should have a couple of your own. No, wait—three kids, so you can outdo Thee here."

"Calm down, Rome. Are you sure you can even take care of yourself?" Mok replied dryly, his
expression as stoic as ever, though the faint pink creeping up his ears gave him away. "And
keep your hands to yourself. There are kids around."

"Exactly! You can barely manage on your own," Thee chimed in as he returned from a
conversation with his father. Approaching with a mischievous smile, he slung an arm around
Peach's shoulders and hugged his partner tightly. Thee's biting remark earned him a smack
on the hand from Mok, much to everyone's amusement.

"All of you, stop!" Peach scolded softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he gestured to
his son. "You'll wake the kids if you keep this up." Sure enough, Mhok stirred slightly, his
small brow furrowing in his sleep.

"You're right," Thee admitted, leaning down to give Peach a quick kiss on the cheek. With
great care, he lifted his sleeping son into his arms. Peach did the same, picking up little Marn
from her spot on the cushions. Together, they carried the children to their respective
bedrooms, making sure they could continue resting undisturbed.

Peach cradled Marn gently in his arms. The girl instinctively snuggled closer, her small body
curling up against him with familiarity. A soft smile appeared on her lips even as she slept,
prompting Peach to lovingly stroke her chubby cheek with his fingers. He followed Thee,
who was carrying their son, up the stairs.

Thee led the way to the second floor of the house. Though the master bedrooms were on
the third floor, they had decided to use the main bedroom on the second floor. With one child
eager to explore everywhere and the other always on the run, it was safer and more
practical to keep them close. If the house had a suitable bedroom on the ground floor, they
would have opted for that, but the second floor was the next best option.

Upon reaching the bedroom, Thee shouldered the door open. Inside was a spacious
king-sized bed, flanked by a smaller daybed pushed against the wall for the little ones. With
careful steps, he crossed the room and gently laid Mhok down on the pillow. Once he
ensured his son was comfortably settled, he turned to take Marn from Peach. Placing her
beside her brother, Thee adjusted their positions and tucked them both in snugly with the
blanket.

Peach watched the scene unfold with a soft smile on his lips. At first, he had been the most
enthusiastic about adopting the siblings. But over time, the doting father who couldn't bear to
be apart from the children for even a moment turned out to be none other than the stoic
mafia boss standing before him. Before Peach could get lost in his thoughts, Thee's strong
arm reached out, pulling him toward the bed. With a firm yet gentle motion, Thee guided him
to rest his head on his broad shoulder, wrapping him securely in a warm embrace.

"What are you doing, Kian?"

"You should rest too," Thee replied, moving his hand to stroke Peach's hair with slow,
comforting motions. "You've had a long flight and spent all your energy taking care of the
kids. You need to take a break."

"But didn't you help the whole time?" Peach responded with a small smile, though he
instinctively snuggled closer to Thee's warmth. "Thank you for everything. The trip to Japan
was amazing."

Thee smiled, clearly satisfied. The trip to Japan had been something they had planned
together long ago. But with their hectic schedules and the arrival of the two little ones, their
lives had been a whirlwind. It wasn't until late this year that things finally calmed down
enough for them to take the trip with their family.

Peach had finally completed his "restaurants you must visit before you die" list.

He chuckled softly to himself, remembering how it had all started: the heartfelt proposal from
his beloved, Thee, back in those days. What made it all the more meaningful was how Thee
had truly kept every promise he had made. With Thee by his side, Peach never felt alone in
this world again.

A faint smile adorned Peach's lips as he decided to take a short nap, just as Thee had
suggested. He had barely closed his eyes when he felt Thee moving beside him, fidgeting as
if searching for something. Intrigued, Peach opened his eyes to see what was going on.

Thee gently pulled him closer, wrapping him in a warm embrace. He planted a firm kiss on
Peach's temple before moving to his lips. He kissed him slowly, tenderly, nibbling lightly
before deepening the kiss with the touch of his tongue. Peach tilted his head, following
Thee's rhythm, completely immersed in the moment.

When Thee finally pulled away, he did so slowly and deliberately, leaving a lingering warmth.
He placed another firm kiss on Peach's lips before resting their foreheads together. Their
eyes met, locking in a silent but intense gaze.

Amid the silence, Peach felt Thee's hand gently tighten around his left hand. Thee lifted
Peach's hand and kissed the back of it. Then, in a deep, steady voice, he began to speak.

"I, Theerakit Kian Arseny, vow to love and be faithful to you, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness
and in health..." Thee's voice wavered slightly as he paused. He looked down to focus on
what he was holding—a simple silver band adorned with three smoky gray diamonds,
glinting under the soft light. He slid the ring onto Peach's left ring finger, his movements
deliberate and reverent. "...to love, honor, and cherish you, for as long as I live."

Peach froze, his wide, expressive eyes filling with surprise. In just moments, tears welled up,
glistening like tiny crystals.

He had always considered himself someone who didn't cry easily.

And he had never imagined that this moment—this life-changing moment—would happen to
him.
"Marry me, Peach. I love you so much... so much that I don't know what else to do."

A laugh bubbled up from Peach's chest, mingling with the tears now streaming down his
cheeks. He stared at the man before him, this imposing figure of the mafia who had just
made eternal vows, slipped a ring on his finger—and then decided to officially... propose
after all?

"You're supposed to come with a proper proposal first, aren't you?" Peach asked, his voice
mixed with laughter as he raised a hand to wipe the tears running down his cheeks.

"I couldn't wait," Thee admitted, making a slight pout as he hugged Peach tightly. "I want to
marry you as soon as possible. I wanted to make it grander, more official, something better,
so the whole world would know how much I love you. But I couldn't do it the way I wanted,
and it's already driving me crazy."

"And you didn't think I might say no?" Peach seized the opportunity, and a sly smile
appeared on his lips. He narrowed his eyes at the cheeky comment before wrapping him in
an even tighter hug, practically enveloping Peach in his chest.

"Even if you did, it wouldn't matter. I'd be happy to keep making vows on my own until you're
ready to say yes," Thee replied seriously.

Peach couldn't help but smile, his expression softening at the sincerity behind Thee's words.
They might have sounded like a joke to anyone else, but Peach knew Thee meant every
word he said.

"But I don't have a ring."

"Yes, you do," Thee said with a smile, suddenly sitting up straight and reaching for
something on the nightstand. After fumbling for a moment, he pulled out a second ring box,
identical to the first. Inside was a matching ring, the same elegant design but slightly smaller,
with brilliant clear diamonds that sparkled beautifully.

Peach accepted the ring, his lips curving into a soft laugh as his chest filled with affection for
the man before him. Still, he held Thee's hand firmly, taking a deep breath. His face softened
with a tender smile, his gaze meeting Thee's in a silent exchange of love and understanding.

Slowly, Peach lifted Thee's left hand, cradling it gently as he slid the ring onto his finger. As
he did so, he spoke his vow with unwavering conviction.

"I, Peachayarat Janekit, promise to love and be faithful to you, in joy and in sorrow, in
sickness and in health... to love, honor, and cherish you, for as long as I live."

Thee broke into a wide smile, his happiness radiant. He leaned forward, capturing Peach's
lips in a kiss—not warm or urgent, but soft and tender. It was a kiss that conveyed everything
he couldn't express with words, filled with love and devotion, a silent testament to how
deeply he adored the man in his arms.
There was no need for a grand ceremony or priests to officiate the vows. Their witnesses
were only the two little siblings, deeply asleep and blissfully unaware of the world around
them.

All that mattered was that the person in front of him loved him, cherished every part of who
he was. And all that mattered to Peach was that in return, he loved Thee just as deeply.

That alone was more than enough.

It didn't matter when or where, as long as they were walking side by side, it was all the
happiness Peach could ask for. Nothing else in the world could compare.

END OF THE MAIN EPISODE

SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #0.5

"What are you doing, Mr. Thee?"

Mok, the young secretary, couldn't help but ask as he watched his boss intensely focused on
a small piece of paper. The man had been obsessed with it since last night, and now it was
already morning, but he was still hunched over it as if preparing for the most critical
negotiation of his life. Mok was certain there were no urgent work matters left
unresolved—this definitely wasn’t something that required so much concentration.

"I'm preparing a Valentine's Day gift for Peach," Thee replied, his voice as serious as if he
were closing a multimillion-dollar deal. Mok blinked, confused.

"And what exactly are you doing?"

"Writing a love letter!" the mafia boss declared with unshakable confidence, his expression
serious and his eyes gleaming with determination.

The secretary froze. His hand immediately went to his forehead as if he could physically
contain the impending headache.

Knowing his boss's peculiar way of expressing himself… Mok couldn’t help but imagine that
disaster was looming.

"Where did you get this idea, sir?" he asked weakly, already anticipating having to prepare
for damage control.

"Mom said writing love letters is incredibly romantic! Even when the hero and heroine are in
separate worlds, a letter can always convey their love across any distance," Thee explained
with a small, satisfied smile, as if quoting wisdom passed down through generations. Mok,
on the other hand, was about to bang his head against the table.

"What drama has the lady been watching lately?" Mok muttered in resignation.

"No, she likes novels."

Mok's brow furrowed. "And... what novel could this be?"

"Behind the Painting!”

The young secretary let out a long, deep sigh before speaking with a serious face.

"But in Behind the Painting, the ending wasn’t happy for the characters, you know?"

Thee froze, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked down at the small piece of paper in his
hand, now feeling uncertain and worried.

…In the end, that love letter never made it to Peachayarat.

SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #1

Peach is male. Theerakit Kian Arseny, a Thai-Russian heir and owner of several businesses
under the Arseny corporate empire, was the eldest son of a famous Russian mafia boss. His
strikingly beautiful face, often marked by a stern and sensible expression, only added to his
imposing presence, making the name Thee impossible to ignore. Beyond his sharp mind and
captivating appearance, Thee's fearsome reputation spread far and wide, making him
someone people didn’t cross lightly.

"What are you doing here, Kian?" a familiar voice interrupted. Thee slowly raised his head,
his expression tinged with mild annoyance. He held an iPad, its screen filled with business
documents, in stark contrast to the relaxed atmosphere around them. Without a word, he
gestured for his younger brother to sit and casually poured himself a drink.

They were in a luxurious restaurant-lounge in the heart of the city. The second floor housed
a private glass-walled room with a clear view of the lower level, reserved only for the most
exclusive clientele. Since Rome, his only younger brother, was a significant shareholder of
the place—despite being a silent partner—he enjoyed special privileges, including access to
the VIP section.

"Where’s Peach?" Rome asked, surprised that his brother had let Peach out of his sight.

Thee shot his brother a sidelong glance before shifting his gaze to the floor below, silently
urging him to follow.

On one of the sofas in the lounge sat a stunning model, her legs elegantly crossed. In front
of her, Peach worked with impeccable concentration, taking photos with practiced precision.

Today’s photoshoot featured a sexy nightlife concept, and Thee had suggested using
Rome’s place to achieve the perfect ambiance while also helping to promote the venue.
Peach had initially offered to film the campaign for free, but Rome had flatly refused.

Meanwhile, Thee sat sipping whiskey, clearly there only to keep an eye on his boyfriend at
work.

Rome chuckled softly, already guessing that Peach had probably kicked his brother out of
the shooting area.

He was about to strike up a casual conversation when a slender woman approached them,
moving with practiced grace. She smiled sweetly and asked if she could sit beside Thee as if
it were the most natural thing in the world. Rome raised an eyebrow and glanced at his
brother.

Thee’s intense gaze remained fixed on Peach downstairs, completely indifferent to the
curvaceous beauty practically spilling out of her tight dress as she openly stared at him. This
could be entertaining.

Rome thought with mild amusement but maintained a polite tone as he addressed the
uninvited guest.
"I don’t think this is a good spot for you," he said, offering a cold half-smile as his stormy gray
eyes narrowed slightly, sending a subtle warning. "My brother isn’t the type who’s...
accommodating."

He wasn’t eager to play protector; if anything, he was curious to see how this would play out,
but everyone on the second floor was a VIP client. Avoiding unnecessary trouble was better
for business. Except when it came to his brother. You were way above VIP level.

"Maybe he’d be more open-minded if we got to know each other," she laughed, unfazed by
the warning.

With a playful glint in her eyes, she extended her hand, her fingertips ready to brush the
back of Thee’s hand as he casually traced the rim of his whiskey glass.

The moment her fingers touched his hand, Thee grabbed her wrist sharply, snapping her
fingers with a loud crack that echoed in the quiet room. A vivid red mark bloomed on her
delicate skin.

"Don’t touch me," Thee growled, shooting her a fleeting, sharp glance. His piercing eyes
gleamed with a dangerous edge, sending a chill down her spine and freezing her in place.

One crucial thing to remember about Thee was that he despised lies, manipulation through
personal relationships, and, above all, physical touch.

The woman flinched, her delicate hand now marked with a vivid red welt. Her plump lips
pressed into a tight line as she shot him a wounded look before retreating, clearly
considering making a scene. But with all the VIP clientele around, she wasn’t foolish enough
to make enemies here. Rome, watching the entire scene as a disinterested spectator, let out
a long, weary sigh.

"You still can’t shake off that touch phobia, huh? It’s been years, Kian."

Thee absentmindedly swirled his whiskey glass in slow circles, watching the amber liquid
spin hypnotically. His sharp eyes darkened slightly, lost in memories of a time long past.

He was fifteen when his father sent him and Rome to an elite boarding school in Europe. It
was one of the most prestigious institutions on the continent, renowned for its brilliance,
exclusivity, and an aristocratic student body filled with heirs and heiresses of prominent
families.

Despite his youth, Thee walked through the school gates with a cold, imposing intensity. His
smoky gray eyes swept across the grand campus with silent calculation. His mere presence
exuded power, making it impossible for others not to notice him, even if it was out of fear.
Whispers followed him like shadows:

"That’s the eldest son of the Arseny family."

"He’s terrifying! I heard he could kill without even blinking."

"He’s only fifteen! Isn’t that a bit exaggerated?"

"He’s a mafia heir. What do you expect? Stay away from him."

Thee paid no attention to the whispers. He tightened his grip on his bag and walked on
without a second glance. He was already used to dark gossip and rumors spreading like
wildfire.

It only got worse over time.

"Thee!"

A voice called out just as a strong arm casually slung around his neck. He shot a sidelong
glance, silent but not bothering to shake it off. "What’s this? Already famous on your first
day?"

"Annoying," Thee muttered bluntly, though he didn’t seem particularly bothered.

Tris was a tall, good-natured European with a charming, prince-like smile. He couldn’t have
been more different from Thee’s intimidating, sharp-edged personality. Yet, somehow, Tris
was the only person you could call a friend in this place.

"Come on, it’s the first day of the semester! We should have some fun," Tris laughed, giving
Thee a friendly pat on the shoulder. "And guess what? We’re roommates! That calls for a
celebration!"

"I’m not going. Pointless." Thee’s blunt dismissal came without a hint of tact. Parties and
social events were never on his agenda.

"No way! You have to come!" Tris exclaimed, grabbing his broad shoulder before he could
walk away. "You can’t survive in this school without making friends, Thee. Trust me, I’ve got
your back." Thee sighed and narrowed his eyes with mild irritation. Still, when Tris
enthusiastically ran ahead and slung his arm around him again, he let it stay.

They entered their classroom and settled into their seats. This elite school wasn’t just a
playground for the ultra-rich; its academic demands were notorious. Classes were intense,
with an exhausting curriculum taught by top-tier instructors. Each class had a ten-to-one
student-to-teacher ratio, emphasizing critical thinking, debate, and structured analysis.

For Thee, who was groomed to take over his family’s vast business empire, academics
came first. Anything outside that realm was trivial in his eyes. When the last class of the day
finally ended, Tris jumped from his seat, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Thee! So, are you coming tonight or what? I’ve already got others joining us. Let’s meet
some new people!"

"I’m not going. It’s annoying," Thee replied flatly, his hands busy packing his bag without
even looking up.
"Don’t be so cold! Come on, if you don’t go, I’ll die of boredom," Tris complained, shooting
him a dramatic look.

"I’ve got things to do today. Just go with the others," Thee said, slinging his bag over his
shoulder. Sensing how serious Thee seemed, Tris sighed and gave him a light pat on the
shoulder, as if to say, Alright, I get it.

"Fine, if you’re busy. I can’t argue. But next time, no excuses!"

A faint smile tugged at Thee’s lips before he turned on his heel and headed down the stairs.
Outside, a sleek black luxury car was already waiting for him.

The car didn’t take long to pull up in front of a corporate building. Thee stepped out with his
usual stoic expression, briefly nodding to the person already at the entrance.

The Arseny network was vast. When Thee decided to take over his family’s business
empire, his father immediately arranged for him to begin training. At just fifteen, Thee lacked
the maturity and experience to make fully informed decisions, but his father insisted he
needed to grasp the bigger picture of Arseny’s operations. Starting with the European
branch near the school, Thee began shadowing the branch manager. Whenever their
schedules aligned, he was expected to learn everything from the ground up, understanding
the fundamentals of the business and how each department functioned.

His father never forced him down this path. It was Thee’s own choice, which made him take
it even more seriously.

The young heir followed the branch manager, exploring floor after floor, learning the ins and
outs of each department from scratch. He needed to understand what kept the Arseny
empire running.

Hours passed as Thee meticulously reviewed documents, his concentration unshakable.

Finally, he glanced at the clock: 10 p.m. Realizing how late it was, he set the paperwork
aside and leaned back in his chair, visibly exhausted.

"Thank you," he said to the executive assistant, one of his father’s most trusted aides. With a
small nod, he acknowledged the assistant’s effort. The man gave a slight bow in return
before confirming the details of their next meeting.

Thee checked his schedule, packed his things, and returned to the dorm. Each room was
meant for two people. When he opened the door, darkness greeted him, making him frown in
confusion. Why hadn’t Tris returned yet?

The dorm had a strict curfew, and throwing a party came with a host of annoying rules.
Breaking them could affect behavior evaluations, a serious matter for students aiming for top
grades.

Thee mentally calculated the time. Tris had always been punctual, so this felt off. With
curfew approaching and no sign of his roommate, worry gnawed at him, though he hated to
admit it.
There was a nearby restaurant with private party rooms, just a five-minute walk from the
dorms. He decided to check it out and grabbed his jacket. Better safe than sorry.

As he reached the hallway, a familiar voice called out.

"Kian, just getting back?"

He turned and saw Rome, his younger brother, walking from the right wing of the dorm, lazily
rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Why aren’t you in bed?" Thee asked, walking over to him. Rome yawned widely, looking as
exhausted as he seemed.

"Needed a quick walk before crashing. You know, exercise!" Rome’s excuse was, at best,
half-hearted, and they both knew it. "You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. You’re lucky I’m
not ratting you out to Dad." He smiled at his brother’s attempt to dodge the obvious.
Choosing not to press further, he casually changed the subject.

"Tris hasn’t come back yet. Thought I’d swing by and see how he’s doing."

Rome’s expression turned serious as he nodded. He gestured for Thee to lead the way and
followed closely behind.

When Thee reached the private room, he encountered a conversation he never expected.

He stopped just outside the door, his ears catching every word clearly. Inside, the voice of
the one person he considered a friend rang out, boasting to a group of strangers.

"Who’d want to be friends with someone like you? You’re so dense it’s annoying."

"But you two seem close," someone else joked. "I saw you hugging this morning."

"That’s just to lower his guard. A rich brat from the Arseny family is useful."

Through the frosted glass door, you could see blurry figures inside. The bright lights of the
room made their movements clear against the darkness outside.

He recognized the broad shoulders of the person he thought was a friend, relaxed and
shrugging casually.

"Actually, I’m planning to sell him. Any idea how much a mafia heir like Thee Arseny is
worth?" Tris continued, his mocking tone sharp enough to cut. "I was going to lure him here,
get him drunk, and hand him over. Too bad he’s so uptight. Probably holed up somewhere,
packing his bad mood."

"Come on, at least pretend to be his friend. You share a dorm," someone half-suggested.

"Friend? Don’t be ridiculous. I only hung out with him because no one else would."

Laughter erupted, and glasses clinked in a noisy toast.

Thee’s hand tightened around the door handle. His knuckles turned white. His lips pressed
into a thin line, his face tensing into an icy mask. A wave of nausea rose within him, his
chest twisting with disgust. Every hand that had patted his shoulder, every arm around his
neck, every bright smile... It was all a dirty lie.

Slowly, he loosened his grip on the door, his dark eyes burning with cold intensity. At that
moment, he noticed Rome was ready to burst into the room, fists clenched. With a quick
motion, Thee grabbed his younger brother and held him firmly before he could act on
impulse.

"Let me go, damn it! Why are you holding back, Thee? Let me beat him up!" Rome growled,
struggling to break free from Thee.

"Someone’s pulling the strings, someone who wants my head," Thee said coldly, his voice
steady but his eyes burning with intensity. "We deal with that first. After that, he’s all yours."

Rome frowned but finally stilled, his stormy gray eyes narrowing as he fixed his gaze on the
figures inside, memorizing every detail.

One day, he’d come back for them.

"Let’s go," Thee ordered, his voice low and controlled. He walked away from the door,
leaving behind the one person he’d ever called a friend without a second glance.

One day, he’d settle the score with his own hands.

………………..

Though they eventually unraveled the complex web of betrayal and Rome got his
long-awaited chance for revenge, some wounds within Thee never healed.

He stopped trusting people. He despised being used. And worst of all, he despised being
touched.

It was as if he had completely shut himself off from the world.

Rome took a slow sip from his glass, contemplating whether to say something—but before
he could speak, the VIP room’s glass door opened.

A tall, slender figure confidently entered the room.

Peach smiled faintly, exchanging a few casual words with Rome before heading to the large
leather sofa where Thee sat. Without hesitation, he sat beside him, deliberately leaning in.

Thee blinked, momentarily bewildered—but a warmth spread through his chest,

overshadowing the confusion. His lips curved into a faint smile as he lifted his arm, wrapping
it around Peach’s slender frame and pulling him closer. His broad hand gently traced
soothing circles on Peach’s shoulder in an instinctive, familiar gesture—as he had done
hundreds of times before.
This wasn’t new for them—it had practically become their signature sitting position. The only
difference was that Peach usually maintained some distance when they were in public.

"Everything okay? Are you tired?" Thee asked, gently stroking Peach’s cheek to check on
him. Peach pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly. His cheeks turned a faint
pink, though his eyes couldn’t help but glance at the group of girls behind them.

Thee silently followed his gaze and saw a group of young women, including the one who had
sat beside him earlier. They were now staring, wide-eyed and stunned. He looked down at
his lover just in time to catch the fleeting smile tugging at Peach’s lips, a quick, satisfied
smirk that disappeared almost instantly.

Adorable. How could his Peach be so adorable?

A wide smile spread across Thee’s face, and his eyes lit up with joy. Just knowing that
Peach had gotten jealous enough to leave whatever event he’d been attending downstairs
and come up here to snuggle in his arms made Thee’s heart practically wag an imaginary
tail with delight.

Unable to resist, he leaned in and planted a firm kiss on Peach’s soft lips, pulling back only
to playfully nibble on them. Peach’s eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks and ears flushing a
deeper red. Thee chuckled low in his throat, teasing him with some cheeky remarks until
Peach playfully hit him, earning another passionate kiss in return. Worth it.

Rome watched the entire scene unfold with a faint smile before raising his glass and quietly
walking away, leaving his brother and Peach to enjoy their moment together. Though Thee’s
old wounds hadn’t fully healed, today he seemed... happy. He had let someone into his life,
someone who truly mattered to him. And for Rome, seeing his brother smile like that again
was all that really mattered.
SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #2

The high-ranking mafia boss was reclining against the headboard, his toned muscles on full
display, effortlessly drawing attention. However, instead of basking in his own charm, his
sharp eyes were fixed on the smaller figure pacing back and forth for nearly an hour.

It was Peach’s day off, and since Thee only had work scheduled for the afternoon, the
morning was supposed to be their time together—a lazy, indulgent morning where he could
savor having his lover close for hours. In fact, Thee had planned to spend most of the day
tangled up with Peach, content to keep him within arm’s reach. But as the morning
progressed, Peach slipped out of his arms to head to the bathroom. After that, he had been
darting between the closet and the mirror ever since, fluttering around like a restless bird.

Thee narrowed his eyes slightly, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. Normally,
Peach wasn’t someone who cared much about clothes. Unless it was a formal event
requiring a suit, he stuck to his casual outfits—t-shirts and jeans, with the occasional
oversized hoodie or quirky piece, thanks to Plum’s relentless habit of stocking his wardrobe.

Lately, some nice shirts Thee had picked out for him had started appearing in the mix, but
they rarely saw the light of day. Yet here was Peach, trying on one of those very shirts,
standing in front of the mirror, turning side to side with a frown. After a moment, he took off
the shirt and returned to the closet, searching for something else. Thee felt a flicker of pride
seeing Peach choose the shirt he’d bought, but that pride was quickly overshadowed by
growing frustration. Peach, who normally couldn’t care less about his attire, was now
hyper-focused on his appearance. Thee, a man who could get jealous of the wind if it blew
the wrong way, couldn’t help but boil with possessiveness.

And to make matters worse, here he was, shirtless and sitting on the bed, but Peach hadn’t
even glanced his way!

“Kian,” Peach finally approached the bed, his expression serious, his brows carefully arched
in concentration. He began, his tone solemn as he tried to appear stern, “Do I look
intimidating now?”

Thee blinked twice, and his earlier jealousy vanished in an instant. His smoky gray eyes
slowly scanned Peach, taking in every detail. The smaller man was dressed in an unfamiliar
combination: a gray dress shirt paired with black pants. His shoulder-length hair was swept
back, revealing his forehead, and on his wrist was the luxury watch Thee had gifted him.

Finally, his gaze settled on Peach’s adorable face, where he was trying his hardest to look
stern and serious. A soft smile tugged at the corner of Thee’s lips as his eyes softened. He
opened his arms and pulled Peach into a tight hug, leaning down to kiss his lover on the lips.

“You’re cute.”

Peach’s cheeks immediately flushed a confident pink. Even after months of dating, he still
hadn’t gotten used to Thee’s tender affection. Every time the mafia boss touched him—even
in the slightest gesture—Peach couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Yet, after months of
growing closer, with countless shared moments like this, Peach leaned in and returned the
kiss, even playfully nibbling on Thee’s lower lip for good measure.

Thee let out a low growl from the back of his throat, his eyes darkening as he began to pull
Peach closer, clearly intending to deepen the kiss. But Peach broke into a fit of laughter and
quickly slipped out of his strong arms before things could escalate.

“Not happening,” Peach teased, still smiling. “You have work later, and I have plans too.”

“Why are you trying so hard to look intimidating?” Thee exhaled a long sigh, reluctantly
letting him go, though a hint of a pout remained on his face. “No matter what you do, you
won’t be scary, Peach.”

His words weren’t meant to provoke; they were simply the truth. Peach had a naturally kind
face, with large, round eyes that curved slightly downward at the edges and lips that always
seemed to hold a soft, faint smile. He practically radiated warmth, drawing people in like a
comforting light—a fact that made Thee endlessly protective. And in Thee’s mind, even if
Peach bared his teeth and growled, he would still be nothing more than endearing. Peach let
out a long sigh, clearly aware of his own lack of intimidating presence.

“But today I want to look intimidating.”

With a quick motion, Thee sat him on his lap, wrapping his arms firmly around Peach and
pulling him against his chest. He caught a glimpse of Peach’s flushed cheeks as he fidgeted
nervously, clearly flustered by the sudden closeness. There was a wide, satisfied smile on
Thee’s face.

After all that time at the gym sculpting his muscles, it wasn’t going to go to waste.

Thee played along, pretending not to notice what Peach was referring to and instead
continued the earlier conversation. “So, why do you want to look intimidating? Aren’t you
meeting Plub today?”

“I am meeting Plub, but someone unexpected is coming with her,” Peach murmured with a
frown, his earlier shyness completely forgotten.

“Hmm? The person she mentioned yesterday?” Thee asked, recalling Plub’s phone call to
Peach the day before. Since finishing a major project with Arseny, Peach had been caught
up in a whirlwind of other assignments. As a highly sought-after photographer, he barely had
time to catch his breath, let alone chat with his sister as often as before. Fortunately, Thee
had convinced him to move in permanently; otherwise, finding time together would have
been nearly impossible.

Even so, their shared moments had become increasingly scarce—a fact that frustrated Thee
more than he cared to admit. But he understood Peach’s passion for his work. Peach had
promised to cut back on assignments once his current workload eased. Thee could only
wait, supporting his hardworking lover from the sidelines.

Of course, that also meant Peach would have to “make it up to him” in his own way later.
Yesterday, Plub had called her brother, casually chatting as siblings do when they haven’t
seen each other in a while. Learning that Peach would have some free time the next day,
Plub, who had managed to finish her work ahead of schedule, wasted no time planning a
dinner with him. She also mentioned bringing someone she’d been talking to lately, someone
she wanted Peach to meet.

“This isn’t the first time Plub has introduced someone she’s dating, though, right?” Thee
asked, his lips curling into a teasing smile as he buried his face against Peach’s neck,
inhaling the faint, comforting scent of his soap. Somehow, the same soap smelled much
more appealing on Peach than on anyone else.

Peach shivered and hunched his shoulders, pulling away from Thee’s playful advances,
before turning to look at him. Of course, the attempt to look stern had no effect on Thee—it
only made Peach seem cuter in his eyes.

“Yes, but this time is different,” Peach grumbled, his tone hesitant, which only made Thee
raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

Normally, once things got serious with someone, Plub would introduce them to Peach as a
matter of course. Not because Peach ever insisted—he made sure never to interfere with his
sister’s decisions or pressure her. It was Plub’s choice, a sign of her trust in her older
brother.

She had once joked that Peach should meet everyone she dated so that if anything ever
happened to her, he’d have a complete list of suspects. The joke, though lighthearted,
always made Peach overthink. He’d get so nervous that every time he met one of her dates,
his behavior turned stern and formal, like a father intimidating his daughter’s boyfriend. It
was one of the rare occasions when Peach fully leveraged his status as a renowned
photographer. Now, after two years of being single, Plub had found someone she was
serious about and wanted to introduce him to her brother once again.

“Who is it? Let me run a background check for you,” Thee said, his brow slightly furrowed as
he reached for his phone, already planning to have his secretary investigate. He had a soft
spot for Plub, admiring her sharp wit, sociable nature, and positive outlook on life—traits she
shared with her brother. Compared to his mischievous younger brother, Rome, Plub was
much easier to get along with. “Or if you really want to intimidate the guy, I can lend you
some bodyguards. I’ll have Mok pick the ones with the meanest faces. How about that?”
Thee suggested, half-joking but fully willing.

“No, thanks,” Peach immediately shut him down. “I already looked into him myself. From
what I found, he doesn’t seem like a bad guy. I’ve even met him before.” Peach grabbed his
phone and quickly scrolled through his search history from the night before. After Plub
shared the name of her date, Peach wasted no time searching for any information he could
find online. While it wasn’t as thorough as what a mafia network could dig up, the general
details were enough to get the gist. Peach handed Thee the phone, and the screen
displayed a basic profile. “Tatsuya Shohei, owner of Shohei Agency—I worked with him on
my last project.”
Thee’s eyebrows immediately furrowed, and the relaxed expression he’d been wearing
vanished in an instant.

Touch, or Tatsuya Shohei. The name carried weight. He wasn’t just the owner of some
random agency—he was the son of one of Japan’s most powerful yakuza clans, who had
shifted their focus to legitimate business ventures in an effort to expand and solidify their
influence. Though their fields didn’t directly overlap, the Shohei family was close enough to
Thee’s own operations to register as competition. The tension between the Arseny syndicate
and the Shohei group was subtle but palpable—like two apex predators circling each other,
competing for territory.

Peach had once done a photoshoot for the launch of the Shohei modeling agency. The
images were so striking and memorable that they instantly elevated the agency’s profile. In
just five or six months, with the boost from Peach’s photography and a strong investment
from Shohei, the small agency with only three models had transformed into a rising
entertainment powerhouse.

Naturally, the agency’s CEO, Touch, had gained attention. Aspiring actors and models
flocked to him, hoping for a chance. But who would have thought that the yakuza
heir-turned-businessman would be pursuing an employee from the art department of
Arseny’s company?

Thee normally couldn’t care less about who the son of a yakuza boss chose to pursue. But
Plub was like a little sister to him, and Peach—who seemed determined to intimidate
Tatsuya—was his partner. As a mafia boss always ready to back his lover no matter the
situation, Thee couldn’t help but worry. How was it possible that his petite, sweet-natured
photographer boyfriend was planning to intimidate someone?

“Take some bodyguards with you. A lot of them. Actually... that might not even be enough,”
Thee murmured, his brow furrowing as he began treating the situation like a matter of
national security. “Where are you meeting him? What time?”

“Four o’clock,” Peach replied, a little puzzled but compliant. He then gave the name of a
popular Korean barbecue restaurant, clearly chosen with Plub’s preferences in mind.

“I’ll wrap everything up by four. Wait for me,” Thee said seriously, already typing instructions
to his secretary to rearrange his schedule. Anything that could be moved, he was moving to
make sure he was free.

“Wait for what?!” Peach turned to him, surprised. “You don’t need to worry! I don’t want you
skipping work for this.”

“I won’t miss anything. Plub is my sister too,” Thee said firmly before leaning down to kiss
Peach’s forehead. Then, with a quick motion, he lifted Peach and set him back on the couch.
“Sorry, but I won’t be able to join you for lunch today. I’ll head straight to the office.”

“Kian!”

Peach gasped in surprise, but Thee simply responded by pressing a firm kiss to his lips
before disappearing into the bathroom. He wasn’t particularly looking to pick a fight with
Shohei, but if Peach wanted to intimidate the young yakuza heir, Thee was more than happy
to lend a hand.

………………..

The relationship between the heir of the Arseny mafia family and the talented photographer
wasn’t exactly a secret. In fact, Thee had practically broadcasted it to anyone who would
listen, wearing his pride on his sleeve. Still, their story wasn’t public knowledge outside
certain circles. But in an industry where everyone was more or less competitors, this kind of
information had a way of circulating. Touch—having been warned by Plub about her
brother’s personality—already had an idea of what to expect. He even vividly remembered
Peach from their previous collaboration. Back then, the man was approachable, warm, and
calm, with a personality that left a lasting impression. Despite everything the siblings had
been through, Tatsuya couldn’t help but admire how those differences had shaped them into
such admirable people, without a single glance that made them seem inferior.

Today, the young president of Shohei had come with the full intention of meeting Peach, the
sweet-smiling, adorable photographer. He wanted to show his sincerity—that he genuinely
liked Plub—and was looking forward to enjoying a relaxed family meal. He had gone out of
his way to secure a private restaurant, pre-order mild dishes based on what he knew about
Peach’s preferences, and prepare everything for a calm and pleasant meeting.

What wasn’t in the plan, however, was the imposing figure of a half-Thai, half-Russian man
following Peach as he entered the room. Touch recognized him immediately: Theerakit Kian
Arseny, the head of the Arseny conglomerate, Peach’s boyfriend—and most
importantly—Plub’s very protective older brother. Tatsuya hadn’t anticipated his presence
today.

“How did you get here, Thee?” Plub asked as she hurried over, tilting her head slightly in
confusion.

“I had some free time, so I thought I’d join you for lunch,” Thee replied casually, looking at
her. A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips, though Plub, in typical sibling fashion,
pretended not to notice. She crossed her arms and hugged her brother tightly, as if shielding
him.

“No excuses! Just admit you came to steal Peach’s attention,” Plub teased, hands on her
hips. “But today is my day! I’m taking him back!”

“I’ll lend him to you for four hours. After that, he’s mine again.”

“Four hours? That means he has to be home by eight!” Plub dramatically pouted, clearly
missing the point. Peach’s hand itched to tap her on the forehead, while Thee just chuckled,
a faint smile tugging at his lips. His large hand rested gently on her head, ruffling her hair in
a gesture that was both playful and comforting.

“Don’t stay up so late, or you’ll get sick. Your brother is already worried sick about you.”
The siblings exchanged a look—Plub showed a mischievous smile, while Peach arched an
eyebrow in warning but said nothing. “Come on, let’s eat,” Peach finally said, leading the
way to the table. Tatsuya stood as they approached, offering a polite smile.

“Good afternoon, Peach. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Touch,” Peach’s lips curved into a soft smile, though it never reached
his eyes. “Small world, huh? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Thee observed the exchange silently, raising an eyebrow slightly. The calm, icy demeanor
emanating from Peach was something completely unfamiliar. It was a side he had rarely—if
ever—seen, and it sent an oddly tense chill through the room. For someone with Peach’s
gentle, friendly face, it was surprising how effectively he could exude a cold, unyielding
air—intimidating, even.

Thee suddenly understood how his soft-spoken boyfriend could terrify anyone who tried to
approach Plub.

“Let’s eat, Peach! This place is amazing,” Plub chirped, quickly breaking the heavy tension.
She busied herself piling food onto her brother’s plate. “Stop looking at him like that—it’s just
dinner. Eat, okay?”

“Alright, alright,” Peach’s smile softened into something more genuine as he picked up his
chopsticks, going along with it.

Across the table, Touch let out a small sigh, barely audible, and couldn’t help but think: So
this is what I’m up against.

“How did you two meet?” the half-Russian mafia boss clasped his hands in front of him,
appearing relaxed as he asked the question in an unreadable tone. Tatsuya could only
straighten his back and offer a practiced, polite smile, while the siblings beside him
continued their little reunion—eating, tasting, and passing food to each other as if no one
else existed.

“Plub has helped me with work a couple of times, so we got to talking,” Tatsuya replied
calmly, keeping his voice steady. But when Peach turned his gaze toward him, sharp and
assessing, Tatsuya couldn’t help but feel the weight of that look.

Facing off against Russian mobsters seemed easier than winning over this older brother.
Especially knowing how close these two siblings were—if Peach disapproved, Plub would
definitely waver.

And after how hard it had been to get this far, Tatsuya couldn’t risk being pushed back to
square one.

“I didn’t think someone as busy as you, Tatsuya, would have time to give my sister so much
attention,” Peach said softly, a faint smile on his lips that never reached his eyes. “From what
I’ve heard, you have a lot of models under your care. Seems like they’d keep you busy
enough.”
“Not at all,” Tatsuya replied quickly, his tone firm and respectful. “I never mix business with
my personal life, and I’ve never been interested in any of the models at my agency. I can
swear to that, no hesitation.” His brows furrowed slightly as he spoke, as if emphasizing his
sincerity. He had done his best to quash rumors before they got out of hand, but it wasn’t
always possible to control every whisper.

Though he meant it. He cared deeply for Plub and didn’t want misunderstandings to get in
the way.

“I’ve heard some things here and there,” Peach replied ambiguously, letting the words hang
in the air before turning to his sister. “What about you, Plub? What do you think of all this?”
Plub blinked as she looked at her brother, pressing her lips into a slight pout before turning
away with exaggerated indifference.

“If I didn’t care about him, I wouldn’t have brought him here for you to meet, right?” the only
woman at the table replied in a low tone, before focusing intently on shoving food into her
mouth, as if to avoid the situation. The more she felt the young yakuza’s gaze beside her,
smiling broadly, the more she avoided meeting his eyes.

That’s completely annoying.

Peach frowned in irritation, a slight sense of disgust washing over him. No matter what, his
little sister had been under his care since she was a child. Though they had grown up and
taken separate paths, living and working in different places, Plub would always be his little
sister.

After they finished eating, Plub, her eyes bright with excitement, begged to go to a party. She
complained about how tired she was of work and just wanted to relax, have a few cocktails,
and enjoy the atmosphere. She even added the fact that she was the only sister in a group
of three guys, so she was perfectly safe, even if she didn’t know how safe that really was.
Peach, who had long since lost count of how many times her puppy-dog eyes had worn him
down, simply sighed and nodded. He gave in without much resistance.

Touch stood up to pay the bill, preparing to move on to the next place. Moments earlier, he
had been locked in a silent standoff with the mobster beside him over who would pay. Of
course, as the one who came to greet his future brother-in-law, he was supposed to be the
one to pay. But the mobster stubbornly insisted that he owed nothing to the Shohei family,
especially since Peach was his partner. No matter what, Thee wasn’t going to let him pay for
Peach’s meal.

Apparently, the issue was more about who paid for Peach’s food than pride. After a silent
agreement, they decided to split the bill equally, and Thee reluctantly accepted.

Touch stood at the counter waiting to settle up, letting Plub, who was about to be his
girlfriend, sit in the car. Beside him, the mobster stood with a rather unwelcoming
expression. After a brief moment, Thee stepped back, letting Peach take his place. Once
Peach stepped forward, Thee immediately straightened up, his expression turning serious.
A man who had never feared anything, who had never had to worry about anyone’s opinion,
now found himself feeling a strange sense of restraint. Because Peach was Plub’s brother,
the person he valued most in the world and his only family. He felt he had to show a little
respect.

What mattered to Plub mattered to him too.

“Are you serious about my sister, Mr. Touch?” Peach asked, his voice calm but direct,
leaving no room for doubt. The simplicity of the question made Tatsuya uncomfortable. He
straightened up, doing his best to appear serious and composed.

“I’ve never been more serious about anyone in my life,” Touch said, a faint smile on his lips,
but his eyes filled with resolve. The young photographer paused for a moment, lowering his
gaze and pressing his lips slightly.

“I’m not trying to stop you or tell you to break up,” Peach replied, offering a small smile, his
tone becoming a bit friendlier, though still guarded. “If Plub loves someone, I’ll support her. I
respect my sister’s decisions.” Touch continued to smile faintly, letting out a deep sigh as the
tension in his forehead eased.

“Thank you, I swear I’ll take care of her the best I can. I won’t let you down,” he said, his
voice more serious now. Peach lifted his gaze to meet his, his lips curving into a faint smile
as his eyes softened.

“I don’t expect you to love my sister forever,” he said, his voice calm, though a trace of
sadness glimmered in his eyes. “Love changes, fades over time—I understand that.” He
paused for a moment, the weight of the words hanging in the air. “But there’s one thing I ask:
please don’t hurt her, physically or emotionally. We only have each other. It’s been just the
two of us our whole lives. I’ll protect and care for her until my last breath. So, if that day
comes, please return her to me, don’t hurt her.”

Touch froze, a lump forming in his throat. He had learned about the siblings’ past and
understood the struggles they had faced.

His hands clenched tightly, and a surge of pain hit his chest. If only he had met her a little
sooner...

“You don’t have to expect anything from me,” Tatsuya said, his expression softening into a
warm, gentle smile, his eyes lowering slightly in relaxation. “This is something I promised
myself. I love Plub. Besides, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love her. What I fear most is
causing her pain or distress—and that will never change, not for the rest of my life.”

Peach stared at the yakuza, his gaze firm, as if trying to seek sincerity in the other’s eyes.
After a moment, the young man looked away, his lips curving into a smile as his hand gently
squeezed Thee’s arm.

“Thank you,” the young photographer said, his voice tinged with a slight laugh. “From now
on, you’ll probably have your hands full with Plub. She’s very stubborn, even spoiled, but I’m
sure you can handle it. Just watch out for her pranks.”
“It’s too late for that. I’ve already fallen victim to them many times,” Tatsuya replied with a
smile. Peach couldn’t help but chuckle softly at that. They walked side by side out of the
restaurant, but before Peach could get too far, a taller figure pulled him close and wrapped
an arm around his waist.

“Done talking?” Thee’s voice was calm, but his tone suggested there was more. His arm
around Peach’s waist was tight, almost to the point where his muscles visibly tensed.

Peach nodded without commenting on the slight wait. He had grown used to it and no longer
minded. Thee caught the expression on his face, and a small smile of complicity appeared
on his lips before he glanced at the yakuza following them.

“Plub is the youngest daughter of Arseny... my little sister,” he said, his tone hardening
slightly as the weight of his words settled. It was clear the message wasn’t just casual
information. Tatsuya paused for a fraction of a second, feeling the full force of those words.
He immediately understood that this wasn’t just a statement—it was a warning.

He offered a faint smile, his face serious, fully aware of what the other man meant.

It seemed the road ahead in his relationship with Plub had just become much more
complicated.
SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #3

An elegant rooftop restaurant-bar in the heart of the city was where Plub decided to bring
them. The young woman flashed a wide smile and said it was her favorite spot. The only
downside? The prices were so high they practically made you bleed.

But then again, a semi-elegant place selling A5-grade beef wasn’t going to be cheap, right?

“When have you been here? How come I don’t know about this place?” Peach crossed his
arms and frowned with mild annoyance. Plub always called him whenever she went out
drinking—not that it was a rule or anything. Still, knowing she hadn’t told him about this place
stirred a mix of irritation and concern.

“I came with my team,” Plub replied innocently, her doe eyes blinking at him as she hugged
his arm and rubbed her cheek against it, trying to butter him up. “It was a farewell party after
wrapping up a project with Shohei’s company. The team was from another company, so I
didn’t really know anyone. I just sat there like a wallflower, didn’t even touch the alcohol,
came and left in an instant, so I didn’t think to call you. But I loved this place so much I
wanted to bring you here this time!”

Peach let out a long sigh and motioned for her to enter the restaurant. Walking beside Plub
was Touch, who stuck to her like a shadow. His ridiculously handsome face was covered
with a smug smile, so smug it was almost exasperating.

“You like this place, huh?” Touch asked, leaning in slightly, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“Yes, I love it. The food is amazing, the ambiance is great, and the music is nice. I’m not a
fan of crowded, cramped places, but this spot is just perfect.”

“Would you like to own it?” Touch asked softly, his tone almost teasing. “If it were yours, you
could eat here for free, you know? Plus, if you ever feel like hanging out after hours, there’s
a private suite ready and waiting for you 24/7.”

Plub leaned back slightly, narrowing her eyes with feigned suspicion, and a teasing smile
played at the corner of her lips.

“What’s this? Are you planning to buy the place for me? I can’t afford to pay you in
installments, you know.”

“Who said anything about installments? I wouldn’t charge you a single cent,” Touch shook
his head, his smile growing even wider. “All you’d have to do is date the owner. That’s
practically the same as owning him, don’t you think? Come here whenever you want, eat
whatever you want, stay as late as you want—it’s all yours.”

Plub froze for a moment, blinking rapidly as if trying to process his words. Then, her jaw
dropped, and she pointed at him in shock.

“Wait! You’re the owner?”

“Yes,” he said, his smile widening until his eyes sparkled with mischief. “I started this place
before I got into modeling. I’m really glad you like it.” He leaned in slightly. “Just say yes to
dating me, and this place is yours.”

“That’s called bribery,” Plub said with a soft laugh, though her tone was more amused than
accusatory. Touch responded with a mischievous grin, his eyes gleaming with playful intent.

“I’d call it a special promotional offer,” he replied, puffing out his chest as if proud of his pitch.
“Date me, and I guarantee you’ll get more than your money’s worth.”

“I think it’s time we went inside.”

Peach interrupted with an exasperated sigh, arms crossed as he watched the disgustingly
sweet exchange unfold. As much as he reluctantly approved of Touch as a potential
brother-in-law, seeing him whisper sweet nothings to his little sister still made his nerves
twitch.

“My apologies, big brother,” Touch replied cheerfully before turning to Thee, who was nearby
with his own partner. “And my apologies to my future brother-in-law as well.”

Thee’s lips curved into a faint, satisfied smile. Without a word, he nudged Peach forward,
urging him to follow the couple inside.

If Touch was going to acknowledge him as a brother-in-law, Thee figured he could tolerate
him as a future brother-in-law for now.

Touch led them to the mezzanine, which was entirely reserved for VIPs. The space oozed
exclusivity, with only the kind of people whose net worth couldn’t be easily calculated
lounging around. The open area featured about seven sets of sofas, all spaced out enough
to allow privacy. In one corner, there was a modestly sized bar where drinks were prepared
for the high-profile guests.

The moment the four of them stepped onto the mezzanine, it was as if the air itself had
turned icy. For a brief moment, all that could be heard was the sound of the cool evening
breeze whistling faintly in the night. Almost every pair of eyes in the room turned toward the
newcomers, though most only dared to glance furtively out of the corners of their eyes.

Who could demand more attention than members of the Arseny family—the infamous
Russian mafia royalty—arriving alongside the heir of a major yakuza clan and the owner of
this very establishment? Weren’t these two supposed to be rivals?

Thee glanced at the person beside him and noticed Peach’s slightly furrowed brow and the
uncomfortable tension in his posture. Without a word, Thee simply lifted his gaze and swept
the room with a slow, icy stare. The silent warning was enough to make the onlookers lower
their eyes in unison and retreat to their own spaces. The eerie smile Touch wore as he led
the group didn’t help—it was the kind of smile that sent a chill down your spine.

Neither Peach nor his sister seemed aware of the heavy atmosphere hanging over them,
only noticing that the curious eyes had finally retreated. Peach exhaled softly, relief crossing
his face as he turned his attention to the view around him.
Touch guided them to a semi-private corner where a set of sofas awaited near the balcony.
The spot offered an uninterrupted view of the city lights, stretching out below like a sea of
twinkling stars. From the lower level, the soft chords of live music drifted up with the breeze,
loud enough to set the mood without drowning out conversation.

Peach silently observed the couple sitting on the sofa across from him. Their voices were
soft, the woman’s head resting naturally against the man’s shoulder. His arm stretched along
the back of the sofa, not quite touching her but close enough to feel protective. It was
intimate without being overbearing, as if they fit together effortlessly.

His gaze lingered on his sister’s smile, her carefree laughter ringing softly in the air. For a
moment, his eyes softened.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” Thee wrapped an arm around his shoulders, gently pulling him closer.
His deep voice whispered near his ear, as if reading his thoughts. “From what I know, their
backgrounds are compatible. He’s ambitious, smart—a rising star worth keeping an eye on.”

“I can’t help but worry, that’s all,” Peach admitted, though the corner of his lips curled into a
small smile.

As long as Plub could keep smiling like that, he wouldn’t stand in her way.

“It’s okay,” Thee assured him in a calm, firm tone. His fingers traced soothing patterns on
Peach’s shoulder. “We’ll look after her together. You’re not alone in this.”

Peach’s smile widened as he leaned into Thee’s shoulder, feeling the tension leave his body.
A laugh escaped his lips as an old conversation with the mafia boss popped into his mind.
He once said he had to teach his son not to learn languages from soap operas.

Soon, the food arrived, mostly light snacks and appetizers since they had already eaten
earlier. Still, every dish screamed luxury, nothing remotely close to being cheap.

Plub’s eyes sparkled as she zeroed in on the vibrant cocktails featured on the menu. Slowly,
she glanced at her brother sitting across from her. Peach pretended not to notice at first, but
the moment she scooted over and snuggled up to his side, he let out a long, resigned sigh.

“One drink,” he conceded.

“But tomorrow’s a day off,” she protested, wrapping her slender arms around his. Looking at
him with a wide, hopeful smile, she added, “Make it three. I promise to pick the ones with
less alcohol. Scout’s honor.”

“You’ll end up complaining about a headache tomorrow,” Peach said, exasperated, but in the
end, he sighed again, this time glancing at Touch, who was watching the scene with amused
eyes. “Whatever she chooses, you have to approve it first, Mr. Touch. And remember, only
three, as agreed.”

The young woman nodded enthusiastically before turning to her boyfriend with the menu in
hand. Peach remained in his seat, sipping his soda in silence, his ears tuned to the
conversation. When he heard Touch firmly veto any drink with too much alcohol, a wave of
relief washed over him.

The group continued chatting over their food, and the atmosphere gradually grew more
relaxed. The mafia heir and the young yakuza exchanged lively business ideas.

Despite being technically competitors, there was no animosity between them, only a mutual
respect that made their discussions interesting and productive.

“Peach, let’s take some photos!” Plub suddenly turned to her brother, clearly bored with the
high-level business talk. Her slender fingers tugged at his arm excitedly. “The ambiance here
is wonderful. I have to post this on my story!”

Peach nodded, standing up and briefly placing a hand on Thee’s to apologize. Thee raised
an eyebrow but then slowly nodded in approval, letting the siblings leave the table. Plub
started by taking pictures near the balcony, snapping almost ten photos before finally being
satisfied. Then, she dragged her brother downstairs.

The music was louder downstairs, the heavy beats making Peach frown slightly. The crowd
wasn’t as packed thanks to the well-spaced tables, but it was still busy enough to make
moving through the people a challenge.

The siblings finally reached a small, charming spot under a large tree. Hanging from its
branches was a swing made of woven rattan, with strings of fairy lights draped above,
twinkling like stars against the leaves.

Plub smiled and immediately hopped onto the swing, laughing as she swayed. Peach
chuckled softly, pulling out his phone to take a few photos of her, something he had done so
many times it felt like second nature.

“Hey, beautiful. Free to talk?” A deep, unfamiliar voice from behind made Peach lower his
phone, his body instinctively turning toward the source. There stood a young man, not
particularly tall, with pale skin and brown hair slicked back, revealing a sharp forehead.

A faint smell of alcohol reached Peach’s nose. The guy wasn’t completely drunk, but he was
definitely buzzed enough to cause trouble.

“Do we know each other?” Peach asked, his voice calm and firm, while subtly stepping back
and pushing his sister behind him. The air around them was far from friendly.

“No, not yet,” the man replied with a practiced smile, his eyes slightly glassy—evidence of
the alcohol—fixed on Plub. He stepped closer, closing the gap bit by bit. “But I’d really like to.
My name is Porsche Tanisorn. And the lovely lady behind you, would you mind introducing
us?”

Peach’s brows furrowed briefly. Tanisorn? The name sounded familiar. It belonged to a
wealthy family in the luxury car import business, a big name in the industry. Peach had come
across him before during some of his past jobs as a model in car promotions.

But why would someone like him want to meet Plub?

Without missing a beat, Peach discreetly pressed a button on his phone to make a call,
sliding the device into his pocket while forcing a faint smile. His tone remained calm but took
on a subtle edge of caution.

“A pleasure to meet the heir of Tanisorn Enterprises. But my sister and I are just ordinary
people—not exactly important enough for you to bother with.”

“Oh, is that so?” Porsche chuckled, feigning indifference, but his steps didn’t stop. He was
getting closer. “How curious, though, since you two just came down from the mezzanine,
didn’t you? That’s the VIP section. How did you manage to get in there?”

“Someone invited us,” Peach replied bluntly, his expression unchanging, while his eyes
quickly scanned for an escape route. His priority was clear—keep Plub safe, no matter what.

“Oh, I see. You’re an escort,” the accusation made Peach’s head snap toward him, and the
faint smile vanished in an instant. His face darkened, his tension palpable.

“Watch your mouth when you talk about my sister,” Peach warned, his voice low and sharp,
cold enough to freeze the air around them.

Porsche hesitated for a moment, visibly taken aback by Peach’s sudden shift. But the
surprise quickly turned to irritation, and his expression soured.

“Why? Did I say something wrong?” Porsche spat, raising his voice in a desperate attempt to
mask the fear creeping into his tone. “A VIP probably hired you as an escort, right? That’s
how you managed to get up there.” His words were venomous, but it was clear he was trying
to regain control of the situation. “What do you say? If you’re free, why not take a job with
me? I’ll pay you well, I promise—very well.”

Peach’s hands trembled with barely contained rage, his jaw clenched so tightly his
cheekbones visibly tensed. Deciding it wasn’t worth arguing, he grabbed his sister’s hand
with the intention of walking away. But Porsche lunged forward, his arm shooting out to grab
Peach by the shoulder and yank him back with a sharp pull. The sharp pain sent a jolt
through Peach, leaving him momentarily stunned, his body cold and his face losing color.

Before he could react, Porsche’s grip disappeared. Out of the corner of his eye, Peach saw
the man go flying. One moment Porsche was sneering, and the next he was in the air,
though Peach didn’t even realize what had hit him. Before the shock could fully register,
Peach was pulled into a firm, familiar embrace that blocked out everything else—the noise,
the people, even the lingering fear.

The scent of a subtle cologne and aftershave—a scent he knew well—enveloped him, as did
the steady warmth of Thee’s arms. The tension in his body began to ease, though his hands
still trembled.

“Peach, are you hurt anywhere?” Plub asked, her voice filled with concern as she tried to
check on him. But her efforts were thwarted by Thee’s unyielding hold. The mafia boss had
him wrapped so tightly there was barely room for anyone else to breathe.
“You handle this. This is your place,” Thee said, his voice low and icy, almost threatening.
Peach couldn’t see Thee’s face, but the aura radiating from him made it clear he was
furious, angrier than Peach had ever seen him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this. Please look after Peach, Mr. Thee,” Touch’s response
came, his voice carrying a chill that sent a cold shiver down Peach’s spine. Though still
nestled against Thee’s chest, he could feel the firm, comforting strokes of Thee’s hand
moving gently over his back. Thee barked a few more orders, his tone so sharp Peach
couldn’t quite catch the words, and then those strong arms began guiding him away from the
scene with careful deliberation.

Peach regained his senses when the mafia boss gently sat him down on a sofa. It seemed
Thee had taken him to one of the club’s guest rooms. The larger man stepped back slightly
and then knelt in front of him. Thee’s strong hands cradled Peach’s trembling ones, kneading
them softly as if to chase away the lingering remnants of fear.

“It’s okay now,” Thee murmured, his voice deep, soft, and comforting. The icy edge from
moments ago had completely vanished. “There’s nothing to worry about anymore. I’m here,
Peach.”

Peach remained silent, his gaze fixed on Thee’s face. The man knelt before him with such
care, rubbing and pressing gently on his palms in a calming rhythm, while murmuring
reassuring words.

In truth, it was Thee’s embrace that had calmed Peach’s racing heart. The fear that had
consumed him moments ago seemed to evaporate in the warmth of that hug. It was as if he
had found an anchor in the midst of a storm.

Thee had an undeniable influence over him, something vast, overwhelming, and
inescapable.

“Thank you. I feel better now,” Peach said softly, his lips curving into a small, sweet smile.
He gently tugged on Thee’s hand, urging him to sit beside him. When Thee obliged, Peach
rested his head on the man’s strong shoulder, letting himself relax as Thee’s arm wrapped
around him to keep him close.

“Plub must have told you,” Peach guessed, his voice soft but teasing. Thee hesitated,
unsure if Peach would be upset. Noticing the slight shift in Thee’s demeanor, Peach gave his
hand a light pat, offering quiet reassurance before speaking again.

“I’m not upset. I always knew I had... issues. I just never talked about them. I didn’t think they
were serious enough to interfere with my daily life, but I guess Plub could tell.”

“She told me because she’s worried about you,” Thee explained in a low voice, concern still
lacing his tone. “I’ve hurt you before, and she warned me to be careful. She’s right. I’d never
want to do anything that could hurt you again.”

Peach’s lips curved into a tender smile. Hearing those words made his cheeks flush, though
he wouldn’t admit it. He tilted his head, resting it against Thee’s broad chest, savoring the
sense of calm that settled over him without the need for further words.
Peach feared he was becoming addicted to this warmth.

“That woman’s new husband is like a vicious demon,” Peach said quietly, his eyes distant, as
if lost in an old, deep memory he had buried for a long time. “In the eyes of a small child, that
man is huge—like a giant, his hands hitting, his legs kicking—it’s all terrifying. It hurts so
much, like I can’t breathe.”

Peach felt the tension in the person he was leaning against, but he simply smiled softly,
continuing as if nothing had happened.

“When I face moments like that again, sometimes I feel like seeing the other person grow
into something huge, and I stay so small. It’s like being that child again, with that monstrous
giant tormenting me, leaving me helpless. No matter what I do, I can’t fight back. It’ll hurt
until I can’t breathe, like back then.”

“I’m sorry,” Thee murmured, holding Peach close. His chin rested lightly on Peach’s head,
swaying gently in a comforting motion. Peach pressed his nose into the crook of Thee’s
neck, breathing in the familiar, soothing scent that helped his body relax.

“What are you sorry for, Kian? You didn’t do anything wrong,” Peach replied softly, tilting his
head up to look Thee in the eyes. His smile was wide, his eyes slightly narrowed to ease
Thee’s worry.

“I’ve caused you those painful memories,” Thee said with a quiet sigh. “I should have met
you sooner.”

“If we had met at a different time or place, maybe we wouldn’t have become lovers,” Peach
said softly, his smile reassuring, “But now it’s okay.”

“Now it’s okay. You’ve been so strong. You’ve broken free.” Thee nodded seriously, his hand
gently stroking Peach’s hair. Peach shook his head slightly, a small smile still lingering.

“I broke free because of you. I know you’d never hurt me. That terrifying giant will never
return as long as I’m with you.”

The mafia boss stared into Peach’s clear, bright eyes, his large hand gently cupping his
cheek. His sharp demeanor softened into something tender and comforting, an expression
only he could witness.

“I swear to protect you no matter what,” Thee said softly, leaning in. His lips brushed gently
against Peach’s, a tender, sweet touch like a drop of morning dew.

Peach accepted the kiss willingly, his chest warm and full. He could feel the love in your
touch.

This might not be a fairy tale where happiness lasts forever. But at least, if the terrifying giant
ever reappears, he won’t have to face it alone.
SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #4

At first, Peach was quite anxious about Mhok and Marn. He couldn’t predict how the young
mafia boss would react to all of this. Although adopting orphans had always been something
he had planned to do from the beginning—and he had no intention of changing his mind—it
still left him uneasy. To be honest, he had even prepared for the possibility that, if his spouse
or partner didn’t agree with the idea, he could support the children in other ways.

But deep down, Peach knew better than anyone what these orphans truly needed: the love
of a real family. Just like he and Thee had always longed for growing up.

"Dad, can I put this on the table now?" asked Mhok, a twelve-year-old, as he picked up a
plate from the counter. His youthful voice, not yet broken, carried a tone of responsibility
beyond his years.

"Of course, thank you, Mhok," Peach replied with a small smile, letting his adoptive son carry
the plate without intervening to stop him.

"Then I’ll take this one!" chimed in Marn, a nine-year-old, as her tiny body climbed two small
steps to stand beside her brother. She pointed her pinky finger at a large white serving bowl,
her big round eyes looking expectant and asking for permission without saying a word.
Peach smiled again and, instead, grabbed a stack of four empty plates and handed them to
her.

"That one’s a bit heavy and very hot too. Why don’t you carry these to the table for me? Can
you help me set them up as well?"

"Of course, I remember how to do it!" the little girl said cheerfully, extending her hands to
take the plates with delight.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Be careful going down the steps, okay? Watch your footing," Peach
said as he watched her carefully climb down the steps. Only then did he turn to follow Mhok,
who had been waiting to walk beside him.

Peach never stopped the children when they wanted to help. At most, he would offer a few
words of caution to be careful. And every time they did something good, whether it was
helping him or Thee, he always made sure to thank them. Because of this, the house was
constantly filled with smiles and a warm sense of pride radiating from the two little ones.

But the one who seemed most affected was the young mafia boss himself. After discussing
parenting styles with Peach, Thee had fully agreed with his approach. It made sense, given
that Arseny had grown up learning to fend for himself too. He didn’t have a nanny who doted
on him like most rich kids. His father had insisted he grow up tough and self-reliant.

Still, Thee’s overprotective nature came out in full force when the children arrived, and he
practically overhauled their entire living situation. They moved from the condominium to a
standalone house in the quiet outskirts of the city, surrounded by nature. For added security,
their closest neighbors were families of Thee’s most trusted men.
The house was transformed to be completely child-friendly. Every fragile or heavy
item—plates, bowls, even glasses—was replaced with lightweight, shatterproof versions.
The expensive, elegant dishes were locked away, and all utensils were swapped for rounded
ones to avoid sharp edges. Knives never made it to the dining table, except for a single blunt
butter knife, and if there was steak on the menu, Peach would cut it up in the kitchen
beforehand.

Beyond the kitchen, almost every aspect of the house was childproofed. There were small
stools for the kids to reach the sink and bathroom, padded corner guards, plush rugs on the
stairs, non-slip mats in the bathroom, and much more. The place no longer resembled the
luxurious home of a Russian mafia boss in the slightest.

And that made Peach happier than words could express.

After placing the frying pan in the sink, Peach decided to clean up after dinner. Thee’s
protective streak had only worsened since the children arrived. He was reluctant to allow
anyone outside the family into their lives. Even the housekeeper was only allowed to come
once a week under the strict supervision of a bodyguard. Other days, Peach handled
everything himself.

Peach still accepted photography jobs, though far fewer than before. Most of his time now
was dedicated to his two children. Ironically, despite working less, his skills had only
sharpened, causing his bookings to stretch two years in advance—and at sky-high prices.

Still, Peach was Peach. He chose jobs based on what he liked, not the price. And now, with
the mafia boss’s bottomless wallet at his disposal, financial worries were a thing of the past.

Peach dried his hands before picking up the bowl of white rice and heading to the table.
Cooking hadn’t been his forte—he barely managed basic survival skills like frying an egg.
But after becoming a father to two children at once, with a husband who could shoot him a
piercing, expectant look, he gradually learned to cook for himself.

He was nowhere near a five-star chef, but it didn’t matter. His children and husband always
smiled at him, giving enthusiastic thumbs-up before devouring every bite, sometimes to the
point of practically licking their plates clean.

"I’ll take that." A deep, gravelly voice by his ear snapped him out of his thoughts. Peach
looked up and smiled, letting Thee take the bowl from his hands.

"Are the kids done setting the table?" Peach asked as they walked side by side. Thee
glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Not quite. Mhok wanted to do it alone, so I thought I’d help you."

Peach nodded, and together they headed to the dining table. Four sets of plates and glasses
had been laid out, though a bit crooked and slightly messy. But Peach and Thee still
showered the siblings with praise, making Mhok and Marn smile so wide their cheeks puffed
up.
Once everyone was seated, Peach served rice for each of them before taking his seat. The
table was medium-sized, square, and simple, with four chairs, two on each side. Thee sat
next to Mhok, while Peach sat across from him, beside Marn.

"So, how’s it going? It’s been a month since school started, right?" Thee asked, his voice
soft, carrying the unmistakable tone of a father speaking to his children. Peach glanced at
Marn, who at that moment was chewing a huge bite of meatball, her cheeks round like a
chipmunk’s, and couldn’t help but smile.

They weren’t very strict about table manners. In fact, mealtimes had become a space for
family bonding and casual conversation. At first, Thee had seemed awkward, unsure of what
to say or how to act. But after a month or two, everything had clicked, feeling natural and
easy in a way that now seemed completely normal.

"It’s going well, Dad. No problems," Mhok reported calmly, though the slight gleam in his
eyes betrayed a subtle smile. "Next Sunday, we’re having a sports day. I signed up for the
sprint race."

"A race, huh? What date is that?" Thee’s eyebrows furrowed as he immediately grabbed his
tablet to open the calendar. Mhok leaned closer, pointing out the date on the screen. Without
missing a beat, the young mafia boss grabbed his phone and started dialing.

Mr. Thee had recently changed assistants. Mhok had been reassigned to work closely with
Rome, Thee’s younger brother, who had taken over leadership of the Arseny mafia family. In
Mhok’s place, Thee had brought in Raf, a new assistant from Russia who had come to take
the position.

"Cancel all appointments for next Sunday... Yes, everything. It’s a very important matter, no
exceptions. And make a reservation at..." Thee recited the name of Mhok’s favorite
restaurant with practiced ease.

Peach sat listening to the conversation, a small smile playing on his lips.

Thee had fully embraced them as his family. He had promised, from the beginning, that
family would always come first for him, and he had never broken his word.

"That’s amazing, Mhok! It sounds like you’ve been practicing a lot," Peach said, turning his
attention to his son to let Thee finish his call.

Mhok looked at him with eyes shining with excitement. He even puffed out his chest a little,
proud of his progress.

"Yeah! I’ve been practicing every night, and my times are getting better!" Mhok replied,
grinning from ear to ear. Trying not to act like an adult only made him even more endearing,
as Peach reached over and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Well done, Mhok. Do your best, but be careful, okay? No accidents," Peach said warmly,
and Mhok nodded enthusiastically before diving back into his plate. Peach then turned to the
little girl sitting beside him. "What about you, Marn? What’s your role next Sunday?" he
asked softly, looking at her with a smile.
"On Sunday, I’ll be a cheerleader," Marn announced with a wide smile that adorably lifted her
round, pink cheeks. "The teacher said I can wear a fluffy dress!"

Peach’s lips curved into a warm smile at her confident words. He and Thee always spoke to
the children clearly and directly, never using baby talk. This approach helped them pick up
vocabulary quickly just by listening and remembering. It was something Peach took great
pride in—to be honest, he and Thee were proud of everything about their two little ones.

"Really? I can’t wait to see it! I bet it’ll look absolutely adorable on you, sweetheart," he said,
smiling. Just imagining his little girl twirling around in a puffy princess dress made his heart
swell with affection.

Their kids were the cutest in the world!

"Then Daddy and Papa have to come to the event, okay?" Marn said as she leaned over to
hug his arm. Her big, round eyes turned to Thee across the table, shining with a mix of
excitement and pleading. "You have to cheer for Mhok with me, and you also have to come
see me all dressed up, okay?"

"Of course. Daddy wouldn’t miss it. Is there anything you want me to bring you?" Thee
replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile. His other hand reached out to gently
ruffle Mhok’s hair in a rare, tender moment.

The mafia boss had been smiling a lot more often lately, even if they were small, subtle
smiles. To the outside world, he was still the same fierce, stoic CEO, but at home, these brief
flashes of warmth had become a familiar sight for their little family.

Marn raised her hand enthusiastically, her bright eyes sparkling with excitement as her
cheeks puffed out even more from her smile.

"Ice cream! It’s going to be really hot on sports day. We have to have ice cream!"

Peach’s hand shot out to grab Thee’s wrist just as the man reached for his phone. He
narrowed his eyes in warning, a silent reprimand.

"And what exactly are you planning to do, Kian?"

"I was going to book an ice cream truck for the event." He paused for a moment, his brow
furrowing slightly. "Or I could just buy the whole store and set it up at the event. That would
save me the trouble of booking it every time."

Peach lifted his other hand to rub his temple, sighing deeply. One thing about Thee that
hadn’t changed one bit was his tendency to throw money around like water, leaving Peach
as the perpetual voice of reason. And to make matters worse, no one else seemed willing to
rein him in. It was exhausting.

"No way. Too much ice cream will rot their teeth. Plus, if they fill up on sweets, they won’t eat
and will end up with stomachaches." Turning to his daughter, he softened his tone but kept
his authority intact. "I’ll buy ice cream for the two of you myself, but under the usual
deal—only one each, okay?"
Both children responded with a loud, enthusiastic "Okay!"

Restoring the cheerful atmosphere at the table. But the peace didn’t last long. A moment
later, Mhok straightened up, frowning as he turned to grab Thee’s arm and gave it a little
shake to get his attention.

"Dad. I have something important to report," Mhok said seriously. His narrowed eyes and the
set of his jaw made him look surprisingly like Thee, and Peach had to fight the urge to laugh.

"What is it?" Thee asked, his usual calm expression sharpening with interest. "Yesterday,"
Mhok began, lowering his voice, "someone kissed Marn on the cheek."

The atmosphere at the table shifted instantly. Thee’s eyes widened, and his faint smile
vanished as if a switch had been flipped. Peach blinked in confusion and turned to Marn,
who was sitting beside him with an innocent expression on her face.

"Is that true, sweetheart?" Peach asked gently, though a thread of unease was beginning to
rise in his chest.

Marn, blissfully unaware of the tension building around her, nodded without hesitation, her
expression as innocent as ever. But that small gesture seemed to ignite a spark. The
atmosphere, once bright and warm, now seemed to be simmering, on the verge of boiling
over.

"Who was it?" Thee growled, his voice low and threatening. The edge of anger was barely
concealed as he bit his lip as if trying to hold back a string of curses. Peach considered
stepping in to calm him down, but Mhok, now completely unfazed by his father’s intimidating
demeanor, answered bluntly, his own voice laced with disgust.

"It was a boy from my class. His name is San. He came to watch the cheerleading practice,
but Marn in her fluffy dress said she looked cute, and he kissed her on the cheek." Mhok
replied dryly, his face scrunched up in a scowl. His little sister hadn’t even let him see her
cheerleading outfit yet—she’d said she wanted to surprise him on sports day. And now some
random boy had not only seen it first but also kissed her? Unacceptable.

"It’s just a kid. He probably didn’t mean anything by it. Calm down, okay?"

Peach said, trying to defuse the situation as he placed a gentle hand over Thee’s.

"Is kissing on the cheek not allowed?" Marn, sitting wide-eyed and confused in the middle of
the conversation, finally spoke up. She tilted her head with innocent curiosity before adding,
"But he said it was because I’m cute and he likes me a lot, so he gave me a kiss. Isn’t that a
good thing?"

"It’s not allowed," Thee stated firmly, his jaw tightening as he struggled to keep his voice
steady and not sound too harsh. "If it’s not Dad, me, or Mhok, no one can touch you.
Understood?"

Peach let out a long sigh and raised a hand to signal Thee to stop before his temper got the
better of him. Ignoring the deep frown etched on his partner’s face, he turned to Marn with a
soft smile and asked gently, "Sweetheart, can I give you a hug?" Marn nodded
enthusiastically and threw herself into his arms. Peach hugged her tightly, his hand stroking
her hair in slow, soothing motions before pulling back. Meeting her curious gaze, he spoke in
a firm, serious tone, making sure she understood.

"Mhok. Marn, listen to me carefully," he said in a kind but firm voice. "Your bodies are
important and belong to you, only you. No one has the right to touch you unless you say it’s
okay. Even when Dad and I want to hug you, we ask first, right?" Both children nodded,
though Marn still seemed a little unsure. Peach continued, "If someone tries to touch or kiss
you without your permission, I want you to run away and tell Dad or me immediately. Do you
understand?"

"But what if I say it’s okay? Then it’s okay, right?" Marn tilted her head. Her innocent curiosity
returned. Before Peach could respond, Mhok shouted, "No, it’s not!" at the same time as the
sharp crack of glass breaking was heard. Peach didn’t need to look to know that Thee had
just crushed his glass in his hand, again. He sighed internally. And this was one of the thick
ones, too.

Peach chose to ignore the two furious men and focused on Marn, tucking a strand of hair
behind her ear and responding softly.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Not until you’re older. For now, aside from our family, no one else can
do that. Can you promise me that?" Marn looked at the pinky finger Peach held out to her,
her little face lighting up with a bright, cheerful smile that crinkled her eyes into adorable
half-moons. Without hesitation, she hooked her pinky with his.

"I promise!"

"You promised me, Kian."

Peach said, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at his partner. He was busy adjusting
his sleek black suit, making sure the fabric hugged his broad frame perfectly. His
silver-streaked hair was slicked back, fully revealing his sharp, serious features. The
polished, imposing look—fit for a gala night or a high-stakes business negotiation.

The problem? They weren’t heading to a cocktail party. They were on their way to their
children’s sports day.

"Of course," Thee replied evenly, still focused on fixing his cuffs. "I’m not going to bother a
twelve-year-old, am I?"

"Then why are you dressed like this?"

"Well, I have to look impeccable for the kids’ event. I can’t let the other parents outshine me,
can I?"

Peach groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out a long sigh. These
conversations were getting more absurd by the day. "The event is outside. At noon. In
Thailand. Do you realize how hot it’s going to be? If you get heatstroke, don’t expect me to
take you to the doctor."
He paused and glanced at his outfit. His brow furrowed, a strange flicker of doubt crossing
his face. Peach, seeing an opening, checked the clock before making his move. He walked
over to the closet and pulled out something more suitable for the scorching Thai sun—a
simple, casual outfit. Handing Thee the clothes, Peach tilted his head and tried a softer
approach.

"I picked this out especially for you. Won’t you wear it? Please!"

That was all it took. Thee turned on his heel and headed to the changing room without
another word. A few minutes later, he emerged again, wearing a plain black T-shirt and navy
blue slim-fit pants. But, as expected, he had added a dark brown blazer to the ensemble,
giving it a touch of formality.

Peach exhaled deeply. Well, at least it wasn’t a full-on suit anymore. Small victories, he
thought, resigning himself to letting it slide.

He’d take it off when it got too hot.

Peach, having made his decision, headed straight to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the
family. At the very least, the kids needed well-stocked lunchboxes—today was going to be a
busy, energy-filled day for everyone.

By the time Peach finished packing the food, the kids were fully awake. Thee had already
taken them to the bathroom. Thanks to their early years in an orphanage, both Mhok and
Marn were remarkably independent. They could get ready on their own, which meant neither
Peach nor Thee had to hover over them.

Thee came back downstairs, one hand holding Mhok as he walked beside him, while his
other arm cradled Marn carefully. Peach, after having carefully lined up the kids’ lunchboxes
in their bags, met them halfway. He bent down and planted a kiss on each of the children’s
foreheads as a morning greeting.

"You can eat on the way. I’ve already prepared everything for you," Peach said, smiling as
he reached out to stroke Marn’s hair. He noticed she still looked quite sleepy.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? You’ll need all your energy today to cheer for Mhok."

"I’m fine!" Marn nodded firmly before turning to wrap her arms around her brother, forcing
Thee to set her down. "Go, Mhok! You can do it! I’ll be cheering for you!"

Mhok hugged her back, a shy smile appearing on his face, his cheeks tinged slightly pink.
Peach couldn’t help but laugh at the sight before ushering everyone toward the door.
"Alright, let’s get going or we’ll be late." Thee grabbed the bag Peach had packed and
followed the rest of the group.

Being a man who valued his privacy, Thee always made sure that, on his days off or during
family outings, all his usual bodyguards were sent home. Only those absolutely necessary
for security reasons stayed, and even then, they kept their distance. So, naturally, driving the
family to the kids’ school became Thee’s responsibility, a responsibility he didn’t mind taking
on.
As they drove the familiar route, Thee navigated with ease. After all, he picked up Mhok and
Marn after school quite often. But today, instead of parking the sleek black European car in
front of the school as usual, he drove it straight to the grounds. The car finally stopped near
the large soccer field behind the school’s main building.

The private international school Thee had chosen for the kids offered everything one could
imagine: state-of-the-art classrooms, a fully equipped sports complex, tennis courts, a
swimming pool, and an activity space where the kids could freely engage in their favorite
sports and hobbies. There was even a stage with a professional sound system and a skate
zone.

Of course, all of this came at a steep price. When Peach first found out about the tuition
fees, he was stunned, not expecting such an extravagant choice. But Thee stood firm,
insisting that "buying a good social environment" for the kids was perfectly reasonable.

He had the money and was more than willing to spend it to secure them the best possible
future.

Though Peach had his reservations, he eventually relented, trusting Thee’s judgment. All he
could do was hope that someday the kids wouldn’t have to rely on such astronomical sums
of money to secure a bright future.

The car stopped, and Thee parked it smoothly. A few bodyguard vehicles followed at a
respectful distance, parked two spaces away to keep an eye on the area without interfering.
The children bowed politely to their parents—a habit they had picked up after just a couple of
lessons—and then held hands, laughing and skipping toward the school’s sports day
festivities.

Those kids had such good manners. They might just turn out alright after all.

He was standing with his arms crossed and one hand constantly pressing his phone, which
surprised him. Normally, when he was with his family, the young mafia boss rarely touched
his phone unless it was something really important. He usually didn’t pay attention, but some
kind of premonition was warning him, so he stepped back slightly and checked the phone in
his sturdy hand. Realizing he was being watched, Thee not only didn’t look away but
deliberately moved his hand so his partner could see clearly.

This was what it felt like to be checked on by your partner!

Thee thought to himself with a sense of excitement and joy. However, as he scrolled through
the phone, his face suddenly darkened again.

"What are you looking at?" Peach asked, frowning slightly. From what he could see, the
screen was filled with detailed information about someone, to the point where Peach couldn’t
make sense of it all. The feeling of unease in his gut grew stronger.

"Enemy intel. Nothing to worry about," Thee replied casually, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"It’s always good to know what you’re up against."

"What enemy?"
"The family of the boy named San," Thee replied, his tone flat.

Peach shot him a tired look before snatching the phone from Thee’s hand. He locked the
screen with a click and placed the phone back in Thee’s hand, all without saying a word.
Then, with a firm tug, he guided Thee toward the sports field.

The parent seating area was even more crowded than they expected. Most of the parents
were mothers, gathered in small groups chatting. The two tall men walking briskly became
the center of attention. But since Thee and Peach often took turns picking up their kids, and
rarely let the bodyguards handle it, the mothers who were there regularly weren’t surprised
at all.

The ones who seemed most surprised were the fathers who didn’t usually show up and
preferred to send their nannies to look after their kids.

"Peach, hi!" a mother called, and Peach waved back with a smile. He recognized her as the
mother of one of Mhok’s classmates. They had exchanged pleasantries before, though they
hadn’t really had much conversation. "I heard Mhok is participating in the race today, right?"
she asked.

"That’s right," Peach replied with a smile. "Marn will be cheering for him. What about your
son? What’s he competing in?"

As Peach spoke, Thee had already found a seat and was scanning the area, intently
focused on finding their children.

"Lock is competing in basketball. I heard he’s playing with a friend named San."

The mention of San’s name made Thee turn his head toward them, his eyes narrowing
slightly at hearing a name that clearly didn’t sit well with him. Peach subtly shifted his body to
block Thee’s view, forcing a smile that wasn’t entirely natural. After a few more polite
exchanges, Peach finally excused himself. He quickly moved to sit beside Thee, taking the
other man’s hand in his and placing it on his lap. While it seemed like an affectionate
gesture, Peach’s fingers were actually rubbing Thee’s hand, trying to calm him and soothe
his rising temper.

He couldn’t let Thee fight with a twelve-year-old!

After a moment, the host came out to officially kick off the event. Everything moved quickly.
The principal gave a brief opening speech before letting the kids march in the parade onto
the field.

Peach focused his eyes on his daughter and raised the camera, eager to capture the
moment. His little girl, dressed in a smooth pink and white dress, looked absolutely adorable.
The blouse had puffed sleeves, and her head was crowned with a wreath of pink and white
flowers. Her cheeks, glowing from the heat, made her look like a tiny angel—nothing short of
perfect.
Marn looked up and, seeing her parents, immediately waved her hand enthusiastically.
Peach waved back just as enthusiastically, as did Thee beside him, offering a smile and a
soft glint of affection in his eyes.

Once the kids settled into their seats, the competition began. They had perfect seats,
allowing them to clearly see both their daughter in her princess outfit and their son preparing
for his race.

The sound of the starting gun went off, and Mhok shot out from the starting line. Peach
glanced at Thee out of the corner of his eye. He was sitting there, arms crossed, but it was
obvious he was tense, his muscles tight and his lips pressed together, never taking his eyes
off his son.

Peach couldn’t help but chuckle softly before shouting his support for Mhok, clapping loudly
as Mhok crossed the finish line. Thee did the same, his applause just as strong.

Though Mhok came in second place, he was still the best in their eyes.

Peach pulled out the snacks and drinks he had prepared for the kids to munch on. In the
midst of this, they heard cheers coming from the nearby gym. Mhok looked up, his face
darkening slightly as a trace of annoyance crossed his features.

"The basketball game must be over by now," Mhok said bluntly, taking Marn’s water bottle
and recapping it. "Come on, Marn. I’ll walk you over."

Marn nodded enthusiastically, hopped off her seat, and grabbed her brother’s hand. She
turned and waved to her parents, who were still cheering them on.

They sat in the pink section of the bleachers, in a perfect spot to clearly see their daughter.
Marn was twirling, jumping, and dancing in the cutest way, making Peach take hundreds of
photos of her in excitement.

After a while, the kids from the gym gathered back on the field. The basketball game must
have ended, as Mhok had said. Now, it seemed only the cheerleaders were left, and their
little princess had a role to play in the show.

However, they didn’t expect to see two boys approaching their children. Peach immediately
grabbed Thee’s arm and hugged him tightly while keeping his eyes fixed on the group of kids
approaching them.

The two boys looked to be around twelve years old. One of them was tall, with honey-toned
skin and the clear build of an athlete. The other had lighter skin, with slightly golden-brown
hair, and looked like he might be mixed-race. The two boys locked eyes for a brief second
before the darker-skinned boy stepped forward toward Mhok. The two exchanged a few
words. Mhok seemed irritated. Then, the taller boy’s arm slung around Mhok’s neck.
Half-pulling, half-dragging him, clearly not taking no for an answer.

Peach watched with concern but noticed that, though Mhok seemed annoyed and muttered
complaints, he didn’t actually pull away from his friend’s arm. Peach felt a slight twitch in the
arm he was holding but decided to let it go and turned his attention to his daughter.
The lighter-skinned boy approached Marn with a soft smile and spoke sweetly. Marn looked
up and smiled back, her eyes crinkling in a cheerful greeting, clearly familiar with him.

"You’re so cute," the boy said, reaching out as if to pat her head. But Marn stepped back,
crossing her arms with a serious expression and shaking her head firmly.

"No, no, San. Daddy and Papa said I’m too young for that. No one can touch me unless they
ask Dad first."

San paused for a moment, but it was only a brief second before his lips spread into a wide
smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He reluctantly withdrew his hand and crossed his
arms behind his back.

Thee exhaled sharply, letting out a huff, just as Peach let out a long sigh. He felt proud that
his daughter had handled the situation so well.

"Got it. I’ll wait until Marn grows up," San said with a smile, nodding slightly to himself.

"Yeah, and if you want to kiss me, you’ll have to ask Dad really firmly."

San smiled even wider, his eyes almost closing, but for some reason, Peach couldn’t shake
the feeling that there was something mischievous behind that smile.

"Alright, then I’ll wait until Marn grows up. When she does, I’ll ask Dad for permission to kiss
her."

Peach blinked rapidly, feeling like the conversation was getting a little weird. He squeezed
Thee’s arm tighter, instinctively sensing that something wasn’t quite right. It felt like he could
almost see the veins in Thee’s temples bulging, as if his whole body was tensing up, even
his arm trembling slightly.

"It’s just a kid, Kian," Peach said, his voice strained, feeling a mix of wanting to laugh and cry
at the same time.

"We have to nip this in the bud before it goes too far, Peach," Thee muttered through
clenched teeth, his tone low and laced with a sharp edge of dissatisfaction. "No one should
dare have ideas. I should shut it down right now."

He felt a surge of irritation. He wanted to jump up and shoo the boy away from his daughter.
If Peach hadn’t been holding his arm firmly, he probably would have already.

But he couldn’t just brush off his lover.

"They’re just kids talking. Let’s not make a big deal out of it," Peach said, his voice soft but
firm. "Don’t scare Marn, okay? This is a special day for the kids."

Thee grumbled in displeasure a few more times before finally giving up on his attempt to
stand up. Thankfully, the boy named San had moved away from his daughter, and the
tension around the mafia boss began to ease.
They sat there, watching their daughter happily jumping and clapping along to the song.
Thee, not knowing any of the songs, focused on capturing photos of his little girl, content
with the moment.

Peach chuckled softly when Thee turned the camera to show him. They chatted and
congratulated both kids nonstop. Even after the event ended, they stayed side by side,
waiting with proud smiles for their children to return to them.

As for everything else, they decided to let the future take care of it.
SPECIAL CALL FOR ATTENTION #5

Theerakit Kian Arseny was the eldest son of the infamous Arseny family, a notorious
Russian mafia clan surrounded by countless rumors. Most of these stories, as expected,
leaned toward the darker and more terrifying side. But for the young mafia heir, those
whispers were more of a blessing than a curse. The fear born from people's wild
imaginations made it much easier for him to keep trouble at bay.

When it came to Thee and Peach's relationship, they didn’t exactly shout it from the rooftops,
but they didn’t hide it either. If someone asked, they would answer without hesitation—they
were together. The problem? Lately, rumors had started circulating that the mafia heir had a
child. However, it didn’t make much sense, given how public it was that the man was dating
a kind-hearted, gentle-faced Thai man. So, where did this supposed child come from?

It didn’t take long for the rumors to spread like wildfire. The whispers claimed it was a secret
child—the product of a fleeting affair Thee had with another woman. Some even went so far
as to suggest that Peach was just a decoy, a stand-in to protect Thee’s "true" lover, the
mother of this mysterious child.

Peach, however, wasn’t the least bit shaken. If anything, he found the rumors downright
amusing. The stories grew increasingly absurd—like an over-the-top soap opera filled with
heartbreak and betrayal. One day, he was supposedly abandoned as the pitiful, tragic
protagonist. The next, he suddenly became the villain, cruelly standing in the way of true
love between Thee and the child’s mother.

The only one not amused was Thee. He had nearly lost his voice from shouting to make it
clear that Peach was his one and only true love, but the gossip showed no signs of
disappearing. Instead, it thrived, spreading everywhere—completely ignoring Thee’s
protests.

Peach was now sitting cross-legged on the floor, his little daughter seated on his lap. In front
of them was a low Japanese table, its surface covered with an open writing book. With quiet
patience, Peach guided her small hand, helping her trace the letters one by one. Both
children were learning three languages—Thai, English, and Russian—all at once, which
required careful planning and structure.

They never pressured or forced the children to learn, but it was better to teach languages
early—practicing them frequently so they would stick naturally. Sure, progress might seem
slow at first compared to other kids their age, but once they mastered it, everything would fall
into place.

"Dad," the sound of running footsteps and the excited voice of his eldest son made Peach
look up in surprise. Normally, Mhok liked to act mature for his age and rarely showed his
playful side unless they were together at home as a family.

"What’s up, buddy?" Peach replied, tilting his head curiously when he noticed not only Mhok
running toward him but also Thee.
Walking in his direction, Mhok’s face was flushed from running, a huge smile spread across
his cheeks. He held a piece of paper in his hand, proudly displaying it with an almost
triumphant air.

"Dad’s taking us on a trip!" Mhok announced, practically jumping with excitement. Peach
took the paper and unfolded it. He quickly realized what it was—a round-trip plane ticket. A
private jet, if his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

"A trip?" Peach repeated, curiosity growing in his voice. He looked up to see the two
"culprits" exchange a glance, both wearing identical, barely visible smiles. The resemblance
in their expressions was striking and only deepened his suspicions.

When Mhok first came into their lives, Peach had worried about how Thee and the boy
would get along. After all, no one would have guessed that Thee would be patient or
particularly kind with children.

Mhok, on the other hand, had been very quiet and reserved, acting much older than his age.
He rarely played or sought attention like other kids his age, which only increased Peach’s
concern.

But to his surprise, not only had the two gotten along much better than he expected, but
Mhok had also picked up a handful of Thee’s quirks along the way, to the point where they
sometimes seemed like a real father and son.

They say children are shaped, at least in part, by how they’re raised. Looking at Mhok now,
grinning from ear to ear with that mischievous glint in his eyes, it was hard to argue
otherwise.

"I have a bit of work to do, and it happens to be on an island in the south. So, I thought I’d
bring everyone along and make it a vacation," Thee said, the corner of his mouth curving
into a soft smile. However, for some reason, Peach couldn’t help but feel that smile had
some hidden agenda. He narrowed his eyes slightly, suspicion gleaming in his gaze.

"Trip!" Marn repeated, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She turned and wrapped her
arms around him, looking up with a pleading expression. Eyes so begging they could melt
even the coldest heart. "We’re all going together, right, Dad?" Seeing her little sister turn on
the charm, Mhok quickly followed suit. Though clearly unsure how to achieve the same level
of sweetness, he awkwardly approached his father, grabbing the hem of Peach’s sleeve with
hesitant hands. His voice came out soft and uncertain.

"Are we going together?"

Peach let out a soft sigh, defeated. He couldn’t help but smile as he hugged both children.
Though he still had questions about Thee’s true intentions, it was hard to say no when hit
with a double dose of cuteness. Besides, he trusted Thee. Deep down, he knew the man
would keep them safe. Whatever Thee had up his sleeve might be a little suspicious, but in
the end, Peach was willing to go along with it.

"Alright, we’ll go. But the tickets say we’re leaving tomorrow, so you two need to finish all
your homework tonight. That way, we can enjoy the trip without worrying about it. Okay?"
The two children nodded eagerly before running off, scrambling to get their unfinished
holiday homework done. Peach flipped the ticket in his hands, his confusion only deepening
as he studied the destination.

"Where exactly are we going, Kian?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name
printed on the ticket.

"My private island," Thee replied, puffing out his chest with pride. The tone of his voice had
just a hint of boastfulness, as if he couldn’t help but show off a little. "Once we’re there, you
won’t have to worry about prying eyes, and we won’t need to bring an entire army of
bodyguards. I know you hate having too many people around."

"I don’t mind if they keep their distance," Peach replied, his expression a mix of resignation
and amusement. "After all, they’re just doing their job." Being followed by a squad of men in
black suits wasn’t exactly something he had gotten used to. For someone who had lived a
normal, ordinary life, it was more than overwhelming. "Anyway, keep an eye on the kids for
me, Kian. We’re leaving early tomorrow, so I’ll go pack."

"No need, I’ll handle it. You focus on the kids," Thee said with a satisfied smile, stepping
closer before pressing a firm kiss to Peach’s lips. The gesture made him seem even more
suspicious. Peach narrowed his eyes, watching Thee’s back as he headed upstairs to the
bedroom, clearly in a good mood.

………………..

Thee was an early riser, the complete opposite of Peach, who was naturally a night owl and
never a morning person. He had only started waking up earlier since Mhok and Marn came
into their lives—just to prepare breakfast for them—but even then, Thee still managed to
beat him to it.

This morning, however, when Thee instinctively reached across the bed and found the space
beside him empty, he finally opened his eyes. The soft light filtering through the curtains told
him it was still early, which only confused him further.

Thee should have already been up, showered, and started his day, so he crawled out of bed
to look for him. The moment the scent of food wafted through the air, he knew exactly where
to go.

Sure enough, when he reached the kitchen, he found Peach busy packing food into
containers—fried rice, by the looks of it. Without a word, Thee walked up behind him,
wrapping his strong arms around Peach’s waist and pulling him close until their bodies
pressed together. He lowered his head, burying his face in the curve of Peach’s neck and
breathing in the familiar scent that always seemed to calm him.

"I’m sweating, Kian. Back off," Peach squirmed in his grip, turning just enough to glare at him
with feigned annoyance. Thee, of course, wasn’t the least bit intimidated. If anything, he
found the young man even more adorable and couldn’t resist tilting Peach’s face up to give
him another deep, heated kiss.
The kiss was possessive—hungry. He kissed him as if he hadn’t had his fill the night before,
and the faint marks still trailing Peach’s skin were proof of that. But Thee didn’t care. He
wanted more. He always wanted more.

"Enough, that’s enough. The rice is going to burn," Peach protested breathlessly, pushing
against Thee’s chest with all the strength he could muster. He glanced briefly at the sizzling
pan, then leaned in to press a firm bite on the bottom of Peach’s lip before finally letting go, a
satisfied smile playing on his lips as he stepped back.

If the food got ruined, Peach would scold him for days. "Are the kids up yet? We have to
catch the plane early this morning," Peach asked, turning his attention back to the pan, his
brow slightly furrowed with concern. "It’ll take a while to get to the airport, and we haven’t
even loaded the car yet."

Thee glanced at the clock and saw there were still nearly three hours until takeoff. Since it
was his private jet, timing wasn’t an issue at all. A faint smile appeared on his lips as his
gaze softened. He realized Peach was excited—maybe even a little anxious—about the trip.
He still remembered how much Peach loved to travel, but he rarely had the chance to do so
because of work. Not anymore, Thee thought. From now on, whatever Peach wanted to do,
he would make it happen.

"I’ll handle it. You just focus on finishing," Thee said, giving Peach another firm kiss on the
temple before heading back upstairs.

He stopped in front of the door on the left side of the hallway—the children’s room. After
gently knocking and hearing nothing but silence, he pushed the door open. The soft morning
light filtered through the curtains, revealing two single beds on either side of the room, a
small desk, a wardrobe, and neatly organized toy boxes.

Thee wanted the kids to have more fun—he had planned to expand their room, add more
toys, and maybe build a play area. But when Peach shot him one of his sharp, disapproving
looks, he had no choice but to put those plans on hold for now.

First, he walked over to Mhok’s bed. Reaching out, Thee ran a gentle hand over the boy’s
head before giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. "Time to get up, buddy. We don’t want to
miss the plane, do we?"

Mhok groaned a sleepy response, mumbling something incoherent before the words
registered. He opened his eyes with a start and hurried to sit up, though he was still
half-asleep. Thee watched as the boy instinctively grabbed his blanket to fold it carefully
before getting out of bed. Then, Thee moved to Marn’s bed and leaned down to kiss her
forehead, just as he had done with her brother.

His little girl was even more dazed than Mhok, but she didn’t whine or complain. She clung
stubbornly to her blanket for a moment, clearly reluctant to leave her warm cocoon. It took
Thee softly saying, "Your dad’s already making breakfast," to get her moving. Marn perked
up at the mention of food and got out of bed without further argument, heading straight to the
bathroom to freshen up.
Thee tended to the kids until he was sure they were up and managing on their own. Then,
he headed out to load the luggage into the car. Several large bags were stuffed into the
trunk, and very soon, Peach and the kids joined him.

It didn’t take long before they arrived at the airport. Peach, who had gone to open the trunk
so the security guards could store the luggage, stopped short when he noticed a large, very
familiar box of camera equipment—something he hadn’t expected to see.

"Why did you bring the whole camera set?" Peach asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Normally, when they traveled, he only brought the camera and maybe a small tripod, never
the entire set like this.

Thee simply smiled faintly, his lips curving at the corners, before ushering his lover and the
two kids onto the plane. Once the plane took off, the two little ones, exhausted from waking
up so early, had already curled up and fallen fast asleep. He took the opportunity to move
closer, wrapping an arm around Peach and pulling him down to rest against his chest.

"Are you going to tell me why you suddenly decided to take us on this trip?"

"You love traveling, but you never have time for it," Thee replied, a soft smile on his lips. The
arm around Peach’s waist pressed down slightly, his large hand kneading and squeezing
along his hip. "Lately, even though work has calmed down, you’ve still been very busy with
the kids. And I’ve also been overwhelmed with work. I haven’t really helped as much as I
should."

"Don’t say that. You’ve been helping me a lot," Peach laughed softly, resting his face against
Thee’s shoulder. He gently grabbed Thee’s wandering hand before it could travel
somewhere too inappropriate. "Behave, will you? The kids are here."

"But they’re asleep," Thee murmured, lowering his voice as he leaned in, his lips brushing
lightly against Peach’s cheek.

"Then maybe we should sleep too," Peach teased, pulling Thee’s hand away and flashing a
mischievous smile. He leaned in just enough to plant a firm kiss on Thee’s chin before
sinking back into the man’s chest with a satisfied smile. "If you’re not going to tell me what
you’re up to, we might as well get some rest. Right?" Thee narrowed his eyes, torn between
frustration and amusement, but in the end, there wasn’t much he could do. He simply held
Peach tighter, pulling him closer into his arms until he got a soft, breathless laugh in return.

With a quiet sigh, he finally closed his eyes as well.

The plane didn’t take long to land. After a car ride followed by a short boat trip, they finally
arrived at the private island Thee had purchased. It wasn’t huge—just the right size to
explore on foot. The soft white sand beneath their feet felt like silk, while the rhythmic waves
gently lapped against the shore. The turquoise sea sparkled under the sunlight, blending
seamlessly with the clear, endless sky. A lush forest surrounded the area, well-maintained
and pristine, while a stone path lined with low wooden fences wound its way through it. At
the end of the path stood a large white villa, surrounded by well-kept gardens.
A few days earlier, Thee had hired people to clean the place and stock up on all the
essentials. The vacation home was ready to move into—spotless, without a speck of dust.

The bodyguards and staff took care of unloading the luggage and supplies while the two
children, fully rested after their long journey, stared wide-eyed at the vast ocean they had
never seen before. After throwing a questioning glance at their father and receiving a warm
smile and a nod from Peach, the two ran toward the water without hesitation.

"Not too far, okay?" Peach called after them, his voice tinged with worry. Thee had assured
him that safety nets had been installed to prevent the kids from venturing into deep water,
but he still couldn’t help but worry.

He discreetly signaled to one of the nearby guards to keep an eye on the children. Any risk
that could be minimized, Peach made sure it was done.

As he calmed down, he caught Thee’s calm, amused gaze. Peach smiled softly and stepped
closer, and without a second thought, Thee’s arm found its way around his waist, a natural
gesture born of familiarity and habit.

"Thank you for bringing us here," Peach said, his smile warm and genuine. "I’m really happy
to see Mhok acting like a kid his age again. I’ve been worried about him for a long time."

"You should also take this time to relax," Thee replied, moving his hand up to gently
massage Peach’s temple. "You’ve been pushing yourself too hard lately."

"I will, I promise," Peach responded, pausing slightly before tilting his gaze toward Thee with
a teasing glint in his eyes. "But you still haven’t told me why you brought the whole camera
set."

"I have an interview with a magazine," Thee said, his tone casual, almost as if he were
leading Peach into a trap. "It’s an online interview because I’ve been too busy, and I agreed
to send them three photos as requested."

Peach turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow in silent question, though he was already
starting to piece the story together.

"I didn’t want their photographer snooping around and causing a scene, so I told them I’d
handle the photos myself," Thee continued, resting his chin on Peach’s shoulder. The
closeness brought them so near that Peach could feel his warm breath. "I want you to take
the photos. Only you."

Peach almost held his breath. Despite the years they had spent together—on every level of
closeness imaginable—moments like this still managed to make his heart race.

The way Thee’s smoky gray eyes softened as they looked at him always left Peach
disarmed and defenseless.

"So, this whole trip... is just an excuse to have me take photos of you, huh?" Peach teased,
turning his face slightly to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks, though the small, crooked
smile gave him away.
"The timing worked out perfectly. The kids are on school break, and you could use some rest
too," Thee said with a nonchalant shrug, as if he hadn’t done anything remotely sneaky.
"Besides, we hardly have any family photos together. I want some to show off to Rome—he
keeps posting those cheesy couple photos with Mok everywhere."

Of course, someone like Mr. Thee would never utter the word "jealousy" out loud. Peach
nodded slightly, feigning innocence, before turning his attention to the camera bag. "How
many photos does the magazine need?"

"Three," Thee replied, visibly pleased. "Take a few and help me choose. I want to use the
ones you like the most."

"Three photos—all solo portraits, right? I’ll start with just you for now. Then, in the afternoon,
once the kids are washed and dressed properly, we’ll take some family photos together."

Thee nodded, completely satisfied, and immediately transformed into the most cooperative
model imaginable. Wherever Peach pointed or instructed him to stand, he followed without
question. Through the camera lens, Peach focused on Thee, whose smoky gray eyes gazed
back, soft yet intense. It was as if the lens wasn’t even there, as if Thee’s gaze pierced
through it and went straight to him.

It was firm but tender, burning with a warm fire that smoldered quietly but fiercely. That made
those smoky gray eyes even more captivating than Peach had ever seen—soft and beautiful
in a way that seemed impossible. Especially knowing that those beautiful eyes were focused
solely on him.

After taking three or four photos, Thee extended his hand, palm open, waiting with a smile
that made Peach’s heart skip a beat. Peach laughed softly and set the camera to timer mode
before hurrying to grab Thee’s hand. The silver rings on their left ring fingers gleamed under
the light, catching the glow of the moment. Then, the shutter clicked, sealing that fleeting,
beautiful moment into something eternal.

………………..

That night, the room was quiet and still, save for the soft hum of the ocean outside. On the
wide bed, two bodies lay intertwined, so close that there wasn’t even space for air between
them. Just a few minutes ago, the room had been a battlefield of passion—fiery,
overwhelming, and messy in all the best ways.

Now, Thee sat propped against the headboard, halfway between sitting and lying down,
while Peach lay sprawled on his chest, fast asleep. The blanket had slipped down, barely
covering his waist, leaving the smooth expanse of his bare back exposed. The delicate skin
was dotted with faint pink marks—kisses left in the heat of the moment. Thee’s gaze
softened as he admired him, satisfaction written clearly on his face. Slowly, he pulled the
blanket up, covering Peach’s back carefully to keep him warm.

As he settled, Thee grabbed the iPad resting on the nightstand. He opened the photo
gallery, and his lips curved upward as he scrolled through the photos Peach had taken that
same day.
To him, Peach would always be the best photographer in the world.

Satisfied, he chose a family photo to set as his phone’s wallpaper, one that captured the four
of them—happy, relaxed, and together. Then, he went through the remaining shots to select
three for the magazine.

The editor had requested three photographs—a solo portrait and two others, which could be
individual or family shots.

He didn’t particularly like interviews. But as the owner of a large company, he knew that he
himself was a form of marketing, another tool to promote the business. Occasionally, for a
credible magazine, he agreed to sit for an interview.

The solo shot the editor requested? He chose it without hesitation. It was the one Peach
liked the most. But choosing the other two photos? That took longer.

He hadn’t told Peach that he would only include individual photographs. On the other hand,
he also hadn’t said he wouldn’t choose a couple photo.

Peach wasn’t someone who sought the spotlight. He never actively hid anything, but even
so, there were many people who had no idea they were together.

And that bothered Thee immensely. It irritated him even more when someone tried to
meddle in his family.

Especially when they targeted Peach. The young photographer might seem more
approachable than the intimidating mafia figure that was Thee, but Peach’s reputation as a
famous photographer only made things worse.

Young models and aspiring influencers constantly sought opportunities to get close. If Peach
hadn’t handled it so well every time, Thee might have lost his temper and done something...
regrettable.

He carefully selected a couple photo of him and Peach, then chose another for the family.
He intentionally picked a photo where their children weren’t clearly visible, focusing on a side
angle to maintain their privacy. For the couple photo, however, he chose one where both of
them were clearly in view—the clearer, the better.

And he made sure the rings were visible too!

Thee studied the three photographs with a satisfied smile before sending them to the
magazine’s editor. Task completed, he set the tablet aside and lay down properly, pulling the
smaller figure beside him into his arms, Peach’s head resting on his chest, their bodies fitting
perfectly together, sharing warmth between them.

With slow, gentle movements, Thee ran his fingers through Peach’s hair, his faint scent
calming his mind and easing the last of his tension. In no time, a soft smile appeared at the
corner of his lips as sleep began to claim him.

It felt exactly like what he had told the magazine during the interview.
To him, Peach was more than just a partner.

Peach was his lover, his family, his soulmate.

He realized what love truly was...

When they truly met....

END OF THE SPECIAL CHAPTER