Once the morning classes were finished, Pathapee gathered his lecture notes for the day, neatly packed them into his backpack, and stepped out to find a quiet corner. He intended to wait for his Chao-nai, who would likely return to the university later in the afternoon. While waiting, he summarized all the day’s material onto paper, making it easier for someone else—who barely had any time to sleep—to understand without having to rely on the recordings he had thoughtfully prepared as a backup.
Kon Hin had become accustomed to this routine. Many teased that he acted more like the personal secretary of the student council president than the treasurer. He never denied it, as his ambition was to one day claim that very position.
His Chao-nai pressed forward without so much as a glance backward. If Kon Hin wished to be of use to Khun Tul, he needed to keep up. Besides, when the time came for the other to meet someone real and put an end to this undefined relationship, at least Kon Hin could still work by his side.
Do not become intoxicated by what was given yesterday.
No matter what emotions Khun Tul had felt while holding him, or how significant he whispered Kon Hin was, Hin must always be mindful of his place.
He was a man. He was the son of a servant, and he was someone unworthy.
Khun Tul deserved someone more fitting. Though it was uncertain when such a person would appear, Kon Hin resolved to savor every fleeting moment of happiness as memories to revisit in the future.
What Kon Hin did not know, however, was that such a person would enter Tul's life much sooner than he ever expected.
Thud!
“Here, eat it. Stop avoiding me."
"Ai Rob," Kon Hin looked up when a bag of bread was thrown onto the middle of his papers. His eyes met with those of his closest friend, who, today, had chosen to sit across the room, sparking whispers among their peers about whether they had quarreled. In truth, Kon Hin simply couldn’t face the other.
Kon Hin couldn’t share everything about himself with Nakrob. His story was intertwined with Khun Tul’s, and he knew his friend was trying to unravel the mystery. Nakrob wasn’t all muscle and no brains as he often portrayed; he could rival Khun Tul in academics. So, the easiest solution was to avoid him.
And Nakrob knew it.
“Fine, fine. You don’t have to look like you’ve swallowed poison. I won’t ask you anything anymore,” Nakrob grumbled, visibly annoyed. Since morning, that so-called good friend of his had made it a point to show up just as the professor entered, hide in another corner, and avoid eye contact. As soon as class ended, he packed up and bolted, leaving Nakrob rolling his eyes in exasperation.
Nakrob didn’t know what orders Chao-nai had given, but Kon Hin followed everything Khun Tul said to the letter.
Even though Nakrob desperately wanted to know what had transpired between them—especially about the bruises around Kon Hin’s neck—he also didn’t want to lose this friendship. If that meant biting his tongue, so be it.
The thought made the taller boy sigh as he slumped down beside Kon Hin, determined to reassure him.
“I’m serious. Whatever’s going on between you and Ai Khun-chai Tul has nothing to do with me… Isn’t that what you want me to say?” Nakrob grimaced.
Pathapee could only force a smile because the answer was, indeed, yes.
“Fine, fine. Even if I don’t get it, if you stop avoiding me, I’ll turn a blind eye and a deaf ear. I’ll pretend I don’t know or see a thing. Happy now?” Nakrob said with clear irritation.
But his words made Kon Hin laugh. He felt a wave of gratitude for the understanding and nodded enthusiastically.
“Thanks, man."
Nakrob glanced at him before roughly ruffling his hair.
“I’m your friend, damn it! Even though I really want to cut ties with that fucking Ai Khun-chai Tul of yours… What? Don’t look at me like that. Fine, I won’t badmouth your oh-so-perfect Chao-nai anymore,” Rob said. Though his words claimed neutrality, his tone was dripping with sarcasm, making Kon Hin chuckle softly as he watched his overly dramatic friend. Seeing Kon Hin’s relieved smile, it seemed Nakrob was ready to let it go.
“Alright, I won’t ask. But if you ever can’t handle it, you know I’m here to listen and help—even if it means the Metthanun family will glare daggers at me.” His large friend couldn’t resist reiterating his support, causing Kon Hin to put on a blank face and laugh evasively.
“Why would I not be able to handle it? That family practically dotes on me.”
Nakrob stared at him intently, then shrugged.
“Fine, I give up.”
With his friend willing to drop yesterday’s topic, Kon Hin unwrapped the bread from the bag while listening to Nakrob, who—despite claiming not to meddle—still couldn’t stop grumbling.
“And you, since your Chao-nai isn’t here, go get yourself something to eat already. You’re not some chlorophyll-producing plant that can just sit in the sunlight and feel full. I’m guessing Ai Khun-chai Tul went to work, right?”
“Yeah, he’s at the company today.”
“And here you are, sitting around waiting?” Nakrob’s voice was incredulous, his sarcasm cutting through clearly. Kon Hin, biting into a large piece of bread, replied with a laugh.
“Khun Tul doesn’t like eating at the company. He’ll come back here for lunch, so I’m waiting for him.”
“You’ll both starve to death.” Nakrob shook his head. As someone obsessed with working out, he always made sure to eat properly and get all the necessary nutrients. Seeing these two skip meals to focus on work was something he simply couldn’t comprehend.
Nakrob firmly believed that a properly functioning brain started with proper meals.
“You sit here and eat. I’ll go grab some drinks. Want anything?”
“Just water is fine.”
Kon Hin watched his large friend walk out of sight behind the building’s corner before exhaling a relieved smile. Nakrob was a good friend, and Kon Hin didn’t want to fall out with him over anything related to Khun Tul. As long as Nakrob knew when to back off, Kon Hin could feel at ease.
That thought allowed him to refocus on his work—until…
“P’Hin?”
“Yes?” Upon hearing his name, Kon Hin looked up, raising an eyebrow slightly as he stared at a young woman in her student uniform with visible confusion.
Who is she?
The beautiful woman glanced around briefly before mentioning a familiar name.
“Where’s P’Rob?”
“He went out to get some water. Were you looking for him?” Realizing she knew his friend, Kon Hin’s friendly smile grew warmer.
“Something like that. Mind if I sit here for a bit?”
“Not at all. Please do.”
Kon Hin grabbed his bag from the other marble seat to clear the spot, motioning for her to take a seat. He offered her another polite smile before turning back to his work. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of her gaze resting on him the entire time.
“Is there something on my face?” Kon Hin finally asked as he looked up.
“No, not at all,” she replied.
Kon Hin frowned slightly, puzzled, as the woman who had just said no continued to rest her chin on her hand, smiling while studying his face. He held her gaze.
The woman before him could be described as confident. Her short, layered haircut framed her face, accentuating the boldness in her round eyes. She wore light makeup and a slightly oversized student uniform. Her pencil skirt didn’t give off a bold vibe but rather an energetic, adventurous one, especially paired with her trusty sneakers. Pathapee admitted to himself that this girl had a certain charm.
Perhaps it was her natural beauty paired with an air of self-assurance.
“Well,” Kon Hin began, hinting at asking if she had any particular reason to approach him.
“Oh, I’m just happy to finally have the chance to talk to you, P’Hin. Even though I’ve talked to P’Rob so many times!”
“Rose?”
The name sounded familiar, causing the young man to knit his brows before his sharp eyes widened.
Nong Rose… that Rose!
“You know me, Phii?”
Kon Hin remembered now. This must be the girl Nakrob had mentioned before—the one who supposedly liked him.
No way. Nakrob must be imagining things.
“I’ve heard Nakrob mention you,” the young man replied, concealing his doubts completely. He didn’t believe for a second that this young woman liked him. If she were trying to get to know his Chao-nai, that would make more sense.
“Hey, Rose! How’d you end up here?”
Before they could continue the conversation, the one who had gone to buy water returned, calling out to the woman. Rose turned, pouting with playful frustration, though her voice carried a laugh.
“You came back too soon, P’Rob! I barely had time to use you as an excuse to talk to P’Hin!”
“Whoa, bold move, huh?” Nakrob laughed loudly.
“Not bold! This is what you call flirting with style.”
The two bantered back and forth, laughing. Meanwhile, Kon Hin nearly dropped his pen, staring at the beautiful woman who turned back to meet his gaze. Rose smiled sweetly at him.
“I’d like to get to know you, P’Hin,” she said warmly.
At that moment, Kon Hin swallowed hard, glancing at Nakrob, who wore an expression that seemed to say, See? I told you. It seemed his friend’s words might not have been mere exaggeration after all.
~~~
Inside the large European car, the mixed-heritage young man sat on the passenger seat while turning to thank the graceful woman in the driver’s seat. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, showing a hint of shyness at being alone with a man in such a setting.
Wadi was momentarily taken aback when asked why she deserved thanks, but after a brief pause, she lowered her head slightly and responded softly. “I do not want to attend the event with Khun Mother this evening.”
“Oh, so I am the excuse for you to drive me here instead, is that right?”
The woman pressed her lips together before nodding slightly in acknowledgment.
“I am sorry.”
“Why apologize? I do not see anything you have done that requires an apology,” Tul laughed, looking at her sweet, beautiful face with a warm smile, making the person who had turned to retort about avoiding her mother fall silent.
“P’Tul would not... tell Khun Mother or Auntie Rasa, would you?”
“Tell what? I do not know anything.”
“Well, about...”
“About what? All I know is that you brought me to the university, and I want to thank her for that. As for anything else, I have not heard a thing,” Tul said with a slight smile.
Napawadi was silent for a moment before finally breaking into a smile as well.
“In that case, I will just say, ‘It is nothing, I am happy to give you a ride,’” Wadi said in a more relaxed manner, feeling more at ease being with this man.
From what she had heard, Trai Metthanun had two sons—Tul and Tinn.
Just hearing his name, one would assume the eldest son of such a prominent family would be highly self-assured. However, this man gave off a much more approachable vibe than Wadi had expected. She could hardly believe her ears when he mentioned he would simply catch a taxi back to the university. After all, among her peers and in their social standing, who didn’t drive or at least have a chauffeur?
She was curious, but throughout the meal, Tul didn’t share much about himself. If it weren’t for her mother’s persistent questioning, Wadi wouldn’t have learned that he had already participated in several major projects for the family company. What surprised her even more was discovering he had started as a delivery assistant there.
That wasn’t all. Tul Metthanun was also the student council president, had an excellent academic record, and had once won an international youth piano competition at the age of 12. Yet, he never boasted about any of this; he simply offered a faint smile while his stepmother provided the details.
He wasn’t like others who seemed to feign humility but were, in fact, subtly showing off.
There was no, “Oh, I’m not that great,” while clearly exuding an air of superiority.
No, “I just got lucky,” despite looking as if they didn’t believe it.
No, “It’s just a hobby,” with obvious confidence in their talent.
Tul simply ate his meal quietly, never adding a single word to what Rasa said.
Because of this, Napawadi found herself rather impressed.
“Oh, Wadi, you don’t have to call me Phii, you know. We’re actually the same age.”
She was six months younger than him, but that was enough to warrant addressing him as “Phii” out of respect—especially given...
“I would prefer to call you Phii, and besides, my mother insists on it,” she replied as her mother gave a firm glare, making it clear that the honorific was non-negotiable.
“Tul is older than you; calling him Phii is the proper thing to do.”
Napawadi was well aware of how much her mother approved of this man, to the point where she herself felt embarrassed. When her mother learned that P’Tul didn’t have a car to return to the university, she practically insisted that Napawadi drive him there, while she herself would go with P’Tul’s mother instead. This was despite the fact that, until now, her mother had never allowed Wadi to go anywhere alone with any male friend.
“They are unsuitable.”
That was what her mother always said. But this time, her mother actively encouraged her to go alone with him, leaving Napawadi so tense that both her hands gripping the steering wheel were slick with sweat. She was terrified he would notice how anxious she was, not even knowing how to hold a conversation with a male friend. She focused on the road ahead, and every time her gaze accidentally met his strikingly colored eyes, she immediately looked away.
Her mother made it abundantly clear that she wanted her and him to develop into more than mere acquaintances.
“Alright, as you wish,” Tul said with a gentle smile. “I heard you play the piano too?”
Wadi pushed aside her embarrassing thoughts, smiled at the handsome young man, and nodded.
“Yes, I’ve learned since I was a child. Khun Yaa wanted me to.”
“I think I might have met your Khun Yaa before.”
“When was that? Ever since I can remember, she’s been ill and rarely went out.”
For a brief moment, she thought his face showed tension, but his warm smile and kind eyes convinced her that she must have imagined it.
“When I was a kid,” he explained. “If I’m not mistaken, she was probably friends with my Khun Yaa. She used to visit our house. I think your Khun Yaa has royal lineage, right?”
“Yes,” Wadi replied. “She married my grandfather, who also had royal lineage in the earlier generations. By the time of their marriage, the family status had become that of commoners, but she always said our family was of royal descent. It’s kind of embarrassing, though. Even my mother loves to bring it up.”
She spoke with clear discomfort, as now her family was entirely ordinary, but they still clung to this history, which had often led to her being discouraged from associating with male friends deemed unsuitable.
Wadi knew that her family no longer believed royalty must marry royalty, but they did insist that if there was no noble status, there must at least be wealth.
This P’Tul was deemed so suitable that her mother even allowed them to be together like this.
The more she thought about it, the more Wadi admitted to herself that she felt deeply embarrassed by her mother’s mindset—and guilty toward other men.
“It might sound presumptuous to compare myself to you,” Tul said, his tone understanding, “but I think I get it. My Khun Yaa was also... rather insistent on preserving the family name.”
His voice was filled with empathy, and before Wadi could dwell on the discomfort of the topic, he deftly shifted the conversation.
“By the way, I heard your mother mention that you’re studying liberal arts. What’s your major, if I may ask?”
“French,” she answered with a small smile.
The conversation that followed gradually eased the tension in the car. Before she realized it, Napawadi was laughing at the stories Tul shared. The stiffness in her shoulders began to melt away, and she was surprised to feel a pang of regret as they turned into his university.
I want to talk with P’Tul more.
Tul, too, continued smiling warmly, skillfully steering the conversation to various topics. Had Napawadi paid closer attention, she might have noticed that he never spoke about himself but instead guided her to open up about her own life. His sharp eyes gleamed with faint amusement when the subject veered toward their noble grandmothers.
Tul remembered. That woman—her grandmother—had looked at him with contempt, no different from the contempt of his own.
The friend his own grandmother had tried to keep him away from at all costs, unwilling to expose... the tainted, unworthy bloodline.
The one who, upon returning home, had led to him being locked in the storage room and beaten until his skin bled.
The shameful grandson confined to the shadows of the storeroom.
Wadi... the noble granddaughter adored and revered by all.
It is hard to believe that the granddaughter of that woman would now stand before him, filling the void he lacked.
The lowly bloodline must rely on the exalted one to push it forward.
Napawadi... a woman born of the heavens.
Now Tul thought it was not wrong to pull a woman from the skies into the hands of a man as lowly as he.
~~~
Pathapee felt rather uneasy when he saw Chao-nai enter the classroom. He tried to stop his close friend, who was itching to blurt out something about that junior. It was obvious Nakrob wanted to mock Khun-chai by pointing out that even someone like him—a mere servant—could attract attention too. Pathapee pleaded, begged, and threatened his friend not to speak, because even though he considered himself nothing to Chao-nai, he did not want to risk angering him.
But that worry might have been in vain, because today Tul seemed... in a good mood.
"Everything went smoothly today, didn't it?"
When they got into the car together, Kon Hin was the first to ask.
"Yeah, better than I expected," Tul nodded before turning to look at the driver.
"And you? Made up with Ai Rob yet?"
"Uh, yes," Kon Hin tensed slightly, making Tul chuckle in his throat.
"I already said, whatever is past is past. If he stays quiet, I have no problem."
Kon Hin could not help but notice how unusually good Chao-nai's mood was, leaving him relieved as he confirmed once again.
"He said he would neither speak nor ask anything anymore, sir."
"Good," replied the mixed-heritage man, leaning back against the seat before remarking casually, "Today is full of good things."
"What kind of things, sir?"
Pathapee wasn't prying; he was just trying to make conversation since his superior seemed to be in a good mood. However, the sharp eyes that turned to look at him silenced him immediately.
"Apologies, sir. I shouldn’t have asked."
"It’s fine. It’s not like it’s a secret." Tul shifted his gaze back to the road and abruptly changed the subject. "Have you eaten yet?"
When Kon Hin stayed silent, Tul pressed further, as if already knowing the answer.
"You were waiting at noon, weren't you?"
"I ate some bread, sir."
A small piece of bread for a fully grown man nearing 180 centimeters in height could never be enough. Tul went quiet for a moment before pointing toward the shopping mall ahead.
"Pull over there."
"Yes, sir," the other responded without question, turning the car into the large shopping mall. He then followed Tul into the building, heading directly to the ground floor lined with restaurants.
Tul then turned to meet his eyes.
"What do you want to eat? Pick something."
"Me?"
Normally, if they were alone, his superior wouldn’t hesitate to head straight to a place he desired. This time, however, the other stopped in the middle of the walkway, turned to meet his gaze, and gestured over his shoulder at the myriad of restaurants. The listener’s eyes widened, repeating the words uncertainly.
His adorable hesitation made Tul laugh before he spoke firmly, "Yeah! Pick."
"You should choose, Khun Tul. I can eat anything," Kon Hin replied.
"In that case, we’ll just stand here until the mall closes," the mixed-heritage man responded indifferently, causing the listener to blink rapidly, glancing around helplessly, unable to decide. If Kon Hin chose, it would probably be a cheap eatery to fill his stomach, but that might not suit his superior’s status—and Tul knew exactly what he was thinking.
"Even if you pick the noodle shop outside the mall, I’ll eat there. Just pick a place already."
"Then… a fast-food place will do," Kon Hin said hesitantly.
"Fried chicken? Burgers? Pizza?"
Kon Hin only now realized how hard it was to choose something for himself. His dark brows furrowed, and he worried about it even more than when choosing a university—because back then, he just followed his superior. Now that his superior left the decision to him, he was utterly at a loss, practically ready to spin in circles.
The sight made Tul admit to himself that it was amusing.
Tul was not someone who enjoyed laughing—not genuine laughter born from amusement or humor. He typically laughed because others expected him to, smiled when he was sure it would bring him benefits. His smiles and laughter, therefore, were devoid of meaning. But seeing Kon Hin, who always yielded to him, make such a face, he couldn't help but laugh.
Even Kon Hin looked at him with disbelief before his eyes lit up with delight.
It had been a long time since he’d seen a smile like that. It meant whatever his superior had encountered today must have been something very good—so good that Kon Hin was ready to support him in anything.
"Well, what’s it going to be? Hurry up and choose," Tul pressed.
"Then… pizza will do," Kon Hin chose whatever was closest, not wanting to make his superior lose that charming smile.
"Think about which topping you want, too." But the headache continued as Tul, voice tinged with laughter, led the way to the nearest pizza place.
"Khun Tul, you should choose instead."
"No, I won’t choose. You’re the one who has to choose." Tul admitted he was in such a good mood that the indecisive expression on Kon Hin’s face seemed utterly captivating. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing as Kon Hin sat staring at the menu like it was a life-altering exam.
"Hmm… Hawaiian… uh, no." Tul laughed even harder when Kon Hin muttered a pizza topping, glanced at him briefly as if to ask whether it was acceptable, and then moved on to another when Tul showed no reaction.
Finally, Tul casually suggested, "Just close your eyes and point at one."
And Kon Hin… actually did it.
Tul admitted he was greatly satisfied that the man before him followed his every word. Even when tasked with choosing something for himself, Kon Hin only thought of Tul. This brought to mind the path Tul was walking, and he was certain that as long as this Kon Hin remained watching his back, everything in Metthanun would soon be his.
Heh, it won’t be long now. That unwanted child will soon become someone no one dares to look down upon.
Kon Hin, for his part, had no idea what his superior was thinking. He was simply content to see the other man smiling, his heart warmed by the quiet pleasure of sitting and eating together, just the two of them. No thoughts of revenge, no concerns about Khun-than, no matters involving close friends, and no issues of intimacy. It could have stayed that way throughout the meal—if not for the interruption.
"Heh." Tul glanced at his phone screen, where the name Khun Mother appeared. He chuckled under his breath but composed himself as he answered.
"Yes, Khun Mother."
“Tul! Tul, hurry to the hospital right away! Khun Yaa has been admitted to the ICU!”
"What!?"
”Did you hear me? I had Khun Mother call because Khun Yaa might not make it through the night!”
“Yes, I’ll head there immediately!” the young man replied in a tone filled with urgency. But as soon as he hung up, Tul appeared composed, setting his phone down without haste. His eyes, however, turned cold and calculating—so much so that the man sitting across from him felt a chill of dread.
"So, the time has come, hasn’t it?"
The time for Tul to obtain everything he desired.
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