Content Warning: This work is intended for mature (NC17) audiences. If you are younger, please kindly leave this site.
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As soon as the first light of day touched the horizon, the workers of the Metthanun mansion rose to fulfill their assigned duties. The grand mansion came to life once again, in stark contrast to the heart of the family's eldest son, which, no matter how bright the sky, seemed perpetually trapped in darkness.
Not the eyes, but the heart.
Tul woke up early every day. His daily routine involved exercising until he was satisfied before returning to his room to prepare for school.
Eeeek.
Tul stepped out from under the shower, grabbed a towel to dry himself, and loosely wrapped it around his waist. He took another towel to rub vigorously against his damp hair. Afterward, he dressed in his student uniform. His sharp eyes then paused at his reflection in the mirror.
The image Tul saw was that of a tall, well-built man with a striking face—a harmonious blend of Thai and English ancestry. Thick eyebrows, a prominent nose with a defined ridge, lips pressed into a tense expression, and brown eyes with a glint of gold that shimmered when touched by sunlight.
Though handsome and captivating, his gaze seemed like a vast, deep pit that no amount of filling could ever make whole.
The young man continued to stare at his reflection for a long moment, the oppressive stillness around him thickening—until Tul smiled.
The smile, a façade carefully constructed from childhood, appeared so genuine it seemed to come from the heart—a smile that charmed and subdued anyone who saw it. Yet it was a smile Tul loathed to his very core.
What was a genuine smile like? He had stopped pondering that question at the age of seven.
The age at which he learned that hope never bore fruit, and that everything must be built with one’s own two hands.
“Heh.” A fleeting smirk of self-pity crossed his face before vanishing.
Tul adjusted his hair until it was neat, stepped out of the bathroom, grabbed his bag, and turned to leave the room. The moment his foot touched the threshold, his sharp, intense gaze softened, replaced by gentle eyes. A pleasant smile graced his face.
"Good morning, Khun Tul."
“Morning. Is it a busy morning for you?”
The charm of his image made everyone fall for him, including the maid who had greeted him first and now received a soft smile paired with his deep, caring voice. Her response came with a glance to either side, followed by a whispered reply.
"Busier than usual, Khun Tul. Today, Khun Trai and Khun Madam will be having breakfast here, so I volunteered to set up the dining room. I was worried they wouldn’t find it to their liking and might scold us. Heh."
“Father and Mother are here today?”
“Yes.” The maid gave a dry smile, unconsciously shivering. “Ah, I apologize.”
“Why are you apologizing to me?” Tul raised an eyebrow but followed it with a warm smile. “In that case, I’d better hurry. Making them wait wouldn’t be ideal. Thank you for letting me know, and I hope your day is filled with nothing but good things.”
With that, he promptly descended the stairs with an energetic and lively stride, exuding vitality.
The maid smiled in admiration, watching the young man descend the stairs with both respect and fondness, murmuring softly to herself:
"Khun Tul is truly lovely, not at all like Khun Trai or Khun Madam."
A sentiment Tul had intentionally cultivated into an undeniable truth within this household. As his tall frame strode confidently into the dining room, his sharp eyes swept toward the person seated at the head of the table, sipping coffee. Beyond them sat a middle-aged woman, gracefully beautiful for her age—the one who commanded the table’s conversation.
Rasa, Tul's stepmother.
“Is there a special occasion today? It’s rare to see everyone gathered together,” he remarked.
Breakfasting together might be typical in other families, but not in the Metthanun household.
“Oh, Tul, come have a seat. Do you have class today?”
“Yes, Khun Mother. I have a class at ten, but there’s a student council meeting beforehand, so I need to leave early,” Tul replied politely, his tone respectful.
He looked at the woman everyone in the household addressed as "Madam" with eyes full of deference.
“So diligent. If Nong were half as capable as you, I’d be at ease,” Rasa said with a smile before sighing in frustration as her thoughts turned to her youngest son—her only biological child, who was studying abroad.
The one she desperately wished would surpass her stepson.
“Nong is still young, Khun Mother. He’s much more talented than I am...”
“Eat your breakfast.” The conversation about the Metthanun family’s youngest heir was interrupted by the person seated at the head of the table.
Trai glanced briefly at his eldest son before nodding to the maid standing by, signaling the start of breakfast. Tul took his seat with his usual relaxed smile, though the corner of his eye caught sight of someone who had stopped by the door.
Tul sensed the presence even before catching sight of them.
“Kon Hin,” it was not Tul who called out, but Trai.
“Yes, Khun Trai,” Kon Hin stepped forward, ensuring everyone at the table could see him, and replied politely.
“Are you feeling unwell? You look pale,” Trai raised an eyebrow.
Tul furrowed his brow, his striking eyes reflecting genuine concern.
“Are you sick, Hin? Yeah, as Father said, you do look a bit pale.”
Their gazes met, and Pathapee—nicknamed Kon Hin—lowered his head and politely denied the concern.
“I’m fine, thank you, Khun Trai and Khun Tul, for your concern.”
“If you’re not feeling up to it, you can take a day off today. I’ll take notes for the lecture,” Tul continued, his tone filled with care—a stark contrast to his harsh demeanor the night before. The listener gave a faint smile and reiterated his earlier statement.
“I’m truly fine, Khun Tul.”
“Alright, if you insist you’re fine, then you’re fine... Tul, take care of your people,” Trai nodded, turning to his son.
Tul flashed a broad smile and turned to meet Kon Hin’s gaze once more.
“Of course, Father. You know that Hin is an important friend of mine...”
“Hmph! Just a household servant. I don’t see why there’s so much concern,” the lady of the house interjected with irritation, cutting off the conversation before it could continue further. Her voice carried clear displeasure at her husband’s habit of elevating the household staff to a level comparable to her son. Most of all, she detested that he supported their education to be on par with Tul’s.
It wasn’t just Kon Hin. Even For, the personal driver, and Kon Hin’s mother, who served as the head chef, worked in the house and had earned Trai’s trust. Rasa wouldn’t have cared if not for the fact that these three showed overt loyalty to her husband and Tul. To the extent that if her orders conflicted with those of the father and son, the staff would conspire to disregard her.
It left Rasa feeling like she wasn’t the true lady of the house, despite the title she forced everyone to address her by.
They’re just servants! What right do they have to hold any say in this household? Rasa pursed her lips, her gaze sharp as she glared at Kon Hin, then abruptly changed the subject.
“So, you really plan to let your mother move back home?”
The words caused a halt—not only for Tul but also for Kon Hin, though only for a fleeting moment.
“Yes, I plan to have my mother return to live at home. There’s no problem with that, is there, Tul?”
“None at all. I’m glad Grandmother’s health has improved enough for her to come back,” Tul replied, laughing, his face filled with genuine happiness.
“But I don’t think it’s a good idea. Why bring her back? Here, there’s no one to look after her. At the hospital, there are doctors and nurses for close care—that’s much better. Why are you looking at me like that, Trai? Hmph, fine, I won’t say anything else,” Rasa snapped again, her lips curling as Trai shot her a sharp look from the head of the table. She begrudgingly fell silent.
“Don’t be upset, Khun Mother. Grandmother is quite elderly now. Coming back here will surely make her feel more at ease,” Tul mediated calmly, though the hand gripping his spoon tightened noticeably.
Kon Hin noticed this, but all he could do was stand quietly in place.
“Tul, your grandmother is paralyzed. She can’t feel or respond to anything anymore. It makes no difference where she stays. I thought you’d side with me,” Rasa said, her eyes rolling dramatically.
“I...” Tul hesitated, his expression troubled, drawing sympathetic looks from the household staff.
The one to interrupt the moment was Trai, who finished his cup of coffee in one go and stood up abruptly. “I’m off to work.” With that, Trai strode out of the dining room, leaving his wife pursing her lips.
Rasa stood as well, leaving with a stiff gait.
Left behind was the eldest son of the household, silently finishing his meal. He finally broke the silence with a question. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I ate in the kitchen, sir,” Kon Hin, who had been standing silently, replied. Tul nodded a few times before finishing his breakfast. He didn’t forget to address the staff coming in to clear the dishes.
“Please let the kitchen know breakfast was as delicious as ever. Let’s go, Hin. We’ll be late.”
Tul stood up, giving a light pat on the shoulder of the man waiting nearby. Kon Hin responded dutifully, pausing to let the Khun-chai of the house lead the way before following behind. But—
“Stop acting like you’re beneath me. How many times have I told you that, and you still don’t listen?”
Tul grabbed Kon Hin’s arm, pulling him to walk side by side. His sharp eyes reflected mild annoyance, though the corners of his lips quirked slightly at Kon Hin’s startled reaction.
As if Tul wouldn’t notice how pale his companion looked, struggling just to walk upright. And the claim of eating breakfast in the kitchen? If he actually managed to eat, that was impressive. Did he even sleep at all?
“I’m sorry, Khun Tul.”
Tul gripped Kon Hin’s arm more firmly for a moment before letting go, walking ahead toward the garage.
“Keys.” Tul extended his hand playfully, a warm smile on his face, leaving Kon Hin standing there frozen for a moment. “You’re in no condition to drive, are you? Hand them over. I’ll drive myself...”
“It’s fine, sir. I can drive,” Kon Hin insisted.
“Don’t be stubborn, Hin. If something happens to you, I won’t have a son to return to Auntie Klin,” Tul said in a tone that seemed like scolding, but the gentleness at the end softened the words. He wiggled the hand extended toward Kon Hin playfully, prompting him to hand over the car keys without resistance.
Tul smiled in satisfaction, unlocked the large Japanese car, and slipped into the driver’s seat. Kon Hin, meanwhile, was relegated to the position of the “dashboard doll.”
The image everyone held—whether it was the household staff or his university friends—was that Tul was never pretentious. A person who never demanded anything, not even a car more befitting his status.
When asked about it, he openly declared: “I’ll use whatever I have. Besides, I’m just a student. Why would I need an expensive car? It’s already great that Father keeps this car ready for me to use.”
A man humble to a fault, who acted as though he wasn’t as important as his younger brother. The image universally agreed upon was that Khun Tul was an exceptionally kind-hearted man. Yet, there was only one person who knew the truth.
“Your face betrays you. You’re not okay.”
As soon as the sleek car merged onto the main road, the driver broke the suffocating silence in a calm voice. Though his deep tone seemed even, Kon Hin couldn’t miss the note of reproach and lowered his head, speaking words that hovered on his lips.
“I’m sorry, Khun Tul.”
Tul glanced sideways, his eyes sweeping over Kon Hin’s distinctly Asian features. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly—completely at odds with his eyes.
Eyes that gleamed sharply as he continued.
“Apologizing is fine, but fix your expression too.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kon Hin replied, adjusting his tired and worn-out expression to appear better. However, though his face seemed improved, it didn’t mean he looked any healthier. On the contrary, the paleness stood out even more against the sun-darkened skin of his neck.
“I must’ve overworked you,” Tul said, shaking his head with a laugh that sent chills down Kon Hin’s spine.
“No, not at all, Khun Tul. It’s not your fault. I did this to myself. I was working on a report last night and didn’t get enough sleep.”
“That’s a good answer.”
“Thank you, sir.”
It felt like a test, as the young half-Thai smiled in satisfaction. Meanwhile, Kon Hin, who had uttered similar excuses countless times, gave his thanks and fell silent, like a lifeless doll. If Khun Tul didn’t ask, there was no need to speak.
Khun Tul never did anything wrong. He never overworked anyone. Khun Tul was the best Chao-nai.
That was the mantra Kon Hin had to keep in mind. No matter how hurt or mistreated he was, his only acceptable response was always: I brought this upon myself.
For the rest of the ride, the car was engulfed in silence. Not because the Chao-nai imposed a heavy atmosphere, but because the doll riding shotgun knew the other was deep in thought, likely absorbed in the numerous responsibilities he bore.
Though Khun Tul could seem like he had two personalities, one thing Kon Hin admired since childhood was this man’s ability to compartmentalize flawlessly. Whether it was his studies, his duties as the student council president, or even company tasks he had taken on since his first year in university—Khun Tul managed everything with precision.
Able to manage everything with the utmost consideration for maximum benefit, Tul earned the trust of everyone. Thus, the silence created in the car served to allow the Chao-nai time to think during their journey.
But halfway through the trip...
The sleek car turned into a famous fast-food restaurant offering drive-thru service. Kon Hin was puzzled but refrained from asking, merely observing as the driver maneuvered toward the order window.
"Welcome! May I recommend the sausage set?"
"I’ll have a pork congee and two cups of hot coffee."
"Pork congee and two hot coffees. Is that all?"
"Yes, that’s all."
"Please proceed to the next window to pay."
Pathapee remained silent, not uttering a word, even as his Chao-nai paid for the order and collected the food at the next window. However, the sharp, distinctly Thai eyes of the servant froze when the ordered items were placed on his lap.
"Eat." That was all Tul said as he sipped his coffee—black, without cream or sugar—and drove away without sparing a glance at the subordinate he had just commanded to eat.
Kon Hin could only clutch the congee cup tightly, feeling the heat seeping through his palms and spreading across his body.
"Next time you lie, at least make it more convincing. It wasn’t just me; even my father noticed you hadn’t eaten."
"Apologies... and thank you, Khun Tul."
Kon Hin could only thank him, not daring to lift his gaze toward his Chao-nai for fear of catching sight of that knowing smile.
Kon Hin knew that the demeanor his Chao-nai displayed toward others was just a performance, but he never truly understood whether the small acts of kindness Tul habitually showed were merely a tactic to secure his loyalty and silence about what he witnessed, or if his Chao-nai genuinely cared for him.
This was something he didn’t know, and likely never would.
Not that he wanted to know, because whether the gestures were sincere or not, Kon Hin felt deeply grateful regardless.
This cup of congee was so warm.
When the car finally parked in the university lot, the two men exited quickly. One walked ahead, while the other followed behind—a scene so familiar to the juniors, seniors, and peers that it had become routine: the subordinate trailing the Chao-nai.
The man walking ahead effortlessly drew the attention of the women around him with his handsome features, stylish demeanor, and commanding presence—a result of his mixed heritage and upbringing, refined since childhood. Paired with his prestigious surname, it was no wonder that many were eager to line up and vie for his attention as a potential romantic partner.
However, the man walking behind was no less striking.
Pathapee, a fully Thai young man, was only a few centimeters shorter than his Chao-nai. His sharp features were bold but not overly intimidating, with double-lidded eyes, a well-shaped nose, and thin, vibrant lips that softened his otherwise intense appearance. His two-toned skin was neither excessively fair nor overly dark, striking a perfect balance. Coupled with his rugged yet charming look, reminiscent of a hero from a novel or manga, he naturally drew curious glances.
The two men invariably captured attention wherever they went. Yet, no one ever tried to build a relationship with Kon Hin beyond using him as a stepping stone to approach his Chao-nai.
The truth, however, didn’t bother him much because he understood perfectly well—who would want to date the child of a servant?
Though referred to as a household worker, it was essentially the same as being a servant.
"Whoa! Hey, guys! Wait for me!"
Just before the two could step into the student council building, a loud call from behind made them turn around.
"You're late, Ai'Rob," Tul greeted the tall, muscular man whose name, Nakrob (warrior), suited him well as he threw an arm around Pathapee's neck.
"I'm not late, damn it! I'm right on time. You guys haven't gone up to the room yet, have you?" Nakrob, a fellow classmate, student council member, and faculty peer, replied with a wide grin before adding his usual morning tease.
"Every time I see you two, I feel like I’m watching a soap opera—some Khun-chai and his chauffeur dynamic or something."
"Hahaha! Then today, Hin is the Khun-chai, and I’m the driver."
"Yeah, right! Like Ai'Hin would ever let his beloved Khun-chai chauffeur him around. You sick or what, Ai'Hin?" Nakrob whistled and turned to look at his equally tall but leaner best friend, clearly enjoying himself as he waited for the reaction from the ever-loyal subordinate, who now frowned as expected.
"I’ll be sick because of you! You’re heavy!" With that, Kon Hin yanked Nakrob’s arm forcefully and twisted it behind his back, making the other cry out in pain.
"Ouch! I’m sorry, man! It hurts! Your Chao-nai is untouchable, huh?"
Grab!
"Aaagh! My arm’s gonna pop off!"
"Well, if you know you can't touch it, then don't touch it next time," Kon Hin said in a deep voice, tightening the hold on Nakrob's arm even more, making his close friend yelp in pain.
The student council president laughed, clearly amused, and nodded at his own people.
"Let it go. Every time I hear him scream like that, it gives me a headache."
"Yes, Khun Tul," As his Chao-nai spoke, the person, who was bruised all over but still forced himself to act normal, released his grip on Nakrob’s arm, allowing the latter to step away quickly but still teasing.
"My arm’s gonna come off, can’t you see? How can I not tease you when every time Ai'Tul says something, you just say yes, yes, yes to everything? And this, every time I hear it, it’s like nails on a chalkboard—calling him Khun Tul, for god’s sake! We’re the same age, why the hell are you calling him Khun?" Nakrob kept at it, while Tul just laughed and glanced at his close friend playfully.
"I told him to just call me Tul."
"Can’t do that, Khun Tul is the Chao-nai. He has to be called Khun Tul," Kon Hin responded immediately.
As soon as the answer came from Kon Hin’s mouth, Tul spread his hands in a manner that clearly said, See? I told you so.
Nakrob just made an exaggerated face of annoyance.
"Yes, yes, Khun Tul, whatever."
"Right, and what about you, Ai'Rob? Aren’t you late? You guys still have class at ten, don’t you? Have you forgotten about that already?" Tul said with a chuckle, walking ahead while Pathapee followed behind.
But…
"What happened to your arm?"
Before following Hin’s Chao-nai, Nakrob yanked Kon Hin’s hand hard, pulling it up just enough for people to see, causing Kon Hin to quickly retract his hand, tugging his long-sleeve student shirt down over his wrist to cover it, then shrugged.
"I cut it with some rope while gardening yesterday," he replied before immediately following Tul.
Nakrob stood still, shaking his head.
The slight pain doesn’t mean it’s anything like what you think, Ai'Rob.
"Well, that's it for this term’s activities. Don’t forget that next week we have the meeting about the club’s budget allocation," Tul said.
"Got it, yeah."
"Okay then, Khun President."
After discussing serious matters for a while, settling the university’s upcoming activities, the mood shifted to a more casual one, with chatter filling the room, especially around the student council president, who was always surrounded by both friends and juniors. Today was no different.
"Ai'Tul, what’s going on with the internship request from my younger sibling at your company?"
"I’ve already sent the request to HR, but I’m not making any promises."
"Hey, if you help, it’s definitely going to work out. You, of all people, can do it!"
"Don’t put your trust in me like that. You all should go. Didn’t the professors call you? You second and third years, too—go off to class already. Don’t use the excuse of being in a meeting when you talk to the professors."
"Wow, Phii Tul is fierce!"
"Can't be fierce, then I wouldn't be president," Tul said with a half-laugh.
"Not true! It’s because Phii Tul is handsome that he became president!"
"Ha ha, thanks for the compliment."
The whole room was still buzzing with conversation, with Tul at the center of it all. Meanwhile, the treasurer of the class sat quietly in a corner, with his best friend standing nearby, arms crossed.
"I really hate it when they try to use connections," Nakrob said with displeasure.
"Are you talking about my Chao-nai too?"
"No," came the heavy reply as he continued to watch Tul.
"I know, like you said, that Ai'Tul started working at the company by delivering documents when he was in high school. No one would have thought that a Khun-chai born into wealth like him would do that. So, I don’t like when some people try to use him as a stepping stone, not knowing that Ai'Tul started from scratch with his own hands."
"You’re just picking a fight with anyone who talks bad about my Chao-nai now," Pathapee said with a smile. He was close to this friend because he was genuine like that.
He would express what he disliked openly, unlike him... who could only keep things to himself.
"He’s just too good of a person. So good that sometimes I wonder how he can be that way. Is he acting?" Nakrob shrugged and sighed heavily.
"And I respect him. Balancing school, work, and being president... he’s too good at everything, I can’t compete."
The large man spoke, then waved his hand.
"Forget about Ai'Tul. Every time we talk about him, it feels like we're talking about a novel's hero, too good to be true. I think I should leave now. You hurry up too and get your Chao-nai out of that crowd." Nakrob said, knowing full well that if they didn't leave together, they would be late. With that, the big guy waved and left the room.
Kon Hin watched him leave, then turned back to look at the man laughing in the middle of the crowd.
Yes, only a few people knew that his Chao-nai started as a document delivery boy for his own company's firm. Nowadays, it's rare to see someone rise up from the lowest position, but Ai'Tul insisted on learning the working system from the ground up. Today, Khun Trai even allows him to attend important company meetings.
Outsiders think Ai'Tul uses connections, but only a few people know the truth, including Nakrob. That's why Kon Hin is closer to this friend than anyone else.
The friend who likes to tease and criticize his Chao-nai, but always acknowledges Ai'Tul’s true abilities.
Kon Hin smiled with relief, but that smile didn’t sit well with someone else.
"Why are you smiling?"
Kon Hin, who had let his thoughts wander for just a few moments, tensed up when suddenly his face was jerked upward, locking eyes with the person staring at him. He realized that the noise around them had faded into silence, and the blinds drawn during the meeting were a perfect shield from the eyes of those outside.
"Nothing, sir."
Snap!
Kon Hin stifled a cry when the other person pressed their lips against his with force. He tried to keep his face still, as though Ai'Tul wasn’t hurting him.
“Have you already forgotten whose person you are?”
“Of Khun Tul... yes...” The speaker tried to keep his voice steady, but the tone still trembled slightly, forcing him to try and meet the sharp, glistening eyes that were staring intensely.
The two pairs of eyes locked in silence, then Tul grinned.
“But it seems like lately you've been forgetting yourself often... Do you want to sleep with it?”
“I... I don't…”
Thud!
Once again, his lips were squeezed with force. He could feel the teeth scraping against the inside of his mouth. Pathapee fell silent because his Chao-nai did not want him to speak, until he closed his eyes... The look of reverence that only admired one person, a look that Tul allowed him to release his hand. Then, both hands pressed down on the table beside his close companion, trapping the person sitting on the chair in his arms. His sharp face leaned down close to the nape of the neck.
“Good! Remember deeply that you are someone's person.”
“More…”
Kon Hin bit his lip until it hurt when the large hand gripped his crotch, squeezing with such force that it was painful. Then, the deep, terrifying voice continued.
“If you don't remember, I will make it worse than last night.”
“I will remember, yes... Ugh!"
Khun Tul of the Metthanun family pressed his hand down hard again, watching the brief expression of pain before pulling away... smiling broadly.
Pat, pat.
"Alright, enough. Go to class now, Kon Hin. Otherwise, you and I will both get scolded," the large hand lightly slapped the cheek, and the words were spoken in a playful manner. Then, Tul turned and walked out of the student council room as if nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, the close companion took a deep breath, ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, and quickly stepped forward, telling himself in his mind: Even if you, Khun Tul, didn't repeat it, I have remembered it clearly ever since my father took me to see you.
"From now on, you must serve Khun Tul. Understand?"
I, Pathapee, understood and have remembered since that day that I was born to serve someone.
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