Chapter Text
Por opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside with tired eyes. He closed it behind him and slowly took off his shoes. It had been a long day, and all he wanted was silence and water. Without thinking much, he walked straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and drank cold water to calm himself down.
It was already past 7:00.
He moved slowly through the living room, letting his mind rest for a moment. That was when he noticed his roommate’s laptop left open on the table. The screen was still on, glowing softly in the dim room. From the corner of his eye, Por caught a familiar figure on it, but he didn’t stop to look properly. He just shook his head slightly and kept walking, used to his roommate’s strange habits.
Then his eyes shifted to the wall.
There was a painting hanging there. His roommate was a painter who liked collecting or creating strange art, filling the apartment with things Por never understood. But this one made him stop completely.
The painting showed a woman lying on a bed of thorns. Her body looked weak, trapped in pain, and a single tear ran down her face. The image was heavy, almost cruel, like the artist wanted to make the suffering feel real. Por stared at it for a moment, his expression slowly tightening. He didn’t like it. It felt wrong to look at, like something that should not be inside a home.
Before he could look away properly, his roommate finally came out of his room and walked straight to the laptop. He sat down casually, acting like nothing in the room was unusual, while Por still stood there in silence, staring at the painting for a second longer than he wanted to.
Por finally turned away from the painting, his voice low and sharp as he asked, “What kind of painting is this?”
Otto, his roommate, let out a long sigh as he stood up from the chair. He glanced at Por like he was disappointed but not surprised. “A detective like you really has no artist eye,” he said casually. “You know this is the latest painting of ‘X’. The one who suddenly blew up the whole art industry with just three paintings. That guy is insanely talented.”
Por’s expression didn’t change. He kept looking at the painting, his jaw tightening slightly. “Tell me,” he said coldly, “what is there to admire about a naked woman suffering like that?”
Otto shook his head like he expected that answer. “That’s exactly what makes us different, buddy,” he replied, walking back toward his laptop like the conversation was nothing important. “You see crime. I see art. And trust me, I almost lost a thousand baht just to get my hands on this piece.”
He sat down again, completely relaxed, as if the painting of pain on the wall was just another decoration in the room.
Por stood there for a moment longer, his eyes still on the painting as if it might explain itself if he stared hard enough. The room felt quieter now, heavier in a way he didn’t like. Finally, he spoke again, his voice low and controlled.
“Are all his paintings like this?”
Otto didn’t look away from his laptop at first. His fingers moved across the keyboard casually, like the question didn’t surprise him at all. After a short pause, he leaned back in his chair and exhaled.
“Not all,” he said. “But most of them… yeah, they’re like this. Dark, emotional, uncomfortable things. That’s his style.”
Por’s jaw tightened slightly. He didn’t understand how people could call something like that art. To him, it looked like suffering frozen in time, carefully placed and framed like it meant something beautiful.
Otto finally glanced at him over his shoulder. “You’re thinking too much like a detective again,” he added with a small shrug. “Not everything is a crime scene, Por.”
But Por didn’t answer. His eyes stayed on the painting for another second longer, as if something about it refused to leave his mind.
Otto finally looked up from his laptop as Por took a seat across from him, still holding a glass of water in his hand. The room had settled into a quiet evening mood, but Otto’s expression shifted slightly as he noticed him properly.
“Why are you here so early anyway?” Otto asked. “I thought you’d be late like other days.”
Por leaned back slightly, calm and tired at the same time. “I finished my case,” he said simply. “So now I have free time.”
Otto let out a short laugh. “Wow. Congratulations, Detective.”
Por didn’t react much to the sarcasm. His eyes moved away from Otto’s face and landed on the laptop screen instead. His expression changed a little, more serious now.
“Why are you stalking the president’s son?” he asked flatly.
Otto blinked, then shrugged as if the question was nothing important. “I’m not stalking him, Por. We went to the same high school, you know.” He leaned back in his chair, a little too relaxed. “He even came after me back then. Stupid me… I didn’t give him a chance. I could’ve been a rich boyfriend right now.”
He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Who knew his father would become the president?”
Por let out a quiet laugh at Otto’s comment, shaking his head slightly like he didn’t fully believe what he was hearing. The tension from work still lingered in his body, but Otto’s nonsense made it easier to breathe for a moment. He stood up from the chair and set the empty glass down on the table.
“I’ll take a bath,” Por said calmly. He paused at the hallway, glancing back once. “If I fall asleep without eating, wake me up.”
Otto didn’t even look away from his laptop. He just gave a casual nod, as if he had already accepted that responsibility a long time ago.
“Yeah, yeah,” Otto replied. “Go before you start acting like a corpse in your own house.”
Por ignored that and walked toward the bathroom, the sound of his steps slowly fading down the hallway. Behind him, Otto returned fully to his screen, the room falling back into its usual quiet rhythm as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
While Por was at home, the other side of Bangkok was alive with loud music and flashing lights. A club was packed with people moving to the beat, the bass shaking the walls like it had its own heartbeat.
At one corner table, three guys were laughing loudly, drinking like their lives depended on it. Their voices mixed with the music, messy and carefree, drawing attention from nearby tables.
Not all of them were the same.
One of them stayed quieter, barely touching his drink. He just sat back in his chair, watching the others with a tired expression. Unlike the rest, he wasn’t planning to lose control tonight. He had work tomorrow, and he didn’t want to show up with a headache on his first day.
“Oi, Tee…” North shouted over the loud music, pushing a glass toward him with a grin. “You’re escaping the jobless duo next day. So just let loose with me tonight.”
Teetee sighed and gently pushed the glass away, like he was too tired to even argue properly. “Stop it, North. I’m not here to get drunk.”
North only laughed louder, not taking it seriously at all. Wave, sitting beside them, joined in with an easy smile, enjoying the chaos more than the alcohol.
The three of them had been best friends since high school. No matter how different their lives had become, they still ended up in the same places like this, pretending
nothing had changed.
Wave had been the first to get his life together. The moment he finished university, he stepped straight into his teaching career without delay, like everything had fallen into place for him naturally.
North’s path had been more complicated. He hadn’t chosen it freely. After graduating, he was forced to leave behind his dream and step into politics because of his father, who had recently become the President of Thailand. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was what his family demanded.
And Teetee… he was still in between all of it. He had spent extra years studying, passing exams, and going through training just to finally secure his place as a detective trainee. While his friends were already settled in their own worlds, he was only now stepping into his.
Wave, who was only slightly drunk, nudged North with a teasing smile as he watched the crowd. “Looks like North is getting a partner tonight,” he said, nodding toward a woman walking straight in their direction.
She moved with confidence, red lipstick sharp under the club lights and a tight short gown catching attention from every angle. Without hesitation, she stopped right beside North and leaned in like she already belonged there.
North blinked, clearly caught off guard. He gave her a lazy look, already exhausted by the situation. “Today I can’t,” he said flatly, trying to wave her off before anything could start. But the woman didn’t seem interested in leaving so easily.
That was when Teetee finally spoke. Calm, but firm. “I think you should go, Rose.”
The girl’s attention shifted immediately to him instead. She looked him up and down, then smiled slowly. “I don’t mind staying with you instead.”
Teetee kept his expression controlled, though discomfort flashed briefly in his eyes. He shook his head. “I don’t need company,” he said politely, careful with his words.
After a moment, the woman finally gave up and walked away, disappearing back into the crowd.
Wave leaned back dramatically, raising his hands. “Why does nobody want my company?” he complained.
North let out a tired laugh beside him. “Maybe because you look like them,” he said, laughing harder as Wave glared at him in fake offense.
Teetee finally stood up, letting out a quiet sigh as he looked at North. The music was still loud, the club still moving, but North was clearly past his limit now. He leaned slightly on the table, laughing to himself for no reason.
“Okay, North,” Teetee said, stepping closer and trying to steady him. “You’re too drunk. You should go home.”
North looked at him with half-lidded eyes, still smiling like he wasn’t taking anything seriously. “I’m fine,” he muttered, even though his body clearly disagreed.
Teetee shook his head and moved closer, gently holding him by the arm to help him stand properly. “No, you’re not fine. Come on.”
Wave watched them with mild amusement, sipping his drink slowly. “Our future detective is acting like a babysitter now,” he said with a lazy grin.
Teetee ignored him and focused on North, trying to keep him balanced as the noise and lights blurred around them. North leaned a bit more on him, still laughing under his breath like the idea of going home was the funniest thing in the world.
Teetee glanced at Wave, still steady enough despite the alcohol. “Can you manage to go home?”
Wave nodded easily, waving a hand like it was nothing. “I will. Don’t worry about me.”
Teetee gave a small nod, then turned his full attention back to North. “Alright, I’m taking him.”
With that, he carefully guided North out of the club, keeping a firm grip on him as they moved through the loud crowd and flashing lights. North kept muttering random things under his breath, half laughing, half complaining, but Teetee didn’t let go.
The cool night air outside helped a little, but North was still unstable on his feet. Teetee had to keep adjusting his hold, making sure he didn’t fall or stumble into anything. It felt more like handling a stubborn child than a drunk friend.
After a long ride and several stops where Teetee had to make sure North didn’t completely lose it, they finally reached North’s mansion.
Teetee let out a long breath the moment they stepped inside, feeling a small sense of victory. He had successfully gotten him home without a disaster, and even more importantly, without North puking in the car. That alone felt like an achievement tonight.
After helping North into his room, Teetee carefully adjusted the blanket over him and made sure he was stable before stepping out quietly. The house was large and unusually silent compared to the chaos of the club, almost too calm.
When he came down the stairs, he noticed a man sitting in the living room. The president, North’s father, was reading a newspaper under the soft light, turning the pages slowly like he had all the time in the world. For a brief second, Teetee wondered if people like him still had time to sit and read newspapers, but then he reminded himself who this was and simply shrugged the thought away.
The moment the president looked up, Teetee straightened his posture and gave a respectful bow, hoping to quietly pass through the situation and leave as soon as possible. But luck wasn’t on his side.
“You’re still not interested in becoming his bodyguard?” the president asked calmly, folding the newspaper slightly.
Teetee kept his voice polite. “I like being a detective.”
There was a short pause. The president studied him for a moment, then spoke again as if it was the simplest solution in the world. “I can increase your salary.”
Teetee gave a small, respectful smile, not even hesitating. “No, thank you.”
That answer seemed to settle the room in a different way. The president leaned back slightly and let out a quiet sigh, as if he already expected it, but still wished the outcome had been different.
Teetee excused himself politely after leaving the mansion, making sure his tone and posture stayed respectful until the very end. Only when he stepped outside and the gates closed behind him did he finally allow himself to relax a little.
The night air felt cooler now, quieter than the heavy silence inside the house. He walked down the way slowly, his thoughts still lingering on the conversation he had just had with the president. He understood what the old man wanted. Someone trained like him. Someone disciplined. Someone loyal enough to always stay close to North, no matter what happened.
It wasn’t a strange request. In fact, it made sense from a political point of view.
But Teetee already knew his answer.
He didn’t want that kind of role. Not even if it came with power, money, or direct protection under the president’s name. His path was already set, even if it was harder.
As he walked away from the mansion, he thought briefly about how different people’s lives were. North was tied to politics without a choice. Wave had built his own direction. And Teetee was still trying to prove himself in a field where truth mattered more than status.